James reached for one of her pillows and removed the pillowcase. He handed it to her. “Put the loose things in here and I’ll carry the cosmetic bags and suit bag. Let’s go.” He picked up the three bags, cradling them in one arm, and then picked up the suit bag with the other.
“Oh, I need all those files too,” Mak said, quickly packing her things into the pillowcase.
“Deacon!” James yelled and Deacon materialized in her bedroom. “Can you please take Mak’s notes?”
“Of course,” he said. “Do they all go in here together, Mak?” Deacon asked, holding open the bag.
“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll sort them out when we get to the apartment. Thanks.”
Mak’s eyes traveled over her bedroom, wondering if she’d forgotten anything. James seemed to be able to read her mind.
“If you need anything else, just let me know and I’ll come back and get it. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, that’d be fine. Let’s go,” he said for the second time.
Mak followed James, and Deacon followed behind her. And this order resumed once they got out of the elevator and moved toward the waiting car.
“You need to sit in the back,” James said, before climbing into the passenger seat and Deacon into the driver’s seat.
The car was deadly silent on the drive to Thomas Security. No one spoke, no radio played, no phones rang. Mak was equally relieved and surprised when they pulled up into the parking lot. Every single car was the same: a black sedan. They looked like soldiers lined up in perfect organization. And there must have been at least thirty in the lot. Mak wondered how many more there were during the day hours.
The men carried all of her belongings into the elevator and when Mak could no longer bear the silence, she spoke. “Why do you have a spare apartment here? How many apartments are there?”
“We keep one apartment vacant for purposes just like this. Our clients need it from time to time. It’s fully stocked like a hotel room, including tea and coffee and juice. Anything else you need, just let me know,” James said.
“And how many apartments are there?” Mak said, not giving him a chance to ignore her question.
“There are five, Mak,” he said finally.
The elevator sang a high-pitched note and they stepped out. James entered a code, opening the apartment door.
Mak’s eyes bounced over the apartment—it was very nice, nicer than the apartment she had been living in prior to this entire ordeal.
They put her belongings in what she assumed to be the bedroom and then they were back in front of her.
“There is a phone by the bed, which our numbers are programmed into. Alternatively, call my cell if you need anything,” James said.
Mak noticed that he always instructed her to contact him first. Mak was on the understanding that the brothers ran the company together, but James certainly seemed to be the one in charge.
“Okay,” Mak said with a hint of resignation. She wasn’t pleased about being here, but she was pleased that she was safe.
The brothers left and Mak went into the bedroom. She changed back into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, again, and pulled out some notes. It was past one in the morning and she had to be up at five, but she knew she’d have a better chance of sleeping if her mind was prepared.
When she was confident in her preparations, she turned off the light and pulled the blankets up under her chin, but her eyes refused to close.
Contact. Wait out.
What were they waiting for? And how long would they have to wait?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN –
JAMES THOMAS
The black sheet of sky was littered with twinkling stars. James lay on the rooftop lounge chair, staring at the cosmos above him. Nature had always been his refuge, probably due to the amount of time he’d spent outdoors during his training years, and then on various missions. No matter the magnitude of his problems, nature had a good way of bringing it back into perspective. He was but one small soul in this world, a world that would go on long after he passed.
The rooftop door opened and James rolled his head to the side. Deacon walked toward him.
“Do you want to be alone?” Deacon asked, standing at the foot of the second chair.
“No, it’s fine, sit down,” James said, swinging his legs down and sitting up to face Deacon. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to pursue her.”
“It’s the right decision, James,” Deacon said.
“I’d almost convinced myself that I could do it…That between you, Samuel, Cami, and me, that we could cover every base and protect her. And then that note slipped through and it was the perfect reminder that I can’t always control every factor…” James said, sighing. “I’m in no hurry to move her out of here, though. I’ll find her an apartment tomorrow, but I don’t want her to leave Thomas Security until her trial is over.” They normally tried to have clients out of Thomas Security within a week, in the event another client needed the apartment, but James was prepared to risk it because right now she was his priority.
“It’s going to be harder for you to resist her knowing that she’s sleeping one floor down,” Deacon said.
James already knew that, but protecting her came first. “I don’t care, I’ll deal with it. I want her to be safe, and nowhere is safer than this building.”
Deacon nodded his head in agreement. “You have thought about what is going to happen if she wins, though, right?”
James grimaced. “That they might go from trying to scare her to teaching her a lesson?”
“Exactly,” Deacon said, biting his lip.
“I know. Part of me doesn’t want her to win for that reason, but if she doesn’t win…she will beat herself up for a long time over this case, and I don’t want her to go through that either,” James said, looking down at his hands.
“We’ll just have to see how it goes. What else can we do at this stage?”
Deacon was right, there was nothing to do about that but wait it out.
“At least she’s entertaining,” Deacon said with a hint of a smile. “‘How are you so calm? It’s irritating!’” he said, impersonating Mak. “That was fucking hilarious! You should’ve seen Samuel giggling a few minutes ago in his office. He said he’s going to save that camera footage somewhere very safe.”
