Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  Axel once lived in a foster home where the parents were devoted Christians. He was seven or eight, had never stepped inside a church, but they made him go three times a week and expected him to know how to behave. When he didn’t behave—which was most of the time—they’d sit him in a corner and make him stay there for hours at a time, staring at nothing but a blank wall. It was boring and stressful, but it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to him in a foster home.

  But it was one of the most scarring.

  He walked quickly, following the footprints he’d made before. He kept watching for anyone else out in this freezing landscape, but never saw another soul. Not until he came back to the little lane approaching the house where he’d left Abigail.

  Axel saw him, the killer.

  He couldn’t believe it was him at first. He was sitting in the open like he had nothing to be afraid of. What kind of guy does that? He had some sort of computer open in front of him, his eyes glued to the screen like he was watching the most riveting movie he’d ever seen. He was dressed in one of those oversized snow suits that people in the Antarctic wear, goggles over his dark eyes. But it was him. There was no doubt in Axel’s mind. He was just sitting there, cross legged, in the middle of the damn road!

  Axel darted around the side of the house, careful not to make a sound. But that guy was so engrossed in his computer that he probably hadn’t noticed. Axel half expected Abigail to be awake when he walked through the door, pacing the kitchen, wondering if he’d abandoned her. Or lying dead in the middle of the bedroom, a bullet wound in the center of her forehead. He had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling her name and alerting every set of ears from here to Springfield of their location.

  Abigail was still lying in the bed, curled on one side with a hand tucked under her cheek. Relief rushed through Axel even as he went to the window and peeked through a corner of the curtain. He was still there, still just sitting there in the middle of the street. But as Axel watched, he looked up with this gleeful smile, looking straight at the bedroom window.

  It was fucking creepy!

  Axel let the curtain fall into place and rushed around, gathering Abigail’s clothes. He dropped them on the end of the bed and leaned over, shaking her awake.

  “We have to go.”

  She sat up, alarm in her eyes as it all came back to her, as she realized what the urgency was. Without a word, she climbed off the bed and began to dress, tugging her jeans over those luscious hips. Axel grabbed a heavy sweater out of the closet and added it to her pile of clothing, a precaution against the weather. She pulled it on without saying a word.

  Abigail’s hand in his, Axel dragged her through the house, leading the way to the back door. He gestured to his lips, reminding her to be silent. Once again, he stepped outside, not quite sure how they were going to get away from the house without that insane man spotting them. The truth was, they probably wouldn’t. But they weren’t completely helpless this time.

  Mr. Stranger, the owner of the house, had a gun safe hidden in a cupboard in the kitchen. Axel found it and managed to break it open last night while Abigail was in the shower. The gun was fully loaded and tucked into the back of his jeans. He pulled it out as they paused by the edge of the house, causing Abigail to gasp quietly.

  “Stay behind me, whatever happens,” he hissed close to her ear.

  She nodded, still not speaking. But her eyes were wide with fright. Axel took her wrist and pulled her close to his back as he rushed out from cover.

  The killer was gone.

  The street was empty, and there was no indication of where he’d gone, or that he’d been there at all.

  What the hell?

  They were a good fifty yards beyond the house when the first shot caused a burst of snow to fly up near their feet. The second barely missed Axel’s thigh before it, too, hit the ground. He made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder, trying to figure out where the killer was. He spotted something in a tree at the front of the house, but couldn’t be sure. His toe hit a stone buried in the snow and he nearly toppled forward, the only thing stopping his fall was Abigail’s weight anchored to his hand.

  They had no cover. There was nowhere to go but forward toward a snow drift that might act as a barrier. The deep snow was making it impossible to run as fast as they needed to. They were like ducks in a barrel, just waiting for the inevitable. Axel had no choice in his next move.

  He let go of Abigail and shoved her into the snow, dropping into a crouch behind the spot where her body had created a crater in the deep snow. He aimed the gun at the tree where he’d thought he’d seen movement and fired four times in quick succession. His only hope was to wound the killer, maybe slow him down long enough for them to get away. But, from this distance, with this inferior gun, he wasn’t sure he could do that much.

  He really wished he had his own guns.

  As soon as the last shot was fired, he reached for Abigail, yanked her to her feet, and ran as fast as he could to that massive snow drift. There were no more shots, but that didn’t mean he’d hit the guy. All it meant was that he’d distracted him long enough to take away his window of opportunity. He’d have to move now, follow them through the streets if he wanted to take them out before they got to town.

  This was going to be a long walk.

  Chapter 19

  Virden, Illinois

  Axel walked behind her, the crunch of his footsteps on the snow both reassuring and terrifying in the silence of the frozen world. Seeing him with that gun, the way he held it so confidently like it was a normal extension of his arm, was overwhelming. And the way he’d fired it, like something out of a movie, was incredible. Had he just saved her life back there?

