The Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set: Three Chiller Thrillers (Repo Chick Blues #1, Finding Chloe #2, Dirty Business #3) (Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracy Sharp

  My father continued running his pub and he did his best for us. When I think of how hard he tried, my heart swells and my throat tightens. When I got old enough, I’d bring Jesse to the pub on Sundays and we’d all clean the place together. I can still see Jesse’s tiny hand wrapped around a rag as he cleaned the tables and seats. He didn’t like to just sit and watch Dad and I work. He liked to help.

  My father died when I was eighteen. I know he died of a broken heart. When I think of everything he’d been through, and then me getting into so much trouble as a teenager, I almost can’t stand it. I don’t know why I couldn’t have been a better daughter except that I was so pissed off at the world. He deserved better than what he got. That much I do know.

  * * *

  When I awoke, I felt weak and emotionally drained. My head was throbbing and it seemed that every muscle hurt. Callahan was still sleeping behind me, his breath deep and slow behind my ear. If Woodard didn’t have Jesse and life wasn’t so shitty at that moment, I would’ve jumped his bones right then and there.

  I tried to move without waking him, but apparently, like me, he was a light sleeper. He awoke and hugged me closer. Of course, this made me feel claustrophobic and I gently moved his arm off me and sat up, massaging my temples.

  “Headache?” His voice was thick with drowsiness.

  “Good guess.”

  He snickered a little and shook his head.

  “What?” I was feeling mean. I had to compensate for my earlier vulnerability.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said in a sing-song voice which made me want to punch his face in. “I’m just getting used to your pattern.”

  “What are you talking about?” I was in no mood for games.

  “Leah. Right after you allow yourself to let your guard down with me, you always shove me away. You don’t have to do that.”

  “Look, I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart right now, okay? I have other things on my mind.”

  “I know.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I was just making an observation. I do want to let you know, so that you’ll put your claws back in, that just because you take a break from busting my balls from time to time it doesn’t mean I’m going to run out and buy you a friggin’ ring, okay?”

  I grinned despite myself. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  As irritating as it could be, Callahan was usually right on the money when it came to reading me.

  “Are you hungry?” He kept his voice level. He knew I was in a fighting mood and he wasn’t going to play into my hands. He’d said his piece.

  It’s the curse of the control freak. When all else seems lost, pick a fight with someone so you can regain some sort of control in your life, at least for the moment, and to hell with the consequences. Of course, we always feel like shit later. That’s beside the point.

  “I’m going to get a shower,” I said. “Would you take Buddy out and feed him? The dry food’s in the pantry and there’s half a can of soft food in the cupboard. Just mix up a scoop of the dry with half of what’s in the can.”

  He was staring at me blankly.

  “Never mind. I’ll do it.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it. A scoop of dry with half of the can in the fridge.”

  “Then why were you looking so confused?”

  “I’m just wondering if you’re okay.”

  “I don’t have time to not be okay, Cal. Please, just take out the dog.”

  I was being short with him because if he started being all concerned for me, I’d break down again. I needed to hang on to the strength I’d found. There’d been some dark times in my life. When I’d broken down the night before, my mind had been the in darkest place I’d ever been. I didn’t want to re-visit that place anytime soon.

  “Want me to make something?”

  I sighed, getting up and scraping my fingernails through my hair. I had to step around Buddy who’d had just awoken and was regarding me with concerned eyes. I knelt down and cupped his head in my hands as I planted a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

  “I guess I should eat something. There are eggs, ham and bread in the fridge. I can’t promise that any of them isn’t past their fresh date.”

  He did a good job at not looking too disgusted. “Okay. I’ll check it out. If worse comes to worst, we’ll grab something out. There’s a diner down the road that isn’t half bad.”

  “Fine.” I nodded, eyes closed. “Thanks.”

  Having to make even the smallest decision at the moment was really irritating. My nerves felt as though somebody had sandpapered them and the few hours of sleep I’d gotten had done very little for my screaming muscles. Tension had infiltrated every muscle in my body. I was too damned tired to work them out with weights.

  He was saying something to me as I was shutting the bathroom door. Whatever it was, it would have to wait. I needed to stand under a hot stream of water and wash the previous night’s activities off me.

  I turned on the water and adjusted the showerhead to “massage”, and let the water run on my neck and shoulders. I closed my eyes for a moment but images of what we’d found at the shack and of what we’d done to Finn kept intruding into my thoughts. Relaxation was a pipe dream at the moment.

  I scrubbed every part of my body until my skin was red and tingling, then shut the water off and began drying off. As I rubbed the thick towel over my face, I commanded myself to think. I had to think. Where was Woodard? He was all I needed to find Jesse. If I could find Woodard, I could make him tell me where my brother was. I would make what we did to Finn look like he’d been tickled in comparison.

  By the time I’d dried off and slipped into fresh jeans and plain, black t-shirt, I’d made a decision.

  I didn’t have time to waste looking for Woodard. I’d have to make him come to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  And as it turned out, he did. The phone rang just as I was coming down the stairs.

  “Don’t touch it!” I yelled.

