by AJ Nuest
“Bring the formula and any copies in your possession to the abandoned packing plant at 2516 South Federal Street. Back entrance by the loading dock. The first sign of any police, and she dies.”
Chicago’s South Side. She knew the area. From back in the day when she’d spent countless hours skimming out an existence on the streets.
“Take her back to cold storage and wait outside. Don’t let anyone in or out.” A metallic clunk as the phone hit the top of the desk, and she was shoved down the hallway to her cell.
Baldy tossed her inside and she careened forward, landing with hard jolt in that same damn puddle on her knees. The door shut with a hollow bang, the deadbolt snicked into the lock, and the outline of his head remained framed in the rectangle of light as he stood guard in the hall.
But it didn’t matter. Talking to Xander, those few precious minutes of heat had done wonders to clear her head.
He was on his way. Nothing would stop him from getting to her. And if she could just keep herself warm enough to follow through, she knew exactly how to increase his chances of success.
Chapter 17
If any of the team were hanging near the abandoned processing plant, they sure were doing one hell of a job at keeping a low profile.
Xander shrugged against the chilly night air, his chin buried in the collar of his brown leather jacket. No lights in the warehouse across the street. No bums lingering near the alley or pushers loitering under the streetlight at the end of the block. He tugged his skull cap lower down his brow. Even to his expert eye, it appeared he was heading in alone. “Two hundred feet.”
The mini microphone Tanner had stuck behind the top button of his plaid shirt was a gamble. A dumb gamble, in his opinion, and one he would’ve preferred not to take. But that small concession was the only way he’d been able to gain Byrne’s agreement he fly the operation solo.
If Ryan wanted Xander to come by himself, he was only too happy to fulfill that request. Right up until he gained access to the building, where he’d hopefully come face to face with the piece of shit, and the two of them spending some quality time together sounded perfect by him.
Tendons cracked as Xander tipped his head side to side. He pulled his mints from his jacket pocket and dotted a powdery disc on his tongue, fighting the impulse to break into an all-out sprint for the corner. Knowing Charlie was hidden somewhere inside these four walls… Every instinct he had said his best bet would be to hotwire the nearest broken-down semi and drive it straight into the greasy windows running the length of the sidewalk.
A bulky shadow stepped from a recessed alcove directly across the street and fell in time with his measured steps. And there was the problem with that plan.
Rubbing his hands together, Xander lifted them to his lips and exhaled a warm breath into his cupped palms. In complete opposition to the way Eden and the rest of his entourage were staying scarce, ever since he’d slid Malcolm’s Hypersport to the curb and stepped onto the street, Ryan’s goons had been shadowing him like a horde of brain-starved zombies.
Nostrils flared, Xander snapped the candy in half with the front edge of his teeth. But he knew the drill. Escorting him in was a power play on Ryan’s part. To ensure he understood right off the top which of them was calling the shots.
And the thing that really sucked?
It had worked.
If Xander had learned anything during his short conversation with Charlie, no way in hell was she fine. He jammed his hands in his pockets. The second her voice had come through the speaker, he could tell Ryan had hurt her, scared her shitless by allowing The Postman to use whatever tactics he wanted to get her to talk. And then to cover his ass, Ryan had forced her to lie and probably threatened her life in the process.
The only good news was this meant Xander’s ultimatum had accomplished exactly what he’d set out to do. Until Ryan got what he was after, he’d think twice before letting anyone lay another hand on Charlie. And Xander wasn’t about to screw that up by drawing any unnecessary attention or causing a scene.
Not when he was so close to finishing this off. And not when everything he loved stood to be ripped from his grasp in return.
Even as Charlie had said the three words he’d spent his entire life waiting to pass from her lips, all he could think about was getting to her. As fast as he could. And then choking the living shit out of anyone who’d come within six feet of her as he carried her back home.
To be with him.
Forever.
Where he was never again sleeping without her or, he swore to God, letting her out of his sight for the rest of his days.
