by Skye Warren
The vehicle slowed as she turned into a parking lot. I tensed, wondering where we were. The ambient traffic sounds were the same as they’d been. We hadn’t gone too far and we hadn’t turned off on any dirt roads. We were off some random city road.
Brakes squeaked as we stopped completely. The window whirred as it rolled down.
“Good morning,” said a voice over an intercom. “How can I assist you today?”
The bank. She’d gone to the fucking bank. I raged at myself all over again. You stalker. You creepy fuck. She let you into her home, she trusted you, and you repay her by following her when she runs legitimate errands.
“I’d like to check my balance,” came Della’s voice.
“One moment, please.” After a pause, the teller stated a balance of a few hundred bucks in checking and a little over eight thousand dollars in a savings account. Not a bad nest egg. Creepy. Stalker.
“I’d like to withdraw eight thousand,” she said.
And just like that, the warnings were pinging all over again. Something was wrong here, seriously wrong. Eight thousand bucks in the bank was good stuff for a girl who clearly lived modestly and worked hard. She had a house and a truck. All signs pointed to fiscal responsibility, but she practically runs away from breakfast and withdraws all her money?
No. This girl needed help.
I waited with very little patience while she completed the transaction. I wanted to bust out of the bed of the truck and get some answers. I wanted to demand she let me help her. But that would only terrify her right now. I needed to know more about what I was dealing with. I also needed a little backup.
As we got back on the road, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed James.
He picked up on the second ring. “Yo.”
“Hey, man.” Suddenly I felt sheepish. Okay, sure, we told each other everything. But I hadn’t forgotten how crazy this made me look. It looks crazy because it is crazy, man. “How’s Rachel?”
“She’s good. Better than good. Now why are you calling me from a fucking wind tunnel?”
It was pretty loud in the back of a truck when it was going forty—no, fifty—miles per hour. We had clearly picked up speed, which meant she was heading somewhere else, away from home rather than toward it. Another innocuous errand? Or did she have a plan for her life savings?
“I have a situation,” I confessed.
“With the data?” he asked, his voice on high alert.
“No. Shit, no, I haven’t even had time to think about that. I’ve been…distracted.”
“Ohh, that kind of distracted.”
“Don’t say ohh, jackass. It’s not like that.”
“What is it like then?” he asked in a mocking tone, clearly not buying it. As well he shouldn’t, since he was on the right track.
“There’s this girl.” I ignored the smug sound over the phone. “Actually, you know her. Sort of. It’s the stewardess from the plane. I needed a ride and then Chelsea kicked me out and—”
“Wait a minute. Chelsea kicked you out? But it was your apartment.”
“I know. It’s a long story. Well, no, it’s not a long story. It’s a short one. She asked me to leave and I did. I had no desire to sleep in the bed where she’d fucked another guy.”
“Aww, shit.”
“Yeah, I know. But Della was there. She’d given me a ride, and I ended up going home with her.”
“You fucking dog.” Genuine approval rang in his voice.
“Yeah, well. It’s been great. She’s amazing and I’m more comfortable at her place than I’ve ever been in my life.” Oh yeah, and I’m falling for her. Hard.
“So what’s with the SOS?”
“I think she’s in trouble. She’s not telling me much, but the way she looks sometimes…it’s like that moment when the shooting starts. You realize there’s a very real chance you will die in the next ten minutes, and there’s not much you can even do about it. It’s just random chance at that point. You think, I’ve been lucky so far, but maybe it’s run out now. That’s what I see when I look in her eyes.”
“Well, shit. Between the data and this, you sure do know how to find trouble.”
It did seem to be an unfortunate trend. And it had all started with that damned data. My commander had wanted me to make the list go away, but I couldn’t do that. A split second decision had changed my life. I still didn’t regret keeping it. Too many lives could be saved with that information. No matter what fallout happened, I would never regret trying to get it into the right hands, because it was the right thing to do.
“Look,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going down, but I might need your help. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Whatever you need, I’m there. You know that.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up the phone as we pulled onto a gravel road. The truck bounced along the road, and my head slammed into the metal side. “Ouch,” I muttered.
Hopefully Della wouldn’t have heard that. And wouldn’t notice the extra weight she was dragging. She pulled off to the side, rocks crunching beneath her wheels. She stopped the vehicle, and everything went still and silent. Gradually I heard the sound of birds and…. a distant brook. We had definitely left the city and gone into a rural area.
The door opened and closed. Footfalls grew quieter as she walked away.
I counted to sixty before letting myself sit up. Shit, that hurt. My neck was cramped from being jolted against metal ridges for a dozen miles. Della was nowhere in sight, but it was clear she’d followed the trail that went through the trees. At some point there was big ranching type of fence that was locked shut, with no call box. She must have stepped between the wooden posts and continued on foot. Behind the truck was only open, empty countryside.
Once assured I was alone, I slipped out of the truck bed and into the trees. From there it was easy to track and catch up to her, moving silently through the brush as she walked along the path. Her head was down. Her posture looked… scared? Defeated?
