“I swear I won’t get hurt.”
“Gemini, you know what my answer is.”
“Okay.”
Images flash through my mind and now I’m celebrating my sixteenth birthday. I’m hoping for a car, but I doubt I’ll get one.
“Happy birthday, sweetie!”
“Thanks, Mom!”
She’s carrying a perfectly decorated cake with sixteen glowing candles. And then she sings me the traditional Happy Birthday song. When she finishes, she squeezes me so hard I think I’m going to crack in half.
“Gemini, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mom. Is it chocolate?”
“You’re going to have to cut it to find out,” she teases.
When I do, I think about the other kids I know and the birthdays I overhear them talk about. How they have parties and do special things. But it’s always just been my mom and me. No other family or friends.
“Hey, Mom … How come we don’t have any relatives or friends? I mean, I know you said my dad died before I was born and that your parents died when you were young. But didn’t you have any cousins or anything?” It suddenly hits me how odd it is that we’re so isolated.
My mom’s usually tanned face suddenly pales. Her head slants away from me so now I don’t have a clear view of her face. “No, sweetie, I never had any cousins.” Her voice is choked.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I go to her and hug her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by that.”
“It’s okay, Gemini. You can ask me anything you want. It was just an unexpected question.” She hugs me back. Then she leans away and asks, “Hey, you want to open your present?”
“Well, yeah!”
She turns around and hands me a tiny gift bag. It surprises me because I was expecting something larger, such as a box filled with clothes. Now, I think she must have gotten me jewelry. I grin.
When I open the bag, all I see is tissue paper. I pull it out until I find the gift. A car key.
“Oh my God. You didn’t?”
She smiles. “I did. But before you go and see it, you have to swear to me you’ll take the most care driving it that you’ve ever taken in your life. I mean it, Gemini.”
My smile is so huge, I’m sure my mom can count every tooth in my head. Now it’s my turn to squeeze her to smithereens.
“Gemini, I can’t breathe,” she squeaks. Then she grabs my hand and pulls me into our garage, where she apparently hid the car yesterday. It’s a white Ford Escape and I’m in love with it.
“Do you want to take it for a drive?”
“Can I just ride in it first?” I’m too excited to drive right now.
My mom laughs so hard, tears form in the corners of her eyes. She’s as happy as I am. We jump in and take my new baby for a spin. I play with the radio and the air conditioning and windshield wipers, just so I’ll know how to work them.
When we pull into our driveway, my mom turns, a serious look on her face, like she’s about to say something epic. But then she says, “Gemini, promise me you’ll be careful. Please don’t take any unnecessary risks.” And then she says something very strange … something that sticks with me for a long, long time. “And always watch your back, you know, your rearview mirror. If you think you’re being followed, do not come home. Drive straight to the police station. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I wake up, the ice has melted; I never zipped the bag, so I’m soaked. My migraine has eased a bit, enough for me to get back to my bedroom. I refill the bag and close it tightly before I go back to bed. Most people would say that I shouldn’t drink or take drugs. And that if I didn’t, maybe my headaches wouldn’t be so bad. If only that were the case. But it’s not. They’re just as excruciating without the alcohol and drugs. In fact, they’re worse because I get no reprieve at all.
As I lie here, I think about my dreams. It’s been a while since I’ve had any about my mom. It’s probably because I miss her so damn much. Whoever said that time eases the loss of a loved one was a big fat fucking liar. The grief I feel now is just as overwhelming as it was when she died five years ago. Sometimes, like right now, it’s worse.
Glancing at the nightstand clock, I see it’s close to six in the evening. Time to get a shower and eat something. I’ve been out of it all day and my plans are to hit the clubs again tonight. Before that, though, I need groceries. Mother Hubbard’s cupboard is bare. Going out in the daytime isn’t an option. It’s too bright and my headaches spike.