Grit rasped under his steel-toed boots as he pivoted at the corner and approached the loading dock. To the right, a grungy steel door waited beside the solitary delivery bay, the lone bulb affixed to the brick exterior buzzing inside its cage like an angry mob of glow-in-the-dark bees.
“Heading in.” He strode to the entrance and banged his fist on the door.
A security camera hummed down and to the right from its original trajectory toward the stockyard, and he clamped down hard on the urge to rip the damn thing off the bracket as the lens zoomed in on his face.
The solid weight of a gun barrel prodded his lower back. A loud thunk came from the opposite side of the door, and Xander lifted his hands in surrender as the hinges swung open.
Three greasy thugs stood inside the cavernous room, spaced two, maybe two and a half feet apart, armed with everything from a section of heavy chain, to a Walther Uzi semi-automatic, to a hooked hunting knife that belonged in a serial killer’s start-up kit.
Nice. That made a total of four men he’d need to take down. But at least they’d done a decent job of supplying a variety of weapons for him to choose from. He squinted. It really was too bad he had no choice but to keep the noise to a minimum until after he’d breached the perimeter.
Zeroing-in on Charlie had to be his number one objective, followed immediately by safeguarding her out of the building. Moving as quickly and efficiently as possible would increase the likelihood of achieving that goal, and remove the risk of anyone sounding the alarm or Ryan getting it in his head to sneak her off to another location.
“Step inside and keep your hands where I can see ʼem.” The gun nudged his spine and, as Xander crossed the threshold, the three men closed ranks to keep him surrounded—one on either side of his shoulders and the asshole swinging the chain dead center out front.
The slam of the door reverberated off the metal rafters, and his feet were kicked apart. A rough shakedown to check for any concealed weapons, and the guy who’d cased him down the street rounded his side, plucking off his hat and tossing it to the floor. “Open your jacket and lift your shirt.”
Cocking a brow, Xander peeled open the zipper, hooked the front of his green t-shirt on his pinkie and ring fingers, and stretched the bottom edge up past his pecs.
Right. He’d come this far only to be dumb enough to tape a wire to his chest. The clowns.
“He’s clean.” The lead dude spoke into a two-way radio, his thumb depressing the trigger. “We’re bringing him in now.” He jerked his chin toward the guy boasting the Uzi on Xander’s right, and stooge number two reached behind his back and tossed a black hostage hood in Xander’s direction.
“Lights out, Prince Charming.” The supposed “boss” sneered, waving his Remington at Xander’s chest. “Put the hood over your head and hold out your wrists.”
Really bad move on their part. Xander bounced the wadded material in his hand. Not only had they reported he was on the way before that was anywhere close to being true, they’d followed that up by handing over something he could use as a weapon.
Huh. Apparently, these morons had a combined IQ somewhere around ten.
Stooge number three stepped forward and Xander shifted his eyes left. The guy transferred his hunting knife to the opposite palm and tugged a black plastic zip tie from the slash pocket of his leather jacket.
Um, no. Not
happening. Sorry to disappoint and all that shit.
A quick, darting jab of Xander’s knuckles, and the lead guy stopped breathing. Eyes bulged, he stumbled back, one arm flailing and his other hand clawing at his throat
“What the—?” The hulk with the chain planted his feet, catching his boss as Xander twisted the hood around Zip Tie’s wrist and yanked.
Spinning on his heel, he slammed the guy against his back. A low poke of Xander’s elbow knocked the wind out of his lungs. Same elbow high and tight, and nose cartilage crunched. An ear-splitting yowl echoed off the three-story ceiling. A hard chop to his forearm, and Xander snatched the knife from Zip Tie’s useless grip.
Lunging forward, he flipped the handle, caught the blade in two fingers and released. The knife embedded in Uzi’s chest with a dull thwip and the guy stiffened, cheeks pale as he gurgled and staggered to the side.
