Boxed In (Decorah Security Series, Book #16): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel

by Rebecca York

  “Good dog,” Luke whispered.

  Taking advantage of the diversion, he hurried to the gate at the other end of the yard, and they slipped between the houses, then across the street and through the next backyard.

  Another police siren sounded in the distance.

  “They’re all over the place.” She turned toward Luke. “We've done all we can by ourselves.”

  “You have a suggestion?”

  “Yes. Call Decorah Security. They’re probably looking for you.”

  He stopped talking aloud, switching to an internal debate. Luke versus the warrior. Zabastian didn’t want to trust anyone. Luke argued that they were running out of options. And the longer they stayed on the street, the more likely that they’d end up in a jail cell. And if they got arrested, the cops would take away the box.

  I will kill them before I give up the box, Zabastian said.

  You can’t kill them. They’re the authorities.

  I bow only to the authority of the Master of the Moon.

  You’re not going to get to him unless you let me handle this. Where are you going to get a computer to get that e-mail? Are you going to break into another house?

  Luke’s vision had turned inward. He looked up to see Olivia watching him.

  She kept her gaze fixed on him. “Remember the password that got you into the Moon Priest’s Web site?”

  He blinked.

  “Decorah43. Don’t you think that might be a sign?”

  “Um. . .” He huffed out a breath. “Okay, we can call them.”

  “Does Zabastian promise not to hurt anybody?”

  “Yes,” Luke snapped, hoping it was true.

  Olivia reached for her phone—but it was lying broken several miles away.

  “Sorry about that,” he muttered. He looked up and down the street, then pointed toward the left. “Up there is a business area. We should be able to find a phone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Walk normally.”

  “Yeah. Sure. And what are we doing out at . . . ?“ She stopped and looked around, blinking as though she was just taking in their surroundings. “It’s morning. I guess we’ve been on the run all night.”

  “With a couple of interludes in that cave,” he said, hearing the thick quality of his voice.

  She took on a wistful look. He thought she was going to say something, and he waited with his heart pounding. But she apparently changed her mind about discussing the cave.

  Wanting closer contact, he reached for her hand, and she clasped her fingers with his. They walked close together up the street, a couple out for an early morning stroll, but both of them were on the lookout for the cops.

  On the avenue, most of the businesses were still closed.

  “There’s a phone up by that alley,” Olivia pointed.

  Luke fumbled in his pocket and came up with some change.

  Frank Decorah had a private number that was only supposed to be used in emergencies. He answered on the first ring.

  “Luke?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. We escaped from . . .”

  “The thugs who are after the box,” Frank finished for him.

  “Right. But a lot has happened. The cops are also looking for us.”

  “Where are you?”

  He gave the cross streets. “We’re about 20 yards up the block—at the alley. We’ll wait in there.”

  “We’re in Baltimore. Not far away,” Frank said. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Thanks,” he said again, then hung up and joined Olivia in the shadows.

  He scanned up and down the street. Most of the businesses were still closed, but a coffee shop had opened up. He saw Olivia look wistfully in that direction. They hadn’t eaten since last night, and he was thinking that coffee and a muffin would taste really good.

  Before they could discuss breakfast, a car pulled to a stop beside the phone booth.

  He stared at the vehicle, trying to see who was driving.

  When he started forward, Olivia grabbed his arm. “That’s one of Carl’s cars.”

  He jumped out of the vehicle and came around to her side.

  “Olivia,” he said, his voice a mixture of triumph and anger. “I found you!”

  “How?” she breathed.

  “I’ve been driving around ever since . . .” He stopped and changed directions. “And here you are standing right out on the street. Weren’t you supposed to be unpacking a shipment of antiques and making an inventory list?”

  Luke saw her features harden. Crossing her arms, she said, “You know damn well we ran into some problems. You bought a consignment of antiques that you knew were stolen.”

  He blanched. “How . . .”

  “You’re the one who got us all into trouble.”

