Untraceable (World of Danger Book 2)

by Beth D. Carter

  “Why isn’t there ever a phone when you need one?” she muttered to herself.

  Inside the file cabinet, a few old invoices showed an address.

  “Ireland? How did we get here? I don’t even have a passport.”

  Folding up the invoice and sticking it in her pocket, she continued her search. The only thing she found was a letter opener. Better than nothing, she slipped it up her sleeve. Now it was time to find her Hunky Harlan.

  Placing her ear to the door, she listened to see if anyone was in the hallway. Not hearing a thing, she cracked the door and peeked out. No one. Easing out, she closed the door softly behind her as she debated which way to go. Doing eeny-meany-miney-moe, she settled on a way and went with it. Staying cautious, she stealthily listened at every door, but heard nothing. When the hallway turned, she realized she had to be in some type of old warehouse when it opened up to a mechanics floor, where old crates were stacked and mechanical conveyors rusted away. A loud bang had her jumping in fright and trying to figure out where the sound came from.

  A set of stairs led down to the ground, where she thought the sound originated from, and she cautiously eased forward. Another sound came and she hurried toward it, seeing two doors almost side by side. Placing her ear next to the first door, she listened but didn’t hear anything. At the second door, she heard the low murmur of someone talking. Going back to the first door, she opened it a crack and looked inside, seeing a huge window that looked into the second room. Several wooden chairs lay scattered about, along with what looked like antiquated radio equipment. Going inside, she saw JD tied to a chair and a woman punching him in the face. When she turned a little, Mae gasped when she recognized Renee Hammond. What the hell was she doing here? And why was she beating JD up while wearing a boxing glove?

  As if hearing her gasp, Renee paused and turned around, looking at the window. Mae realized it must be a two-way mirror. She could see them but they couldn’t see her. Obviously, however, the audio switch must have been flipped on.

  “Anyone there?” Renee asked.

  Mae didn’t say anything at first. She was trying to control her anger. She’d never liked the woman, but hadn’t ever figured her to be a traitor.

  “Why are you doing this to us?” she finally asked.

  Renee smiled. “Mae? How did you get down here? I had my man tie you up.”

  “He did a shitty job.”

  “Hmm,” Renee said. “Then it’s a good thing he left to settle his anger with Mason Lake.”

  Mae couldn’t focus on that reply. She was here to save JD.

  “She’s a Slidell, Mae!” JD called out.

  Renee turned and punched in him in the jaw. “Shut up!”

  “As in Denton Slidell?” Mae asked. “The man accused of killing Paddy O’Connor. So you brought us to Ireland? What is this place?”

  “It’s an old WWII safe spot,” Renee said. “It used to manufacture plane parts before being converted sometime in the seventies to a manufacturing plant. However, it’s been abandoned for a couple of decades now. Perfect for what I needed.”

  “You went to such elaborate plans for what … revenge?”

  “You know nothing!” Renee yelled. “His father took everything away from me! He ruined my life!”

  Mae studied her former co-worker. “I pity you.”

  “You what?” Renee asked angrily. “How dare you.”

  “I pity you because you could’ve let this go. You could’ve made your own life. But you chose to let your father’s life and actions define your own future. Funny how we always let our parents dictate our own self-worth.”

  Mae briefly thought about her own mother. She might not have lived up to her expectations, but at least she wasn’t consumed with bitterness and hatred.

  “Run, Mae!” JD yelled at her. “Get out of here. Get help!”

  “Shut up!” Renee screamed at him. She turned around, ready to punch him again, but Mae had had enough. She picked up one of the chairs, and although it was heavy, managed to throw it at the window. It shattered in a thousand pieces, the sound deafening in the small area.

  Renee had put her hands over her head, protecting herself from the flying glass, but the chair hit her in the chest. She lost her footing and flew back. JD rattled in his ties, trying to break free.

  “Mae!” he called out frantically.

  Mae ran out of the room she was in and into the room they were in. She grabbed Renee’s shirt and punched her directly in her nose. Blood spurted and Renee cried out in pain. Thinking she was down for the count, she let Renee crumple in a heap, turning toward JD.

  “Are you all right?” JD asked her. “You should get out of here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” she said. “Where you go, I go. Remember?”

  He smiled fondly at that. “How did you get your ties off?”

  “It was in a romantic spy thriller I once read.”

  “I might have to start reading your books. Can you find a knife or something?”

  “Hold on.”

  She brought the letter opener from her sleeve. It wasn’t the sharpest edge, but she managed to saw through the first tie in a few minutes. While working on the second one, she heard a shuffling sound from behind her.

  “Watch out!” JD said.

  Gripping, the letter opener, Mae spun to see Renee holding up a gun. Immediately, Mae brought down the sharp point into Renee’s hand. The woman cried out in shock and pain as more blood spilled. She let go of the gun and Mae scooped it up, pointing the barrel at her.

