Either way, he didn’t like it much.
He tucked her into the car and went around to his side. As the engine came on, the clock glowed bright green.
“It’s after midnight,” she said in a somber voice. “Ashley went missing a week ago today.”
“Don’t think about that. It won’t do her any good. You have to focus on the here and now.”
“I’m not going to fall apart on you and get all emotional. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t care about an emotional outburst, sweetheart. I care about you.” He more than just cared, but he didn’t let himself go there. There was no point. Their lives were too different. Even if he walked away from everything to be with her—his family, his job, his friends—it would never work between them. He’d be a weight around her neck, keeping her from reaching her goals.
He loved her too much to do that to her.
Trent’s hand fumbled with the keys. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen in love with her, but he had. It should have been a comforting, freeing feeling, but it wasn’t. Without a future, what good would his love do either of them?
She reached for him and slid her fingers around his arm. “You’re a good man. I’m lucky you caught me breaking into Ashley’s place.”
“I thought you weren’t breaking in. At least that’s what you told Bob.”
“I’ll tell you everything one day when we’re not sitting outside a police station.”
One day. That sounded suspiciously like she was talking about the future—that she’d be around long enough for them to have one.
Trent was enough of a fool to let that bubble of hope swell up inside him. “I’ll hold you to that.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
While Trent waited with the car in the loading zone of the hotel, Elise checked them in.
She felt fragile and stretched thin. Trent had been right beside her all day, rock-solid, and she knew that without him, she’d likely be a basket case by now. Even being away from him long enough to get them a room left her feeling edgy and vulnerable.
She asked for a room with only one bed. The idea of sleeping in his arms again was a lure that was too potent for her to resist. She needed every advantage she could find to hold herself together long enough to find Ashley, and right now, Trent was her advantage.
The clerk handed her two key cards and pointed toward the elevators. Elise took the keys, trying to pay attention to what the woman said, but all she could think about was getting back to Trent. As she hurried off, a man in waiting behind her stepped up to the counter. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones getting in late.
Elise walked out of the hotel. Trent was right in front of the doors, in the rental car, keeping watch around him as if he expected trouble. He was probably right to do so.
She climbed back in the passenger’s seat and handed him a plastic key card. “We’re in room 412. The clerk said we could use the side door coming in from the garage with our keys.”
“Do you want to grab some food, or just go to sleep?”
He was probably starving, and it had been a long time since she’d eaten, too. “Food, if you can find something open.”
“There’s a store down the street that’s open all night. We can grab some granola bars or something.”
“Sure.”
They made quick work of finding food, parked in the hotel’s garage, and went up to their room.
Elise carried the sack of sandwiches and fruit they’d found, along with their drinks, while Trent carried the luggage. He slid his key in the door and opened it for her to go in.
As she set the drinks down, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head up just in time to see a masked man lift a silenced pistol.
There wasn’t even time to draw in a breath to scream before Trent was moving. He shoved her out of the way and went flying at the man. As he closed the distance, he swung one of the overnight bags at the gunman. It batted the man’s arm aside as the weapon fired, barking in the silence of the hotel.
Trent rammed his body into the masked man’s, taking control of his weapon arm.
Elise steadied herself against the wall, stood there, shocked. Unmoving. She wasn’t even sure if this was real.
“Get out!” shouted Trent.
She couldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, staring in horror as Trent took a hard blow to his jaw.
Trent rammed the man’s hand into a desk, trying to dislodge the gun.
Another bullet screamed across the room and plowed through the ceiling.
What if there was someone in the room above them?
Finally, that thought shook her locked-up body loose and she was able to move. She picked up the icy drink next to her and hurled it at the masked man’s back.
He jerked in shock, then kept fighting, but that fraction of a second’s distraction was enough to give Trent an opening. He did something with his leg that swept the man’s feet out from under him. The man went down against the desk, but Trent didn’t let go of his arm.
The gun barked again. Trent snarled, lifted the man’s hand, weapon and all, then slammed his elbow against the edge of the sturdy desk.
Elise heard the bone break, followed by the man’s stifled scream of pain.
The weapon fell from his limp fingers, clattering onto the desk.
Trent forced the man the rest of the way to the floor using his broken arm for leverage. He pinned him there with a knee to his back.
Elise saw a dark wet spot forming on the man’s sleeve.
“Give me the phone cord from the wall,” said Trent. His voice was harsh, guttural.
Elise ripped the cord out of the wall and tied the man’s hands together behind his back where Trent held them. He made short, pained grunts every time his broken arm shifted.
Her stomach rolled with every sound he made, every accidental brush of her skin over his.
As soon as she was done, Trent checked the knot, pulled the man’s mask off and tossed it aside. “Who sent you?” he demanded.
The man said nothing.
Trent leaned his weight on the knee he had against the man’s spine. “Who the fuck sent you?”