  Peterbalm shook his head. “Don’t try to change the subject. You left the office with a carved wooden box that belongs to me.”

  “Did we?” she asked.

  “I want my property back,” he said as he pulled a gun from under his jacket.

  She gaped at him.

  “Carl, calm down,” she managed to say. “I don’t have it.”

  The man’s gaze swung to Luke. “Yeah, he’s got it.”

  “You can’t have it,” Luke said. “It’s stolen property, and it doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Or you either. But I went through hell because of that thing—and I want it back.”

  oOo

  Olivia could barely believe her eyes. In all the time she’d worked for Carl Peterbalm, she’d never seen him act like this. He might be mean and petty. He might have sexually harassed her, but he had never seriously threatened anyone with violence.

  Luke’s voice was calm and even. “I’m returning it to its rightful owners.”

  Carl snorted. “You expect me to believe that? You’re going to sell it to the highest bidder.”

  “You might. I’m going to take it back where it belongs.”

  It seemed that Carl wasn’t capable of listening, and his eyes had taken on a maddened look that told her he had tipped over the edge. “Hand it over—before you get hurt.”

  Still, she had absorbed Zabastian’s values in the time they’d been together. No way were they going to hand over the Moon Priests’ property to Carl Peterbalm.

  Raising her chin, she answered, “No.”

  “You’re making a mistake.” Carl’s voice rose an octave. “I’m in the right here. You’ve taken my property. Those men almost killed me because of that damn box, so I know it’s valuable. And I’m through talking to you. Hand it over.”

  “Carl, listen to me.” As she spoke, she took a step forward.

  “Stay away from me before you get hurt.” When he swung the gun toward her, she froze.

  But Luke took advantage of the opening and leaped forward.

  As he charged, Carl fired the gun. At point-blank range, it would have been hard to miss a man right in front of him.

  Chapter 12

  In the narrow alley, the shot seemed to echo and reecho, and Olivia heard Carl make a strangled sound—like he wasn’t expecting so much noise.

  Olivia wasn’t sure what her boss had intended, but the weapon was aimed low, and it looked like the bullet struck Luke in the leg, not in the central part of his body. Thank God.

  Carl stared in horror as he realized that he’d actually shot a man.

  Luke looked equally shocked as the leg crumpled under him and he sat down heavily in the alley.

  Olivia cried out, aghast, as Luke leaned back against the wall, breathing hard, his face pale. His pants leg was bloody, but not sopping, so she had to assume Carl hadn’t hit an artery.

  She wanted to run to Luke, but Carl was still holding the gun.

  “Oh Lord,” she gasped. “Carl, are you crazy?”

  A moment earlier, he’d looked stunned. Suddenly he whipped around toward her, and she was sure she was going to get shot, too. “Shut up.
”

  She clamped her lips together as he glanced up and down the street to see if anybody had observed the impromptu drama.

  Nobody shouted or came running, and Olivia figured that the few people who were in the shopping area this early were minding their own business. Or maybe they thought a car had backfired.

  Carl turned again, advancing on Luke, who grimaced as he scooted backwards on his bottom. But even the warrior wasn’t going to get away from Carl with a bullet in his leg.

  “Give me the box,” the round little man snarled.

  Olivia’s heart raced as she tried to figure out what to do—and quickly. As she looked wildly around, she saw a thick stick lying on the sidewalk. Snatching it up, she moved in on Carl and poked the stick against his back.

  “Drop the gun or I’ll shoot,” she said in a deadly calm voice.

  He gasped and started to turn.

  “Drop the gun,” she ordered, or I’ll shoot you in the back, so help me God.”

  The gun clattered to the sidewalk.

  “Kick it to Luke,” she said, praying that Luke was in shape to grab it.

  Carl kicked the gun across the pavement. It stopped a few feet from Luke, and he leaned over, groaning as he picked it up and held it in a two-handed grip.

  Now what?

  They’d disarmed Carl, but Luke was still wounded. He needed medical attention. And they needed to figure out what to do with Carl.

