by Sofia Aves
Like me, he wasn’t a good loser.
The question was, how much of a chance was there that he was back to finish that job this time? I was still surprised we’d spotted Joey — why the little bastard didn’t stay away was beyond me. Pride could be a useful tool, and then there was Ashley and Mila, of course. He might come back for either one of them — or both.
The thought itched in my head until I couldn’t think straight. Losing either one of them would kill me. Especially Mila. She’d gotten under my skin faster than any woman had before.
Waking up with her on my chest this morning was the most incredible thing. Hand tangled in sleep-mussed hair; she’d looked so soft and relaxed, as though the night before had pushed away all the worries of the last week. She’d been so beautiful I’d thought my heart would burst.
Hell, after just two weeks, was it possible I was falling in love with the woman?
I expected the thought to freak me out, but it didn’t. I let it sit for a moment, waiting for the panic that usually accompanied it, but this time it wasn’t terrifying. She’d been living in my house for only a few days, and I didn’t want to imagine how vacant it would be without her there.
With a sudden urge to speak to her, I flicked my phone over, spotting her missed call. Great minds, and all…I pressed call. One ring, two…I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. At seven rings, it went to voicemail. I left a quick message, cutting myself short before I babbled to her inbox.
Fortunately, her house was on this side of the city. I pulled up out the front faster than I’d expected. I assessed the entry as I walked up the drive, but nothing seemed amiss. The door was locked this time, and the windows were shut.
Everything was as we had left it. I wandered around the back, after remembering everything was stored in the cupboard on the back veranda. I didn’t need to go into the house — if it was still all safely locked up, then I was happy to leave it that way.
It occurred to me that I should have asked if she wanted more clothes while I was here. I fired off a short message, checking my phone, but she hadn’t called back.
The tiny key turned in the cupboard lock, and the door popped open. I grabbed an armful of canvases of various sizes and decided to come back for the rest of the paints and brushes. The canvases took up half the tray. How Mila fit them all in her bubble car, I had no idea.
Returning to the cupboard, I found boxes of paints. “Oils,” Black had said. I read label after label until I found the right ones and picked out ten bright colours, plus a black and white. I added some brushes to the box, a plate I suspected she mixed the paint on, a collection of rags, and a small bottle of turpentine mineral spirits to clean everything with. The box was a bit overcrowded, but hopefully, it would be enough.
Honestly, I just wanted the girl to be happy, which wasn’t easy when she was stuck in my apartment. Maybe I should have moved her when I moved Ashley, but the risk was huge. And I hadn’t wanted her to go, selfish as it was. I rolled my shoulders, standing.
My legs cramped from crouching while I sorted out what Mila would need. I stretched, looking through the glass doors to the kitchen. Nothing inside was out of place; Black and I had done a thorough clean up after the place had been trashed.
I was about to head for the truck when something caught my eye. The outside lock was scratched, one deep slice where it looked as though someone had tried to jimmy it and been too rough. Whatever they’d used had gouged the metal.
I didn’t touch the lock in case I marred any fingerprints, but nudged the door with my foot. It opened easily, and I cursed myself as an idiot for not checking it when I’d arrived. Hand on the gun at the small of my back, I slid through the doorway.
I was one step inside the house when I realised I’d made a second error, and this one was going to cost me dearly. Motion reflected in the glass door as I stepped through, far too fast for me to react to. The blow caught me on the back of the head, the floor rushing up to meet me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CAL
My head ached when I woke up kissing the wooden floorboards of Mila’s veranda. I was outside the doors; whoever had brained me must have dragged me back out. Very considerate.
I groaned, trying to rise to my knees. My hand came away bloody when I touched the back of my head. I cursed myself for being so stupid. That’s what I got for focusing on the girl, not the job.
Time and a place, Dane.
Staggering out the drive, I was relieved to see my truck still there. Even better, the tyres hadn’t been slashed. Nausea rose in my throat as I clambered in, starting it in a hurry. I felt around in the footwells of the back seat and came up with some old gym gear. Leaning on it between the back of my head and the headrest provided some compression on the wound.
So fucking stupid.
The road swam in front of me. I straightened and made a call that terrified me. Danny’s phone rang out, as did Mila’s. Again. The next call was to Liam, who swore so loudly, my head thumped harder.
“Liam, tone it down. Head’s a bit tender right now.”
Liam stopped yelling.
“Shit, Cal. Get your ass to the hospital. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Like hell, I was going to let someone else look after me when my girls were being hunted by a murderous psychopath.
“I’m fine,” I lied, trying not to throw up on the dash. “I’m heading to my place. See what’s happened there. I can’t raise Danny.”
Worry gnawed the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t decide which was worse: the pain, or the fear of not knowing if they were all safe. Danny never left his phone unattended. Hell, the man would answer my call if he was hooking up — he had actually done that once, much to my disgust.
Which meant he was in some serious shit.
Never had the gate to my apartment block been so slow. In the end, I ditched the truck out front, tearing my keys and access cards from the ignition. I couldn’t race the elevator, though. Seven flights were too far and not fast enough, even for me.