James chuckled—even he’d thought it was funny.
Deacon rubbed his neck like he had a crick in it and James thought it was probably due to the emotional stress he’d been causing him.
“You’re right that something has changed since Paris. If I’d met Mak before that all happened, the attraction would’ve been there, of course, but I would never have allowed myself to even consider the possibility of a relationship. I was given something I had never wanted, or even considered, and now I can’t stop thinking about how lonely our lives are. I find myself wishing, hoping, that the future can be different but it can’t—our pasts have made sure of that,” James mused, more to himself than Deacon.
Deacon nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
“We need to keep a very close eye on her,” James said, getting back on track. “I want to follow her tomorrow, but I don’t want her to know I’m there. You need to be in that courtroom with a hidden camera, and I’ll be outside. We have to be there as backup for Cami just in case something happens.”
“I agree,” Deacon said confidently.
James looked at his watch. It was two in the morning but he didn’t feel tired at all. And he didn’t want to lie in bed, tormenting his mind. He’d made the decision not to pursue her, and now he had to accept it.
“You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?” Deacon said.
“I thought I might go to the gym and release some of this frustration.”
“Up for a bit of boxing? I’ll hold the pads since I’ve been such a pain in the ass lately.” It was Deacon’s version of an apology.
James smiled; it was exactly what he needed. He wanted to beat the shit out of something
, or someone, and if Deacon had offered himself up, that was his problem. “Let’s go, brother.”
*
James watched the live camera footage as Mak stood before the jury. “These are photographs of the injuries sustained by Ms. Nelson. Eleven broken ribs, right and left arm fractures, a broken jaw, collarbone fractures, rib and pelvic fractures, ligature marks on her throat and fractured cartilage in her neck, a deep laceration on her thigh, bruising and laceration of her cervix, bruising of her abdomen and, finally, a ruptured spleen.” Mak unhurriedly shuffled the evidence photographs through her hands, one by one as she stated the injuries, and then handed them to the juror in front of her.
She turned back to the man under oath. She leaned one arm against the juror stand, and rested the other on her hip. She appeared to hold the man’s gaze. “You barely left an inch of her untouched, did you?”
“Objection!”
“Does it make you feel powerful to beat a woman beyond recognition—?”
Mak’s voice was strong and confident, the disgust as clear as a blue sky, and she didn’t give any indication that she was nervous or worried about the trial. James found himself smiling as he watched her.
“Objection!”
“Mrs. Ashwood, watch yourself,” the judge said, and then advised Mr. Bassetti not to answer.
Mak walked toward Mr. Bassetti—slow, stalking steps. She stood right in front of him, and James witnessed the change in his body language—a subtle leaning back, a tight drawing of his shoulders. She was intimidating him, and it was clear he didn’t like it.
“Mr. Bassetti, you’re a proud man, aren’t you? A man who has become very successful, and very powerful. And the more powerful you became, the more careless you became. You thought you were invincible, so imagine your surprise when you discovered Ms. Nelson had been quietly taping you, quietly documenting your every move.” Mak leaned in. “Imagine, your favorite girl, the one you had given so much to, turned on you and you had no idea. She betrayed you, gave your secrets to others. She knew you would kill her if you found out, so she made sure she wasn’t the only one who knew.”
“She was a whore, not a mastermind,” Mr. Bassetti said.
“A whore? That’s a very degrading term, Mr. Bassetti,” Mak said.
“She degraded herself!”
“Did she? Is that how you justified beating the last breath out of her? Did she deserve to die?” Mak said, raising her voice.
“Yes, she’s a whore that deserved to die!” Mr. Bassetti spat out in a heated exchange. “But I didn’t kill her, Mrs. Ashwood.”
“I don’t believe you. I think she was a threat to your ego, to your empire built on crime and violence. She made a fool of you, and you punished her for it!”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn. No further questions, Your Honor,” Mak said, staring at Mr. Bassetti.
She was brilliant. A perfect blend of sweet and evil that had captured the entire courtroom. Even James found himself leaning toward the computer, drawn to the screen. There was one major problem, though: Mak was humiliating this man, and like Ms. Nelson and her friends, it would be a miracle if they didn’t punish her too.
James watched as Mak went back to her seat. He wanted to tell her he was proud of her but he’d promised himself from now on he’d treat her just like any other client—he’d engage with her as little as possible.
He packed up the laptop and listened for Deacon’s cue to come through his earwig. He was in an office they had secured within the courthouse, close enough to get to her if needed. Samuel had already advised there was a media storm outside, which concerned James.
“Moving,” Deacon said.
James counted to ten, and then stepped out into the hallway. His coordination with Deacon was seamless, and he walked directly behind them, hidden by the cluster of people between them. James had instructed Cami to keep Mak moving and to get her straight into the car. It sounded logical, and easy, but in reality when there were that many people waiting to get a comment or photograph of her, it was far from either. Deacon lagged behind and fell into pace beside James, and they exited the building, waiting behind the columns for Mak’s car to leave. Their car then pulled up, and they followed the first car back to Mak’s office. Timing was everything, and so far they hadn’t made a mistake.
