Keeping 6 (Rock Point Book 1)

by Freya Barker

  I’m still chuckling as I push open the door and walk into the storage room. I love the smell of books. There’s something comforting about it. Only a few places carry the smell: libraries and well-stocked bookstores. Flicking lights on as I go, I’m surprised at how dusty it’s gotten. My office still needs a new computer, something I’ll maybe ask Jasper about. Good thing I got my laptop back a few days ago, after Keith Blackfoot had his forensics guy have a look at it. They discovered an electronic tracer on my hard drive that I assured them I had never installed. It had taken Jasper about two minutes to get it off, but the rest of the day to make sure there weren’t any other surprises hidden on there. Damian said he figured Willoughs must’ve installed it when Luna caught him at my house. That’s how he managed to locate me.

  A shiver crawls up my spine, and determinedly, I refocus my thoughts. I sit down at my desk and pick up the phone, dialing the number scribbled on the slip of paper Bill handed me.

  “Hello?” A vaguely familiar woman’s voice answers after only two rings.

  “Hi, this is Kerry from—”

  “Kerry, yes.” The woman cuts me off before she rushes on to introduce herself, “It’s Jeannie? Jeannie Brooks?”

  No wonder her name sounded familiar. She’s one of my best customers. “Oh, hi, Jeannie. I’m so sorry you found the door locked a few times. I apologize for the inconvenience. It’s a bit of a long story I’ll be happy to tell you over coffee when things settle down. I’ll be open again at regular hours starting Monday.”

  “Actually,” she says hesitantly. “If you’ll be there for another ten minutes or so, I’d like to quickly drop in. I’m just at Walmart and can be there shortly.”

  “Should be,” I tell her. “I planned to do a little tidying, so I should be here for a bit, you can just come to the back door. My neighbor mentioned you had something to give me?” I can’t hold back the curiosity.

  “It’s actually the weirdest thing,” she explains. “My husband and son were working near the creek, along the far side of our property, when our boy spotted a box in the brush. It was my husband who spotted your name. Anyway,” she continues, oblivious to the shocked silence on my side. “I’ve had it in my car for over a week and want to get rid of it.”

  “O...okay,” is all my brain allows me to say. It’s too busy trying to connect the dots. I’m afraid to even think of the possibility.

  Five minutes later, I’m still sitting at my desk, staring blindly at the piece of paper with Jeannie’s number in my hand. What are the odds? Before I recognize what I’m doing, I’ve dug my cell phone out of my purse and hit the preset for Damian’s number.

  “Gypsy,” his familiar voice comes over the phone, instantly calming the chaos in my head. I can hear people talking in the background but focus on his sound alone.

  “I think I know where the books are,” I say, stating what I was afraid to give voice to just seconds ago. It’s too bizarre a coincidence.

  “What?” he blurts, sounding like he is covering the phone with his hand to block out the sound. “Say again?”

  “I know where the box is,” I repeat, this time a little more confidently.

  “Talk to me,” he orders, and I do.

  I tell him about Bill and the phone number, and then I tell him about Jeannie and what she had to say. “She’s on her way here now. She’s had the box in her trunk all this time,” I giggle nervously.

  “Kerry.” His stern tone pulls me back from the brink of hysteria. “I’m at a crime scene in the mountains just north of the city. My whole team is, Keith called us in. I’ll try to get to you as soon as I can, but in the meantime, don’t open the box in front of Jeannie. Just take the box, thank her, and lock the door behind her. Sit tight, babe. I’m heading out.”

  As soon as he hangs up, I get the shivers. I know it’s just a box of books, but all I can think of is twenty-six million dollars and the people who’ve gotten hurt and even died over it.

  I jump up at the sound of a knock at the back door and race to open it. Jeannie is standing on the other side, a bruised and dented box in her hands. As instructed, I don’t invite her in but awkwardly accept the box she holds out.

  “Thanks so much for dropping it off, Jeannie. And I apologize again for any inconvenience. Coffee is on the house from now on.” I smile at her, but all I can feel is a muscle twitching in my cheek.

