Get Lucky

by Lorie O'Clare

  The urge to protect London had overwhelmed him. When she’d spoken to him right before the men showed up at the door, everything inside him had seized up. Marc didn’t know the details of her upbringing. He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her. But from the bits and pieces she’d shared with him it was clear it was a life she wanted no part of. All she’d seen of him so far was a life of running and violence. London didn’t want any part of it.

  Marc stared out the window of the backseat of the black Ford Explorer where he sat, handcuffed, with Jake next to him. The driver and the man who had done all the talking in the motel room were up front. Marc glanced over his shoulder and saw their goons following in a pickup. His attention shot forward, though, when they slowed.

  Where the hell were they going?

  He stared at the ruins of Canyon Diablo where Jake was shot the other night. There wasn’t anything here. If they were going to pull him and Jake out of the SUV out here in the middle of nowhere, they might have a chance. A very slim chance. He and Jake were handcuffed, but one of these bastards would have a key on him. It would be a tough fight, but Marc prepared himself for it, feeling his muscles bulge and the handcuffs tighten at his wrists. One glance at Jake told Marc he was just as eager for the chance to regain his freedom.

  Son of a bitch, Marc thought to himself when they came to a stop at the group of rocks just past the ruins. He’d driven past these when Jake was shot, certain their shooter had been hiding behind the rocks. He hadn’t been; he’d been hiding underneath them. The SUV went off the road and came to a stop. Marc stared in disbelief when the ground ahead of them caved in and a cloud of dust blew up into the cold morning air. When it cleared there was a road going into the ground. Darkness surrounded them as they descended into the underground tunnel, but Marc met Jake’s gaze. He shook his head, frowning. How would anyone ever find them down here?

  The driver flipped on his headlights and a loud banging noise, metal against metal, sounded behind them. Marc jumped, twisting in the seat fast enough to see a flat door secured into place, concealing them from the world above. His anger spiked all over again when he met the man’s gaze in the rearview mirror and saw him smiling. The driver stopped the SUV and turned it off as a series of lights flipped on around them. That’s when Marc realized the goons in the pickup truck didn’t follow them down here.

  “Shall we, gentlemen?” The tall black-haired man smiled at him and Jake, stepping out of the front seat of the black SUV.

  The driver got out as well. The two men opened Jake’s and Marc’s doors for them. Marc slid out on his side, glaring down at the sharp-dressed man who was too smooth of a talker. If the man really believed handcuffs rendered Marc useless, Marc would enjoy showing him otherwise. He stepped into the man, standing easily five or six inches taller than the asshole.

  “You are seriously going to regret this,” Marc promised, whispering so only the jerk heard him.

  “We’ll have London with us safe and sound in no time.” The bastard smiled at Marc, fool enough not to even look nervous. “There’s no reason for you to worry about her.”

  The fact that he would comment on London when Marc implied he would regret his actions warned Marc the man was hot on the pursuit of capturing her, if he hadn’t already.

  “Touch one head on her hair and I swear to God I’ll kill you myself,” Marc hissed under his breath.

  “Your devotion to her is commendable, but I don’t think being obsessed with her will be an asset to your role. You haven’t known her long enough to create an unbreakable bond. I’m sure it will fade with time.” The man laughed as he walked away from Marc.

  Marc leapt in the air, kicking the man square in the back and enjoying immense satisfaction when the pompous jerk screamed and slid forward across the cement floor. Marc landed on his feet, grounding himself and ready to take on whoever came at him next. This would end here, while there were vehicles, when he was close to the exit. No way in hell would he become captive to some arrogant little runt who wouldn’t quit smiling like some annoying pretty boy.

  Something zapped Marc in the shoulder, sending a fierce pain down his back.

  “Son of a bitch,” he howled, damn near falling to his knees.