  “Okay,” Cal said as I came into the living room, his hands up in front of him. He was standing right over the phone. “Thought I’d be helpful.”

  I picked the receiver up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, bitch.”

  I’d grown to recognize the tone and dialogue as being specific to Woodard. Finn called me a bitch too, but well, he was no more. “You’re holding the cards, Woodard. What do you want?”

  “I want you. You come without a fuss and I’ll let the kid go.”

  “Fine.” I knew Woodard wouldn’t let Jesse go but this was my chance to get close enough to hurt him into making him tell me where Jesse was.

  “You’ll be watched. So if you bring any of your friends with you I’ll pick them off one by one, then I’ll kill the kid before I kill you. Is that clear?”

  “As glass. When and where?”

  “After dark. The park behind Cherry Street. I’ll be waiting for you. We’re going to have a little fun.”

  “Can’t wait. I’m all about fun.”

  The line went dead.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Callahan placed his coffee mug on the table in front of him.

  I was leaning against the kitchen counter, steaming coffee mug hugged close to my chest. I’d managed to choke down a slice of toast and I was hoping it would stay down.

  “Look, what choice do I have? The guy’s like a puff of smoke. He’s there one minute, gone the next. I can’t play around with Jesse’s life.”

  “They’ll shoot you on sight.”

  “I don’t think so. He wants me to suffer. He’s not going to rob himself of having fun with me before he puts me out of my misery.”

  “You think he’ll fall for it? He won’t buy me leaving you alone. No way.”

  I nodded. “Oh, I think he will. I’m counting on him thinking I’m just another dumb bitch. A crazy dumb bitch, but a dumb bitch nonetheless. And anyway, he knows I’d do anything for Jesse.”

  “I don�
��t know.” Callahan watched me beneath furrowed eyebrows.

  “Well it’s not up to you. It’s my brother he has. Christ knows what he’s done to him already. I’m not letting Jesse die. I won’t lose him--” I let the word “too” float in the air between us, but didn’t say it.

  “What about him losing you?”

  “He won’t.” The words sounded ridiculous to my ears. It was all I could say because the truth was that I just might die trying to save my brother. I couldn’t have Callahan screwing up the one chance I had of getting Jesse back.

  So I said it with more conviction this time.

  “He won’t.”

  * * *

  Everyone was in place less than an hour after the phone call. It would be a long wait, but if I was going to have back-up at all without Woodard or his men knowing about it, everyone had to be ready before the vampires came out to play. Neither Woodard nor any of his men were patient enough to come early and wait it out. I was almost one hundred percent certain of that. Of course, there was always that stray percent or two.

  I stood in the middle of the park as darkness gathered around me. The wind held the first hint of autumn’s chill and I tugged my jean jacket closer to my body. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I wanted to be holding my gun but I didn’t want to get Woodard’s back up just when he thought he had control of the situation. He was more likely to let his guard down if he felt no threat from me. Still, I crossed my arms and pressed my .38, which was strapped to my ribs, closer and enjoyed the feel of its reassuring weight. This was the gun Woodard would expect me to have. The one he’d tell me to toss to him.

  But I had another gun tucked in against my lower back. He might figure out that I had another gun and I realized as well that I may have to throw him the knife strapped to my lower leg. That was okay. I did have my snipers to rely on. I scanned the buildings, looking for evidence of any more of Woodard’s men.

  I’d heard shots ring out as I approached the park and I prayed that it was one of Woodard’s men who’d gone down. Jack and Patrick waited on the bottom floor of one of the abandoned buildings, ready to pick off Woodard’s minions the minute they stepped foot into the building. It was obvious he’d have snipers as well, scanning the area for my back-ups.

  The park was surrounded by run-down buildings. I wasn’t safe where I stood. The area was notorious for gang activity. I tried not to think of what went on behind some of the broken windows papered over with cardboard or covered with old blankets. A woman standing alone in the middle of the park would be considered free lunch. If several gang members decided to come strolling through the park at any moment in time, there was no guarantee that my friends could pick them all off. It could very well turn into a bloodbath, with Woodard disappearing or dying and me never finding my brother.

  I shivered and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to breathe. It was too quiet. I could feel eyes on me but I didn’t know if they belonged to friend or foe. I tried not to think of the possibility that Jesse was already dead and that this was all just a game for Woodard. Maybe he had a box seat up in one of those buildings, anticipating my gang rape and murder.

  Callahan and Will were around here somewhere. I didn’t know where they were exactly and I hoped that neither Woodard nor his men did. I kept my shoulders squared and my chin tilted upward, my hands opening and closing at my sides, seemingly of their own accord. Woodard was somewhere in the vicinity, enjoying the hell out of watching me squirm.

  I felt a sudden urge to bring both hands up and jab the middle fingers of each hand into the air, walking in a slow circle to be sure Woodard could get a good look. I shoved the urge down, knowing it wouldn’t really get me anywhere.

  “Well, well, well. Mr. Woodard. So nice of you to show up.” My voice was cheerful. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was certain that I’d finally really lost it. I’d gone over the edge. Nothing made sense to me anymore and I was lifted by a sudden courage usually only enjoyed by the delirious and the insane. "Care to join me in a twilight stroll?”

