Chasing the Dragon

by T. K. Leigh

  “Mind-blowing is the only word that could accurately describe it.” I paused briefly. “But even without the sex, it’s been amazing. Falling asleep next to him throughout the week has been just as fulfilling.”

  “What do you mean? I thought last night was the first night you spent with each other.” His eyes grew wide and he was looking at me as if I had just told him about the crime of the century.

  I cringed, forgetting I hadn’t told them about any of the drama of the previous week…the break-ins, the phone calls, Charlie, none of it.

  “Well, he slept at my place on Monday and Wednesday night.”

  “Why are we just now hearing about this?!” Brayden exclaimed as our server dropped off a fresh round of drinks for the table.

  “I guess I forgot,” I replied dismissively.

  “Bullshit,” Jenna countered. “No one forgets about spending the night with a hottie like Tyler Burnham, so tell us what prompted this.”

  “You fought him tooth-and-nail when he wanted to drive you home on Monday, so what happened that made you ask him to spend the night, Mack?” Brayden glared at me and I knew I couldn’t escape his inquisition.

  “He kind of invited himself after…” I paused, taking a long sip of my margarita.

  “After what?” Brayden pushed.

  I shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. There’s no reason to even bring this up.”

  “Mack,” Brayden scolded, his normally buoyant personality replaced by the protectiveness that had always made me feel safe. “Just spit it out.”

  “Well, I may as well start at the beginning,” I said, seeing no escape. Their attention glued on me, I proceeded to tell them all about the phone calls.

  “For fuck’s sake, Mack!” Brayden exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Please tell me you’re not so stupid that you didn’t at least call the police!”

  “Brayden, please. Relax. Tyler’s looking into it.” I stared at my friends to see the panic and disbelief covering their faces. Needing to break up the awkward silence at the table, I continued, “Anyway, fast forward a few days. You remember Sunday night, right?”

  “Barely,” Brayden mumbled. “But go on.”

  Grinning, I told them about dancing with a complete stranger. How, at first, I thought it was Tyler, and then when I realized it wasn’t, it was too late. How the stranger said the same thing as my mysterious caller. How I passed out from the fear of him actually firing the weapon and woke up on a couch in the office of the club’s owner, who just happened to be Tyler. How his man drove me home and searched my place. Then I went into detail about Charlie’s reappearance that same night; the open window on Monday, which caused Tyler to spend the night; and then a window being broken in the middle of the night, waking us.

  “Tyler was able to get footage from the security camera feeds in the building. After sending them to his tech team and comparing it to footage from the club on Sunday night, he could tell whoever broke in on Monday is the same person who came up to me at the club, and his description does not match Charlie.”

  “So who is it?” Brayden asked.

  I twirled my straw among the cubes of ice in my margarita, mixing it. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re okay though, right?” Brayden narrowed his eyes at me, his normal charismatic expression alarmingly absent. “All of this craziness is taken care of? I just… I worry about you and−”

  “Of course. Tyler’s taking very good care of me.”

  Jenna and Brayden looked at each other before grinning. “Oh, Tyler,” they mocked, leaning into each other and pretending to make out.

  “I hate both of you!” I rolled my eyes, tossing a few chips at them.

  “No, you don’t!” Jenna retorted.

  “You’re right. I love you both to pieces.” I reached across the table and grabbed each of their hands in mine. “I love you wholes.”

  “We love you, too,” Jenna said. “And we completely approve of Tyler. He’s brought back the old Mack.”

  “The old Mack?”

  “Yeah. The Mack I knew freshman year. I love you as you, Mack, but this week, you haven’t been yourself. You’ve been more carefree. More open to new experiences. And it leads me to believe that Tyler Burnham is exactly what you needed to live again.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Brayden raised his drink, and Jenna and I followed suit, clinking glasses with him.

