Lennox

by Dallas Cole

  At one point, Lennox knocked on the doorway to the office and looked at me, hesitant, lower lip in his teeth. “Hey,” he said gently, and tried to smile. “Mind if I come in?”

  I shrugged. Not that I ever turned down an opportunity to be around Lennox, but I knew I wasn’t looking or feeling my best.

  “Better idea,” he said. “How about I come back in ten minutes, with tacos from Rio Verde?”

  That cracked a smile from me. “Okay.”

  I wiped my eyes and fixed my hair, vain as I was, and by the time Lennox returned with three of the best brisket tacos on the whole planet for me and pork belly tacos for himself, I was starting to feel better. We ate in silence save the crinkle of wrappers and soft groans of deliciousness. Once Lennox was done, he shoved his empty wrappers aside and looked at me with a soft smile.

  “So,” he said. “Do you want to tell me about your shitty day, or do you want to hear about mine first?”

  I blushed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him about my stupid crush at all. I mean, sure, I had crushes on guys at school, even dated a few, briefly, before they showed what ignorant losers they were. But my heart belonged to Lennox.

  “Boy troubles. Mean girl troubles.” I waved a hand dismissively. “I’d rather hear about your day.”

  Lennox sighed and leaned forward, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his thighs so he could look me right in the eyes. “All right, well, I found out Amber was flirting with another guy. Again. So we’re taking a break. Again.” He grimaced, and shook his head, like he was more angry with himself than with Amber.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, but Lennox held up a hand.

  “No, it’s cool. Someday I have to break this cycle, but for now, I accept it for what it is.” He drew a deep breath. “But then Grams got the hospital bill for her emergency hip replacement.”

  “Ouch.” I only had a vague notion what such a thing might cost, but I doubted it was in his budget.

  “Yeah. She’s going to have to take out a second mortgage to pay it. But pretty much all of my paycheck goes to the first mortgage, and her pension checks are getting smaller every month . . .”

  I knew the stress of money. I wasn’t working the books for Uncle D back then, but I knew enough about our finances to know how shaky we were from week to week. The only advantage we had was that my parents’ wrongful death settlement had paid off Drazic’s house. But the shop was more of an expensive hobby most months than a source of income.

  Lennox let out his breath and smiled faintly. “Oh, well. I feel better just talking about it.” He nudged one of my feet with his. “Maybe you will, too.”

  What would really have made me feel better, I thought, was if I could crawl right into Lennox’s arms then. Kiss his forehead as he held me tight. I fantasized about it all the time. But instead I just smiled shyly at him. “I know you’ll find a way to fix it. You always do.” I tilted my head. “And someday, you’ll find someone who won’t put you on the spin cycle, either.”

  I secretly hoped that someone would be me.

  Lennox’s grin widened. “And so will you,” he said, making my heart flutter. “You’re such a good soul, Elena. Strong but gentle, smart and compassionate . . .” He nudged my feet again. “I’d scoop you up myself if I could.”

  I went very, very quiet. I was more passive back then, willing to let everyone walk all over me and lay any number of demands at my feet without ever speaking up about what I wanted. But in that moment, I decided to lay it all out. To say what I meant. Lennox thought I was strong? It was time to be strong.

  “I wish you would.”

  Lennox laughed, reflexively, but then his expression went slack as he realized I was serious. He went very, very still. I could see the struggle warring behind his eyes. What was he weighing? I was desperate to hear it all, even if it was painful to me.

  Then he cupped my hands in his and gripped them tight. His gaze met mine, and I felt my heart split open with how much I was in love with this boy, this good-hearted soul who nevertheless got caught in bad circumstances. I thrust my shoulders back and met his gaze.

  “I tell you what,” Lennox said. “How about I make you a promise?”

  “What kind of promise?” I asked, my voice so tiny and weak.

  “The kind I’ll have to claim later. My life’s too messed up to take care of a girl like you just now. But when I can stand on my own two feet . . .”