Fuck. Where was she going? She had her purse, which presumably contained the money she’d withdrawn. Was she going to bury it? Was this the ultimate lack of trust in the country’s banking system, that she was going to bury her money rather than store it in an account? I wished that was true. It would be a relief to know that she was crazy and not me.
I had come up with half a dozen scenarios for the situation Della was in, and most of them I could handle myself. First on the list was paranoia on my part. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t afraid. And maybe my PTSD was projecting all over her. That one scared me because of its implications on my sanity. But at least that one would mean Della was safe.
Safe from everyone except me.
There were other, more mundane options, like an abusive ex. Just let him try and touch her. I’d beat the ever-loving fuck out of him, and then I’d really feel relieved. Neither she nor I would be crazy, and a violent bastard would get what he had coming to him. I wouldn’t even call James for anything like that. It would be just one-on-one. I’d show him what it felt like to be hit by someone stronger than him.
But the last option… Jesus, the last option seemed to be the right one. I had the awful suspicion that I was dealing with something much worse than PTSD, much bigger than an asshole ex-boyfriend. And as I came to the clearing where the woods stopped, I knew that was the right answer.
Can I take Criminal Hideouts for $500, Alex?
Yeah, this place was bad news. And Della had gone inside. I wanted to shake her for being so reckless. I wanted to tie her up until she explained how she knew these people and why she’d come here. I had to focus instead on breaking in and hoping their security was god awful. I really wished I’d brought my gun.
* * *
The place was way out in the country, but it was clearly built for a rich-ass homeowner. Unlike Della’s lush green lawn and flower bed of daisies, this place had neatly trimmed hedges that would rival a castle in freakin�
�� England. The house itself was a sleek modern structure that looked out of place in the countryside. The whole setup screamed I have money and power. Please someone suck my dick.
Pathetic.
Two guards stood on either side of the door. They were also pathetic, one half-asleep and the other playing on his phone. I took out the guy on his phone first because he was closer. By the time he had slumped against the wall, unconscious, I had the other guy in a choke hold. He twitched and then went still. I wished I had zip ties to bind their hands, but I had to settle for using their belts in a rough tangle that would come apart when they woke up and worked at it.
But at least I had guns. I tossed the semiautomatic weapons into the hedge nearby and kept both pistols, one in my hand and the other tucked into the back of my jeans. I had no intention of shooting anyone today, but more importantly, I had no intention of getting shot.
And Della is somewhere inside.
The place was poorly guarded. Or maybe I was just used to the stringent security protocols we’d used when I was undercover. Part of my role had been a security consultant. Ironically, I’d helped the assholes beef up their security. But since I also knew their routines, their access codes, their procedures, I’d disabled them easily when the time came.
I made it inside the building and saw Della before I heard her. There were several layers of glass between us, as well as an atrium and a garden center beneath oversize vaulted windows. She was talking to some guy in a suit. A guy I immediately wanted to punch, on principle. That was crazy. I was never violent.
PTSD, motherfucker.
Because now I could have pummeled this guy even without confirming he was an ex-boyfriend, even without knowing he had ever been an abusive one. Just for hugging her and watching her body go tense from twenty feet away.
I slipped closer, still careful to move silently. Getting caught now would probably just land me in prison, and I still wouldn’t have the information I came for.
“The money,” I heard her say, “If you’ll just take the money and give me my sister back.”
He said something I couldn’t make out.
“I can’t give you that.” Her voice sounded agitated. What was he asking for? More money? Sex?
I took a risk and slid along the wall, close enough to hear him say. “I don’t want any more fucking excuses, Della. I know what you’re capable of.”
“Not that.” She sounded determined now. “I’ve never done that, and I’m never going to.”
Shit, what was he making her do? Should I come out now and just beat the guy to a pulp? From a tactical point of view, it was the stupidest idea I’d ever considered, and yet my hands curled into fists, hungry for his face.
“Caro will be disappointed to hear that,” the asshole said. “Especially when I take it out of her flesh.”
“Don’t you fucking touch her. Where is she? Let me see her.”
“Oh, she’s a bit… tied up. But I’ll tell her you dropped by.”
“You’re a monster.”
He chuckled. “A monster? So dramatic.” His hand trailed down her cheek, making me tense. “She likes this monstrous side of me. There was a time you did too.”
Her angry gaze shot fire at him. “I never liked a damn thing about you.”
“Well, then perhaps you’re very good at faking it. Yes, that must be right.”
Now her hands were fists, tucked at her side. “Give me back Caro. Let her go. This is more money than she can possibly give you.”
“You think I can’t get that much for her? You’re probably right, smart girl. As fucked up as she is, and with that pesky drug addiction, she wouldn’t be worth more than a thousand. But if I were to rent her out, by the night or by the hour, I’m sure I could make that much.”
Della swung at him, and he caught her arm. They exchanged words too quietly for me to hear. From their body language, I understood that Della had not given him everything he wanted—but she was capitulating for now. She turned to leave, her movements jerky. She tried to hide the swipe at her cheek, but I saw the glistening trail. He’d made her cry.
And I was going to make him pay.
