by Natasha Deen
“Because your gang buddies will let me live? Will let you or Dollie go free? Give me a break and don’t be stupid. We’re all dead now. Anyway, it’s out of my hands. The files have already gone public.” That was the deal with Jace. Release the information on the Internet, and in exchange I’d delete the evidence of Bentley’s theft. If Jace didn’t do what I asked, Vincent had instructions to give the video of Bentley to the cops.
“You’re lying.”
“Google your name.”
She did. Then she smiled. “Nothing but commendations.”
My heart turned to ice as she grinned at me.
“Looks like your buddies didn’t come through. Looks like I still have time to save Dollie and myself.”
No. It couldn’t be. Then I realized that if Bentley could hack a car system, he had the skills to find my phone and delete the video. And once that was done, Jace didn’t have to help me.
Hope. Another way to spell dead.
Meena dropped the lighter and set the wood on fire. “Give my regards to your family,” she said and walked out the door.
SIXTEEN
The smoke billowed; the flames rose. I’d figured Meena’s end game would look like this, and I’d taken precautions. A knife in my sock and another one in the waistband of my underwear. Only I hadn’t counted on how fast the fire would move. Or how much the smoke would cloud my vision. I tried to cut the ties, but my eyes stung and my lungs burned.
I heard a noise behind me. Three figures came into view. I blinked, coughed.
Raven knelt by me, cut the ties. “Newb.”
Jace lifted me over his shoulder. “Idiot.”
Bentley stood watching. “The world is full of infinite possibilities,” he said. “You dying isn’t one of them.”
“Jerks.” My voice was hoarse, weak. “You tracked the laptop GPS. You were supposed to put the files on the Internet.”
“While they burned you?” Jace gave me a shake. “You think we’d let you go on a suicide mission?”
“You didn’t know it was.”
“I knew it. You knew it.” His voice softened. “We’re a team, whether you like it or not.” He put me in the backseat of an SUV that still had the new-car smell.
“How many cars do you have?” I asked.
“Wait till you see the clubhouse,” said Raven.
I lost track of time. When the SUV came to a stop, I opened my eyes and gaped at the view. Calling these guys filthy rich was a total understatement. We were in a garage big enough to need a postal code. Jace came around to the side door. I opened my mouth to tell him I could walk, but he put his arms around me and pulled me close. I kept quiet and enjoyed the ride.
He took us to a living room that I was sure did second duty as a football field. The place looked like it was waiting for a photographer from a home magazine to do a glossy spread. It was kind of creepy, actually. Perfect. Unlived in. Unloved.
I glanced at Jace as he walked away and tried not to think about him and love.
A couple of minutes later, he came back. “We need to clean you up. Lie down.”
I ignored the smirk on Raven’s face and the flood of warmth that heated my skin. The first-aid kit in his hands said he wasn’t going to go all soft and romantic on me. I lay face down on a leather sofa while he cleaned the cuts.
I heard Raven and Bentley talking about the laptop and going through the files.
“Payments,” said Raven. “Looks like she was helping the Vëllazëri deal drugs and was helping them avoid any raids.”
“There’s more,” I said, thinking about what Eagle Man had said about Dollie. Thinking about Amanda. “It goes beyond drugs.” I raised myself on my elbows. “What now? Upload the files to the news outlets? Take it to a police station and hope some cop listens?”
Jace shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right?” He took the laptop. “We send it directly to the police chief.”
Raven shook her head. “Figures you’d know him.”
“Wait.” I moved to him, leaned over his shoulder. I went into the Sent folder of Meena’s mail app and copied her address.
“Seriously?”
I ignored his question and pasted Meena’s address in the Cc section. Then, in the body of the email, I wrote, “On behalf of Emily and Danny and Emma and Amanda and Josie.”
Jace gently squeezed my hand. It hurt, but it was a good hurt. A second later, I heard the whoosh of email being sent.
“Delivered to the police chief’s private email,” Jace said with a sarcastic grin. “And I thought there was no benefit to being a member of one of Vancouver’s most powerful families.”
Stretching, Raven said, “I helped you, noob. Remember that when I come calling in the favor.”
SEVENTEEN
A week of living on Raven’s boat, and I was starting to feel human again. Even living with Raven wasn’t too bad. I knew her, even the parts she didn’t think I did. So when she hadn’t come home the previous night, I hadn’t been worried. She was smart enough to take care of herself with Diesel and the theft ring. Plus, she was hot for a guy at her school, and I figured it was just a matter of time before their connection ignited.
When the cell rang, I still wasn’t worried. Annoyed but not worried. Figured she needed to be picked up. “It’s six in the morning,” I said.
I tried to shake the sleep from my brain and caught her saying, “Did you water Charlie?”
Seriously? She was waking me up for a weed? “Yes, I watered your plant.” I paused, and then, because I knew it would annoy her, I added, “Although I’m pretty sure it’s just a dandelion.”
“It’s a begonia, and don’t you dare kill it.”
