He was there.
Tension took hold of my gut as I ran through the forest, coming to the edge of the trees and stopping once I was close enough that I could finally see inside.
There she was. Abbie was seated on the couch in the living room, Marshall looming over her.
Rage took hold of me. I wanted nothing more than to break out into a run, smash through the front windows, and strangle him on the spot.
I kept myself in check, however. Connor wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and I needed to make sure he was safe before making a move.
Staying near the tree line, I moved around the house toward the hill in the back. I scaled it, which gave me a vantage point of the second floor. The master bedroom was up ahead, and inside I spotted three figures, two big, one small.
Connor.
He was there with two men, men who no doubt were working with Marshall.
I came up with a plan, positioning myself where I could see inside of the bedroom but where they couldn’t see me. I was soaked to the bone, my clothes heavy with water.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I climbed up onto the master bedroom balcony and watched, minutes passing. Finally, one of them went away to the bathroom.
It was time to move.
I sneaked alongside the house, getting near the bathroom window. As the man prepared to use the toilet, I waited for my moment.
Lightning crashed, and it was time. I smashed the window, using the subsequent boom of thunder as a distraction. While the man was facing the toilet, I rushed behind him, slammed his head into the wall, and knocked him out cold.
One down. Once I had him on the ground, his pistol disarmed, I stepped to the bathroom door, opening it up slightly. The man was there with Connor.
“Where’s my dad?” Connor asked.
“Don’t bother waiting around for him,” said the man. “He pissed off my boss, and he’s gonna pay the price.”
His back was to me, and I exited the bathroom.
“Wrong, pal,” I said. “Dad’s right here.”
The man turned, an expression of total surprise on his face for a brief moment before I brought my fist down onto his face, slamming hard and dropping him to the ground. He fell, out cold instantly.
“Whoa, Dad!” said Connor. “That was awesome!”
Without another word, I dropped down and pulled him into a hard hug.
“Are you okay, buddy?” I asked. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” he said as I let him go. “They just kept me in here.”
“Are you scared?”
He shook his head, my hands on his shoulders. “No. I knew you were coming. Marshall said you weren’t, but I knew he was lying. You’d never leave us behind.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “That’s right, bud.”
I looked him over again to make sure he was okay. After that, I went to the closet and opened up the compartment, taking out the pistol and checking that it was still loaded and in working order.
“All right,” I said, coming back to Connor. “We’re going to your bedroom and you’re going to stay there, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”
“Are you going to make sure Abbie’s okay?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now, come on.”
I checked outside the bedroom door to be certain there was no one else. Once I confirmed the way was clear, I hurried with Connor to his bedroom.
“Stay here, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
“I know you will.”
Another hug, and I shut the door.
I was near enough to the stairs to hear Marshall speaking to Abbie.
It was time to finish this, once and for all.
Chapter 22
Abbie
Marshall loomed over me.
“Whatever you’re going to do,” I said, “just do it.”
He grinned again, that wolfish smile.
“You’d better be careful with what you ask for, gorgeous. Because I’ve got something very special planned for you and that kid upstairs. You want to know what it is?”
I said nothing, instead glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.
“It’s great,” he went on. “First, I’m going to kill you. I wanted Tate to do the job, maybe even to take the fall if he got caught. But I should’ve known that fucking goody-goody would’ve backed out.
“After that, I’m going to take Connor, and I’m going to raise him into the perfect criminal. There’s no doubt he’s got that same something special his dad does. I’m going to shape him into the dutiful little soldier his father should’ve been.”
The idea made me sick to my stomach. I thought about the gun upstairs, how I could use it if only I could get my hands on it. But between Marshall and his men, who’d showed up soon after him, it might as well have been back in Denver.
“But first,” he said. “Let’s take care of you. I can’t have a witness running around causing trouble, can I?” He reached into the back of his pants and took out a silver pistol, still shimmering wet. “You might want to close your eyes for this, unless you want my smiling face to be the last thing you see.”
Tears formed in my eyes as Marshall clicked the safety and raised the gun, preparing to shoot.
He didn’t get the chance.
Another explosion of thunder sounded out, and as the flashing lightning filled the room, a figure burst from the stairs.
It was Tate.
He slammed into Marshall hard enough to knock him off his feet and send him to the ground. Tate rolled over on top of him, bringing one fist down, then the other. I let out a scream, and as I did, I caught sight of the gun flying from Marshall’s hand, skittering across the floor.
I was through standing on the sidelines. I hurried over to the gun, picked it up, and pointed it at Marshall. He was on the ground, blood trickling down his nose. Marshall and Tate locked eyes on me as I held the gun.
“Don’t you dare!” shouted Marshall.
But right as he was about to break free from Tate’s grasp and fly toward me, I pointed the gun to his right and pulled the trigger.