  As I drained the remainder of my margarita, I couldn’t help but think of Tyler and how he truly did change me practically overnight. And it wasn’t a bad change. It was a change I had been needing for years. In the past week, I felt more alive than I could remember. All because of one man’s unwavering devotion to me.

  Maybe it is love, I thought as a lightning bolt streaked across the sky.

  Tyler

  I SAT IN THE passenger seat of the SUV as Eli maneuvered through the coastal town of Port Isabel, the landscape changing from the downtown tourist area to a more rundown section. Hotels and beautiful rental homes transitioned into shack houses, many dilapidated and in need of serious repair. Pulling in front of a seedy building that was probably white at one point, Liquor flashing in faded neon, Eli killed the engine.

  “This is the place,” he announced.

  “Guy picked a great neighborhood for some rest and relaxation, didn’t he?” I commented, removing my pistol from the holster hiding beneath my jacket. I chambered a round before putting it back in place.

  “Are you surprised?”

  “Not exactly.” I opened the passenger door and exited the vehicle, meeting Eli on the sidewalk. Spanish-speaking people huddled on the corner, leaning against a lamppost, obviously looking for a quick job to make it to the following day. Once they saw us, they quickly dispersed, probably worried we were law enforcement. A loud crash of thunder sounded and the sky opened up, women with broken-down strollers running for shelter from the storm.

  I gave Eli a look and he knew exactly how we would play this. We had only been working together for a few years, but our history predated our professional relationship. We knew how to read each other, and that made him an invaluable asset to me.

  Entering the store, Eli and I walked, determined, toward the cashier. He had dark skin and tired eyes, his teeth were yellowed and slightly rotted, wrinkles covered his weathered appearance, and scraggly gray hair was visible beneath a Yankees cap. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and opened to the photo of Whitman’s driver’s license.

  “Have you seen this man?” I asked, holding the phone out in front of him.

  “No, sir,” the man responded, not even looking up from the magazine he was reading.

  “At least look at the picture before you lie to me. It makes it a tad more believable.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm and a touch of frustration.

  The clerk slowly raised his dark eyes and examined the photo. “Sorry. He doesn’t ring a bell, but my memory’s not what it used to be. Perhaps a little incentive would help.”

  “Incentive?” I shoved my phone into my pocket.

  “Yeah. Of the green variety.” He picked up his magazine, flipping through the pages once more.

  Clenching my jaw, I shot my hand out and wrapped my fingers around his neck. Grabbing my gun in one swift move, I pressed it against his chest. “I’ll give you some incentive. You tell me what you know about the guy in the photo…” I cocked the hammer. The click echoed in the small store, causing the clerk to quiver in my grip. “Or the next sound you hear won’t just be a click. Now, let’s try this again. I know that man frequents this liquor store. What can you tell me about him?”

  “Nada,” the clerk quickly said. “He comes in every other day and buys a six-pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey. The cheap stuff, too.”

  “Does he drive here? Walk? What?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him in a car. I think he lives in the area. I’ve seen him walking around at night, usually out back.”

  “Out back?” I as
ked urgently.

  “Sí. There’s a few apartment buildings around here. Maybe he lives in one of them.”

  Staring long and hard into the clerk’s eyes to determine the veracity of his claims, I finally released my hold on him, returning my pistol to the holster. “If I find out you’re giving me shitty information, you’re going to wish you never left Mexico. Comprende?”

  The clerk nervously nodded and I dashed out of the liquor store, Eli close behind me.

  “Should we canvass the tenants who live in this area?” he shouted over the pouring rain.

  Surveying the run-down building in front of me, I smiled. “We may not have to. Look.” I gestured to the sidewalk of a duplex about a block from the liquor store, an overturned garbage bin spilling its contents on the street.

  “Whiskey bottles.”

  “Coincidence?” I asked sarcastically.

  “I’m starting to think nothing is a coincidence.”

  “Join the club.” Sprinting up to the front door, I stopped abruptly when I saw it was slightly ajar.

