Promises After Dark (After Dark Series, Book 3)

by Kahlen Aymes

  “Maybe we should go with you,” Josh said. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I’m not going alone.” Alex ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower, then I need to speak to Allison alone.”

  He walked briskly from the room, leaving the others agape behind him. He took the stairs to his old room two at a time. Hopefully, his mother hadn’t trashed his old hockey bag and some of his clothes. He needed boots, jeans, and sweatshirts, and he had no time to go back to his place to pack a bag.

  Alex rummaged through his closet and was just pulling out some old boots he had from when the family vacationed in Colorado his senior year when Ally knocked on the door. “Come in,” he murmured. Next, he found socks, some T-shirts and a black zippered hoodie in his dresser, with a couple pair of jeans and some of his college sweats. He’d need to try them on to see if the shirts fit, but the sweatpants would work. He hauled his bag out and started quickly shoving everything into it.

  “Allison, I need you to call Kyle. I don’t have his number. Tell him I need to meet him somewhere. Preferably on the west side or central.”

  “The warehouse where the band practices is on the south side, but they might be playing somewhere. It’s Friday night, Alex, and it’s almost midnight.”

  “I know the fucking time, Allison!” The tension inside his chest felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode. “Jesus Christ! I don’t have time to dick around with explanations! Can you just do as I ask? Please?” He was on his haunches on the floor next to the bed and glanced up at Allison, who was standing in the open doorway.

  “Okay, but what if he doesn’t answer?”

  “Text him my phone number. Tell him I need to speak to him about Angel and follow it with 911. He’ll call me. And don’t mention this to Mom, Dad, or Josh. Or the James’.”

  “All right, Alex. I’m really sorry about your security guy.”

  Alex stood and kicked off his shoes, and began pulling the tails of his shirt out of his dress slacks. “Thanks. Can you excuse me?”

  “Yes. Should I just meet you downstairs then?”

  “Yeah, and can you ask Dad if I can borrow some boxers and a couple sweatshirts?” Alex was decidedly broader, the hours in the gym making a significant difference since his first years at college. “I’ll try these, but I don’t think they’ll fit me.”

  “What if they are the grandpa boxer kind?”

  “He’s not that old, Allison,” Alex spat.

  “Yes, but older than you.”

  “I don’t have the luxury of being picky right now. Just do it! Throw them on the bed while I’m in the shower.”

  Alex’s temper was on a short lease, but goddamn it, didn’t he just tell Allison what the fuck was going on? Wasn’t Jason Bancroft just slit like a fish and left in an oozing puddle of his own blood? The whole thing was so incredibly surreal. He felt strange, as if he was watching a movie rather than living through it.

  Worry that he might be getting into a situation that could get him killed, didn’t seem to matter. That he may have to resort to all matter of despicable acts to end this didn’t faze him, either. He was numb—on autopilot. Getting this over was his singular purpose. Determination consumed him. Failure was not an option.

  After he showered, Alex quickly toweled off and ran a quick comb through his hair. He changed into old jeans and one of his old football T-shirts. It was tighter in the shoulders and sleeves, and it seemed a little shorter than he remembered, confirming that the sweatshirts in the same size wouldn’t be comfortable. He didn’t take the time to shave.

  When he went back into his room, there was a stack of his father’s clothes waiting for him on the bed. He pulled on a Chicago Bears long sleeve T-shirt over his other one, shoved the underwear, sweatshirts, and other things into the hockey bag, and zipped it closed. He sat down on his bed and put on his socks and boots, lacing them up in a hurry.

  He knew he should take a gun, even if using it was a big risk. There were laws against carrying concealed weapons, and he wasn’t registered to carry. Fuck it. Alex didn’t care.

  Alex threw the black hoodie on top of the huge bag and slung it over his shoulder, leaving his room to walk down the stairs and back into the den. Everyone, including both Wayne and Sid, were there, though they were sitting down, talking things through. They all watched him re-enter the room. The mood was somber.