A loud roar from behind his back, and Xander ducked right as the tip of the chain scored his cheek. He muttered a curse, arching away as asshole number four stepped over the unconscious boss sprawled at his feet, one end of the chain wrapped around his fist, the other whizzing over his head in a vicious circle.
Fugly as he was—Xander swiped at his cheek and his fingers came away red—he resembled a human tank, and given his head start, disarming him was gonna be a little tougher than the other three currently mopping the floor.
Two pumps of the dude’s arm and the speed of the chain increased. A twist of his lips as he closed in, and Xander tracked the timing of each swing. “You might want to take a look around. I don’t wanna kill you, but if I have to, I will.”
“Shove it up your ass.” The chain swerved toward Xander’s knees before the guy wound it back over his head. “Only one of us is leaving this room on two legs.”
Fair enough. Xander eased back another step to shore up the distance. Killing someone simply because he could had never been his style, but if the choice came down to Charlie or some paid-for-hire attack dog, she won the round every time.
One…two…a third swing, and Xander vaulted back, hip bent at ninety degrees to snag the chain with his leg. The last few inches whipped around the ankle of his leather boot as he landed on the opposite foot and jerked his heel back.
The tank careened forward but quickly recovered, driving his shoulder into Xander’s stomach. The air vacated his lungs. The ground skidded beneath his feet. He grappled with the dude’s shoulders and stars crackled through his vision as the back of his head connected with a concrete pillar.
Shit, for as thick as he was, the guy was fast.
Xander dodged right. Blocked the incoming swing of a fist. A second block with his forearm, and he jammed his boot heel against the tank’s anklebone, firing off three rapid jabs to his gut.
He oofed and hobbled back a step. A quick pivot off his good leg, and Xander’s jaw exploded in a shower of pain. He reeled sideways as a coppery film coated his tongue.
The corner of the column dug into his spine. A hard scrape wrenched his shoulder blade as he spun, utilizing the momentum.
He reached over his shoulder and seized the guy’s neck, stepped forward and drove his forehead into the sharp edge of the pillar.
Blood splattered the arms of his leather jacket. Balance unsteady, the tank staggered left, swaying and pitching. Several blurry blinks, and he collapsed to his knees.
Down, but not out. And with the damage he’d done, leaving him the opportunity to rally was a risk Xander wasn’t willing to take.
He rounded the guy’s side and straddled his calves. Locking the tank’s neck between his forearms, he gritted his teeth and cranked the dude’s head right.
His vertebrae snapped with a loud pop, and he slumped. The strength left his body. A resigned shake of Xander’s head, and he stepped to the side, releasing the idiot to the floor.
“Four men down. One casualty.” He rubbed his palm over the dull throbbing in chin and surveyed the limp bodies, strode toward Uzi and yanked the knife from his chest. Shit. My bad. “Okay, maybe one more.”
Striding for the door, he slipped the deadbolt and then pried the tip of the knife under the cable running the outside of the frame. A twist of his wrist, and the feed to the camera split with a clean cut. “Door’s unlocked. Outside security camera disabled.”
Stashing the knife along the small of his back, he turned toward the loading bay and the two far doors leading off to a set of identical, lighted hallways.
Time to move. He glanced around the space. It was anyone’s guess how many eyes had been watching that show he’d just starred in, and even though he’d kept the noise to minimum—and apparently skated by without tripping any alarms—he wasn’t about to stand around hanging onto his dick until the rest of the party arrived.
Flipping a mental coin, he jogged toward the hallway on his right. The building’s floor plan had shown a labyrinth of corridors running the ground floor, but from the quick scan he’d gotten, the one on the left sprouted a series of offices, and the right side held larger rooms geared more toward meat handling and cold storage.
As much the thought made him sick, he was hedging his bets Ryan had opted for the latter when it came to stashing Charlie someplace she wouldn’t cause any trouble. And with the bigger rooms, he’d be able to maximize his efforts in the shortest amount of time.
