“Silver Lexus…Fuck, he’s in a hurry,” Samuel said.
“Don’t lose him,” Deacon said, planting his foot down and speeding through the red traffic light—Samuel was going to have a busy night deleting evidence.
The GPS screen activated as Samuel fed Adam’s coordinates to them.
“Uh…he’s flying and this system is too slow. He’s moving through the frames too quickly, we might lose him,” Samuel said, referring to the city’s CCTV system.
They were going to have to tail him, and he was definitely going to pick them up—he was no average soldier.
“Go, go, go!” James said, and Deacon did what he did best—drove. The car weaved through the cars on the road and James watched the GPS.
“You’re catching him,” Samuel said. James could see the two green circles inching together on the screen—Adam was soon going to realize he had a tail.
The wheels screeched as Deacon pulled a hard right, heading west. James lifted his eyes now, but only to squint, searching for Adam’s taillights ahead.
Deacon saw them too. “He’s going to pick us up any minute,” he warned.
“I know. Just follow him,” James said.
Deacon kept up the intensity, swinging the ass of the car through the New York City streets—it wasn’t called a concrete jungle for nothing. Turn after turn Deacon kept up with him and as hard as Adam tried, he couldn’t lose his tail—Deacon was too good.
They followed him for six more blocks before Adam pulled a one-eighty.
“Oh, fuck! Hold on!” Deacon said, not lifting his foot off the accelerator.
Adam was driving straight toward them, and neither car was slowing down.
“He’s got his window down!” James said.
Adam swerved at the last minute, firing a round of shots at Deacon’s window.
“That motherfucker shot my car!” Deacon was pissed now, and a furious Deacon was a sight to behold.
Deacon pulled the same move, pulling the car in a full one-eighty, chasing down the man who had just damaged his baby. “Bad move, buddy, bad move.”
They were hot on Adam’s tail now, and Deacon wasn’t backing down. They were bumper to bumper, until Deacon nudged Adam’s car. The car swerved as Adam fought to keep control of it—a fight he would ultimately lose. The car went up on two wheels and then flipped over as it skidded into the traffic light.
Deacon slammed the car brakes until they came to a stop. He reversed up and James put the window down, enough to point his weapon into Adam’s car. He smelled it as soon as he inhaled.
“Back up, back up!” James said and Deacon changed gears and pressed his foot to the floor as Adam’s car ignited into a fiery ball.
“Well, he’s definitely dead now,” James said, looking at the burning end to their night.
“Get out of there, now,” Samuel instructed and the boys obeyed.
CHAPTER TWELVE –
MAK ASHWOOD
Mak felt like sheets of sandpaper were rubbing her eyes every time she closed them. She’d worked all week, and all day. She would devote her life to this case until it was over, until she won. Failure was a possibility in the land of reality, particularly for the third case, the case of Kate Loren. The evidence was weaker, and that worried Mak, but still she refused to accept defeat. She would win, she would do it for the victims, and their loved ones whose hearts were breaking every day.
Yesterday had been a draining day, and she still hadn’t recovered. She’d presented more forensic evidence, all the while avoiding the eyes of the victims’ families. She could only imagine how hard it must be. It was one thing to know what happened, it was another completely to see it in photographs, and to hear it described in detail. It was brutal, and the hardest part of her job. Possibly the hardest thing she’d ever done.
She’d attempted to distract her mind, or numb it at the very least, with a few drinks. She’d met Kayla at a bar downtown and for a few hours she’d managed to suppress her emotions, but as soon as she tucked herself up in bed, they came flooding back. She felt sadness, and she felt guilt. She felt like she was hurting the families all over again but she had to do it, it was part of the process, part of the process that would hopefully provide justice. It wouldn’t bring the dead back, but it would make someone pay. If she won.
Mak’s phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. She looked at her phone, surprised to see a caller ID associated with a number she had never programmed into her phone.
“James?” Mak said, looking around like she expected him to appear from thin air.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Um…fine. How did your number end up in my phone?” Mak sat up on the couch, folding her legs underneath her.
“All of our numbers are programmed in—Cami’s, Deacon’s, and mine—Samuel did it remotely so we didn’t need to access your phone.”
“Okay…I suppose.” Her phone was as boring as her love life, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sent a raunchy text to someone or anything else potentially embarrassing.
“Anyway, are you busy? I wanted to come over and discuss tracking devices with you. There are a couple of options for you to consider.”
“Now?”
“Preferably. I can be there in fifteen minutes,” James said.
“Ah, sure…I’ll see you soon,” Mak said.
James said goodbye and ended the call, and then she placed her phone on her lap. Was it weird that James was coming over and not Deacon? Or were they both coming? James hadn’t advised either way, but Thomas Security was never forthcoming with details.
Mak sighed and lay back on the couch again, waiting for one or both brothers to arrive. It felt like he was there in five minutes, but it was easy to lose track of time with a muddled mind.
He knocked on the door and as she was sitting up, preparing to go to it, the door swung open wide. He gave her a soft smile, and closed it behind him.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t get up.”