  A tear runs down my face, jolting me out of the memory. Lennox. Oh, god, Lennox. I want him to be able to stand on his own two feet. No more secret deals with the Cartwrights, no more debts to the McManuses . . .

  I have to find a way out of this—for both of us. Get him out of the McManuses’ clutches. And get myself out, too.

  I glance toward the camera. Rory or one of his henchmen could be watching me right now. I know he’s not doing this alone—he stayed in the back of an unmarked van with me, a gun trained on me, while someone else drove us to this place. Took a long and circuitous route to get there, too. If he’s watching right now, then he’ll come in right away to stop me. But if he isn’t . . .

  I jerk my arms backward, trying to twist my wrists enough that I can slip them through the duct-tape cuffs. If I make a big enough production out of it, it’ll lure Rory back here if he’s watching me. But if he isn’t watching me, then maybe, just maybe, I have a shot at getting free.

  The duct tape digs into my arms, stinging as portions of it rip off, taking what feels like a layer of skin and arm hair with it. Almost, almost . . . As soon as my left arm is free, then I can reach far enough to rip the camera cord out of the wall. Break Rory’s visibility. Then maybe, if I have enough time, I can peel back the insulation from the camera’s electrical cord . . . Use the pool of runoff water against Rory . . .

  Rrrrrrrip. The duct tape is starting to fray. I bend over and chew at the exposed edges. Almost. There—

  The door swings open.

  My stomach sinks through the floor. If he wasn’t going to hurt me before, he’s surely going to now. I glance up to find Rory watching me with two of his goons standing behind him, an amused smirk on his face.

  “Very cute. I’m almost too curious to see just what the hell you thought that was going to accomplish,” he says. “But I’m afraid your time is up.”

  The goons move forward and plant their hands on my shoulders. Rory pulls a switchblade from his pocket and springs the blade with an eerie schick. He pauses and admires the blade for a moment, letting its sharp edge glint in the overhead lights.

  He steps toward me. Places one hand on my arm. I cringe, but again, there’s nowhere I can go, and nothing I can do. Then he slices open the duct tape around my wrists, then kneels toward my ankles to do the same.

  “Let’s move.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Lennox

  Drazic, Cyrus, and I scatter across the ridge overlooking the old Goldwater mining camp. The site’s been abandoned for decades now, and the rusted chain link fence is riddled with holes and bent wiring; the concrete and cinder block structures sag with the weight of countless mountain winds beating them down. At one end, the steel pillars of the miners’ elevator pierce the night sky, barely visible against the sea of stars, while at the other stands a cluster of low dormitories and office buildings and warehouses. It looks like the kind of place you’d go to dump a body or ten, and I have no doubts the McManuses have used it for just that.

  We kept our headlights off for our approach and parked downwind of the entrance, behind this low butte. A few stubborn trees form woods around the encampment, and Jagger’s lurking through the trees right now, scouting the backside for signs of life. We’ve found one van and three cars parked along the perimeter, shielded from view by abandoned storage crates, two of them with their engines still warm. So someone’s around here. But the question is where.

  Every crack and snap of cooling rock and distant animals sets my teeth on edge. With Rory McManus, I don’t know if I’ll
ever feel like the predator. He’s the kind of guy who treats everyone like prey.

  I can’t live my life always looking over my shoulder, wondering when he’ll turn up again. One way or another, this needs to end tonight.

  “They’ve got the buildings sealed up tight,” Jagger whispers on the comms. “I’m not seeing any light sources anywhere. Maybe if Drazic had sprung for the fancy heat-sensing goggles like I told him to . . .”

  “We do not need heat-sensing goggles to do our usual work,” Drazic chides. “Keep looking.”

  “Shit!” Jagger hisses.

  I glance at Cyrus. He raises his goggles and tries to spot Jagger’s position. “Jags? What’s going on?”

  “Sorry. Just noticed a camera over the rear door of the dorms. Not pointed at me, though I’m gonna stay low to be safe.” His breath crackles across the airwaves. “I bet that’s where they went. She’s in that low building on the northeast corner, I guarantee it.”