I grinned as I pulled myself out of bed and moved to the kitchen. I pushed aside yesterday’s edition of the Province. Maybe I’d get the newspaper framed. Meena’s takedown had made front-page news the last few days. She was now in jail, wearing orange instead of blue. The police chief had promised a full investigation, not just into her corrupt partnership with the Vëllazëri, but also into the fire that had claimed my family. My attention focused on the sentence that let me sleep last night: “Sharma’s daughter is now in the custody of her grandmother.” Right after the team had rescued me, I’d called 9-1-1 for Dollie. Gotten her out of the house before the gang could take her.
I kept hoping the papers would mention Amanda, how she was connected to Meena and the gang. But so far I hadn’t seen anything. I wasn’t going to give up. Until I saw a body, I’d keep looking for Amanda.
“Noob, you still there?”
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“Look, I called to ask you…”
Her hesitation made my skin tingle.
“I need to call in that favor.”
The contained fear in her voice sent shivers down my spine. “Now?”
“Well, not now, but tonight. Is that a problem?”
“No. I mean, I never thought you’d actually admit you needed—” Wow. Raven needing help. “I mean, for sure. I’m there. How can I help?”
“Diesel, my boss, put the warehouse on lockdown.”
Whoa, that wasn’t good. Based on what she’d shared about Diesel and Supersize, I knew he was a bad guy. But if he was holding the kids hostage, then he was about to do something stupid and dangerous. And chances were that Raven and her crew would be destroyed. I tuned in as she kept talking, explaining what had happened to set him off, what had happened to get her to revolt. Then she said, “I’ve gotten everyone on board. They’ll do their part. I need you to go to my school, Laurier Secondary, and talk to a guy for me. I don’t have his number, and this isn’t something I can ask him over the phone.”
“A guy.” Huh. “Just a guy, or is he your guy?”
Her groan told me everything, but, typical Raven, she said, “He’s just a guy, okay?”
Uh-huh.
“I need you to ask him if he’ll do one thing for me. I need his father to be here at the warehouse tonight. At 9:00 PM sharp. Emmett—”
That must be the guy.
“—is absolutely not to come on his own. Just his father. Tell him it’s about the note he gave me. It’s my reply. He’ll understand.”
“You want his father there? Not him? I don’t get it.”
“His dad’s a cop.”
“No,” I said and felt my jaw clench. “Ask Jace.”
She sighed. “I’m asking Jace and Bentley for a little help in another department more worthy of their skills. Besides, I can’t send Jace to ask Emmett to help me—that will just set him off.”
I knew it. “Ah, you mean Jace would make him jealous. So he is yours.”
“Jo, can you do this for me or not? I know you have issues with cops. So do I. But I had some friends look into Emmett’s dad, and if I’m going to trust a uniform… he’s the best bet.”
I didn’t like the idea of using cops, but Raven was sure this guy would be safe. In the end, I stopped arguing. Hoped that my agreement wouldn’t get her killed.
EIGHTEEN
Jace, Bentley and I sat in yet another one of Jace’s cars and watched as the cops moved into position.
“Emmett’s dad’s a good guy,” said Jace. “The cop can be trusted.” He nodded at a BMW coupe sitting at the curb. “And that’s waiting for her.”
As Raven had asked, I’d delivered the message to Emmett. One look at him, and I’d known exactly why Raven wanted him. Talk about tall, dark and yummy. And when he’d started talking? Oh boy. It wasn’t just the deep voice; it was the attitude behind it. Yep, Raven had good taste. I glanced at my tall, dark and yummy and sighed.
Now wasn’t the time to worry about Jace. I had enough to worry about with Raven. The plan was easy enough—if it didn’t get her shot. I shifted in my seat. I had to give the boys credit: they knew how to come in force. Between Bentley’s appetite and Jace’s soldier personality, we had enough grub for a week and enough weapons to cover every contingency.
“It’s starting,” said Jace, pointing at the warehouse.
We leaned forward. The tapping of Bentley’s fingers on the keyboard sounded from the backseat. Emmett’s dad crept through the door of the warehouse, followed by the SWAT team.
Silence.
More silence.
Shots.
Yelling.
The door exploded open, and Raven raced into the night. She made a beeline for the car Jace had left for her. So intent on her escape, she didn’t notice the goon behind her. Before Jace could act, I grabbed one of the M-32 riot guns and was out the door. Using the car door as a brace, I aimed, fired, then heard another round go off to my left.
Jace, shooting at the same time as me.
The beanbags shot from their muzzles. One hit the goon in the stomach, the other in his chest. He dropped and rolled.
A cop raced through the door and tackled the goon as he tried to stand. Raven got in the car and sped off.
“Nice shooting,” said Jace.
I looked over the roof at him. “You’re a good teacher, I’ll give you that.” The hour before we’d met Raven, he’d made me practice in his backyard—though calling it a football field would have been more appropriate.
He squinted as the taillights of Raven’s car grew smaller. “And we helped give her what she wanted most. Freedom.”
NINETEEN
Jace contacted us a week later. It was our turn to help him take down his bad guy, his father, a big bad doctor who may have done something illegal. I was on board. After all, he’d helped me. Besides, it turned out that Bentley wasn’t just some friend of Jace’s. He was his little brother. And the more time I spent with Bentley, the more I understood the abuse, neglect and contempt he’d suffered at the hands of his father. I was all for bringing down Daddy Dearest.