The rest of the evening was uneventful and when Mak was back in her apartment at Thomas Security, James went to see Samuel for his daily update.
“I found something today, something you’re not going to like,” Samuel said as James sat down, eyeing the late-night dinner spread on the table. He took a box of noodles.
“Keep talking,” James said.
“I’ve been working on who might’ve slipped Mak that note. You have to book online for those classes, and one of the women didn’t check out. The studio has a security system, but it only monitors the door and stairwell. I was able to get a picture of each person entering, though, and check the identification against the list of names. This is her,” Samuel said, loading a woman’s photograph on the screen. “I was then able to track her on some CCTV footage leaving the studio. She was walking, probably home, when she got into a white car six blocks from the studio. Unfortunately I can’t get a clear read on the plate. Since she got into that car, I haven’t been able to find any further movement of her—no credit card transactions, no mobile calls, nothing. And then this evening, I got a database hit—her roommate reported her missing about an hour ago.”
James groaned. “Do you think they paid her to give Mak the note, and then took her to prevent her from talking?”
“That’s exactly what I think happened,” Samuel said. “I can’t find anything else at this stage, but I believe we can be absolutely certain that these guys aren’t going to play nice. I would be surprised if that young lady isn’t already dead.
“I’ve got some other news, too. Shall I continue?” Samuel asked.
James raised his eyebrows—Samuel had certainly had a productive day. “Please do.”
“This is about you. The four Escanta guys you killed in Hungary. Well, you only killed three, but the fourth is dead because of you, so we’ll just include him in this,” Samuel said, getting to the point at a pace that was annoying James but he said nothing. “I set up a code to track any correlating data from their cell phones, credit card transactions, airplane tickets, etc. I got a hit this morning. In the past three years, all of them have stayed at the Docoss Hotel in London. It’s a legit, swanky hotel but I’m wondering if it’s a favorite of the Escanta boys for a reason? Perhaps they have an arrangement with management? I’m sorting through financial records, but you know how these things go…groups like Escanta don’t usually pay via traceable means so I doubt I’m going to find anything. I think you might need to make a reservation and have a friendly chat to the manager.” Samuel sat down, apparently done with his revelations.
James knew that Samuel was right, and that he should go, but he didn’t want to leave Mak right now. “It’s going to have to wait,” he said.
Samuel tapped his hands on the table. “I thought you might say that. I don’t have any other leads, James. These guys are careful, so damn careful. We’re not going to get many chances like this.”
James had never in his life hesitated to follow a lead, but her case was heating up and it could erupt at any time. “The hotel isn’t going anywhere.”
“Perhaps not, but management could. The one person who knows something could disappear if we leave it too long. There is also a chance it’s already too late.” Samuel shrugged his shoulders.
“Her trial will finish soon. These guys are kidnapping and likely murdering anyone who might incriminate them, so I can’t leave right now. We’ll wait it out a few weeks. Get a list of all of the staff and known associates and run reports on them. At least if they disappear I’ll have something to work from,” James said, and then added, “if they’re not dead by the time I get to them.”
“All right,
I’ll work on it,” Samuel said, looking over the remaining dinner options.
“Anything else?” James asked.
Samuel looked both amused and offended. “What? That wasn’t good enough for you? Do you think I’m special and get thirty hours in a day or something?”
James cracked a smile. “Hey, I’m just checking—no need to be so touchy.”
“Sometimes you boys think I can work miracles. You drive like maniacs, which takes me hours of video editing to cover up, and then you expect me to have answers for all your questions a few days later…geez, I don’t know,” Samuel said with a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Maniacs,” James repeated, chuckling to himself. Mak had yet to see the definition of a maniac. “At least that’s better than being told you’re irritating,” James said, just to get a laugh out of Samuel—it worked.
“Did you look through the list of apartments I sent you?” Samuel asked.
James shook his head. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“You’re going to have to think about an explanation for the rent—she’s going to know she can’t afford such an apartment. I’ve been watching our footage of her in the courtroom. She’s very good. She should be working in the private sector—she’d be earning at least five times what she is now. But I understand why she chose the path she did.”
Mak’s morals and beliefs came before income, and James admired that. A lot of people will do just about anything for money. Some might assume he’d made that choice but oddly enough he’d done some terrible things for very little money. Military and agency wages weren’t high and he’d made all of his money since starting Thomas Security—it was an unbelievably lucrative business model.
“I was thinking of telling her that, due to the number of clients we’ve rented apartments for, we get a subsidized rate. Do you think that’ll fly?” James said, smirking.
Samuel’s lips wiggled from side to side as he thought it through. “Questionable. But I don’t know what else you can tell her. Just prepare yourself for a barrage of questions. Do you think she was like that as a child? She must have driven her parents mad!”
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