He slowed near the first intersection and pressed his shoulders to the wall, fingers gripping the knife handle at his back. Keeping Charlie cold equaled keeping her quiet. Unable to think through the most logical way out.
Darting a peek around the corner, he checked both ways were clear and headed down the hallway on his right. But if he knew his Charlie, she was doing everything in her power to prove Ryan wrong.
She was smart, knew how to play it safe. And if she had the right resources, there wasn’t a lock known to man she couldn’t pick.
The first hallway empty, he crossed the corridor, his anxiety tripling each time he peered through another window to find nothing but vacant refrigeration, most of the spaces crumbling with age, the floor and walls wet from the leaky pipes strung across the ceilings.
Dammit. He jogged for the next junction and paused near the end as static crackled through a two-way radio.
“What the hell is going on out there?”
A woman’s shrill voice echoed down the tiled floor, and Xander frowned. A woman? Like who, for instance? Byrne had said there was a good chance Ryan was still out of the country, but was the guy really such a pussy, he’d roped his girlfriend into cleaning up his mess?
“I’ve been trying to reach the guys on the radio for over five minutes and there’s no answer.”
“You want me to leave my post and go check?” A dude, southern accent.
Xander craned his neck to peer around the corner, and the hallway stretched with a bizarre, laser-beam focus as that asshole Byrne had called The Postman held a radio in front of his lips.
Blind rage flooded Xander’s limbic system. Fingers flexing around the knife, he lowered his chin as every muscle in his body coiled in preparation to cut the jackass off at the knees.
There could be only one reason he stood outside that door.
“Really? That’s your question? I swear to God, do I have to do all the thinking around here? Of course, I want you to go check.”
And so did he. With every cell in his body.
A calculating smile hitched the side of Xander’s face as he retracted the blade from the waistband of his jeans. Then all he would have to do was stand here and wait for The Postman to come to him.
He muttered a curse. “Fine, I’m heading for the loading dock now.”
Easing a breath into his chest, Xander tensed as the seconds ticked past. Hinges creaked, and he squinted, shifting his gaze over the opposite wall.
Shit, had the guy had decided to cart Charlie along with him? Maybe use her as a human shield? Dammit, that would put her directly in his line of attack.
“Standby. I got a problem.”
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A loud grunt, and Xander scowled, slowly releasing the air from his lungs. Another heavy grunt, and he clenched his jaw, stealing a second glance around the corner.
His brows shot up his forehead the same distance his jaw fell.
Sweet Christ in Heaven.
Love, so intense it trumped his anger, swamped his chest, and he took off at a dead sprint down the hall.
* * * * *
Slow. Slow, slow, slow or this would never work.
Foot flexed, Charlie hooked her numb toes on one of the construction light’s three metal legs and tugged the base closer to the wall.
Top-heavy, the light wobbled over the uneven floor, and she quickly braced the bottom with her foot while praying she had enough pressure to steady the damn thing without tipping it over.
Adjusting her back against the damp concrete, she bent her other knee and propped her heel by her ass to increase the leverage. Icy trickles pooled along the top of her shoulders. Another careful tug and the light inched closer with a slight screech.
Her heart crammed itself in her throat, and she waited, eyes glued to the splay of light streaming through the window.
Nothing.
Maybe the thick insulation inside the walls was also doing a decent job of soundproofing the room.
Yay her.
A shiver traveled her spine, and she internally cursed over how fast time was running out. Too cold and whatever progress she made wouldn’t matter. She’d be right back where she started with no escape in sight.
She refused to accept that possibility. No matter what, she wasn’t letting Xander down again.
Setting back to work, she painstakingly shuffled the light into the corner. Tugging and stabilizing over and over until she’d successfully wedged two of the legs against the wall for support, the third jutting into the room at a forty-five-degree angle.
Scooting around on her butt, she placed her back to the stand and fumbled her useless hands along the base. Her fingers located what she could only hope was the metal edge of the leg, and she firmed her lips against the shriek of her muscles, elbows bent to run the zip tie down the outer corner.