  “I don’t think so, bitch. Now, untie him.”

  “I hate you,” Renee muttered, spitting some of the blood that had poured from her broken nose into her mouth.

  “I know,” Mae replied. “But hate gets you nowhere. Except fucking jail.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two months later

  Mae sat in her apartment, staring blankly out of the window as her television blared incoherently. She’d been back home for a while, but she still was processing everything that’d happened in Ireland.

  Once JD reached the authorities and they arrived to take the bound and gagged Renee Slidell into custody, everything became a blur. She and JD had been separated, taken to different locations. No one could tell her why. But they did inform her Renee Slidell had been a wanted woman in Ireland, and it had been her, Mae Sawyer, who had managed to capture the rising terrorist leader.

  After the American consulate in Dublin had taken her deposition and cleared the red tape, they had issued her an emergency passport and flew her home. When she returned to the office, Mr. Abernathy kindly informed her she no longer had a job. Mr. Harlan, who happened to be away still, had stated he didn’t require her services anymore and had asked him to relay the message. Mr. Abernathy had seemed pained to deliver the news, but she’d assured him she’d be all right. She didn’t have to worry about money since there had been a huge Interpol bounty on Renee’s head. She wouldn’t have to work, but still, she wanted to start looking for something soon. It wasn’t healthy sitting at home, staring at the walls and out windows, thinking about JD all the time and wallowing in self-pity that he’d dumped her like a hot potato.

  Now that she was back, her old life seemed … so lackluster. Her romance books no longer offered her the release from reality. Television shows couldn’t hold her attention. How could she go back to the ordinary life she’d once had?

  When her doorbell rang, she rose and closed her robe even higher around her neck, making sure her nightgown wasn’t showing. She looked through the keyhole and gasped when she recognized JD.

  After unbolting the deadlock, she flung open the door and flew into his open arms. He pulled her close, and for the first time in weeks, was able to breathe in his scent.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” she said.

  “Let me come inside so we can talk.”

  She grabbed his hand, half afraid he’d disappear, and brought him into her ho
me, closing and locking the door behind her. Suddenly shy around him, she gestured toward the kitchen.

  “Would you like coffee or tea?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s talk.”

  With her heart hammering in her chest, she led him into the living room. He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. Half fearful that he was there to say a final good-bye, she obeyed.

  “This is the first opportunity I had to come to you,” he said. “Because of who I am, and the history of the business, I was taken out of Ireland by the CIA to be debriefed. It took a while to straighten things out.”

  “The CIA? Oh my God.”

  He took a deep breath. “I told them. Finally. About everything, including turning over the data that cleared Denton Slidell’s name.

  “Did you get in trouble?”

  “Yes and no. They didn’t pursue with criminal charges simply because at the time, the black ops missions were strictly off the books. According to official transcripts, evidence had come to light that cleared Denton Slidell’s name, although no one else was named as the murderer. I became a person of interest in stopping a known terrorist from using my technology against the Irish people.”

  “What about me?” she asked.

  “I made sure your name stayed out of everything.”

  “But I was key in bringing in Renee and I received that bounty, so how could my name be kept out of this?”

  “Because I made a deal.”

  “What?” She had visions of him being led away to some jail in Siberia.

  “I negotiated a full security governmental contract, using my technology to help diplomats and their families in hostile countries. We’d be their private security. In trade for the extremely reduced rate, this episode never happened.”

  She blinked, trying to digest all the information. “What about Lee and Mason?”

  “Lee has decided to stay in Kentucky and Mason is now strictly the computer guy, with regular nine-to-five hours. Or so he thinks.”

  She frowned. “But … but … that’s it? We’re … done?”

  “Only if you want it to be done,” he said softly.

  Butterflies danced through her belly. “You fired me.”

  “Your assets are wasted in data entry.”

  “Oh? What assets?”

  “Staying calm in the face of danger,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Kicking ass. Having beauty and brains. Being the best damn kisser on the planet. Rocking my world in more ways than one. Should I go on?”

  She no longer cared that he’d been gone without a word, or made her unemployed. Red tape with the government always took a while. He came through for her by showing up at her door and explaining himself. Now it seemed like he wanted to do more. And so did she.

  “I’d rather you kissed me.”

  So he did just that. Capturing her mouth with his, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, claiming her in a possessive embrace that had her blood pounding with fire and need.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said in between kisses.

  “Yes.”

  He smiled against her lips. “You haven’t heard it yet.”

  “I don’t need to. I love you.”

  He paused and pulled back. “Really?”

