Lennox

by Dallas Cole

  I smiled sadly. “There are plenty of guys far better.”

  But I hoped, after all this blew over, I could be the guy Elena deserved. The man I’d promised her I’d become.

  My nerves were taut as I wound my way back around the mountain toward Ridgecrest. The sun was dipping low in the west, and I hit traffic on my way back into town. How long would it take Rory to alert Mama, to get rescued from the gas station, to come for me? I had to pick up Elena and Grams and get out of town, fast as I could. We couldn’t go to the cops, because too many of them were in the McManuses’ pockets. I could ask the Cartwrights for help—I hated the thought of it, but I knew Alexander Cartwright well enough to know he’d be thrilled to make the McManuses pay. But how? What could he do? For all his skeeziness, he wasn’t a criminal mastermind. Just an opportunistic asshole with too much cash. Maybe that was my best option. No. I didn’t know. I’d see what Elena thought.

  *

  I ditch the McManuses’ van somewhere downhill and start to walk home. I want to run. I won’t rest easy until I see Elena’s face again. Each streetlight I pass flickers overhead, as if the air around me is electrified. I distract myself by making lists of what I’ll need to grab before we head on the run. There won’t be much room for the three of us in the Camaro; Grams’s medication and walking aids take priority. We’ll make it work, though, I’m sure of it.

  I open the front door, my nerves on fire.

  “Lennox? Is that you?” Grams shouts. “Where the hell have you been?”

  I rush into the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

  “You’re trying to burn my house down!”

  I blink, completely baffled. Then I see the pan she’s gesturing to on the stove—a pot roast, or what used to be one, now charred beyond recognition. “I don’t get it,” I say. “Is something wrong with the oven?”

  “I got home from bridge and the whole kitchen was full of smoke!” she cries. “I was so worried for you and Elena!”

  “I didn’t put it in the oven.” I frown. “It must have been Elena. Where is she? Look, Grams, I’m sorry about the roast, but we have to go.”

  “I don’t know where she is. She wasn’t home when the ladies dropped me off.” Grams shifts her weight to her cane. “Not like her, either, to start dinner and then wander off. What’s this about leaving?”

  “Grams. What time did you get home?” I ask. Panic is clawing its way around my throat. There’s no way Rory could have gotten back to Ridgecrest already—could he have?

  Now I’m second-guessing every detour I took, dropping the girls off at the shelter, ditching the van. Cursing myself for caring. For getting myself mixed up with the McManuses to begin with. For taking the fall for Amber and going to prison. For getting in that car with Amber and Troy.

  No. I can’t lose focus now. I’ve got to find Elena. If I can just find her, then we can fix all of this. We can get away.

  “Not long. Only a few minutes ago.” Grams squints at me. She may be sick, but she’s still sharp as ever. “What are you not telling me, Lennox? What kind of trouble are you in now?”

  The way she says now, like this is nothing new—it breaks my heart. Elena isn’t the only important person in my life I’ve hurt with this awful chain of events. “Just a few minutes. Okay. Okay, thanks.” I slide my phone out of my back pocket, then realize it’s just the burner phone. I don’t want Elena’s number tied to it, or anyone else’s. “Where’s the house phone, Grams?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  I rush down the hall and start dialing the number for AJ’s shop on the portable phone. No answer. I dial Elena’s cell phone next. After a few seconds, I hear her ringtone twinkling from the bedroom. Shit. Why doesn’t she have her phone with her? This can’t be right. She wouldn’t just run off without it.

  Something’s gone terribly wrong.

  I check out the side window and squint into the darkness. Elena’s Camaro is parked in the driveway, too dark for me to see when I’d first walked up to the house. I fight down a surge of nausea.

  I have to go to Drazic. As terrified as the thought makes me, as furious as I know he’ll be, I don’t know anything else I can do. No matter how much he and the rest of the crew will want to kill me—even more so, if I’ve put Elena in harm’s way—they have to be willing to set that aside to help me find her. Won’t they?

  The burner phone buzzes in my back pocket. One message from R M.

  I slide the phone out with shaking hands. My gaze darts toward Grams, but she’s settled into her favorite chair in the living room, her body rigid while she waits for me to explain myself. I can’t do this in front of her. I head up to my bedroom and sink onto the mattress, bracing myself before I hit play.