This was not going to end well. Before it could get out of control any further, she got her cell phone out, dialed 911, and told the dispatcher what had happened. They were only blocks from a police station. It wasn’t going to take long for the cops to get here.
She just had to keep Trent from killing this man until then.
Half a second longer and Elise would have been dead.
That was the thought that kept spinning around in Trent’s head as he stared down at the piece of shit bleeding on the carpet.
If he’d hesitated upon seeing that weapon, she’d be the one bleeding right now, and Trent would likely be right there with her.
He patted the man down, looking for a wallet or anything to ID him. The guy didn’t even have spare change. The only thing on him was a hotel key card and a spare clip of ammo.
Trent’s blood went cold, soaking up all the heat of battle.
This man was a professional. A hired killer.
What the hell had they gotten mixed up in? Whatever it was, it was a lot more than just a serial killer. A killer wouldn’t want to hire someone to do the work for him. He’d take care of the job himself.
Trent rolled the man over, making him cry out as his weight shifted onto his broken arm. He grabbed the front of his shirt and snarled, “Tell me who hired you.”
The man stared up at him. Those dark eyes were empty. Soulless. This was the kind of man who could shoot two unsuspecting people in their hotel room while deciding what to have for breakfast.
“Don’t hurt him, Trent. He might know where Ashley is.” Elise came forward, but he didn’t dare look at her. Not yet. He wasn’t going to risk taking his eyes off this killer even for a second, which was why he saw there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition on the man’s face when she’d mentioned Ashley’s name.
>
If he knew anything about her, he had one hell of a poker face.
“Do you know where my sister is?” asked Elise.
The man’s eyes moved toward Elise, and Trent slapped him to get his attention. “Don’t even look at her.”
A slight smile lifted one side of the hired killer’s mouth. Trent had shown him a weak spot and the fucker was enjoying it. If he got the chance, he’d exploit it.
Trent wasn’t going to give him the chance.
“Hand me the gun, Elise.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Sirens filtered through the hotel room windows. The police were here.
Trent was tempted to get it himself, but he knew that if he took his weight off this man for even an instant, Elise would be the one to pay. He might be bound, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to hurt her, or at least get away to do so later.
Trent wasn’t going to let that happen. “Give. Me. The. Gun.”
“No.” Her voice was firm and unyielding.
“I can make him tell me what he knows,” lied Trent.
“Fine, then you can do it once the police are here to witness his confession.”
There would be no confession. A man in his field didn’t talk and keep breathing.
Heavy footsteps pounded in the hall and Elise went to the open door to wave the police inside.
As the officers took control of the scene, Trent let go of his prey, knowing he’d lost his chance to rid the world of one more threat.
Gary wanted Elise, but she was nowhere to be found. He was normally a patient man, but he detested having his schedule interrupted.
Ashley was becoming burdensome. He was tired of her. Angry at her for what she’d done to Constance.
It was time for her to be of use. She owed him for what she’d taken away, and Gary was going to see to it that she paid her debt.
Constance was gone now, but she wasn’t done serving a purpose. She was going to bring Elise right to him.
Gary needed Elise. He needed to see that perfect, beautiful fear and grief shining in her eyes again. He’d watched it over and over on the news, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to see it in person. In the flesh.
He knew she loved Ashley, and that when she watched him turn Ashley from a whiney, brainless twit into a beautiful, perfect woman, Elise’s eyes would shine, and her skin would glow. Her pain would be exquisite, acute, making her beautiful beyond words. Perfect, just like Wendy had been.
Eventually, Elise would fail him, becoming imperfect. All the women did. She’d no doubt have to take her own turn under his scalpel and saw, but he’d planned something special for her—a kind of thank-you present for the pleasure she was destined to give him.
Both Elise and her sister would live together forever, side by side, the two halves of their hearts stitched into one whole. Just like sisters should be.
It was dawn by the time Trent and Elise had finished answering all the police’s questions.
Trent’s body was still humming with adrenaline, tight and tense. Elise, on the other hand, sat limp and exhausted beside him.
He needed to find a place for her to sleep, and he wasn’t about to check them back into that hotel.
They’d been gone for no more than twenty minutes to get food, and that hit man had found them. Trent wasn’t taking that kind of risk again.
Detective Woodward opened the door of the interrogation room. “You’re free to go now.”
Trent stood and offered his hand to Elise. He was more than ready to be out of here. Experiencing crime from the victim’s side made him feel caged in and restless. He wanted to be out there, doing something.
He wanted to be in Woodward’s shoes.
“Did you get anything out of the guy who attacked us?” asked Elise.
Woodward held the door open for them to leave. “No, but we know this guy. He’s a hired gun—works for anyone with enough cash. He’s wanted for questioning in connection with several unsolved homicides. We’ve got guys in with him now, talking to him.”
“He’s not going to say anything,” predicted Trent.
“Maybe not, but we caught him in the act this time. He’s not going to be slipping away anytime soon.”
“How did he get the key to our room?” asked Trent.