  She was pretty sure he had.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere with a lot of people,” he answered in something like a low growl. She looked back at him, surprised to see him walking backward, the gun swinging from side to side like a soldier watching for enemy soldiers.

  They were in the middle of a town paralyzed by a snow storm. She had no idea where there might be a lot of people.

  They’d been walking for a while when she heard the bells. She suddenly felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

  “This way,” she said, gesturing toward a side street that showed some evidence of moving vehicles. “But you should probably put that gun away.”

  Axel frowned, clearly not happy with the idea. “I’d rather not.”

  “Yes, well, this is not a small town in Texas. People here are usually quite conservative. If you walk into a church swinging a gun around, someone might panic.”

  “Church?” He shook his head. “I don’t do well in churches.”

  “Yes, but this is Sunday. The only place we’re going to find a crowd is in a church. And, if the bells are any clue, the noon service is about to start.” Abigail went to him and touched the cold metal of the gun, her skin crawling as she did. “You have to trust me. This is my town. I know these people.”

  He looked over his shoulder, studying the road behind them. But then he nodded, shoving the gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans. When they began to walk again, he rushed ahead of her, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

  “We’re just a nice couple on our way to church. There’s no killer after us, no craziness going on around us. Okay?”

  He hesitated again but then nodded.

  Abigail held tight to his hand, fear, this stone in the center of her being, weighing her down as the flesh on the back of her neck crawled with the idea that he might be behind them, his gun pointed at them. That he might be back there, watching them, making a game out of this insanity. She was sick to her stomach at the thought, but she smiled brightly as they approached the small Catholic church she’d been attending since she was just a few days old. She’d always imagined she’d be married here. She never thought she’d be taking refuge from a killer here.

  “Abigail Rai
ns!”

  A woman dressed in a dark dress with a thin veil over her head came their way, her frail hands extended toward her. Abigail pulled away from Axel, taking some comfort in the familiar.

  “Ali,” she said, accepting the woman’s embrace, even reveling in the warmth of it. “How are you? Did Jacob bring you?”

  “Yes. You know he has that big truck with the fancy chains on it. He never lets a little weather get in his way.” Ali squeezed her hands. “How did you get here? It must be awful out by your place.”

  “The snow was a lot heavier than expected, wasn’t it? We actually got stuck in town, so I’m not sure what’s going on at the farm now.”

  “Really? Where did you spend the night?”

  Abigail saw the cautious look on Axel’s face, but this was her town, her people. She knew what she was doing.

  “Karen has that little place down the lane from Dan. She said I could use it anytime, and we happened to break down out there. So that’s where we stayed.”

  “And you walked all the way from there?” Ali shook her head, that grandmotherly concern filling her face that was so familiar to Abigail. “You must be freezing! Come inside.”

  Abigail grabbed Axel’s hand and pulled him up with them as Ali led the way to the church stairs. Ali looked at Axel, then leaned in close to Abigail to whisper.

  “He’s very handsome. How long have you been seeing him?”

  “A few months,” Abigail said, the lies rolling off her tongue smoothly. “He lives in Springfield and came out last night to help get the farm ready for the storm.”

  “What a gentleman.”

  Abigail shot Axel a look. “More than you know.”

  The three of them settled in a middle pew where Ali and her family always sat. Abigail’s parents used to sit up toward the front, a show of respect for the legacy her father’s family had created in this town. But they were gone now, and Abigail preferred sitting toward the back—when she bothered to come to services. Religion seemed empty to her after her experience with Morty and the deaths of her parents so close together. The last year with her dad had been exceptionally hard, nursing him through the chemotherapy treatments and the radiation that burned his skin and left him weak. Where was God when her father was suffering?

  Where was He now that some killer was hunting her down?

  Ali took her hand and leaned into her as the priest began his procession down the aisle. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve been missed.”

  It was almost eerie, her speaking those words like they were a response to her thoughts. Abigail glanced at her, a little shiver rushing up her spine.

  Axel began to fidget a few minutes into the mass, his leg bouncing hard enough to vibrate the entire pew. Abigail laid her hand on his knee to still him, a little surprised by the dark, almost scared, look in his eyes. She leaned close and whispered, “We’re safe here among people.” He nodded, but he didn’t look at her. It was like he was fighting a demon of his own that she couldn’t see and didn’t understand. She took his hand and held it tight in hers, wishing there was more she could do for him.

  For an hour, Abigail was able to forget everything that was happening around her as she lost herself in the ritual of the mass. She stood with Ali and the others, knelt when everyone else did. She recited prayers she’d known by rote since she was a small child, even laughed when the young priest made a bad joke during his homily. She almost forgot her anger with God and the reasons why she’d avoided this place over the past eighteen months.

  Axel slid his arm around her shoulders at one point, and she found herself moving closer to him, her hand slipping over his thigh as thoughts she really shouldn’t have been having in church flitted through her mind. She’d watched her parents together when she was a child, imagining what it would be like when she was the adult and her husband sat beside her the way her daddy sat beside her mom. Sitting there with Axel was almost like a fantasy come to life.