  “No problem, Kerry, it was on my way. I’d better head home and get dinner on the table. I’ll be in on Monday or Tuesday, I’ve run out of reading material.”

  Somehow I manage to thank her again and tell her I’ll see her next week. I wait for her to close the door behind her before I turn around, walk over to the packing table, and dump the heavy box on top, immediately taking a step back. It’s tempting to open that box and have a look, but I’m terrified I’ll mess something up. Instead, I head back to the door to lock it.

  My hands are shaking so hard, I can’t even manage to get the lock turned. Next thing I know, I’m flying back as the door is shoved open suddenly and slam my back into the shelving unit. The knock to my already-injured ribs takes my breath away. It takes me a second to catch my bearings.

  DAMIAN

  I only take a second to explain the situation in shorthand version to Luna, who is closest by. Trusting that she’ll find Blackfoot and inform him, I jog to my car and rush down the mountain. The thought of Kerry with that blasted box makes me inexplicably nervous. As far as we know, aside from the missing books, the case was tied up neatly with only some of the staff at The Gilded Feather facing trial and jail time. The other players are dead. There is no reason to worry, is there?

  I see Kerry’s new car parked in the back parking among a handful or so of other cars, including Bill’s cargo van. There is no sign of anything out of order, but still I approach the back door carefully, my sidearm in hand and slowly turn the knob.

  It takes me a minute to register what it is I’m looking at. Kerry is sitting on the floor beside the packing table, glaring furiously at the woman holding a gun against her head. I want to yell but am afraid that doing so might startle her, and that’s the last fucking thing I want to do when she has her finger on the trigger.

  “Come in, Agent Gomez, and I suggest you drop your gun,” she coaxes, having clearly picked up on my presence. “I’d know your nauseating scent anywhere.”

  “It’s called shower gel, Ella,” I shoot back at the Interpol operative I thought had long returned home to the UK. “Couldn’t quite give up on the money, could you?” I taunt her, hoping to lure her gun away from Kerry’s head, but instead she presses the barrel right at the top of Kerry’s shoulder. At this angle, the shot would not kill her but certainly destroy her shoulder joint and part, if not all, of her arm.

  “Drop the weapon and carefully kick it over here, or I will happily dismember Ms. Emerson limb by limb,” she grinds out. I have no reason to disbelieve her. After all, she’s got nothing to lose at this point. Grudgingly, I drop my weapon and kick it over, watching her as she carefully bends down to grab it, her gun hand barely shifting position.

  “I’m surprised you got here that fast, you must’ve been camping out in the dumpster out back,” I poke at her again, as she places my gun on a shelf above her head, and finally I get a reaction.

  “And you never spotted me, you self-righteous prick,” Ella spits out as she swings around to face me, the gun now pointing at me. It doesn’t feel good, but at least it is better than having it pointed at Kerry. I try not to think of the Kevlar vest I left in the truck as Ella continues on her rant. I only partially listen, I’m too focused on the familiar gray eyes full of trust now turned to me, as I try to keep an ear on any sounds from outside.

  “Like a true hero, you were so busy protecting your girl, you never even noticed I’ve been camped outside this entire time, watching and waiting. Of course, I was smart enough to switch rentals every few days to avoid garnering suspicion, but a decent investigator would have noticed.” She smirks wh
en she sees me unable to hold in a wince. “You didn’t think every effort would be made to retrieve something so valuable, did you? It was days and days of dedicated surveillance that finally paid off when that woman arrived; carrying a box suspiciously similar to the one your stupid girlfriend here lost.” I shift when I think she’s going to turn back to Kerry, and just that easily, her eyes find their focus on me again. “So many utterly stupid moves. I barely had the patience to sit through those bumbling task force meetings. The incompetence was painful to witness,” she haughtily spouts. “It’s unfortunate that Troy became more of a liability than he was an asset when he took that woman. I knew what had to happen the moment I discovered he obviously botched up with the store clerk. At that point, he simply became collateral damage.” I see Kerry wince at the callous way she describes her friend and the cold-blooded murder of Sinclair.