  When Alex walked in with the big black bag, he dropped it on the floor just inside the room. Cora stood up, her demeanor anxious. “Are you leaving right away?”

  He pulled out his phone. The screen had a text from an unknown number. “Yeah, Mom. Did you or Allison pack any food?”

  She nodded and began to walk out of the room. “Yes, I’ll go get it.”

  “Thanks.” Alex flipped open the message, and it was from Kyle. There were two messages because Alex had been in the shower and hadn’t answered right away.

  What’s going on with Angel?

  WHAT IS GOING ON?????

  He quickly typed in a response.

  I need your help. I’ll tell you when I see you. Where can we meet?

  This is freaking me out. Is she okay?

  Yes. I’ll explain. Can you meet me at O’Hare? Park your car in the garage, and I’ll pick you up at American Departures on the top level.

  When?

  “Alex what’s going on?” Charles asked.

  “Just give me a minute, Dad.”

  One hour.

  Do I need to bring anything?

  Alex sighed, contemplating what to say, and if it was smart to say what he needed to say.

  This is very serious shit, so interpret that.

  Okay, I get it.

  Good. See you in an hour.

  When Alex looked up from his phone, his mother had returned with a small cooler and one of those fabric grocery bags with the Whole Foods logo stamped on the side. Everyone was staring at him expectantly.

  “Dad, can I speak to you? Sid? Wayne? You, too.” Alex nodded his head indicating they should follow him back into the great room by the front door. He picked up the big hockey bag. The size made it awkward, but it was big enough to shove a rifle into it without being conspicuous. He lined up the handles of the grocery bag and the cooler, picked them both up with his other hand, and headed out of the room. The three other men followed.

  “Dad, I need weapons. Can I take some of yours?” Alex spoke in hushed tones so his voice wouldn’t carry into the room they’d just left.

  Charles’ face instantly changed. Concern flooded his features. “Jesus Christ, Alex! Is that necessary?”

  “It’s a precaution.”

  Wayne and Sid were both in the hallway. “Yes, you can’t be too careful, Alex, but, I think one of us should accompany you. We can carry legally.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “No. I need you here to protect my family.” He addressed his father next. “I won’t be alone. But I do have to get going.”

  “Which one do you want?”

  “A hunting rifle with a scope, and a couple of small handguns.” He knew his dad had one semi-automatic in his collection because he had taken Alex and Cole to the shooting range to practice with it on more than one occasion and named it. “The Herstal?”

  “Christ, Alex—” Charles didn’t believe in violence, but his own father had taught him to shoot when he was young, and he’d put Cole and Alex both into gun safety classes when they were boys. He felt knowledge and being open with his children was a valuable part of keeping them from getting involved in dangerous activities. Still, that was a serious weapon, and if Alex was asking for it specifically, he expected to need it.

  “Dad!” He raised his voice then glanced in the direction of the room where the others remained. He was frustrated, exasperated, and in a hurry. He lowered his volume but the urgency remained. “I don’t have time to debate this! I said it’s a precaution.” His gut told him the likelihood of using it was higher than he wanted to disclose to his
father. “I’m going to find this ruthless motherfucker since the cops can’t do their job. I’ll get them involved, if and when, I locate him.”

  “If it’s that dangerous, then I don’t want you—”

  “It’s not up for discussion. Please, just get them.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? What about possible repercussions for the company?” Charles was getting angry himself. “It will be all over the news.”

  “Fuck the company! I’m trying to keep people from dying! Regardless if you help me or not, I’m still doing this.” The muscle in Alex’s lean jaw was working back and forth as he clenched his teeth. “Yes or no?” he demanded.

  Charles nodded. He could see the determination and the fury behind his son’s eyes. He’d seen it before, but this was more.

  “Sid, help my father, please.”

  Alex was left with Wayne in the tiled entryway of the big house. “Did you let the others go for the night? I don’t want any of them to see me leave.”

  “Yes. But, you still need to be cautious. If one of them is feeding Swanson information, they may be lurking anywhere. I’ll try to determine who it is. We haven’t added anyone since Sid was shot.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” Alex was still holding the bags and the cooler but he didn’t register the weight. “Find out where Swanson’s nephew is. I’m sure he’s out, too.”