  “I know you probably don’t feel the same, and I can assure you my feelings aren’t from any type of psychological trauma from what happened. That’s okay. I’m yours for however long you want me—”

  He placed a finger against her lips, shutting her up. “I want you forever, Mae. That’s my proposition.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I love you too, Mae.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m going to have to think over this proposal. Perhaps you can show me some … bedroom maneuvers.”

  He stood and swept her up in his arm. “These maneuvers might take some time.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said, giggling.

  The End

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  Other Books by Beth D. Carter:

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  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  WARRIOR

  Forgotten Rebels MC, 4

  Beth D. Carter

  Copyright © 2018

  Sample Chapter

  Charles Lawrence had just hit the SAVE button on his laptop when the telephone intercom system buzzed.

  “Sir, Miss Farlander is here to see you.”

  Charlies sighed and closed the lid of his computer. “Send her in.”

  The young woman who walked into his office looked more like a cancer patient than a soon-to-be wealthy young lady. Her blonde hair had been dyed black, a color that harshly contrasted with her pale features, giving her already thin face a death-like appearance. Her black tank top displayed a tattoo inked on her left shoulder, three ravens taking flight. Skinny jeans and clunky black motorcycle boots completed the outfit, showing she clearly didn’t care about trying to appear professional in his high-priced office.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Lawrence,” Church Farlander murmured.

  He gestured to the leather wingback chair placed strategically in front of his desk. She sat, although she perched on the end as if she were preparing to run quickly away.

  “Of course,” he replied. “I’m happy to report that you got a sizeable offer for the garage.”

  He opened a folder and slid it in front of her. As Church picked up the offer and read through the details, he couldn’t help but notice the signs of fragility she tried hiding behind the tough façade she had long ago adopted. The dark circles under her eyes and the wariness shining from the deep-blue depths, however, bespoke of many sleepless nights. As a friend of her grandfather, he’d known Church and her twin sister Cherry since they were little kids, and he’d never seen two more opposite people. He didn’t know Church’s story, didn’t know what had imprinted the mistrust onto her skin like a bad tattoo, but it made him want to hug her and assure her that she was going to be okay.

  Which startled him because compassion wasn’t part of his make-up. In his profession, it was wise to keep an emotional distance from his clients, but there was something about Church that evoked a sense of sympathy.

  “This is twenty thousand above what I’m asking for.” She frowned. “Is that legal?”

  “Of course,” Charles replied, amused. He wasn’t used to people questioning the validity of his legal recourse. “There’s a counter-offer on the table, so this is a way to entice you to choose the higher one. I guess this other buyer sees potential in the garage.”

  “I guess,” she murmured, still reading. “Do you know who this higher bid is from?”

  Charles looked at the paperwork. “Some LLC. I can look into it further if you want me to.”

  Church nibbled on her bottom lip as she seemed to think the offer over and eventually closed the folder to slide it back over the desk. “No, that’s okay. It doesn’t really matter, I guess. I’ll accept the larger offer. Can I roll the payment over to the title transfer of the cabin into my name and the purchase of the garage in Stevens all at one time?”

  Charles opened his laptop again and punched a few buttons. “The death certificate on Richard Latorre came through, so no problem there, and the city of Stevens has granted your business license. All that’s left is crossing our t’s and dotting our i’s until the sale of the garage is complete.”

  “Perfect.” She held up the papers. “These mine?”

  “Yes. You know, once this is over, you’ll have a nice nest egg. Maybe you should think about investing it.”

  Church didn’t answer, instead standing to gather her paperwork, stuffing it all haphazardly into a backpack. She didn’t look at him and
he sighed at her obstinance.

  “I think your grandfather would be happy to see you getting out of Springfield,” Charles continued, wanting to break the heavy silence that had descended.

  “He would be happy to know Cherry is taken care of,” she replied, correcting him.

  “What about you, Church? Your grandfather loved you as well.”

  She shrugged. “I can take care of myself. Always have.”

  “There’s no shame in letting someone help you.”

  Church raised an eyebrow. “I let you help me. For a fee. Email your bill and I’ll send payment right away.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Thanks again, Mr. Lawrence, for taking this on,” she said, completely ignoring his words. “I know this isn’t the type of law you practice.”

  “How many times have I told you to call me Charles? Your grandfather was a friend of mine.”

  She didn’t answer, but he expected that. She wasn’t the type of woman to talk just for the sake of talking. Clutching her backpack, she gave him a wave and walked out of his office without once looking back. Charles stared at the door for a few moments before he picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

  A man on the other end picked up immediately. “Yes?”

  “She accepted your offer.”

  “Any questions?”

  “No. I played you off as an LLC.”

  “And she’s moving to Stevens?”

  “Yes, I believe so. She applied for a business license within the town limits.”

  The man on the other end sighed. “Good. Time to end this ugly chapter.”

  “And what of Masterson?”