  Too bad it wasn’t meant to last.

  Abigail wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Axel would stick around after all of this was over—if it ever was. Him and all his lovers back in Springfield . . . why would he want to stick around with a girl who had nothing going for her but the price of corn? He was a warrior, a soldier in a private war. He would never be content to settle down on her farm with her.

  But she could always fantasize.

  “Do you have a way back to the farm?” Ali asked as they stood after the service.

  Abigail shook her head. “No. We were just going back to Karen’s.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t allow that.” Ali grabbed both of Abigail’s hands between her own. “You’ll come to the house. I’ve got a roast in the oven that’s much too big for just me and the family.”

  “We don’t want to put you out.”

  “It’s not putting me out. In fact, I’d be offended if you refused.”

  Abigail looked at Axel. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Abigail said with more gratitude than she’d intended. It hadn’t occurred to her until just then that she’d had very little to eat in the past twelve hours, just the cold eggs and bacon she’d fixed for Axel and herself the night before. She was famished!

  “Let’s go find Jacob and that massive truck of his . . .”

  Chapter 20

  Virden, Illinois

  Axel leaned one shoulder against the wall, a drink in one hand, as he watched the quarterback throw a pass. The playoffs had gotten intense in the week he missed. He couldn’t believe the Cowboys were still in it!

  “You follow football?” Jacob asked.

  “I do, actually. But I travel quite a bit for my work, so I’ve missed some of the recent games.”

  “You’ve missed some pretty intense plays then, my friend. That Eli Manning is almost as incredible as his father. And this Dax Prescott? Who ever saw him coming?”

  “He is pretty talented.”

  “A lot more so than Romo ever was.”

  Axel could only agree with that. “They should have replaced Romo six seasons ago.”

  “More than that, I say.”

  Axel took a swig of the beer Jacob had given him, turning back to the television just in time to catch another impressive play by the Cowboy’s offense. Jacob was yelling at the television, and he almost joined in, but Abigail had come into the room and was watching him. He held out a hand to her and she came to him, sliding up against his chest and reaching up on tip toes to kiss the center of his chin.

  “Dinner’s just about ready.”

  He brushed the loose hair back from her face, caught in the memory of the pleasure that had burned in her eyes last night. He wanted to see that pleasure again. Soon.

  She kissed him again, this time a lingering kiss on his lips. And then she walked away, her bottom swinging a little more than was natural, a teasing swing of the hips that made his balls tighten. He took another swig of the beer, trying to pull his eyes away, but finding it quite difficult.

  “You been seeing Abigail long?” Jacob asked when the game cut to a commercial.

  “Few months,” he said, repeating what she’d told the old woman at the church.

  “You guys must have been sneaking around pretty successfully. I’d think that the moment Abigail set her eyes on anyone, it would be all over town.”

  “The town’s that interested in her social life?”

  “It’s a small town. Everyone wants to know what everyone else is doing. But Abigail? She’s a special case.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, after she came back from Harvard and announced she was done with academia, and then her dad got sick . . . she became something of a hermit, never leaving the farm. We all watched her grow up, half of us helped throw the going away party before she headed to school. We worry about her, you know?”

  Axel moved over to the armchair and settled on the edge, dangling the beer bottle between his knees as he processed that information.<
br />
  “Not that we’re a nosey bunch of people,” Jacob added. “We’re just a tight-knit community, you know? We’re like this big, extended family out here. Abigail stopped coming to church, stopped attending town functions. It wasn’t like her.”

  “It’s a lot, her taking on that farm all by herself.”

  “It is. Josh and Terri help. And she hires temp workers in the summer when things are really busy. But, I suppose, managing the place has its obstacles.”

  “I think it’s impressive, what she’s done. If she had to stay on the farm to get it done, then that was a price she paid willingly.”

  Jacob nodded. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the way she’s been acting. We’re just . . . concerned.”

  “She’s fine. Doesn’t she look all right to you.”

  Jacob adopted this thoughtful look, his eyes moving toward the doorway where she’d disappeared just a few minutes ago. “She looks more than all right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look quite that beautiful.” He glanced at Axel, a curiosity tempered by Christian shame written all over his expression. “Whatever you’re doing is clearly making her quite happy. Keep it up, man. Don’t break her heart.”

  Axel was surprised by Jacob’s comments. He looked over to that same doorway, remembering how he’d thought Abigail was so much more beautiful in person than her picture had suggested. Was it possible she’d blossomed even more since he exploded into her life? That he’d had that kind of effect on her?

  Fuck! Good sex could have that effect on anyone!

  Jacob’s wife, Missy, stuck her head into the room and announced that dinner was ready. Jacob led the way to the dining room where utter chaos was erupting. Jacob and Missy’s three small children running around the table like little heathens, Abigail and Ali trying to corral them, but just making the matter worse by inciting the children’s desire not to get caught.