  It’s a video message. Rory’s face fills the screen, deep, grainy shadows carving out the hollows in his cheeks. “Hello, Lennox.” He’s smiling—never a good sign. The hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. “It’s really a shame that you decided to take something that belonged to my family. And here we were getting to be such good friends.”

  Friends. Right. My skin crawls at the thought.

  Suddenly, Rory’s face contorts with anger—the eerie flipping of a switch I’ve seen him do too many times. “But Lennox. You should know by now. I don’t tolerate friends who won’t listen to me!” he bellows. I flinch as he takes a deep breath and collects himself; the eerily calm smile returns. “You took something that belonged to us. So now I have something of yours, as well.”

  The video cuts to an image of Elena. She’s bound to a chair, her face slick with tears. I jolt back from the screen. My heart is hammering inside my chest, and my temperature spikes. Elena. Oh, god, Elena. What have I done?

  “Hello?” Elena shouts, her voice watery. The footage must be from some sort of closed-circuit camera they have wherever they’re keeping her—a warehouse, maybe? The walls look like concrete, or maybe cinder block. It’s too grainy to tell for sure. “Is anyone there?” Elena calls. “Help me! Help me!”

  I pause the video clip. My heart is shredding into a million pieces right now. I did this to her. This is all my fault. I couldn’t wait until I was free to let her back into my life, and now I’ve delivered her straight into that lunatic’s hands.

  I stand up and kick my desk chair. No—the only person responsible is Rory Fucking McManus and his sick, twisted head. And I’m going to make him pay. I will murder him. I’ll go back to prison for a thousand lifetimes if it means keeping Elena safe.

  My temper dwindles and I sit back down to watch the rest. I have to find clues—anything that’ll help me save her.

  The video cuts back to Rory. “Uh-oh,” he says. “It sounds like she’s getting lonely, Lennox. I’d better go keep her company.”

  Again I feel the urge to vomit. If he lays one fucking finger on her—

  “Or, alternately, you could bring the girls to Mama. Really, the choice is all yours.” His smile pulls taut. “Hope to see you soon . . . or you won’t be seeing much of her again.”

  The video goes blank.

  I replay it a few more times, looking for any more hints I can find as to where they are. I’ve only visited a few other dumps with Rory in the past—mostly the trailers at Eagle View where his drug dealers fix up their product. Nothing that looks industrial like this. Surely he wouldn’t be dumb enough to hold her at Mama’s pub. But there must be something I can use to find her. Or even someone.

  “Lennox?” Grams calls from the living room. “Lennox, why won’t you tell me what the hell’s going on?”

  I grab my jacket and head into the living room, then plant a quick kiss on Grams’s cheek. “Everything’s going to be just fine, Grams. But I’ve got to head back out.” I hesitate a moment. I don’t relish the thought of leaving her alone, either. “Actually, hang on a moment.”

  I dial AJ’s cell phone on the house line. “AJ. Listen, man, I really need a favor from you. Can I bring Grams to your place?”

  “You have some fucking
nerve calling me,” AJ snaps. “I gave your girlfriend a job, but anything more, and the Cartwrights—”

  “Dude, fuck the Cartwrights. I’ve got way bigger problems than them. And besides, the whole reason they—” I exhale carefully. “Just, look, I’ll explain later. But I need you, man. Seriously.”

  AJ groans. “Goddammit, Lennox. You know I can’t say no to your grams.” He pauses for a moment; I can imagine him pacing around his room. “Fine. Bring her by. I’ll watch her for however long you need. But then you owe me. Hugely.”

  Yeah, well, get in line, I think. “You got it, man.”

  I hang up and look toward Grams. Her lips are pressed thin, defiant. “What have you done, Lennox?”

  “Something that would’ve made you proud.” I rub the back of my neck. “If we can live long enough to appreciate it,” I mutter.

  Her mouth twitches into a smile. “I’m always proud of you. And I know you’ll get through this, too. You always do.”