I shower, dress, and head out. It doesn’t take me long to grab what I need, so I’m home in no time. My neighbors must think I’m a recluse because in all the months I’ve been here, I haven’t met a single one of them. During my periods of gravest pain, I’ve wondered if they can hear me crying out. They never knock so I guess they can’t. I’m glad for that—I couldn’t answer the door anyway.
After I make a sandwich and eat, I dress and head back out to Dirty Sixth. I know I’ll be able to score another Xanax from my connection at Red Skies. If they’re not there, they’ll be at the Hairy Hound, or one of the other clubs on Sixth Street. My mood lightens as I get closer to my destination. It pains me to think how much further away from my dreams of becoming a marketing expert I get each day. Before too long, it will only be a memory from the distant past.
THE TEAMS ARE positioned in the same places as we were last night, with one exception. Dylan is in Red Skies with me. After our debriefing, we decided to tail Onyx Eyes to see if we would have any hits. There’s something odd about her, though, and it has my wheels spinning. When we ran an ID check on her using the photos I took last night, we only came up with a blank slate. There weren’t any matches in the system. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything yet but I have Huff looking into it. I’m sure we’ll hear something from him by tomorrow morning.
Tonight I’m sitting at the bar in the back and Dylan’s in the front. I don’t want her to think I’m following her if she comes in. Before I even spot her, I notice the two guys she bought her shit from last night. They’re in my sights too—this may be part of their plan.
“Lone Wolf to Delta Mad Dog. Do you copy?”
“Copy, Lone Wolf.”
“We’ve got Candy Men on premises. Brown shirt, skull and crossbones and a Linkin Park baseball hat and then plain navy T-shirt, shaved head, spider tat on neck.”
“Copy that. Candy Men in sight.”
I sit back and watch the scenery. Girls dance with girls and guys break into the scene. Things are pretty calm. The Candy Men make the rounds, selling their stuff, and then I see her. She’s weaving her way through the throng, headed right toward me. I don’t want to be recognized, so I pull my cap down lower and look to the back of the room.
“Lone Wolf to Delta Mad Dog. Onyx Eyes is on premises. Grey Metallica T-shirt, jean shorts, cowboy boots, long black hair. Headed to the back. You copy?”
“Copy that. Got her in my sight.”
She’s drinking a bottled beer tonight and takes a sip as she approaches her sources. They make their exchange and she downs whatever it is she just scored. Then she scans the crowd and continues toward me. I don’t notice anything suspicious until a few minutes later when I see two guys approach her. One stands on either side and they start talking to her. She shakes her head a few times and they leave. Everything seems okay as I watch her move to the dance floor. Whatever she took is hitting her now because I’m close enough to see her movements change. The question nags me as to why she feels the need to take drugs, but I push it away.
The rule I always follow is to not get involved with the subjects in my cases. If I can just convince my dick of that, I’ll be in great shape. Right now, it’s not cooperating. One look at Onyx Eyes in those damn jean shorts and Mr. Cocky is all fired up.
“Delta Mad Dog, you watching all of this?”
“Copy, Lone Wolf. Eyes on them.”
“Copy.”
She’s still dancing when I see those two dudes approach her a
gain. They act like they want to dance with her. The expression on her face tells me everything I need to know, but I stay put. No interference until necessary is the plan and right now, they’re just two guys hitting on an attractive girl. She shakes them off and heads back to the bar I’m sitting at. She leans her back against it as she scans the crowd. I’m wondering if she’s uneasy or just taking a break. And here they come again.
Now I try to take a listen to what they’re saying, but the noise of the band makes it impossible. One of those little bastards puts his hand on her arm, and then she raises her voice. “I told you I’m not interested. Leave me the hell alone.” She tries to tug her arm away but his hand clamps tighter.
It’s time to step in. My hand closes around his wrist, the one he has on her arm, and I apply the perfect amount of pressure. When his nostrils flare, I say, “The lady says she’s not interested.” I have them both by a couple of inches and I’m sure by at least twenty pounds each. One has long, stringy blond hair and a beard; the other has a shaved head.