  “Yes. He was just an accomplice. His bail was as much as Mark Swanson’s. Just expect him to be around. It’s probable Swanson will have at least one or two guys with him.”

  “I agree.”

  “He’s still using that pre-pay phone, so we haven’t been able to track it.”

  Charles and Sid returned with the rifle case and two smaller cases. Alex recognized them, and his father had given him the Herstal as requested.

  “Is there ammunition?”

  “Inside the cases. I put more bullets for the handguns in the rifle case.”

  Alex set everything on the floor and took the two smaller cases, unzipped his bag, and stashed them inside. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He stood and picked everything up again.

  “Alex, I know you’re a grown man, and I have to trust you know what you’re doing, but don’t get these out unless absolutely necessary. If you’re not prepared to fire it, don’t expose it. Someone as dangerous as you say this person is will take it and use it against you.”

  “Yes, I know. I remember the lessons, Dad.”

  The first time Alex had seen a gun up close, he was twelve years old. Charles had taken Cole, Allison, and himself out into a field and showed them how to turn the safeties on and off and how to remove the magazine from the gun to disarm it. Charles talked about how dangerous guns were then proceeded to show them. He shot a full gallon of milk from a hundred yards away using the Herstal he had just entrusted to Alex. Alex remembered that day as if it were yesterday. The container exploded with such force it spewed pieces of plastic and milk twenty or more feet in all directions.

  That’s what happens to a person when they get shot. It’s not cool. It’s not fun. Knowing about guns is about safety, and disarming them, not violence. Got it? They’d gotten the message, loud and clear.

  Sid, still carrying the rifle case, Wayne, and Charles accompanied Alex out. They all waited while Alex loaded everything into the trunk of his Audi, but Wayne and Sid were scanning the scene. They were practiced; one of them looking north and west, the other south and east.

  “Isn’t your car a little fancy for a manhunt?” Charles asked. Normally, Alex would agree, but one of the neighborhoods Standish provided was decidedly upscale and that was where his search would start, and the Audi would be inconspicuous there.

  “It’s a search.” He shut the trunk. “Hopefully, a short one.”

  Charles’ arms were outstretched, and Alex went in to hug his father. Hugs between them were rare. “Be careful, son,” Charles said as he patted Alex on the back.

  “I will, Dad. Can you tell Mrs. Dane to clear my schedule on Monday and Tuesday, just in case I’m not back? I’ll be in touch if it needs to be longer. Take Sid with you when you go into the office.”

  Charles nodded. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  Alex turned to Wayne, who handed Alex his walkie-talkie. “Take this. You’ll need it to talk to us and to Cole.”

  Dressed as he was, Alex looked younger and less imposing. Devoid of the designer suits that were his usual armor, Alex seemed much more vulnerable. Charles knew it was an illusion, that underneath, Alex was still immovable, but his fatherly instincts kicked in.

  Alex was a good man, responsible, and prepared to get his hands dirty to protect people he loved. Wayne’s law enforcement background might nag at him that he should convince Alex to leave it to the police, but knowing what he knew Mark Swanson was capable of, and seeing how little the police department had done, he understood Alex’s decisions.

  “Be careful.” Charles put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “I will, thanks. Keep me updated if the police find anything, and I’ll do the same.” Alex shook their hands, and within seconds, he was in the car and heading away. It was two in the morning. He hadn’t slept, really slept, in almost thirty-six hours. It wasn’t ideal, but he had no other recourse.

  He merged back onto I-90 and raced west toward O’Hare. Traffic was still busy given it was Friday night in Chicago, but not so much that it slowed him down, though. He was calm as he maneuvered around slower traffic, his mind filled with Bancroft and the gruesome scene at the station, the mess Swanson left everywhere he went. He was like a fucking flash fire in a drought, leaving a wide swath of destruction in his wake. Alex forgot to breathe for a few seconds and he sucked in a deep, abrupt breath. His life had definitely changed. Six months ago, he’d be out with Darian or fucking Whitney senseless at 2 AM on a Friday night, and now this mess.