  “It was actually quite amusing how predictable your reactions were to the breadcrumbs I left behind,” she jabs again, gloating in the knowledge she bested us. “Which brings us to Mr. Willoughs.” She sighs as if disappointed. “As much as I would’ve preferred to keep that particular customer happy, he became more valuable as an easy target. A useful distraction, if you will. Not hard to manipulate and quite mad, actually.” I can’t help but think the man was clearly not alone, but the pale blue eyes of the woman staring back at me are anything but deranged. They are ice-cold and calculating.

  “Why would you risk coming back, though?” I interject, hoping to keep her talking to buy time, while simultaneously finding out as much as I can. “We’ve all but closed the case, leaving responsibility square on the shoulders of your dead compatriots. Why would you chance it?” I watch as a small, triumphant smile ghosts over her face. Fucking megalomaniac.

  “Do you know what’s better than twenty-six million, Agent Gomez?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, before going on to answer the question herself. “Fifty-two million—that’s what,” she declares without apology. “There is a private collector very interested in the wares, it’ll be an easy sale, doubling the money poor Mr. Willoughs already handed over. That kind of money makes it possible to disappear to places you can’t be found, unless you want to.”

  I try not to let my eyes flick to Kerry, who Ella seems to have forgotten all about. I’m not about to draw attention to her again. The woman is so incredibly narcissistic, she seems to revel in the captive audience I provide and continues her self-serving bluster.

  “I was never far away, Agent Gomez. Simply waiting for the heat to die down and opportunity to knock. A chance to ensure my future—” She motions to the opened box on the packing table. “And here I am, provided with an opportunity to settle an unresolved personal matter.” At this, she points the gun directly at the center of my chest, and her voice lowers threateningly. “It’s never a good idea to dress down a woman in public, Agent Gomez. That’s something a woman never forgets—or forgives. You humiliated me, cost me my job, and took away my ability to build on this lucrative sideline I spent years developing.”

  I’ve been slowly moving, while letting Ella rant uninterrupted. So wrapped up in her little fist pump performance, she doesn’t notice that her body is now almost between Kerry and me. My intent was simply to get Kerry out of the line of fire, but Kerry appears to have different plans.

  I try to keep a straight face as I spot her in my peripheral vision, reaching over and carefully picking up a book from the table. Everything in me wants to shake my head to warn her off, but with Ella’s eyes intently focused on my every move, there’s no way I can risk it.

  I faintly hear movement outside of the door and keep a close eye on the former task force member, but she doesn’t seem to hear it and instead carelessly shrugs her shoulders. “Pity—but I’m sure the sweet memory of putting a bullet through your heart will make my loss a lot more bearable.”

  Time seems to slow down as I watch her finger tighten around the trigger. I’m so focused on Ella’s hand, I don’t notice Kerry move until a book comes flying up, hitting Ella’s wrist. The sound of a gunshot in such a small space is loud. Loud enough to momentarily stun your senses. Perhaps that’s why I don’t feel the impact until I hear Kerry scream.

  CHAPTER 32

  Kerry

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt such rage.

  She shot Damian.

  I can’t hold back. The moment Keith storms through the door, Luna right behind him, and the two of them tackle that woman to the floor, I pull myself up on my feet and haul out as hard as I can, landing a solid kick to her ribs.

  “Whoa, tiger,” Jasper’s familiar voice sounds in my ear, as he wraps an arm around my midsection and swings me around. The anger instantly transforms to fear when I see Damian sitting on the floor, blood covering the left side of his shirt. I struggle to get free and drop to my knees in front of him, my hands flying over his torso, looking for holes.

  “Gypsy...”

  I hear his voice but it doesn’t stop me. Strong hands wrap around my wrists to still them.

  “Mi amór...I’m okay.”

  I hear the words but I don’t believe them—my eyes are glued to the blood running down his arm.

  He lightly shakes me once, and then again, until I finally lift my eyes to his. “The bullet grazed my shoulder. I promise I’m okay.” This time the message gets through, but I don’t look away from his eyes once, not even when EMTs rush in and start cutting away his shirt. Damian answers questions when they’re asked, but he doesn’t glance away, keeping me grounded and safe in the hold of his eyes as the paramedics patch up his shoulder.