They both check me out and then stringy blond hair says, “Mind your own damn business.”
“I am. You just made it my business when the lady said she wasn’t interested. Now let her go before this gets ugly.”
The bartender leans over and asks, “There a problem here?”
“Not if they let the lady loose.”
“Guys, do I need to call security?” The bartender drums his hands on the bar.
“No, we’re cool here.” Stringy blond dude lets go and I release his arm. They walk away.
Once they’re out of earshot, she says, “Hey, thanks.” Her speech is slurred.
“No problem.” Even in her drugged state, she’s hot as fuck and Mr. Cocky is acting happy now. Goddamn, I need to rein this shit in fast.
She nods and turns away.
When she’s moved off, I say, “Delta Mad Dog, are you bird watching?”
“Affirmative, Lone Wolf.”
“Copy.”
Not much later, I watch as she hits the dance floor again. She picks up the beat, drops her head back, and closes her eyes. She loses herself in the sound and for a moment, she almost looks like she’s enjoying herself. The pained expression I’ve noticed her wearing most of the time disappears. All too soon, the song is over and that look on her face returns. I know that look. I know it well. I’ve worn it way too many times myself. Lost in a memory, I reflect back for a moment on things I don’t need to be thinking about. Shaking my head, I look around and realize she’s gone.
Damn it, what the hell am I doing?
“Delta Mad Dog, do you have sight on Onyx?”
“Affirmative. She’s moving to the back of the room.”
“Copy that.”
I scan the back of the room and head in that direction. I don’t catch a glimpse of her anywhere but I also don’t want to be too obvious. My senses are on high alert.
My mike crackles then and I hear Dylan say, “Lone Wolf, two birds have flown the coop. You copy?”
“Copy. I’m on the move.”
Now my pretense is over. My steps have purpose to them and they take me to the women’s restroom. Not bothering to knock, I push open the door to a group of surprised faces, none of which belong to Onyx Eyes. All the stalls are closed, so I crouch down, inspecting the shoes, looking for those telltale cowboy boots.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doin’ in here?” one of the women asks.
I don’t answer but I survey the place, looking for any escape route. There are no windows so the door is the only way in or out. They must’ve taken her out the back.
“Delta Mad Dog. Back alley.”
“Copy that.”
Sure enough, I bust through the back door, and they have her as she twists and struggles to get away. She never would’ve succeeded without my intervention, because right as I open the door, I see one of them inject something into her neck. By the time I get to them, she’s limp as a rag.
“Let her go. Now.”
They eye me for a second and take off running. I want to give chase, but my first concern is the girl. By the time Dylan arrives, I’m tending to Onyx Eyes.
“Shit. Good thing you called that, Drex.”
“Seriously. They hit her with something, though, right as I opened the door. On top of what she already took, she’ll probably be out for a while. We’d better let Colt know.”
“Right. What happened to them?”
‘They took off.”
“Damn!”
“Eagle One, Lone Wolf here. I have target. Do you copy?”
“Copy, Lone Wolf. What’s your position?”
“Alley behind Red Skies. The two birds drugged her and took off when I intercepted them.”
“Shit. Sending someone over now for pick up.”
“Copy, Eagle One.”
Dylan grabs her wrist, feeling for a pulse when our radios crackle again. It’s Colt.
“Lone Wolf and Delta Mad Dog, Eagle One here. Abandon operation. I repeat. Abandon operation. You’ve got six, I repeat, six birds of prey surrounding you, of unknown ID. Get out of there!”
“Lone Wolf here and that’s a negative. Target is down. Unconscious. Cannot abandon.”
“Drex, get the fuck out of there.”
“I said no!”
Then I turn to Dylan and say, “Leave. Now. I’ll take care of her. Just tell them to try to pick me up somewhere.” He gives me a hard look. “It’ll be easier for me if I only have her and myself to worry about. Now go.” He nods and disappears.