  “Do you think it’s a set up?” Eli whispered. “Seems a bit too convenient, ya know?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Meeting his eyes, I grabbed my gun from its holster once more. Eli followed my lead, his weapon at the ready, prepared for anything. I slowly pushed the door open, and we silently stepped past the threshold and into a dated and dingy living room. A low hum filtered into the room over the sound of thunder and rain.

  TV? Eli mouthed.

  I nodded, padding lightly through the living room, cautiously stepping around discarded takeout containers and empty beer cans. The only furnishings were a ratty recliner and a faded love seat, the brown cushions torn. The walls were a yellowish color that had probably been a bright white at one time, but had become discolored. The stench of cigarettes and spoiled food permeated the room, and I tried to hold my breath, my gag reflex kicking in. I didn’t know how anyone could live in such filth.

  As we navigated the short hallway, past a bathroom festering with mold that hadn’t been cleaned in months, the foul odor grew more intense. A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach and I walked faster toward the end of the hallway, the door to the bedroom cracked open. The low hum from a television grew louder as we drew closer.

  Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open, keeping my weapon raised to defend against anything that may greet me. My eyes settled on an unshaven blond man of average height and strong build, his blue eyes wide open, ligature marks on this throat, sprawled on the stained carpet.

  “Shit,” Eli muttered upon seeing the corpse.

  “You’re telling me.”

  Holstering his pistol, Eli reached into his jacket and produced two pairs of rubber gloves, handing me a set. “Apparently, we’ve stumbled on a crime scene. What should we do?”

  “We’ll take a look around. His face is bloated, but there’s no denying that’s Whitman. The fact that he turned up dead pretty much confirms my suspicion he was working for someone else.”

  “You think he was killed by whomever he was working for?”

  I shrugged, returning my weapon to its holster. “It’s a possibility. Until the body is examined by the coroner, we won’t know how long he’s been dead.”

  I began sorting through a pile of receipts left on a dresser, taking care to ensure everything was returned exactly where I found it. Eli opened one of the drawers, rummaging through disheveled piles of clothes covering a locked box. Lifting it out of the drawer, he placed it on the dresser. He pulled out a lock pick and inserted it into the keyhole, finagling it slightly until it popped open.

  “What the…?” His brows furrowed and I could sense his confusion.

  “What is it?”

  “Photos. Lots of photos.”

  I peered over his shoulder as he sorted through dozens of what appeared to be surveillance photos. “Who are these people?” I asked.

  “Looks like a hit list photo album,” Eli said. “Look.” He thrust a photo at me of a familiar-looking woman who had been all over the local news lately…the Chamber of Commerce official who had been found murdered on the eighth green of the country club. “Big red circle and then a big red X, as if she was taken care of.”

  “But who are the rest of these people?” I grabbed the pile out of his hands and shifted through dozens of photos of unfamiliar people with large X’s over the face of the subject in the snapshot. Some of the images were clearly older, and some were more recent.

  “There’s no telling, but looks like Whitman’s been at it for years. He may have pissed someone off and has now joined the company of his unfortunate victims.”

  I continued flipping through the stack, each photo becoming more recent, as if it was a timeline of Whitman’s kills. I didn’t recognize any of them…until I reached the last photo, a familiar smile beaming at me. My heart sank, her beautiful face circled in red as if she was next on the chopping block. My entire body grew rigid and I blinked repeatedly, almost wishing my eyes were deceiving me.

  My adrenaline spiking, I folded the photo and put it into my pocket, throwing the rest of them back into the box. I didn’t care that I could potentially be interfering with a police investigation. I couldn’t have her tied to it…not until I knew what the hell was going on.

  Reaching for my cell, I stormed out of the disgusting apartment, tearing at my hair in frustration when Mackenzie’s voicemail picked up. “Fuck!” I bellowed, running toward the car, Eli right behind me every step of the way.