  She dropped the stick and walked toward Luke, making a big circle around the importer.

  Kneeling down beside Luke, she looked at his pants leg. It was bloody but still not sopping. Thank the Lord.

  She spared her boss a scathing look. “You bastard.”

  He stood on the sidewalk, his lower lip trembling. Probably he just realized he could have killed Luke. And then he'd really be in trouble.

  They had to get away from him. But how? Maybe they could borrow his car.

  While she was trying to figure out what to do, an SUV pulled up at the entrance to the alley and two men jumped out.

  The Poisoned Ones!

  Olivia’s head jerked up. Then she breathed out a sigh when she saw it wasn’t the bad guys.

  oOo

  “It’s Decorah Security,” Luke said, his voice weak. “Frank Decorah and Brand Marshall.”

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  “My boss, Carl Peterbalm, shot Luke,” Olivia answered.

  Frank swore, then looked from Olivia to Luke and back again. “I guess we can’t call the cops.”

  “Right,” Luke agreed.

  Brand jerked his head toward Peterbalm. “What do we do with him?”

  “If we leave him, there’s no guarantee that he won’t go to the police and tell them we robbed him,” Luke answered. “And no proof that he shot me, because I’m not going to be here.”

  “Then I guess we’d better take him with us,” Frank decided.

  “Who the hell are you?” Carl demanded.

  “The cavalry.” Frank took a step toward him.

  Carl held up a hand as though he could push the Decorah chief away. “Now wait a minute. Leave me alone!”

  Frank calmly shot Carl with an odd looking gun, and he wavered on his feet, then sank to the pavement.

  “What did he do to him?” Olivia gasped.

  “Shot him with a tranq gun. The anesthetic has an amnesiac effect.”

  “And then what?”

  “We'll hold him until we can figure it out,” Brand answered.

  “Is that legal?”

  “No. But neither is shooting someone, or importing stolen goods,” Frank said. He turned to Olivia, “By the way, I’m Luke’s boss, Frank Decorah. And this is one of my agents, Brand Marshall.”

  “And Luke is still bleeding on the sidewalk,” Olivia said.

  “Right. I’m going to cut his pants leg so I can see the wound,” Brand said.

  “Okay.”

  Frank looked at Olivia, “Keep watch.”

  She moved to the front of the alley while Brand ran back to the car and pulled a first aid kit from the floor of the backseat. Then he hurried to Luke again.

  Olivia moved to the end of the alley where she could see the sidewalk and the action in the alley

  . oOo

  Luke rested his head against the wall as Brand pulled out a penknife, opened it and cut away the bloody fabric. Luke felt perspiration bloom on his forehead. He groaned as Brand moved his leg.

  “Sorry,” his friend muttered as he uncovered the injured area, which was in Luke’s calf. Blood still oozed from a visible hole. “I think it’s a flesh wound. But I’m not a doctor.”

  “Okay.”

  Luke winced as Brand pressed gauze squares to the wound. “Sorry,” he muttered, again.

  “Do what you have to,” Luke answered.

  Brand nodded and used a stretch bandage to hold the gauze in place. When he finished, he sat back on his heels. “Do you think you can you walk?”

  “I hope so.”

  oOo

  “Give me the box,” Olivia said.

  When he handed over the precious object without hesitation, her heart squeezed. He was showing his absolute trust in her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she cradled the box against her middle.

  He gave her a small nod. Then the guy named Brand helped him up, and his face went white. She moved to Luke’s other side, lending him more support as he hobbled to the SUV.

  When they reached the vehicle, she stood back while the younger man eased Luke into the front seat, where he flopped down and sat with his head thrown back against the headrest.

  “You can recline the seat.”

  When Luke didn’t move, she adjusted the seat to make him more comfortable.

  Olivia knew he had to be in shock. She wanted to sit beside him. But since Frank was driving, she slid into the back and reached over the seat, resting her hand on Luke’s shoulder as Frank climbed in and started the engine.