  An old forgotten thrill courses through me. My limbs are itching for action. I’d missed this more than I realized, working with the old crew. My old family. All the crazy, desperate, never-should-have-worked-in-a-million-years jobs we’ve pulled together. And we always got away, in the end.

  True, they weren’t strictly legal, but the stakes were never as high as they are now. I try to imagine Elena’s face as it was this morning, pressed against my chest, her eyelashes fluttering against my bare skin. Not the Elena I saw in the video, tear-stained and vulnerable. I don’t care how dangerous or how desperate this plan is. I have to get Elena free.

  The burner phone buzzes in my back pocket.

  Cyrus and Drazic look toward me as I fish it out, cupping my hand over the screen to block the light in case someone inside is looking our way. It’s a text message from Rory.

  Time’s up.

  “I think they’re going to move her,” I whisper into the earpiece.

  “Got it, man. Heading back to the vehicles.”

  “Quietly,” Drazic says, “quietly. We have to give them a decent lead.”

  “Wait up,” Jagger says over the comms. “I’ve got movement. Door just opened on the dormitory.”

  “How many?” Drazic asks.

  There’s a moment of silence as Cyrus squints through the binoculars. I freeze, hand still on the door handle of the car. Waiting for confirmation that Elena’s with them. Come on, Jagger. Tell me we’re in the right spot.

  “There’s two goons, I forget their names . . . we’ve seen them at the circuit races before. They’re carrying someone—oh, god.”

  “What?” I hiss into the comms. “What is it?”

  “Y-yeah.” Jagger hesitates; a few swears slip under his breath. “They’ve got Elena with them. Black bag over her head, and her hands and legs are bound, but it’s gotta be her. I’d know those tits—”

  “Jagger,” Drazic warns.

  Jagger clears his throat. “I’d know that stubborn look anywhere.”

  All the blood drains from my head. I suck down a deep breath. “Okay. We can do this. It’s better if we’re moving, right?” I say. “I can take Rory on the road any day.”

  “Elena’s safety is our top priority,” Drazic says. “Don’t get too ballsy out there.”

  “I won’t,” I assure him, as he and I climb into the Camaro. But we both know it’s a lie. I’m going to do whatever it takes to get Elena back. Even if it means getting hurt myself.

  Cyrus and Jagger load into the Mitsubishi while Drazic and I wait in the Camaro. We want to keep our distance, and let them get a head start. Not tip off that we’re following them. Then, once we’re up the pass, we have a better chance—when there’s nowhere for them to escape. I know all this, logically, but the wait feels interminable as the two Datsuns and the van rev their engines and wind their way out of the Goldwater mines. I’m about to crawl out of my skin.

  “All right,” Drazic says over the comms, at long last. “Let’s go.”

  “There’s a secondary trail Jagger and I can take to the top of the trail,” Cyrus says over the comms. “Something we use hauling scrap sometimes, depending on which truck we’re taking. We can probably cut them off with it if we hurry.”

  “Good call,” Drazic says. “Go up ahead and cut off passage, then we can box them in from behind.”

  Jagger and Cyrus slide onto the side passageway in a spray of gravel and disappear amongst the twisting quartz rock faces. We’re headed up, meandering back and forth, amongst the jagged stone and scrubby wind-whipped trees, looming so dark in the night. No headlights on. Just the faint kiss of starlight outlining the road.

  An eerie feeling is building in my chest, the same one I felt the night Troy died. At least, in retrospect I remember having that feeling—like something momentous was about to happen, something I could never recover from. It’s probably just wishful thinking, that I had known what was coming down the pike. I definitely feel it now, though, that heaviness in the air that warns me of what’s just around the bend.

  Drazic pats my knee after he upshifts the Camaro for a steep climb. “It’ll be all right,” he tells me. “We’ll get her back.”

  I grip the edge of the seat and don’t respond.