  We both jumped into the SUV and Eli sped down the street, the drive from Port Isabel back to South Padre seeming to take forever. I called the restaurant multiple times, getting no answer there, either. My mind ran through every possible scenario in my head, my fear freezing me in the seat of the SUV, trying to come to terms with the possibility that someone had already gotten to Mackenzie.

  “Not again,” I said under my breath. I raised my eyes to the roof, rain pelting the SUV and everything around us. I balled my fists, my throat tight. I felt sick to my stomach as the world spun around me. “Please, God, not again.”

  “She’s okay,” Eli said, trying to bring me back from my downward spiral. “All of that stuff was locked up for a reason. Whitman died before he could do the job.”

  “What if he didn’t want to do the job anymore?” I shouted, unsure of whether any of my reasoning made sense. “He broke into her place! Twice! He’s called her, threatened her, held a fucking gun against her in my goddamn club! Then, after Monday, nothing! What if…?” I tried to compose myself, the pressure on my chest almost unbearable. “What if he refused to follow through and someone else took over? What if they’re…?”

  I dropped my head into my hands, tuning out Eli’s words of encouragement. I didn’t want to hear it. I felt lost, desperate, fucking alone. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even after seeing Melanie’s still, lifeless body lying on a cold metal slab, her life cruelly extinguished. Even after enduring that pain, it was nothing compared to what I was going through now. I couldn’t lose Mackenzie. And it wasn’t because of my assignment. It was because I simply could not picture my life without her.

  Lightning streaked the sky over the ocean, followed by a loud clap of thunder, the rain becoming more and more difficult to see through.

  And that was the moment I knew. Everything in my life had been so fuzzy, out of focus. As Eli swerved in and out of traffic on the Queen Isabella Causeway, my vision became clearer than it had in years.

  “I love her,” I muttered under my breath. “Please be okay. Please be okay,” I said to myself, holding out hope that some divine power was listening. I had never prayed before. Hell, the last time I had ever stepped foot in a church was during my brother’s wedding six years ago, but I prayed on that bridge. I prayed to God, Allah, Yahweh, Buddha… You name it, I prayed to it. Prayed that history wasn’t about to repeat itself.

  When we were just minutes away from Mack
enzie’s restaurant, we were met with a long stream of brake lights, traffic onto the main drag at a standstill. Rolling down the window, I craned my neck to see what the holdup was, unable to see anything through the deluge soaking the island.

  “Fuck this.”

  I threw the door open and began running. The blocks seemed to get longer instead of shorter as I sprinted down Pacific Boulevard, dreading what sight would greet me at my destination. I cut through a side alley, scaled a fence, and ran as fast as I could.

  Turning onto Gulf Boulevard, Mackenzie’s restaurant in sight, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me when I saw the flashing lights of several police cruisers and an ambulance parked in front of the building.

  “No!” I screamed through the lump in my throat, my heart aching in my chest. Approaching the restaurant, I struggled to hold it all together when it felt as if my world was crumbling around me. I couldn’t lose this woman. I would do anything for her…risk my job, my career, my everything to keep her at my side.

  I rushed inside on weak knees, a frantic, chaotic scene greeting me. Paramedics and police were swarming the place as my eyes searched for one person and one person only. I scanned the area, a pool of water forming at my feet, but I was unable to make any sense of what was going on. Paramedics were furiously trying to resuscitate someone lying on the ground and I knew… I knew I hadn’t gotten there in time.

  I took several slow steps, not wanting my eyes to confirm what my heart knew, and let out a low sob when I saw a mass of dark hair splayed on the floor.

  “Tyler?” a soft voice called from behind me.

  I spun around and, standing in almost the exact same spot we had shared our first dance, was Mackenzie, a confused look on her face.

  Not believing my eyes, I went to her, my steps resolute, needing to feel her beating heart against mine. Until I felt her, this could have all been a cruel dream. Without saying a word, I held her face in my hands and kissed her hard, enclosing her body in mine. Even a breath of air between us was too much. I needed to mold her to me, to make her part of me.