“He killed the night clerk, so maybe he made his own, or found a housekeeping key lying around.”
Another death. Trent felt his chest tighten.
“The clerk died?” asked Elise.
“I’m afraid so.”
She squeezed Trent’s hand hard as they made their way down the hall. “What is going on? What does this have to do with Ashley?”
Woodward shrugged. “I wish we knew. I’m beginning to wonder if she didn’t get herself mixed up in some kind of organized crime. We know that hit man worked for the Outfit, even if we can’t prove it.”
Elise leaned against Trent’s side. She was shaking with fear or cold or both, so he wrapped his arm around her. “So, what do we do now?” she asked.
They walked past several desks. Even this early, the place was starting to bustle with activity. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the station. A low drone of voices filled the air with purpose.
“Get some rest. Come back in a few hours. Maybe we’ll have more to go on.”
Maybe. No promises. Trent could hear the frustration in Woodward’s tone. Having the silent hit man in custody had gotten them no closer to Ashley.
“Any suggestions where to stay? Someplace safe?” asked Trent.
“I’ve got one,” said a man behind Trent.
Every muscle in his body clenched, locking down hard. Air flew out of his lungs and he stood frozen for a long, excruciating second. Slowly, he turned around and faced John Laree, his old partner.
“How about you come stay at my place?” asked John.
Trent looked down at the man in a wheelchair, the man who’d taught him so much.
The last time he’d seen John he’d been pale and weak. His face had been haggard with pain and hard with determination. He’d been in a motorized wheelchair then, but now, John’s arms bulged under the sleeves of his CPD T-shirt—clear evidence that he’d gotten well past needing the motor.
John was tan and smiling. His graying hair was trimmed to the scalp, and his bright blue eyes were as clear and sharp as a cold mountain stream. The signs of pain were gone, and it was almost like he was happy to see Trent again.
Trent knew better. No way was John happy to see the man who’d stolen his life.
John thrust his hand out. Trent had no choice but to take it, or be even more of an ass than he already was.
John’s hand was strong and warm, rough with calluses. “It’s good to see you, man. You’re a hard guy to get ahold of.”
Trent couldn’t speak. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.
Elise stepped forward and shook John’s hand. “I’m Elise McBride. Trent’s friend.”
“John Laree,” was all Trent managed to choke out.
“So, I hear you two have some trouble on your hands. Why don’t you come back to the house and get a little sleep. You both look like you could use it.”
“Thanks,” said Elise. “We’d love to.”
“But we can’t,” added Trent, his words fast and clipped with panic. “I’ve already brought enough trouble down on you. I won’t bring any more to your doorstep.”
“Hell, Trent. No one knows where you’re going but me and Ed. And he sure as hell won’t spill.”
“Not a word,” agreed Woodward.
“Besides, Carol would love to see you again.”
“Carol? I thought you two split up,” said Trent.
John shrugged wide, powerful shoulders. A broad grin spread over his face. “A lot’s changed. If you’d given me your phone number, you’d know about all of it. Instead, you hightailed it out of here as soon as the doctors sent me home.”
He’d wanted to stay, but th
at would have been selfish. Once he’d seen John was going to make it, he thought he owed the man the decency of never having to look at him again. “I thought it was best.”
“Well, you were wrong,” said John, in that same casual lecturing tone he’d used to teach Trent too many things to count. “You always were a bonehead.”
John spun his chair around easily, like it was a part of him. “Come on,” he said as he rolled away. “I already told Carol you’re coming, and if you make me disappoint her, I’m going to have to beat the hell out of you.”
Trent stood there, unsure what to do for a moment, but Elise had no similar problems. She took her overnight bag from Trent’s shoulder and headed after John.
“You’d better go,” said Woodward. “I’m pretty sure John could take you.”
Lawrence hated incompetence. He expected precision and effectiveness from those he employed.
Hired hit men were no different.
The man had come highly recommended, and yet Elise and her ex-cop boyfriend were still nosing around in Chicago, with the police, no less. His contact on the CPD had seen them only moments ago—right after the hit man he’d hired had been arrested and hauled in for questioning.
Clearly, Lawrence was going to have to take matters into his own hands. He wasn’t about to do anything drastic—no sense in dirtying himself. But this time, the man he hired was going to be supervised. He’d go himself and make sure the job was done right.
And then after that, he was going to have to do something about Gary—get him to leave town, maybe go out to the West Coast. He’d dirtied the waters here. It was time to move on.
And if he didn’t want to go, then Lawrence would simply have to supervise the job of having his brother killed, too.
John Laree’s house was the last place on the planet Trent wanted to be.
They followed him home and pulled in front of a quaint little house crammed up against its neighbors. There wasn’t much yard to be had, but what was there was lush and green. A long ramp wound its way from the drive up to the front porch, and each side of it was lined with bright pink petunias.
“You shouldn’t be so tense,” said Elise. “Clearly, the man doesn’t hate you.”
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