  He thought about Angel and the love that now devoured his heart and dictated his every move. It was hard to believe he could love someone that much. But he did. He’d do anything for her. Do anything to be with her and build a life with her. He was still absorbed in his thoughts as he raced through the tolls in the I-Pass lane, but then he realized, that I-Pass was a way he could be tracked. He’d have to pay cash at the tolls from now on.

  He took the exit to O’Hare and followed the signs to the departing flights and for American Airlines. American was at the west end of terminal three, and Kyle was leaning up against one of the metal pillars waiting with a blue duffel bag at his feet. He was wearing an old army camouflage jacket, jeans, and black boots.

  Alex hadn’t seen or talked to him since the night at Angel’s apartment after the benefit. He still looked similar. His hair had grown out, no longer shaved, but controlled with gel. Kyle wouldn’t know what car to look for, so Alex pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window.

  “Hey, Kyle,” he called out.

  Kyle’s head snapped in Alex’s direction, and he pushed away from the pole and bent to pick up the bag. Alex popped the trunk and the lid lifted. Kyle deposited his bag in the trunk alongside Alex’s things. He took note of the rifle case but just closed the trunk lid before sliding in next to Alex.

  Alex pulled out the paper with the list of addresses he’d gotten from Marvin Standish and punched the first address into his GPS.

  Kyle buckled his seatbelt. He pulled out a pack of gum and shoved a piece into his mouth before holding the pack out for Alex to take some.

  “Wanna tell me what the hell this is about?”

  The GPS started its guidance as the car left O’Hare. The GPS girl’s voice was loud and annoying.

  Alex gave Kyle the rundown of Angel’s case and the problems with Swanson, ending with the ransom demands and Bancroft’s body being found at the radio station a few hours earlier. He may have left out some of the finer details out of respect for time, but in general, Kyle understood.

  He leaned back in the passenger seat. “Holy shit! Fuck, I wish she
’d never gone to grad school. This wouldn’t be happening.”

  Alex’s lips pressed together. He couldn’t help feeling jealous. “Forgive me if I’m happy about her choice, though I agree, I wish she’d use her degree in a less dangerous way.”

  Kyle studied Alex as he drove. Though it was early morning and the sun wasn’t up yet, the lights along the interstate and in the suburban neighborhood that was their destination were well lit.

  Kyle shook his head. “Knowing her, she’ll tell us both to fuck off.”

  “Pretty much, though she has acquiesced to some of my requests during all of this. My brother took Angel, Becca, and Jillian out of town until we find this abhorrent asshole. She wasn’t happy about it. Jillian’s birthday party was tonight. Or should have been.”

  “Yeah. She loves that kid. Becca had her a few months before Angel and I split. So what are we doing?”

  “I have to find this prick. The police are worthless, and I want it over.”

  “Judging by your text, you think it might get messy.”

  “It’s pretty much a given at this point.”

  “Awesome,” Kyle said flatly. Maybe he should have asked more questions before signing up for shit like this. He was so close to getting a record deal with a major label, and while dying to help a friend was noble, it wasn’t his idea of wise. It would’ve been different if it were something necessary to take care of Angel, but this wasn’t a rescue mission, it was a wild goose chase as far as he was concerned. “Why me? Don’t you have any friends?” He shot Alex a disgusted glance. His gut still burned because this rich dickhead was fucking his ex-girlfriend.

  “I asked you to help because I know you care about Angel. Your vested interest made you the most likely to agree. Swanson has proved he will not stop, and I’m at the end of my rope. He’s forcing my hand.”

  “You’re richer than God. Why don’t you just pay someone to bash the fucker’s head in?”

  “You’re the second person in twenty-four hours to ask me that.” Alex shook his head, incredulous that the solution seemed as easy to Kyle as it had been to Marvin Standish. He huffed. “It’s not that easy. He won’t be waiting for us like a sitting duck. He won’t go down without a fight.”