  “We’re at the top,” Jagger announces, over our earpieces. “Angling to block the passageway. I can just barely see the glow of their headlights in the distance.”

  “Hang tight. Not sure how they’re going to respond to you,” Drazic says.

  “Yes, sir. Keeping the engine ready,” Jagger replies. “We can pursue if needed.”

  Drazic keeps us moving forward. Around the bend, I catch a flash of red brake lights from the Datsuns and van. If we can block their retreat . . .

  “Here they come,” Cyrus says. “Oh shit—they’re gunning it now—”

  A screech of metal floods the earpieces. Drazic and I both cringe and he hits the brakes. “What’s going on?” Drazic shouts. “Are you hurt?”

  But the scene at the peak of the pass, as Drazic and I approach, is one of chaos. Tires are squealing, Jagger and Cyrus are shouting, and sparks fly into the air.

  “Dammit!” Jagger cries.

  “They plowed into us,” Cyrus explains. “The van slipped past us after one of the Datsuns shoved us out of the way. Second Datsun is reversing and heading back down toward you.”

  “Can you drive still?” I ask.

  “Trying,” Jagger replies. “The low nose of his car is aiming to wedge up under us but I think I can shake it off.”

  “Lennox. We’ve got inbound,” Drazic says.

  The Datsun is headed straight for us, twisting its way back down the path. “Don’t. Don’t play chicken with them,” I beg Drazic. “Not without knowing where Elena is.”

  “Relax. I got this. Everyone flinches against me.”

  But he isn’t reassuring. He revs the engine and starts climbing up the hill. The RPM needle spikes high into the red even as he upshifts us. Drazic isn’t going to back down. But he doesn’t know Rory McManus—not like I do. Rory doesn’t believe there’s such a thing as taking it too far.

  Drazic’s knuckles blanch white against the steering wheel, accented by the glow of the instrument panel. “Drazic . . .” I say.

  The glow of Rory’s headlights fills the Camaro.

  “Shit.” Drazic jerks us to the right, toward the rough cliff faces. Stone scrapes against his driver’s side door. The brakes screech us to a stop as Drazic yanks up on the emergency, and the back side of the Camaro fishtails around in a wide arc along the road.

  But my attention is locked onto the Datsun as it zips past us. That’s Rory in the driver’s seat, his cold gray eyes practically glowing with glee. He’s loving this.

  And the dark form beside him, bag still over her head, is Elena.

  “She’s there! She’s in the passenger’s seat.” I crank down the window to the Camaro without thinking. “Elena! Elena, over here!”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Drazic cries, as he finishes flipping us
around and starts surging downhill after Rory.

  “Please. You should know by now how Elena works.” I grin. “I’m bringing out the fight in her.”

  Elena

  Lennox. That’s Lennox’s voice! All I can hear is the muffled rumble of other vehicles around us underneath this hood, but my heart soars knowing Lennox is in one of them. Rory must be devoting all his attention to the road and trying to stay ahead of Lennox. Would he notice if I were to lean over and . . .

  My fingers pad along the shift stick’s casing. There have to be some screws around here somewhere, holding the stick in place. If Rory can’t upshift or downshift, he’ll have little chance of shaking Lennox. There. My fingers land on the edge of a screw. I start working the screw loose, straining to listen for any indication Rory’s noticed what I’m doing.

  But then the screw pops free and I wrench the stick shift out of place.

  Lennox

  Rory twists back and forth along the pass, heading toward the bottom. Something’s off about his pacing, like he’s having trouble shifting gears. Is he going to head back toward Ridgecrest? The old mines? I’m not sure we can catch him on the open highway back toward town, the straight shot through the desert. We were able to stop Paolo and Neshaun there, but Rory’s much slicker with a set of wheels than both of them combined.

  “Edge up on him. Try to get beside him. Force him onto the bypass that Jagger and Cyrus took,” I tell Drazic.

  Then I hoist myself up and out of the open window.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” Drazic screeches. “Get back in the fucking car!”