  He stood there panting, gun pointed at my head. I could sense rather than see his finger twitching on the trigger. “Are you on crack, you crazy bitch?”

  “Me? Ooooh no. You’ve got enough customers, don’cha think?”

  He glared at me. “Toss me your gun.”

  I hesitated for good measure.

  “Do you want me to kill your pussy-ass brother?”

  I reached into my jacket slowly and my hand found the gun. The urge to shoot him where he stood was overwhelming. But I bent down and placed the pistol on the ground, kicking it towards him. “Oh come on, now, Brent. Haven’t you already done that?”

  He blinked, shocked by my use of his first name. It was completely dark now, and Woodard was cloaked in shadow, standing away from the park lights. I squinted at his silhouette, trying to gauge his reaction. Trying to find out if my brother was still alive.

  “He’s not dead,” he finally said. “Yet.”

  “Prove it.”

  His laugh was high-pitched. He sounded tickled pink. “I don’t have to prove a thing to you. I’m the one with the power here. Not you. I could shoot you right now.”

  “Why don’t you, then?”

  He hesitated. “Because it’s not my style. You should already know that.”

  “Then stop yanking my chain, Brent. Let’s get on with it.”

  “You got any more guns on you?”

  “No,” I said, lifting my arms and shrugging.

  I felt his eyes boring into me.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said softly.

  I swallowed. “So what? I have another gun and I’m going to shoot you with all your snipers watching me?”

  “I’m going to have my friend frisk you. If he finds something, you’re going to wish you hadn’t lied to me.” He looked over to the dumpster. “Ace! Put it back in your pants! Get out here!”

  After a long moment, which seemed to stretch on for eternity, a figure emerged from behind the dumpster. He stepped under the streetlight, tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping them up. I remembered him as one of Woodard’s pals and wondered what he was doing there behind the dumpster by himself with his pecker out.

  But then he motioned toward the dumpster, hand facing upward, curling and uncurling his fingers in a “come here” gesture.

  There was a prickling at the back of my neck and my heart was thumping so hard I thought my shirt must be moving to its beat beneath my jacket. I waited, holding my breath. The thought of my brother behind that dumpster with that guy, being made to do what I thought was being done back there, made me want to gag.

  However, it wasn’t Jesse.

  It was a small, scrawny girl. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Her stringy brown hair hung in her face. She walked cautiously, hesitating, and her entire body was shivering.

  “Come here you little shit!” he shouted.

  She stood still, frozen and crying, her body shaking.

  If the point was to piss me off, it worked. Something inside of me broke loose. I could almost hear the snap inside my head.

  Then a figure emerged from inside one of the buildings. A female, staggering slightly.

  “Hey, hey!” she shouted.

  All heads turned to look at her.

  “What the hell?” Woodard’s stared at her.

  “Hey, hey!” The girl said again, standing beneath one of the park lights. Her hair was bright pink, clearly a wig, and she teetered on four-inch, knee-high boots. Her black nylons were torn in several places and she wore a dirty, white half-shirt.

  It was Sharon.

  I blinked, my eyes moving back and forth between her and the young girl who was edging away, moving in the opposite direction of Woodard and his friend.

  “Get out of here you stupid whore!” Woodard screamed, pointing his gun at Sharon.

  The girl made a squealing sound and made a run for it.

  Woodard’s friend lunged for
her.

  I didn’t think. I just grabbed my gun from my waistband and whipped it around. I aimed and fired.

  Woodard’s friend crumpled to the ground. He couldn’t go any further with half his head missing, so he had no other choice.

  I looked at the young girl was almost out of the park. “Run, baby!”

  She made it out onto the street and kept on running.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Four of Woodard’s men emerged from out of nowhere, firing at me as they ran toward me. I hit the ground, sand flying up into my eyes and mouth, firing blindly. Through gritty eyes I saw one guy hit the ground, then another.

  I saw Sharon’s gun come up and aim at the men. One of them fell. Then another. By then there were so many bullets flying, I didn’t know whose bullet had gotten him.

  More men emerged. These were gang members. Somewhere in the midst of the sandstorm, the blood and the bullets, the thought occurred to me that I should’ve figured that Woodard would have gang member back-up. He was most likely their drug connection in that area.

  A short, stocky man ran at Sharon from behind. I screamed to her but she didn’t hear me. I aimed at him and fired. I missed. He grabbed her, his knife drawn, and kissed her on the cheek as he brought his knife around to the front of her throat. He began dragging her across the park.

  Will came flying out of the building, his mouth shaped in a silent scream as he fired at the man, shooting him in the head. The man dropped, still holding Sharon, pulling her down with him.

  I saw Will run to her as I made my way toward the dumpster. I set about reloading my gun, trying to keep my hands steady and my eyes constantly moving. One of the gang members, a woman with a shaved head and tattoos crawling up her arms, spotted me and came running at me as I struggled to reload. My hands were trembling too badly and she was almost on top of me. I dropped the gun and reached for my knife, yanking up my pant leg and ripping it out of the sheath just as she stopped and stood over me with her gun drawn.