  “Get them both out of here!” the man yelled, struggling to his feet and dusting off his overcoat. He wasn’t smiling anymore and the humorous gleam in his eyes was gone. “Lock them up good and tight, but don’t beat them senseless.” This time his laughter bordered on demonic instead of defiant. “We don’t want to break that raw King spirit, now do we?”

  The man walked over to the wall and pressed a large button that buzzed loudly, echoing off the garage walls. Marc turned on the driver and eyeballed a long metal stick he held in his hand. It had shocked the living crap out of Marc. His muscles still twitched painfully, making it hard to move. The guy had a large gun in his other hand, large enough to blow a hole clean through a man. Marc shifted his attention to Jake, who came around the back of the SUV, the fire in his eyes showing how furious he was.

  “You want to knock the pretty stick out of his hand, or the gun?” Jake asked, glaring at the man.

  This guy didn’t appear as confident as his leader did and took a step backward, raising the gun and pointing it from one of them to the other.

  “I wouldn’t advise either,” the man behind them said, his cocky attitude returning.

  Marc turned when a door opened and five men, easily as tall as he and Jake were, entered the garage and surrounded the two of them.

  “Sure you brought enough of your goons?” Jake asked.

  The man laughed. “You get your cockiness from your father. This really is going to be fun.” His grin broadened as he rubbed his hands together. “I will definitely be the victor. Let’s go, men.”

  Marc had seen insanity before. It came in variations, the symptoms appearing in different ways in different people. A psychiatrist might have different labels, but the way Marc saw it, people were right in the head or they weren’t. Whoever this captor of theirs was, he was definitely certifiably insane. The man whistled, almost skipping, as he led the way down a long, narrow ramp to another door where once again he pushed a large button on the wall. When the door opened, a flood of fluorescent light was almost blinding.

  They weren’t on cement anymore but plush carpeting, and a high ceiling overhead arched above them. The walls were painted a pale pink, probably something Marc’s mother or Natasha would refer to as mauve. There were large pictures hanging around them, adding color to the very large room. The man walked over to an expensive-looking desk, moving behind it and sitting. He appeared very satisfied with himself when he leaned back, steepled his fingers, and rested his elbows on the armrests of the high-back leather chair he graced as if it were a throne.

  “Lock them up for now and meet me back here,” he instructed, dismissing them with a wave of his hand and turning to his computer.

  Marc growled at the man who nudged him in the back but saw no other option at the moment but to walk with them across the room to another door. This one didn’t require a button to be pushed but opened when one of them turned the handle. Apparently security diminished once they were inside this underground office building. Marc wondered how long it had been here.

  They entered what easily could be defined as a jail. The hallway was narrow and bars were on the other side. One of the men moved ahead of them, stopping and unlocking the jail cell. Marc walked in front of Jake but stopped when he spotted his parents.

  “Dad,” he said as his mother jumped up from where she’d been sitting and ran to the bars.

  “My God, Jake! Marc!” She grabbed the bars, her eyes welling with tears. Their dad was behind her in seconds, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back as he eyed the men surrounding his sons warily. “Are you two okay?” she demanded.

  “Pissed, but fine. How about you two?” Marc faced them, ignoring the man when he held the cell open that was directly across from Marc
’s parents. “Any clue what this place is?”

  Greg nodded his head, a gesture barely noticeable toward the man who held open the cell door. Jake reacted first. Bulldozing into the man with the keys, Jake rammed him into the prison cell, sending the keys in his hands flying across the floor.

  Marc turned on the men behind them, not having as much room this time but managing to jump in the air and attack with his legs again. The metal around his wrists rubbed fiercely against bone, causing just enough pain to fuel his anger even further. He’d picked up on his father’s suggestion quickly, knowing this might be their last chance for escape before they were all locked behind bars. Marc had been surprised to see his parents. It pissed him off further that he hadn’t seen this opportunity to attack.