  Carl was already in the far back area.

  As they drove away, she looked up and down the street one more time. But it still appeared that nobody had been paying a lot of attention to the drama in the alley. Well, that was modern urban life.

  “We have to get Luke to a doctor,” she said.

  “We will.”

  ”Not a hospital!” Luke ordered.

  “No. We sometimes work with the Light Street Detective Agency when we’re in Baltimore. They have a facility we can use.” He pulled to the curb and made a phone call. Olivia could hear him giving a brief description of what had happened, then listening to whoever was on the other end.

  When he clicked off, he turned to Luke, “All set.”

  “I do not know this Light Street Agency,” Luke said, his voice taking on a tone Olivia had come to recognize. Zabastian was being stubborn. But Luke must have told him it was okay, because after a few moments, he flopped back into the seat.

  They drove through downtown and then into the Fells Point area. Frank took an alley to the back of a two-story red brick building that looked much like the others on the block.

  A man and a woman came out, conferred with Frank, then helped Luke into the building.

  Olivia followed behind into a room that looked like it was part kitchen and part hospital emergency room. They transferred Luke to an exam table.

  “Who are you, exactly?” Luke demanded.

  “I’m Doctor Miguel Valero,” the man answered. “And this is Nurse Rosa Sanchez.” Repeating Frank’s assurance, he said, “We sometimes work with Decorah Security. We’re going to take good care of you.”

  Zabastian must have sunk into the background as Luke introduced himself. “Luke Garner. Sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances,” he said, obviously struggling to keep his voice steady.

  “Yes,” the physician answered.

  Olivia had heard of the doctor. She knew he was active in the Latin American community. But she had no idea that this place existed.

&nbs
p; Luke looked around. “If this isn’t a hospital, what is it?”

  “A facility where we do community medicine. But we also handle emergencies—when it makes sense not to get the cops involved.”

  Olivia took in the room. The equipment must have cost millions of dollars. And it was a secret.

  The doctor straightened from examining Luke. “You have a bullet in your leg,” Dr. Valero said. “I’m going to put you out while I remove it.”

  “No!” Luke sat up and tried to climb off the table. But it was Zabastian who spoke. “I do not know you. You cannot render me unconscious.”

  The words were forceful, but the man’s strength had ebbed. The doctor and nurse pressed him back. “We have to remove the bullet,” Dr. Valero said.

  “I understand that,” Luke acknowledged in a gritty voice. “But I must keep the box in my sight.”

  Olivia hurried to his side and clasped his hand. “I’ll hold it for you. You can trust me to do that.”

  He swung his head toward her. “I trust you. But I do not know these other people.”

  “I vouch for them,” Frank said.

  Luke’s face was hard.

  Olivia took Frank’s arm and moved him to the side of the room. “Luke trusts you, but the guardian of the box is. . . obsessive about his obligations.”

  “Yes, Beth told me about that,” Frank said.

  She caught her breath. “You talked to Beth?”

  “Yes, when we were trying to find you.”

  “So you understand that Luke is . . . acting kind of weird.”

  “Yes.”

  Frank walked to Luke’s side, “We’ll give you whatever you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  Turning to the doctor, Frank said, “He must stay awake. Can you give him something for the pain?”

  “I can give him something, but if he’s awake, it’s going to hurt.”

  “Do it,” Luke muttered.

  The doctor looked resigned as he started an IV line in Luke's arm.

  “Olivia must stay here—with the box,” Luke said.

  “This isn’t the operating room,” the doctor said, his voice stern. “If she comes in there with us, she must put on a gown and mask—just like the staff.”

  Luke considered the pronouncement, and she was afraid for a moment that he was going to leap off the table and start knocking heads together. But finally he answered with a tight nod. He didn’t look happy about letting the box out of his sight in this environment, even for a few minutes, but the doctor had made it clear that Olivia couldn’t stay with him every minute.