It seemed that he was letting her leave, so I waited for her to walk away. Once I was alone with this asshole, we’d have a little one-on-one talk. Yeah, I knew I should talk with Della first. But I couldn’t wait for that, not when I was already inside his house, not when I’d seen him put his hands on her.
But when I would have stepped out of the shadows, he turned and walked over to a place in the wall. Frosted glass separated from the slate-tiled wall beside it, and a woman stepped out. I couldn’t see much of her—except her blonde hair. If you’ll just take the money, and give me my sister back. Was this the sister? And she was being held for some sort of ransom?
Not for money, though. What did he want from Della?
The man put his arm around the woman’s shoulder and led her back inside the room she’d come from. The frosted glass shut again and looked like a decorative panel in the wall. My body tensed. It would be so easy to go after them, to smash the guy’s face in and take the girl. Except I had dealt with enough hostage situations overseas to know how sticky they could get. I didn’t even have transportation for her once I got her.
Plus there was no telling if she’d go with me willingly. He was the devil she knew, and I was a stranger.
Captives got weird ideas about their captors sometimes.
We studied that shit during training, how to withstand physical torture and mental manipulation. I could’ve taken someone whaling on me all day and all night. But watching this girl in trouble, seeing Della scared, feeling helpless in this situation I didn’t understand yet, that was the true torture.
Chapter Nine
Della
My hands were still shaking as I pulled into my neighborhood.
I hated that Dmitri could still affect me this way. I wanted to be tough. No way did Clint start shivering in the middle of some important battle. No way did tears track down his cheeks. Fuck Dmitri and his ridiculous house. No, it was a mansion. He had let me wander around for a while. I’m sure it amused him to see me lost and afraid. I had felt him watching from the walls.
And then at the end. Bring the package to me by tonight or you’ll receive a package of your own tomorrow morning.
There were a hundred things that could mean, and all of them were horrifying. My sister’s body parts, mostly. Or maybe just a picture of her dead body. Or an official visit from some dirty cop on his payroll, offering me fake condolences that they’d found my sister in some ditch.
I turned into my driveway and got out. My neighbor was on her porch, and I almost waved before I realized it wouldn’t do any good. But she must have heard my truck, because she stepped onto the lawn and crossed over.
“Hey! Della!”
“Good morning,” I said, wincing at her cheery tone. Damn, I wasn’t in a good headspace to play the friendly neighbor. Even if Katie was sweet and pretty. Exactly the kind of girl Clint should end up with. I should probably introduce them, but I already knew I wouldn’t. Because that was the kind of girl I was—in other words, not a very nice one.
“I heard you leave earlier this morning. I was just watering my plants.” She gestured back toward her porch, where a huge assortment of potted plants overflowed.
Katie was legally blind, although she could make out shapes sometimes if the lighting was right. She had a great support system of family who came by. Must be a family of lawyers or something, because the guys wore suits, jackets missing, shirts rumpled like they’d had a long day at the office. Sometimes they’d wave hello. One even offered to check my mail while I was away, which I had declined because who knew what crazy shit Dmitri might send me?
“I had some errands to run,” I said, clutching my purse tighter. I should have known a deal like that wouldn’t work. In fact, I did know, but desperate times and all that.
Even back then, as a small-time dealer, he’d bee
n pretty flush. I had made more money as a stripper on a single night than a full week as a stewardess. Multiply that times all the girls who worked there, and Dmitri had been making a lot of dough. That didn’t count the money he made dealing drugs or guns.
An uneasy expression crossed Katie’s face. “Actually, I hope you don’t mind if I just… I wanted to…”
There was this pause that could have been anything. Maybe Dmitri really did send me something horrible and one of his thugs had managed to beat me here. That seemed unlikely though. The thought that really stuck with me was, what if Clint had already met Katie? Maybe he’d ignored my warning to stay inside. I could just imagine him, shirtless, fixing some random broken thing on my house. And Katie wandering over with a glass of lemonade. Fuck.
But then Katie did something strange, and all my thoughts evaporated.
When she left home, she had a walking stick that helped her get by, but she didn’t use it just outside the lawn. In the bright sunlight, she could see well enough. That was what she’d told me, and it seemed to be true as she stepped right up to the bed of my truck. She leaned over, looking in, her blue eyes not focused on anything.
“Katie?” I asked.
She reached inside. Her hand groped the plastic tarp there, making me wonder where that had come from. It was mine. I had used it to cover the antique sofas and brand-new mattress I’d bought after moving in. I usually kept the tarp in the garage so it wouldn’t fly away if the wind kicked up on the highway. But there it was, in Katie’s hands as she pulled it up and over, like a magician doing a reveal.
“Do you see anything?” she asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice.
“No… Katie, what’s going? Is everything okay?” I took the tarp from her then, because it was clear that something was not okay, but holding the dirty old piece of plastic wouldn’t help anything.
She let me take the tarp and pointed into the bed of the truck. “You’re sure nothing’s there. No one is… there. Where did you go, exactly? Did you see someone back here?”
I looked inside at the metal floor of the truck. There were an old pair of boots I used for gardening and a few odds and ends that proved I wasn’t very tidy. But certainly not a person, which was what her words implied.