  Marc swore he heard bones snap as the man he made contact with howled and fell backward into the men behind him. It was like a domino effect, their large captors toppling backward into one another with Marc damn near falling on top of them. He’d left his brother on his own to take on the guy with the keys and prayed Jake could handle it. Marc did his best to regain his balance in time to attack again, needing to keep the three men he was attacking distracted long enough for Jake to get the keys and slide them across the floor to his parents.

  “Over here!” Marc heard his father yell.

  “Jake!” his mother screamed. “Watch out!”

  Marc leapt again, hearing the men yelling and not paying attention to anything they were saying. Tunnel vision seemed to take over, his only focus taking down each of the men as effectively as possible. Being handcuffed seriously sucked and hindered his efforts, but he gave it hell, determined not to let them take him down.

  He kicked higher the second time and watched blood splatter across the face of the man he’d attacked. Jake screamed behind him, howling at the same time an alarm sounded. Its repetitive piercing sound was deafening and made it impossible to hear when his father yelled.

  Marc staggered backward and felt his mother’s hands on him. Whether she was trying to grab him or help to push him back at the guards he couldn’t tell. He used his brother’s tactics with his third attack, lowering his head and bulldozing into the two remaining guards standing. They were giant men, built of steel, and he swore his neck snapped in two as he drove into them with everything he had.

  It was that damn black stick. He saw it for only a second as his vision cleared. The electric charge that surged through him sizzled his flesh and racked every muscle in his body. Marc howled, hearing his own voice and his throat burn when he screamed from the pain that tore his body in two. He flew backward, losing control of his own actions as the voltage ripping him apart sent him flying into the jail cell bars behind him.

  He hit the ground hard, aware of his mother crying out in fear as his vision blurred. No matter how hard he tried to overcome the electricity that was paralyzing him, he couldn’t regain control fast enough to defend himself. He saw the gun aimed at him, heard a popping sound, and everything went black.

  *

  London sat in a parking lot, gripping the steering wheel of Marc’s car, and tried to remember how to breathe. She’d just killed a man. His blood was splattered on her clothes. The police would be called. They would find the body. It was probably a matter of minutes before they would find her and take her to jail. No one would believe her story. She wasn’t in her own car. She didn’t live in this town. At the moment she didn’t even have ID on her. She’d left her purse in the motel room.

  She dropped her head against the steering wheel. “Damn, damn, damn,” she cursed, rolling her forehead against the bumps on the steering wheel and moaning over her stupidity and foolishness. She might as well have left a calling card for the cops to come find her. “I have to go back. God. Crap. I can’t go back.”

  Life as she knew it was over. The years she’d managed to pull off being a law-abiding citizen, swearing she would never be like her parents, were nothing but a joke, existing to taunt her. In a matter of seconds she’d ended all of that. She could still hear the gunfire in her head. It was all worse than a nightmare and she didn’t have a clue how to fix any of it. The only things she had on her right now were the murder weapon, her cell phone, and the key card to the motel room.

  Like there was anyone she could call for help. Marc was gone. No one at her work had a clue why she was here. There wasn’t anyone to turn to. She was on her own to figure her way out of the worst disaster imaginable. Not to mention, not only were her parents still missing, but now Marc and Jake were gone, too. She hadn’t caught a glimpse of the men who took them.

  “It’s all too incredible for anyone to even believe.”

  Leaning back in the seat, she tried for a few calming breaths, staring at the parking lot where she’d stopped driving after fleeing from the motel. Cars drove up and down the road; more than one pulled into the parking lot and parked. People walked in and out of the large grocery store at the other end of the lot. No one noticed her.

  “Okay, maybe you have a few minutes. Think, girl. Think this through.” Being a criminal was in her blood whether she liked it or not. She wasn’t sure either of her parents had ever murdered anyone, though. Her parents might have been good enough at what they did never to have been caught, but it wasn’t as if they’d spent time trying to teach her the trade. Which up until now she’d believed had been the one good thing they’d done for her.