  “I’ve got a pretty damned good record of survival so far,” I say. “C’mon, Grams. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

  I help Grams into Elena’s Camaro—not exactly the easiest task, for a woman with a bionic hip—and head down the road, the gears in my head spinning with options. None of them good. All of them dangerous. But I’ll try every last one if it means saving Elena.

  I lost her once, when I was sent away. I’m not about to let it happen again.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lennox

  Music wafts out of Drazic’s house when I walk up toward the kitchen door—Slavic, poppy, but tinged with a hint of sadness. This is a terrible idea. No way Drazic’s going to be happy to see my face, and it’ll only get worse when I tell him what’s happened. But his crew is the best I know. My family, once upon a time. If anyone has a chance at tracking down Elena, it’s him.

  I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.

  I take a deep breath and rap on the kitchen door.

  Drazic flings open the door and an awkward smile settles onto his face. Okay, that’s weird. He’s not exactly the kind of guy who smiles out of social nicety. I’m instantly on guard. “Hi.” I swallow. No way to do this except to rip it off like a bandage. “Listen, I need your—”

  “Lennox. I’m so glad you stopped by.” Drazic steps back and beckons me into the kitchen. “I guess you talked to Elena. I understand now. It’ll take some time, but I understand.”

  I’m too stunned to do anything but follow him inside. Something on the stove smells delicious—some kind of Mediterranean stew. But I can’t even think about eating right now. I’m all tied up in knots. “I have . . . no idea what you’re talking about. But—but never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  Drazic’s smile fades.

  “Elena’s in trouble.” I cringe. “The McManuses have her. They wanted me to take these girls to a brothel in Reno, and they were underage, and obviously coerced, and I—I just couldn’t do it, and they—they took her. Said they wouldn’t release her unless I brought the girls back to them. Not that I think for a minute they’ll let either of us live.”

  Drazic swears in Croatian under his breath.

  I brace myself, gripping the kitchen table chair. “I know you hate my guts, especially now, but I don’t know who else to ask for help. I have to save her.” My throat tightens. “I love her. I didn’t mean to tear your family apart, or mine. I never meant to hurt anyone. I just couldn’t live with myself unless . . .”

  Drazic claps one hand on my shoulder. For a moment, I feel that warm fatherly connection I used to feel with him, so long ago. Like no matter how much I’d fucked up, he’d be there to guide me back to safety. “God dammit, Lennox. And I was just starting to like you again.”

  I blink. “I—I don’t understand, sir.”

  Drazic waves his hand. “Later. Tell me the situation.” He props himself against the kitchen counter and crosses his weathered arms. “What do we know? Locations, personalities, anyone and anywhere that might be involved.”

  “All right. The McManuses have a pub down the mountain, but I doubt they’re holding her there. The video looks like a warehouse or something. They have a lot of interesting folks working for them, none of them particularly thrilled with their work.”

  Drazic nods. “Good. A weak point. How do you mean?”

  “It’s the McManuses themselves—they’re ruthless. Mama, I mean, you know what she’s like. Mean as hell, though she seems not to act too rashly. I’m guessing this is Rory’s doing.”

  Drazic swears again. “I was afraid as much.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. No one likes Rory, but everyone’s afraid of him.”

  “Good. We can use that. Who’s just below Rory? Who might be getting uppity, or tired of his shit?”

  I drum my fingers against my lips, thinking for a moment. “Paolo and Neshaun. Both of them got out of jail around the same time about a year ago, and like me, they were friends with Sean McManus on the inside. Had a very different expectation for how the rest of the family worked. I’d wager we could crack them.”

  Drazic nods, his eyes narrowing. “That’s what I like to hear. Where can we find them?”

  “Either at the pub, which is a no-go for us. Or—oh! They like to practice racing on Highway 12 at night, when the cops are off setting up DUI checkpoints down on the other end of the valley. I bet they’ll be there tonight. But—I’m going to need some help.”

  “That I can do.” Drazic sighs as he straightens up. “Drive me to the shop and we’ll pick up what we need.”

  He shuts off the stove and grabs his jacket from the hook over the door. It feels unbelievably strange and yet so natural to be working with him again, with my pulse humming in my veins. As we slide in the Camaro, a million memories flood over me of long nights out racing with Drazic, Troy, Nash, Jagger, and Cyrus; and even longer nights getting up to no good. We played it smart, though. We never got greedy, and so we never got caught.