Mak relaxed back onto the couch and watched as he took one of her dining chairs and placed it about three feet away from the couch. He moved with such grace, something she’d noticed the first time she’d seen him, but each time it seemed to surprise her. He was the perfect combination of lean strength and agility.
“Hi,” Mak said, her voice catching in her throat. It kept doing that around him.
“I’m sorry to hijack your night, again, but I want to get this organized,” James said.
Mak nodded her head, a non-verbal acceptance of his apology.
“So, I want to put a tracking device on you. It’s probably not needed at this stage, but we like to take extra measures…” He gave her a lopsided grin that softened his angular features.
“Okay,” she said, mustering a smile.
He paused. “Okay? That’s your response.”
“Uh…What was I supposed to say? Was it a trick question?”
“No, it wasn’t a trick question but you would normally be much more thorough with your questioning. What’s wrong?” James asked.
“Well, apparently questioning you and your brother is the only way to get any information. And anyway, I’m just not really a ‘yes, sir’ kind of girl.”
His eyes twinkled and they looked browner tonight—not quite so black. “No, you’re not, but I like that. Regardless, you’re deflecting the question.”
Mak debated whether to tell him because she felt weak for feeling the emotions she did. And she hated to be weak. Would he judge her for it? Would he understand? Or would he pity her for being vulnerable? Pity was the worst.
James sat calmly across from her like he had all the time in the world.
“It’s just the trial, it’s nothing,” Mak said.
“It is something, obviously. What in particular are you worried about?”
“I’ve been presenting evidence all week and I hate it. It’s the worst part of the process. I feel like I’m hurting the families all over again. They shouldn�
��t have to keep reliving the horror,” she said, looking away.
“You’re not hurting them. And in a fair and perfect world, they would never have to go through something like that. But that is not the world we live in. You’re fighting for their loved ones, you’re doing something for them that they can’t do for themselves. It’s a gift.”
“It’s a gift if I win,” Mak said with a sad smile. “And if I don’t, they get nothing.”
“Even if you don’t win, then you gave them a chance—a chance that they didn’t have before.”
“Maybe,” Mak said.
A silent moment passed.
“Do you regret taking the case?” James asked.
“No,” Mak said. “Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment.”
James gave her a beautiful smile—perhaps the first true smile she’d ever seen on his lips. “Well, that makes two of us, then. I think you’re very brave to take on such a case. So does the girl at the coffee shop…”
“Excuse me?” Mak said, nearly choking on the air that seemed to be getting thicker by the second. That always seemed to happen around him, too.
“I was getting coffee the other day and a news bulletin came up about your case. I’d been away for a few days, so I asked the girl behind the counter what was going on—this was all before Deacon’s surprise visit, obviously. She told me that she hopes you win, that she’s rooting for you. I think a lot of people are. I haven’t seen you in court, but Cami told me you’re a force to be reckoned with, and she should know.
“Feeling bad for the victims’ families makes you human, Mak, nothing else—so don’t beat yourself up. It’s okay to feel sad about what happened. Lives were brutally ended and there’s nothing nice about that.”
He was a good listener, and he was encouraging without telling her things she didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want him to tell her she would win, she didn’t want him to tell her everything was going to be fine. She didn’t want a fluffy response, and she liked that he hadn’t given it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, looking into his eyes. For a pausing second she felt lost in them, but she drew her attention back to the reason for his visit—ignoring her rapidly increasing pulse. “So, what kind of tracking device is this, anyway?”
He sat up straight again, slipping back into his business persona. “There’s only one option I like, but I’m going to give you two options, at this stage, because I want you to have a choice.” He reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like a suede jewelry pouch. “This is your first option,” he said, handing her the silver bracelet. “Obviously, it’s very easy to remove, hence why I don’t like it.”
Mak put it on her wrist. It looked like a link bracelet you would buy at Tiffany’s. “What’s the second option?”
He pulled another trick out of his bag, this time holding what looked like a pen box wrapped in the sterile blue fabric used in operating theatres. He didn’t open the box but instead tapped it against the palm of his left hand. “This is a bit different, and it’s what I have, and what all of our staff has.”
He was stalling but Mak was too exhausted to interrogate him. Wearily, she asked, “What is it?”
“It…is a very tiny chip, smaller than a pinhead, that we designed in-house at Thomas Security. Due to the frequency it emits, it can’t be detected by a regular scanner, and it can’t be taken out—at least not very easily.”
“Where do you put it?” Mak said. She leaned forward and held out her palm but he didn’t give the box to her.
“That’s the thing…It needs to be inserted into the abdomen. The chip comes with a loading device. It’s like a long needle that is inserted into your side, and then it lodges the chip into your muscle.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Mak instinctively flexed her abdomen.
“That’s the problem—it really fucking hurts. I brought some local anesthetic, which I can numb you with, but even that injection will sting like hell. Personally I think it’s better just to stick the needle in and get it over with.”
“You’re going to do this? Are you a doctor?”