A loud “pop” rang out and a vase on the side table near the men exploded into shards onto the floor.
Tate and Marshall froze.
“Take another step and the next one goes into your stomach.”
Marshall sneered. “No offense, gorgeous, but I don’t think you have it in you.”
“But I do,” said Tate. He pulled his fist back and slammed it into Marshall’s gut, the air rushing out of his lungs as he dropped to the floor.
I ran over to Tate and shoved the gun into his hands. Tate handled it far more expertly than I did, leveling the pistol at Marshall’s face and holding it steady.
“How about right between the eyes?” asked Tate.
“Come on, buddy. You wouldn’t do something like that to your old pal Marshall, would you?”
“After what you did to my family? It’s the least you fucking deserve.”
Tension was thick in the air as I waited to see what Tate would do next. But instead of shooting, he clicked the safety and tucked the gun into his waistband.
“But I’m not like you, Marshall. I’d rather see you pay for what you’ve done.”
“Well,” said Marshall, getting up. “That’s a nice idea. But I’m FBI, remember?”
At that moment, several pairs of headlights appeared in the rain outside of the house.
“That right?” asked Tate. “Because so are they.”
“Huh?” Marshall turned.
The rain had let up just enough to let us see the men and women pour from the cars and toward the cabin. They burst through the door, surrounding the three of us.
“What the hell is going on here?” asked Marshall.
“Allow me to explain,” said one of the men, a stocky guy with red hair. “I’m Agent Simms. And you’re under arrest.”
Marshall let out a yell as he tried to make a break for it. But he didn’t get far. The agents swarmed h
im and brought him down to the ground, slapping cuffs on him as he squirmed.
I had to admit, the sight brought a smile to my face.
Most of the agents left with Marshall, a few sticking around to make sure the place was clear. Others went upstairs, bringing down the men who’d joined Marshall and leading them out to the cars.
And Connor came down too. We all hugged one another like crazy, overjoyed that it was over, and we were all safe.
“Tate,” said Agent Simms. “We need to talk.”
“They’re with me,” said Tate, referring to Connor and me.
“I can tell,” the agent said. “You made a hell of an escape today.”
“Marshall’s men waylaid us,” Tate explained. “And I did what I needed to do.”
Agent Simms shook his head. “I could just as easily slap some cuffs on you for that, so you know.”
“But you’re not going to, right?” Tate asked.
“Not if you cooperate, and come back to Denver with us.”
“What’s going to happen there?” Tate asked.
“You and your family stay under FBI protection,” the agent said. “And you agree to testify when we put this prick on trial.”
“Deal,” said Tate. “All I wanted was to make sure my family was safe.”
“I can understand that,” Agent Simms said. “I’ve got a family myself. You play ball, and this all goes away. Understand?”
“I understand. And thank you. I’ll cooperate with whatever you need.”
Agent Simms cleared his throat. “Now, you three are coming back with us. Not sure who owns this place, but you might want to let them know what happened.”
Tate and I shared a look of concern.
There was that little issue.
“That was so cool!” said Connor. “Dad, you have to teach me how to fight like that!”
“Maybe when you’re older, kid.”
I turned to Tate, a small smile on my lips.
“Did you mean that?” I asked. “About us being family?”
“Of course I did. And we’re together until the end.”
And we kissed.
Chapter 23
Tate
Eight Months Later
“Where are we going?” Abbie asked.
She was in the truck next to me, heavily pregnant and looking like her water might break at any moment.
“It’s a surprise,” I said.
“I don’t know how I feel about surprises.”
“It’s a good one.”
I pulled through the streets of downtown Denver, toward the bank that was our destination.
“At least give me a hint?” Abbie said. “Please?”
I cleared my throat and started, my eyes on the bank up ahead. “Today…today’s going to be a big day. What with me testifying and all.”
“Right,” said Abbie. “And that’s good—it means we’re going to be done with all of this.”
“We are, assuming it all goes according to plan.”
“Why wouldn’t it go according to plan?”
“Because Marshall’s a crafty little shit. And I don’t doubt he might try something before I can get on the stand.”
“Even with all our FBI protection?”
I caught her eye. “You of all people should know there’s nothing he hates more than a witness.”
“No kidding.”
I took her hand. “It’s going to be fine,” I said. “But I just wanted you to know about this before the trail, to be on the safe side.”
“Okay,” she said, appearing to be calmed by my words. “Why are we here at the bank?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
I parked my truck and the two of us got out, making our way through the front doors. The bank lobby was huge, one of the oldest buildings in town. Abbie and I went to the front desk.
“Hi, my name’s Tate Dale,” I said to the clerk. “I’m here to see about a safety deposit box for Marshall Ward.”
The clerk turned to the computer nearby and typed in some keys.
“All right, Mr. Dale, I see he has you down as having access. I’ll just need to see your ID.”