  She should go to the cops. London straightened, glancing down at her clothes. The dark splotches staining her coat and jeans taunted her, and they stunk. Would the cops believe her if she walked into the police station looking the way she did now and told them the entire story? There was proof. She could argue self-defense, show them the pictures and the notes that were with them. Then she would tell the police how she came down here with Marc. He was part of a reputable business. Maybe the cops would have heard of KFA. They would know she was with the good guys. She would explain how she was trying to find her parents when men showed up and took Marc and Jake. She hid and thought she was alone, but then she wasn’t alone. All she did was pull the trigger. Cops shot guns all the time. They would know how easy it was to pull that little trigger. The damage done was irreversible.

  “Holy crap! I’ve shot a man,” she wailed, letting her head fall against the steering wheel again. “I can’t believe I’ve shot a man.”

  If she went into the police station right now, they would have her committed before they even took time to hear her story. Suddenly the car seemed too small. She needed to get out, to breathe fresh air, to walk off this insanity surrounding her until she could think clearly.

  London shed her coat, struggling until she could throw it in the backseat. Her legs were wobbly when she climbed out of Marc’s car, then leaned against the open door, gulping in the cold air as she stared at her surroundings. She would take a short, quick walk and figure her way out of this mess. It was cold outside but not intolerable. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that her blood pressure would keep her from freezing. Right now it had to be off the charts. If she didn’t wear her coat, there wasn’t as much dried blood on her.

  She squatted next to the door, glancing around her again to make sure no one was watching, then tried getting a look at herself in the side mirror. London barely recognized the wild-eyed look that stared back at her. There wasn’t any blood on her face, though; that was good enough for now. Straightening, her legs seemed to turn into wet noodles for a moment. She braced herself, pressing her hand against the cold metal of the car. Then making sure she had the keys and that it was locked, she patted her cell phone in her jeans pocket before closing the car door and taking slow, careful steps across the parking lot.

  London wondered if insane people felt more sane when they walked among other sane people. No one seemed to pay any attention to her. It was a good sign. At least on the outside she appeared normal. That was other than the drying blood on her jeans that made them feel tight and stiff. But walking was good. She fingered
her hair, working to comb it and look presentable.

  After a few minutes she decided she’d mastered walking. And appearing normal. Lord. She was going insane. She was walking up and down aisles in a grocery store, commending herself every time she passed someone and they didn’t look at her. This was accomplishing a hell of a lot.

  Maybe it was, though. Her head was clearer and now she could pragmatically create options of what to do next. The obvious solution was to tell someone what had happened. She didn’t have a clue where Marc and Jake were. She hadn’t even seen the vehicle they’d taken off in. It crossed her mind to try calling Marc, but she wasn’t sure at the moment if he even had his cell phone on him and she didn’t know Jake’s number. Not to mention, they might be able to locate her if she tried calling. She wasn’t sure what all could be done with a cell phone.

  By the time she was back out in the parking lot, she’d created a list of several options. Go to the police. Go back to the motel room. Take Marc’s car and return to Aspen and pretend none of this ever happened.

  “Like you would do that,” she said to herself, ignoring the first person who did look at her when she spoke to herself. There was one incredibly strong possibility she couldn’t ignore. Whoever took Marc and Jake were probably still looking for her, too.

  “God, they’re probably combing this town right now trying to find me.” She stopped at the door to the Mustang, staring frantically around her, this new realization hitting her hard enough to rob her of her next breath. London started hyperventilating and bent over, worried she might puke. “You’ve got to hide. But if you hide, then what good will you be?”

  She made one hell of a lousy criminal. She was an even worse bounty hunter. It was up to her to find Marc, his brother, her parents, and his parents and she didn’t have a clue how to do any of that.

  London gripped her hips, straightening slowly as a thought occurred to her. Maybe she didn’t know how to hunt people. But she knew someone who did. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she searched through the numbers she’d recently called. When she found the number she needed, she unlocked the car and climbed in, pushing the button on her phone to place the call.