Finally, the doors pinged open, and I saw what every cop fears — one of my boys on the ground. I checked him, already calling an ambulance, messaging Liam as soon as I was done.
Relieved to find a pulse, I rolled Danny gently over, supporting his neck, and made sure he could breathe. I checked his head, then his neck, and found the smallest hint of blood. It was no more than a pinprick, and I would have bet a month’s wages he’d been knocked out with tranquiliser. No sane man kills a cop. They’d have more attention than ever, something Logan would never risk, and I knew it had to be him.
We weren’t dealing with a sane man.
I drew my gun — the second time in a day — and approached my apartment with caution. If I sustained another head injury, I wouldn’t be able to help Mila, or anyone else. I scanned every room, finding the broken mug in the kitchen, the bottle of chartreuse on the counter. Danny never drank on the job, which left a very frightened woman who drank to drown her fear.
My woman.
My head throbbed as I grabbed some basic painkillers and a fresh compression, returning to the foyer to wait for the paramedics. Liam turned up at the same time, Micah close behind. Black wasn’t answering his phone, and Micah took off, trailed by a line of regular patrol vehicles.
I watched as Danny was loaded into the ambulance, and let a paramedic fuss over my head.
“Where will he be?”
Liam’s fingers flew over his phone, impeccably dressed in grey suit pants and a cotton shirt that would have cost my week’s wages. He worked ridiculously fast; everyone we needed as back up would be on standby in under a minute. When he looked at me, his gaze was hard — his infamous how the hell did this get fucked up so fast glare.
I shook my head, the world swimming again.
“I don’t know.”
Liam crouched in front of me, speaking over my head.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s got a concussion and–”
Liam straightened, distant and cold as he processed my ability to spin shit.
“Going where.”
“Central. It’s always been on the cards. That’s where he’ll hit, and he’s taking everyone with him.”
MILA
I was back in the bank: the same faded carpet, the familiar bank of teller’s stations lining the back wall. I snorted at the thought of Cal’s Jeep dangling through the front window and gasped for breath at the motion.
An ache deep inside sliced my heart, wishing desperately Cal and Teddy were here with me now. As I took in my surroundings, my mind began to pick out subtle differences; different time of day than from my last memory of this place, warm light shone through the windows in the late afternoon sun. The row of offices a little more tired, a little dingier than before. After the first robbery, I had never returned.
The bank was nearly closed, and over half of the employees had already left for the day. The few who remained had been given a free pass — apparently, Wayde Logan wasn’t interested in hostages this time. I was surprised — the man had no concept of mercy. Or maybe he just didn’t want any witnesses.
This time, I sat on the hardwood floor, alone, propped against the wall.
Logan paced a worn strip of carpet in front of me, his little brother — Joey — leaned on the counter above me. He kept nudging me with his boot, smiling as the added shock of pain lanced through me. At least it prevented me from passing out.
I tried to keep the shakes that wracked my body from becoming evident, clutching my elbows tight to my sides, regardless of the pain. A sick, knowing smirk from Joey sent my ideals back into delusional land.
Logan’s long fingers snapped against his thigh as he paced, turning at the end of the wooden partition where the vault was located. Two of his men stood there; one facing the vault, the other the front of the bank.
It hadn’t taken them long to access the vault this time — after five years of planning, whatever Logan expected to retrieve, he’d have to be organised. The little box was presented to him, the silver key already in its lock. I wondered where they had retrieved it from, but realised it didn’t matter. He’d been steps ahead the whole time.
My mind filled with worry for Cal. I had a sudden longing for him to crash a car into the bank again, but I also wanted the man I loved as far away from this madman as he could possibly be. He’d cost me my peace for five years — I wasn’t going to let him take Cal, too.
I’d only just found him.
The box popped open, revealing an old piece of paper — parchment. Browned and curled at the edges, I stared. This was what Logan had been after the whole time?
My mind blanked for just a moment. He paused in front of me, rotating on the toe of his black leather shoe to face me. He knelt, bringing those cold, hard eyes that had terrified me level with mine.
I retreated as far from him as I could — which wasn’t much, as the wall was right behind me. My head butted into it, adding an extra dimension of pain to my already wavering world.
Paper crinkled in his hands, brittle, and I wondered if it might snap with age. I gave a half laugh at the thought of it dissolving before he could read it, earning myself a deadly glare that quickly sobered me.
“Linage. Here, you see?” Logan pointed out family names linking to future progeny, marriages and deaths listed on the side. I could barely make out the faded dates — sometime in the early nineteenth century. I shook my head, not understanding. Pain ripped through my chest, and I swayed. His hand brushed my cheek, but I was too disoriented to fully register the contact.
Logan smiled as he spoke, as though we were discussing a shopping list, nothing more.
“Five men robbed the Bank of Australia on George Street, Sydney, in 1828. And here — John Dingle — you see? My heritage. Ashley’s. I wanted her to have this, to show her who she is, where she comes from. Like a family business.”
A satisfied look settled on his face, reminiscent of pride. My mouth was open, and I couldn’t bring myself to close it. All the years of trauma, counselling, seeing Karen dead on the floor of this building — all of it — was for this.