I produced it, the clerk scanning my passport and making sure it was valid.
“Excellent, Mr. Dale. One moment.”
The clerk got the attention of one of the nearby guards, bringing him over.
“What’s going on?” asked Abbie.
“A little gift from Marshall. Come on.”
The guard led us through a solid-looking steel gate into a secure hallway, the three of us eventually arriving at a massive silver door where another clerk was waiting. She opened the door and led us in, a large table in the center of the room.
“Let me get the box,” said the clerk. “One moment.”
She went over to a small step-ladder, positioning it and going up. I watched as she brought down the box—which was about the size of several shoeboxes set side-by-side—and placed it on the table.
I took a small key out of my pocket, one that Marshall had entrusted me with.
“I’ll give you both some privacy,” said the clerk. “If you need me, I’ll be on the other side of the door.”
“Thank you,” I said.
When it was just the two of us, I stepped over to the box and slipped the key into the lock. The box unlatched with a click, and I opened it up.
“Oh my…oh, my God,” said Abbie.
It was about the reaction I’d expected. The box was filled with money, stacks and stacks of hundreds, all neatly arranged. Among the cash were other valuables, some fake passports—which I had no use for—and some jewelry that Marshall had picked up over the years. There was a small black box among it, and I quickly snatched it up and pocketed it while Abbie’s eyes were on the money.
“This…this is insane,” she said, picking up one of the stacks and leafing through it. “How much is here?”
“A million and a half. And believe it or not, it’s all money earned through Marshall’s legitimate businesses. He liked to spend the money he made illegally, keeping this here for a rainy day. And considering he’s about to spend the rest of his life in prison, I don’t think he’s going to have much use for it.”
“So…we can spend it?”
“That’s right.” I placed my hand on the money. “It’s ours now, and it’s clean. We can put this in our account right now and use it to start our new lives. Whatever you want to do, we can do.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “This is incredible, Tate.”
I smiled. “It’s the least he can do after what he put us through. But I wanted you to have it before I went on trial. In case—”
“Don’t say it,” she said, taking my hands. “You’re going to help put him away for good, and tonight we’ll be back at your place with Connor and me making dinner.”
“I don’t think someone as pregnant as you should be doing anything strenuous,” I said with a grin, putting my hands on her belly, feeling our baby move and kick.
“I think he’s excited too,” she said with a smile.
“He should be. Or she. Because after tonight, our new life is going to begin. And I had kind of a crazy idea.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The cabin. Jamie’s parents put it up for sale, right?”
“That’s what I hear. I guess finding out it was the site of an FBI sting made them not too keen on keeping it.”
I grinned. “Maybe when this is all said and done, we can buy it. Take an actual vacation where we don’t, you know, have to be on the run from criminals the entire time.”
Abbie beamed. “I think that sounds perfect.”
I put my hands on her hips, pulling her into a deep kiss.
And right in the middle of it, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to check to see who it was. It took all the will I had to take my lips from Abbie’s.
“Agent Simms,” I said, bringing the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”
&n
bsp; “There a reason you’re not here right now? Tate, I took a risk letting you out of custody while awaiting trial. If you’re thinking of pulling a no-show—”
“Don’t even worry about that. I’m just at the bank getting some affairs in order. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“Good. The sooner the better. See you then.”
I put my phone back into my pocket and turned to Abbie.
“Time to do this. You ready?”
“Ready as I’m going to be.”
I spoke to the clerk and let her know I wanted to open up an account with the cash inside of the safety deposit box. She was more than happy to help. We brought the box to the lobby, guards watching carefully as the money was counted.
“One million, eight hundred and thirty thousand,” said the clerk. “That sound about right?”
“That sounds perfect.”
I was walking on the damn moon when Abbie and I left the bank hand in hand. We spent the trip over to the FBI offices talking about our future, discussing all of the plans we had for what we wanted to do with the money.
First would be me starting my own construction firm. I wanted to go clean as fast as possible, to have a legitimate business and put my past behind me.
And Abbie was still keen on her restaurant idea, having narrowed it down to a café where she could make some of the meals she loved to prepare with Connor.
It all sounded so perfect. But we still had to get through the day ahead.
I pulled up to the FBI offices, a team of agents already there awaiting us.
“Wow,” I said, as I stepped out, an agent ready to take my keys. “Valet service? You really went all out, Agent Simms.”
He grinned. “Just glad to see you here. We just checked in on your boy—he’s at school, and we have a team of agents nearby to make sure nothing happens.”
“I appreciate it.”
“But I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” he said. “Arresting Marshall broke the back of his operation. And we’ve spent the last few months mopping up the rest. The only crooks still out there are low-level, and they’re more likely to be concerned with getting the hell out of the city than taking revenge. We’ll still be on the safe side, however.”
Taker - A Single Dad's New Baby Romance (Criminal Passions Book 4) Page 14