So when Jace said he wanted to meet at the cannon in Stanley Park, I was all for it. The area was exposed. Since Raven didn’t think Jace could be trusted, she didn’t like the spot. I was pretty sure he was fine, but then again, I kinda went all Valley girl when he was around. Taking some precautions seemed like a good idea.
We tailed him to a boxing gym, watching to see what he was up to or if he was meeting anyone else. He was clean. The plan was to wait for him to finish his session, then follow him to the park. I watched the gym empty and the lights go off. No sign of Jace. We decided to go in. I figured we might find him working out.
Boy, was I wrong.
The gym was quiet, dark and smelly. I was just about to tell Raven we’d missed him when I heard Jace’s voice saying, “If this is one of you two freak girls—” The name-calling didn’t do anything to me, but the fear and anger in his voice put me on high alert. Raven and I ran toward the sound of his voice.
We found him in the men’s washroom, each hand duct-taped to the business end of a curling iron. Judging from the redness of his fingers and the sheen of sweat on his face, someone hadn’t just taped him to the irons—they’d plugged them in too. I went with a smart-alecky “So this is what a boys’ bathroom looks like. I have to say, Raven, I’ve always wondered” to cover the mix of anger, fear and confusion that flooded me. Raven untangled him, and I checked out the scene of what had obviously been a hostage-interrogation situation—a notepad with questions written on it said as much.
I tossed him some easy questions, like, “Who did this?” I was sure he didn’t have a clue. If he did, he’d have been after the bad guy, not slopping through the aftermath of a broken water pipe in the men’s room with us. But I figured the questions were a good way to gauge if he was still mentally fit. Okay—as mentally fit as Jace could ever be. Our time to ask any serious questions about how he’d ended up in this predicament was cut short by the arrival of the Canine Unit of the police.
We escaped from the gym by making it to the roof and avoiding the cop at the back door, then ran our separate ways. An hour later we met up at Denny’s. The server set three salads on the table. I’d spent two years on the streets, and this is what I got for letting Raven order for me. Limp lettuce drowning in dressing.
Raven and Jace traded words about which of the three of us was trustworthy, and I swallowed some green stuff and tossed in the occasional comment to mediate between them. Okay, and maybe stoke the fires a little.
I tuned back in when I heard Raven say, “And you’re usually not an idiot. Jo and I aren’t worried about your owie. The condition of your hands is significant to us for a much different reason. You show us your hands, or we walk.”
At that point I put down my fork. I was having a hard enough time getting the rabbit food down. Seeing Jace’s melted-to-pudding hands wasn’t going to help me keep it down.
He flipped his hands over, and I took in the blisters and bubbles. “Not good,” I said to Raven. “Someone was serious about getting answers from him. But in his favor, the statement on the paper was that he lied. I’m willing to assume he didn’t give us up. So let’s give him a chance to tell us what favor he wants from us.”
“Favor?” Jace’s voice was pitched four-year-old-girl high. “Favor? Both of you owe me. I set up the meeting to collect on a debt.”
He stared at me and said, “I want you to forge a painting so we can exchange it for the real thing.”
To Raven: “And once we have the real thing, you need to plant it for me.”
I picked up my fork again. Whatever we were about to do, I was going to need all the vitamins and minerals I could get, and that meant finishing my salad.
TWENTY
Part one of Jace’s plan was easy. I was to lift a house ke
y from some kid so Raven could break into the house and take a painting. That was a cakewalk. I got a Bishops Prep uniform—a boy’s version—then stole the key while Jace distracted the kid with a chess match.
I spent a couple of days forging the painting from photographs. And then Raven and Jace switched the paintings. When Raven got home with the painting, she was pissed. Apparently, Jace had set us up. The house she’d broken into wasn’t some random kid’s. It was Jace’s parents’ vacation home. She wanted to bail, leave him to his own devices. Not me. I didn’t care if he was playing spy games with us. He’d helped me. I was going to help him. A couple of evenings after that, we went into part two of his plan: meeting at the hospital to plant the artwork in some doctor’s office so Jace could blackmail the guy for information.
We got to the hospital, and I kept watch while Raven gave Jace the lowdown on what to do. They both seemed tense, and it was hard not to catch the vibe and go all monosyllabic with them. Thankfully, they started scaling the wall and I could catch some air free of their attitudes. They climbed into the window. A little while later, Jace dropped softly to the ground beside me.
“Top of the evening to you,” he said.
I opted for macho over the gooey feelings inside. “Whatever.”
“Look, if it’s about kicking that kitten…”
“Huh?”
“Inside joke.” He sighed. “Very inside. Forget I said anything.” He tugged twice on the rope. “We’ve got ten seconds to clear. The grappling hook is coming down.”
Raven dropped the equipment, and I stuffed it into my bag, then watched as Raven turned climbing into an art form.
Halfway down, she froze. She gave a warning hiss.
A security guy, and judging by how he wielded his flashlight, he was looking to flip this gig into a job as a cop.