  This is going to be a lot more reckless of an operation. We need to get information fast. No time to cover our tracks. God, it’ll be good to have Drazic watching my back again. I couldn’t imagine doing it otherwise.

  Drazic takes a weighty breath, breaking the silence in the car as I speed us over to the shop. “That’s a damn strong girl you have there, by the way.” His tone quavers. “She’s going to be just fine.”

  “I hope so, sir.” But I can’t be sure. Rory’s far too dangerous for me to take anything for granted. I take a turn too sharp and we slide around.

  “I know so.” He laughs to himself. “She’s damned clever, too. She figured it out, you know.”

  My frown deepens. “Figured what out?”

  “About how you didn’t kill Troy.”

  My pulse races. Elena knows? The crew knows? Oh, god. I’m feeling sick all over again. But I don’t have time to dwell on it. “I—I’m sorry, but I—I mean, I really can’t—”

  “I just want you to know where we stand.” Drazic is watching me; I see him from the corner of my eye. “Amber told us the whole thing. Elena dragged her over to the shop and made her confess to all of it.”

  Elena knows. The whole crew knows. Despite how on edge I am, that’s one knot I feel loosening in my belly. One that’s been there for four years. Even though it surely means Alexander Cartwright will be furious, I’m relieved that Elena knows I’m not a murderer. That I wouldn’t drink and drive like that. I sag forward, waiting for the light to turn. No more lies—I want Elena to know all my truths.

  I just have to make sure she’s around to hear them.

  “You have to understand why I did it.” I swallow, gripping the wheel tight. “I didn’t have time to think about it. It was the best way for me to help Grams.”

  “You think I don’t know how your mind works, Lennox? You’d do anything for the people you love. Your grandmother, Elena . . . you’d risk your neck time and again for them, no matter how much it hurt you.” He shakes his head, but he’s grinni
ng. “That’s why I know we’re gonna find Elena. That she’s going to be okay. Because I know you’re the sort of guy who won’t stop for anything until she’s safe.”

  God, I hope he’s right. I don’t care if the McManuses put a price on my head. If I end up right back in prison. I just want Elena to be all right.

  My phone buzzes. I slide it out of my pocket and toss it to Drazic. “What’s it say?” I don’t want to take my eyes from the road. But mainly, I can’t bear to look for myself.

  Drazic crinkles his nose. “It says, ‘Tick tock.’ God. What a sicko.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” I force myself to focus on driving. I should take comfort that Rory’s still taunting me. It means he thinks there’s a chance I might cooperate. Which means Elena’s still alive.

  But I don’t want to risk it.

  Drazic passes the phone back and forth between his hands, anxious. “I’m sorry, Lennox.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just help me get her back.” I clench my teeth. Why is this light taking so long?

  “No. I’m sorry that we didn’t give you a chance. That we never even stopped to consider your side. And then you had no other choice but to work with those monsters . . . We did you wrong.”

  I jerk the car forward as soon as the light changes. “You did the best you could with what you knew.”

  “No. It wasn’t right.” Drazic shrinks down in his seat. “I’ve always known you to be responsible, safe, fiercely protective. I should’ve known that you never would have intentionally gotten behind the wheel after you’d been drinking. That there had to have been something else going on.” He whistles, low. “Taking the fall for that waste-of-breath girl, though . . . There has to be a better way to help your grandmother.”

  “Well, you figure out what it is, you let me know.”

  “We’re in this together. The Drazic Muscleworks crew.” He grips my shoulder. “And we’ll protect our own.”

  *

  I’ve always loved the high desert at nighttime. Cold sinks down into the valley, seeping into my bones, even as heat from the sun rises off the dirt. The empty stretches of earth, strewn with hulking rocks and stubborn plants, seem to glow in the moonlight. But it’s surprisingly dark out here. Elena’s Camaro and Drazic’s Lancer are perfectly camouflaged in the deep pools of shadows off the edges of Highway 12. We sit with our windows rolled down, side by side, engines idling so low it sounds like the wind, and wait for the night to shift.