James grinned. “No, I’m not a doctor, but I’ve inserted them for almost all of my defense staff without any problems. I’m very good at it.” His arrogance was sexy.
“So they just let a guy with no medical training stick needles in them?”
“I said I’m not a doctor, but I didn’t say anything about not having medical training. And that’s all you need to know,” James said. “The choice is yours.”
“Is it really a choice?”
“Yes. You will have few choices when we’re involved, so you should seize this one. Ultimately, though, I want you safe, and this is the safest option by far. It will hurt going in, but once it’s inserted you won’t even know it’s there. You’ll have a thick pin-prick type mark on your skin which will heal like a small cut,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Isn’t there an in-between option?” Mak asked.
“Yes, there are all kinds of devices. There are some that you can insert just under the skin of your arm, et cetera. But, if it can be detected it’s pointless because they will just cut it out. So, you might as well have the bracelet and save yourself some future pain, if that’s the route you take.”
Mak scoffed. “Right. And you’re positive you’re the best person for the job?”
“Positive. Can we do it?” He held her gaze, challenging her, and she hated to back down from a challenge.
“Okay, let’s get this over with. What do you want me to do?” Mak was now hyperaware of the compromising position this would put them in. It was hard to be next to him let alone have his hands on her.
He cleared his throat, retrieving items from his bag as he spoke. “Lie down on your left side, facing me. You’ll need to slide your top up a little, and the needle will go into the soft flesh between your ribs and your hip bone.”
Mak lay down on her side as instructed and bunched her shirt up enough to give him the access he needed.
He snapped latex gloves on his hands, and his chest expanded as he inhaled. “Okay, I’m going to use this little machine to do an ultrasound first. I need to know how deep to insert the needle so that it lodges the tracker into your muscle. You’re very small, so I need to make sure I get it right—there isn’t as much room for error as with some of my guys.”
He placed his hands on her abdomen and Mak flinched. He looked at her, paused for a moment, and then continued. He prodded her skin, presumably feeling for her muscles.
Mak watched him. His eyes were on the small screen he held in one hand, while the other moved a device over her waist.
He was fascinating to watch—his actions quietly confident and assured. He never seemed flustered, never seemed agitated. How was one so calm all of the time?
His neck inched forward, and he squinted at the screen, pressed a button, and then said, “Good.”
He put the ultrasound machine back in his bag. “Do you want the anesthetic?”
“No, just hurry up and do it,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t regret that decision.
He changed gloves, wiped a brown solution over her skin, and then opened a separate blue package and laid a blue drape over her side. He undid the pen-like box.
James looked over his shoulder, and then back at her. “Watch the television, don’t watch me. It’s best you don’t look at the needle.”
Mak glued her eyes to the television. She wanted to appear brave, but really she was scared shitless.
She jumped again when he put his hand on her side. He pressed his palm down, massaging her waist. “Relax,” he said softly.
Mak wanted to tell him that his touch wasn’t helping her relax but she did her best to distract herself and returned her attention to the news. They were showing the footage of the car chase that occurred last night. The footage was static—like something was wrong with the tape—but she’d seen it twice now and could definitely make out two cars: one silver, and one bl
ack.
“Did you see this?” Mak asked, watching the replay of the burning car, wondering who had been inside. “Maniacs…”
“Ow!” Mak’s fingers squeezed the pillow flat and tears sprang up in her eyes.
A strong hand clutched her hip, keeping her still. “Good job,” James said. “The needle is in, just one more sting.”
Her body was trembling from the pain, and the sting came just a second after his words. But it wasn’t a sting. It was a pain that shot through her like a lightning bolt. She groaned, tucking her chin into her neck. Her hair fell over her cheeks and she was glad it hid her face from him. She couldn’t hide her shaking body, though.
“All done, I promise,” he said, with one hand still gripping her hip.
She heard him rustling around for something as she gasped for breath. The needle seemed to have sucked the air out of her lungs as he withdrew it. Something wet and soft wiped over the insertion point, and then she felt him place a bandage on her skin. His rubber gloves came off, and then with a bare hand, he pressed down on the bandage. Mak wasn’t sure if it physically helped ease the pain, or if it was just in her mind, but either way it felt good—so good.
He surprised her when he swept the hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. His eyes, normally a wall to his thoughts, seemed more transparent now. Pride? Lust? Or was she just delusional with pain?
“The pain should start to settle down now.” There was no hardness in his voice. “You have a high pain threshold.”
She raised her eyebrows in doubt.
“I’ve had grown men four times your size howling as I inserted their trackers. I should show the film of your insertion to my men next time they bitch and complain.”
She smiled. She wondered if he was just being kind, but he seemed genuine enough. A thought occurred to her, one that would’ve been helpful five minutes ago. “I realize it’s a bit late for this…but you never told me how you get the tracker out.”
He bit his lip. “It’s best you don’t. When you no longer need it, Samuel will turn it off remotely. It won’t emit radiation so it’s safe to leave inside of you. People have metal screws and silicone implants and all kinds of things inserted into their body. This is no different, and it won’t cause you any problems.”
ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) Page 11