Whoever is closing in wants this girl, and something inside me is willing to go beyond the norm to help her. Yes, I’ve been trained for this. But there’s something else about her that begs to be saved. Call it intuition. Or call it my dick. Whatever. My arm coils around her waist and I toss her over my shoulder. She only weighs about one fifteen, if my guess is accurate.
“Eagle One, direct me the hell out of here.”
“You’ve got one block in any direction before you’re in contact so don’t use any streets. Back alleys and between buildings are your only options now.”
“Copy. Lead the way.”
And he does. I follow his directions and run as hard as I can, avoiding main streets, until he tells me I’m clear. Then he instructs me where to go for my pickup. When I get there, one of the guys is waiting in a black Tahoe. I toss my target in first and then hop in behind her as he speeds away, taking us back to our hotel.
“FUCK YOU, COLT! I was not going to leave her there. And since when would you have done something like that? The Colton I remember would never have done that!”
“Careful, Drex, you’re treading on very thin ice here.”
“You think I care? What? You gonna fire me?”
His lips thin and he rolls his shoulders. “Fuck!”
“My thoughts exactly,” I say.
“We have a huge issue.”
Of all the things for him to say right now, that wasn’t one I expected. “Really?” I laugh. “Understatement of the year, Colt.”
“No, you don’t get it, Drex. Thing is, we can’t ID her. None of our databanks have a goddamn thing on her.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
“Just that. She comes up as an empty sheet of nothing. She doesn’t exist. No name to go with the photo.”
Reaching into my pocket, I toss him the driver’s license I pulled from her pocket. “See if this helps.”
Colt checks it out for a second and nods. “Yeah, this should do it. But I still have a bad feeling about this.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because I’m going with my gut, man.”
The air in the room just got a little thicker. “I need to check on her. I don’t have any idea how long she’ll be out or what they gave her. I have a feeling it was propofol or ketamine. She’ll probably be out for a while. You know, enough time for them to have gotten her out of the country. Did you ID those guys?”
>
“Nope. We’re still trying to figure out who the hell the condors were.”
“You have photos?” I ask.
“Yeah, and video. And it’s not good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Nothing in these cases is ever good.”
“Listen, Drex, those first guys you chased off didn’t have anything to do with the birds of prey. I want you to look at something.” He brings up the video and I watch everything go down. Six men wearing masks swarm the alley and right after, two cars pull up. They start talking, very animatedly too.
“No sound?” I ask, but I already know what that answer will be.
“That would’ve been impossible unless the back of the club was wired.”
“I know. But still. Can you close in on the cars?”
“Yeah, and we got a partial on one tag. But so far, nothing.”
“Those aren’t any of ours, right?” I had to ask.
“None that I know of. And look at their equipment. None of it speaks government issue.”
“Don’t be so damn naïve, Colt. You remember how we operated. They have AK-47s. We carried those too.”
“You’re not thinking …”
“All I’m saying is don’t rule anything out. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it doesn’t always have to be a duck.”
“I got it.” He’s frustrated. “Why would a hit team be after her? And why not just take her out with a sniper?”
“Dude, you’ve been institutionalized too long. They don’t want her dead, fool. They want her … or rather somebody else does.”
“Then the real question is, why?”
“That’s what we need to find out. I’m gonna grab some sleep. She’s down for the count. I’ll cuff her to the bed in case she wakes up, but I need to crash so I’m fresh when things heat up with her.”
“You’ve got her then, yeah?”
“Yep. And thanks for bailing my ass out of there.”
“Well, I should be kicking your ass.”
“No, there’s something going on with her. We’ll find out what it is.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hope they’re correct. Because some big bad guys are after Onyx Eyes and I’m curious as hell to find out why.
Freeing Him: A Hart Brothers Novel, Book 2 Page 28