“You’re insane.” The words slipped from my lips, terror ripping my heart as he paused. Everything in him stilled. The urge to vomit hit me. I looked down, nausea swimming in my stomach, but he curled a finger around my chin, lifting my face back to his. My throat screamed at the movement, and I could barely swallow. Logan tilted my head side to side, and I blinked back tears that sprang to my eyes, taking shallow breaths because that hurt too.
“My brother did a job on you. Did you fight him, my love? Ah, I like your strength. Never mind, I will punish him later.”
Joey snorted, turning away. Logan stroked my jaw gently. It was so reminiscent of the way Cal had touched me last night but so twisted my stomach clenched again. Cal. God, I hoped he was safe. Bile rose in my throat. Logan’s lips curled into a sneer, drawing me up the wall, closer to him. So close, I could feel his breath on my skin as he spoke.
“Don’t worry, honey, I have made sure he won’t bother us. Possibly ever again.”
Hearing Cal’s endearment coming from this man, made me sicker. Then the innuendo crashed through my hazed mind. I choked on the pain in my chest, slapping his hand away, flailing at him. Raising my arms brought pure, white pain rioting through my chest. I hit the wall behind me, sliding a little as I almost passed out.
The brightness in my eyes dimmed, a tunnel of darkness eating the edges of my vision until I could only focus on the man before me. His hands trailed from my shoulders to my waist, eyes reflecting greed and lust.
“Come with me, Mila. There is something you need to see.” He lifted me to my feet, hand wrapped around my arm as he propelled me to the windows overlooking the street front.
Logan stopped. He slid the hand holding his pistol beneath my chin, tilting my head. I stared out the window, confused by the lack of police. Surely the bank workers would have reported the break-in by now? Unless…new tears welled. I gasped in short breaths.
‘You’re here, and maybe he will be too. Then I can kill him in front of you, so all you have left is me,” he whispered the words softly in my ear. A warped lover’s caress, promising a new darkness. His lips brushing my cheek, down my neck. My eyes squeezed shut, tears running from the corners. He licked one away, pressing a kiss there. My brain numbed, I curled over his arm, retching on the floor.
Cal. Be safe.
The tears flowed faster. Breaths shuddered in, but not enough air reached my lungs. My head swam, and I braced myself as best I could without touching him.
“It’s okay, love, you’ll be okay with me,” he crooned the words as though I were a naughty child begging forgiveness.
I would never beg this man for anything.
I inhaled sharply through my nose as he propelled me toward the door to the bank office, calling instructions to his brother that I missed completely, terror building as the door came closer. I desperately didn’t want to be alone with him. Tremors wracked my limbs, and he rubbed my arm, kicking the door open. It moved slowly, and I saw the room wasn’t empty.
My relief was short-lived when I recognised the occupants. Jenny knelt on the floor, her wrists zip-tied in front of her. Teddy took up most of the small floor space, slumped in an enormous pile on the ground, unmoving. I cried out, yanking from Logan’s grasp despite the pain, feeling around Teddy’s head and chest for a heartbeat, a pulse, anything. Hot breath hit my palm when I placed it over his mouth.
I sagged on the floor, my arms around him as far as they could go, which really, wasn’t much, and let the pain from my movements consume me. Sniffling, a smile broke through my haze for a moment. I looked at Jenny, checking she was okay — well, as okay as she could be. She gave a small nod, but I read desperation in her eyes.
I wanted to give her reassurance, but with Logan behind me, every word would be false.
Cal had called him unpredictable; now I understood why he was still free. To catch this man, they needed to be in his head. But insanity like his couldn’t be predicted. Hands reached around my waist, pulling me from Teddy.
I shook my head despite the pain, which was giving way to a numbness that scared me. Logan turned me around, and this time I faced him though my heart pounded with abject fear.
He smiled gently.
“You are so beautiful when you smile. I’ve been watching you for so long now. It was such a wonderful surprise when Dane moved you in with him, where I could see you day and night.” My brow furrowed, trying to make sense of his words. His hands on my waist squeezed what little breath I had left from me. “Though I wasn’t able to watch him touch you. Joey did. He seemed to get some…enjoyment from it.” His mouth twisted with disgust. I echoed the sentiment. Then I shook my head.
“You were able to see us?” It came out as a thin whisper. I couldn’t scream to save myself.
“But of course, love. I have been watching the Great Dane now for many months, oh, since that wonderful alarm he had put in was wired up.” Logan smirked. “He really should have been there, watching. It would have made putting surveillance equipment into his apartment much more difficult.” He drew me closer. “I do so love a challenge.”
His eyes raked me, grip around my waist still tight as my knees buckled. He had watched everything, seen everything I had done, every moment with Cal…Logan stared at me, silent, as all the pieces clicked into place. If I thought I’d felt ill before, it was nothing compared to this.
“Why do you hate him so much?” The words croaked from between my lips before I could haul them back in. Logan canted his head, considering.
“He took what I loved most. Hid her, stole her away from me. But I found her, and watched him have the time with her that should have been mine.”