  “Miss, are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” I manage.

  “Are you sure?” Damian asks softly.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat, “I just want to go home.”

  LUNA ENDS UP DRIVING us in the Expedition. She doesn’t even question the fact that Damian crawls into the back seat with me. Our hands are clasped together, sticky with his blood, and his head is resting on mine. I can feel every breath he takes. We ride home in silence, the only thing on my mind: the man in the seat beside me. For a moment there, I thought I’d lost him—reacted too late. I don’t think that would have been something I could ever have recovered from. But he’s right here, breathing the same air I’m breathing and traveling the same road I’m traveling. Something I will never take for granted again.

  “Is it over?” I say as we pull up to our house, knowing I’ve asked this before but asking anyway.

  “Yes, Gypsy—It’s finally over.”

  Luna stays downstairs to wait for Jasper and Blackfoot, who said they would follow us here, while I head upstairs, pulling Damian along. I move us into the bathroom and draw a bath, while I remove the remains of Damian’s tattered shirt. He lets me without argument, instinctively recognizing this is something I need to do. I wince at the blood still staining his skin. The EMTs wiped off the worst, but I need it all gone. He automatically stands up when I start unbuckling his belt, easily kicks off his shoes, and steps out of his jeans when I pull them down to his ankles, taking his socks right along.

  Seated in the tub with his arm resting on the edge to stay dry, Damian watches me as I completely strip down and slip in the tub across from him. I take my time washing him, and when I’m done, every hint of blood is gone from his skin. Then I start scrubbing at my own hide, but Damian soon stops me, taking the washcloth from my hand. With slow, firm strokes, he cleans my skin and when he’s done, he urges me to turn and lay back against his chest, his right arm crossing over my shoulder, between my breasts with his hand resting on my stomach.

  “Does this happen often?” I ask, both hands holding his arm firmly in place, afraid of the answer but needing to know anyway.

  “This wasn’t the first time,” he says calmly. “I suspect it might not be the last.”

  It’s not a surprise, but I still have to swallow hard before I can react. “Okay.”

  “Does it help?” he asks me, and I don’t have to think b
efore I answer.

  “Yes. It helps.”

  “Good,” he acknowledges. “Then this will be how we deal.”

  By the time we get downstairs, Luna is in the kitchen working on some grilled cheese sandwiches, one of which is rapidly disappearing behind Jasper’s chomping jaw. Keith is leaning against the counter, appearing relaxed at first view, but the tick of a muscle in his jaw reveals he’s anything but.

  “You okay, boss?” Jas is the first to notice our arrival.

  “Just a scratch,” Damian says from behind me. I can’t hold back the derisive snort. His arm snakes around me from behind. “In our line of work, that’s what it is, Gypsy,” he rumbles in my ear before addressing his team. “What have we got?”

  “An international mess,” Keith volunteers. “Jas called James, who is on his way and has instructed us to hold off on interviewing Ella. So for now, she’s sitting in a holding cell.” He pulls out a stool and sits down heavily. “How did we miss this?” His question is mostly directed to Damian.

  “She was clever. Kept her finger to the pulse, and whenever she got uncomfortable with the direction of the investigation, she made sure to tie off any exposed leads with viable explanations. Not really hard to manipulate a case when you’re playing both sides simultaneously.” Damian pulls out a stool for me to sit when Luna slides a plate in front of me. “Eat,” he orders. Normally I would’ve probably given him hell, but I’m still a little numb, and besides, that grilled cheese sandwich looks really good.

  While Damian gives a detailed account of his part in this afternoon’s events, I manage to clean my plate. Then it’s my turn to describe what I remember. Feels like I’m becoming an old hand at this statement business. I’ve sure given enough over the past little while.

  The low hum of conversation slowly fades into the background as fatigue suddenly overwhelms me, and I rest my head on Damian’s shoulder. Next thing I know, I wake up with him peppering kisses over my face. “I’d carry you upstairs, babe, but my shoulder is a bit messed up. Jasper offered, but I threatened to tear off any limb that came near you. Looks like you’re going to have to walk, Gypsy.” I lift my head off his shoulder and notice everyone is gone.