Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  But then she recalled his insistence that he could have any woman he wanted, and that made her sick to her stomach. Was he out there, right now, in the arms of someone else?

  She wanted to smack him. But, mostly, she wanted him to come see her so that she could know that he was all right, so that she could see a familiar face. She wanted him to come to her so that she could touch him and feel his touch on her.

  She just . . . she wanted him.

  And she hated herself for that.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been dumped before. But she had really believed there was a connection with Axel.

  The door opened and her imagination had Axel walking in, announcing that he’d changed his mind. But it wasn’t Axel. It was three men dressed in military style fatigues, but in a deep gray, their hair kept in the short, buzz cut style of the military like Axel’s was, their faces clean shaven.

  “Ms. Rains? I’m Daniel Williams with Mastiff Security,” the first man said, approaching her bed side politely. “We’ve come to move you to a safe house.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Safe house?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been told you’ve been briefed on the fact that the hitman who was pursuing you is still on the run. Until that is resolved, we’ll be keeping you in a small apartment the firm keeps for just this sort of situation.”

  Abigail sat up a little straighter on the bed, tugging her leg up along with her. “I haven’t been properly discharged.”

  “We’ve spoken with your doctor. He has approved the move.”

  “Just like that? What about—”

  “Mastiff is handling all the details, Ms. Rains. We just need you to come with us.” He held up a small duffle bag. “You’ll find clean clothing in here. If you’ll get dressed, we’ll go now.”

  She shook her head. “What about Axel? Where is he?”

  “Mr. Kinkaid has been released from the hospital. He is safe and well, but that’s all we can tell you.”

  “Why? Why can’t you tell me where he is?”

  “Privacy concerns, ma’am.”

  Abigail felt sick to her stomach. He’d left the hospital without bothering to come by and see her? Was he even working her case anymore? Had he just totally washed his hands of her?

  “I need to go home. I have responsibilities—”

  “Ma’am, we have our orders. You may speak with our boss after we get you settled, but first, you have to come with us.”

  He appeared patient, this man, but she could hear the exasperation in his voice. She studied them all for a moment, these three men, gauging her options. She could insist on going home. There wasn’t much they could do about it if she did. But then she’d be on her own, back where she started and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. Besides, she’d likely never see Axel again that way. That wasn’t an option she wanted much to entertain.

  She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You gentlemen might want to turn your backs until I get into the bathroom. There isn’t much coverage to these gowns.”

  All three immediately turned, moving so quickly it almost reminded her of a military drill she’d seen in countless movies. She limped across the room to the bathroom, holding the small duffle close to her chest. Once the door was closed, she leaned against the sink, gritting her teeth as pain shot through her thigh. This damn bullet wound might not have seemed serious to the doctors, but it hurt like hell to her.

  When the pain began to subside, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair fell in strings around her face, curls matted and really just sad looking. Her eyes were puffy from the medications and the crying, her skin pale from the stress of the last few days. Staring into that face, she could almost understand Axel walking away. He’d seen her at nothing but her worst since the moment he met her.

  But he’d wanted her when she was panicking in the path of an insane killer. Was it just that he couldn’t handle the normal, everyday stuff? Was that his real problem?

  Maybe he preferred pleasure when it was coupled with danger.

  She slowly opened the bag and removed a pair of jeans and a soft, pink blouse that both still had the tags on them. There was underwear, too, that made her wonder who’d picked it all out. And shoes. There was a brush and simple toiletries as well.

  Abigail slowly dressed, brushed her teeth, and dragged the newly purchased brush through her tangled hair. She looked somewhat presentable by the time she was done, but still not up to her normal appearance. But, again, she figured it would take a while before she was ever anything like normal again.

  The three men were still standing in her hospital room, their backs turned to the bathroom door when she opened it. The leader, Daniel whatever, turned when he heard her step out.

  “Ready?”

  She shrugged.

  They led the way through the hallway, two in front of her, one behind. She felt almost like a celebrity being escorted into a venue that fans had known about for days and were waiting to see. Kind of cool. But then they were in the back of an SUV and no one was talking. It was kind of uncomfortable, really. Awkward.

  She sat back, her hand resting on the bandage she could feel through the new jeans, watching the city rush passed outside the windows. The storm clearly didn’t hit as hard here in Springfield, or it had melted quickly. The streets were wet but clear, no sign of plowed snow anywhere she looked.

  Abigail was a regular in Springfield, often driving the forty minutes to do her shopping or to pick up something special ordered for the farm. She was familiar with most of the major streets downtown, but she didn’t recognize the residential area they were taking her to. All her friends were back in Virden. She didn’t have a reason to travel these streets.

  The apartment, it turned out, was a block from a small, family oriented park. The building itself was three stories, fully enclosed. They drove into an underground garage and parked next to the elevator in a fire zone. The two men who weren’t driving encouraged her to get out of the vehicle and escorted her to the elevator, one on each side of her. She wondered what they might do if the hitman suddenly appeared there in the parking garage. Would they engage in a gun battle? Or would one of them charge the man while the other got her into the elevator?

  Not that it mattered. No one jumped out at them from the shadows.

  The apartment in question was on the third floor—no jumping out the bedroom window here—a small place with a teeny living room/kitchen combo and a smaller bedroom/bathroom combo. One of the men gestured for Abigail to take a seat on the couch.

  Still, they didn’t talk.

  “I need to make a phone call. Is there a phone here I could use?”

  They both ignored her, clearly preferring to walk around and check the closets and cabinets for someone hiding in those teeny spots. She watched, feeling like a fool. What kind of mess had she gotten herself into, anyway?

  Daniel whatever his name was walked in, stowing a cell phone in his back pants pocket.

  “I need to make a call,” she said, jumping to her feet at the sight of him and that phone.

  “I can’t allow that.”

  “Why not?” she demanded, outraged at the mere suggestion.

  “Because you are here under our protection. If you make a call, you might reveal your location to the person we’re trying to keep from you.”

  “Just a two-minute call. I need to make sure the animals on my farm are being cared for.”

  “I’ve been told that issue had been taken care of.”

  “By who?”

  His eyebrows rose, and she could see hesitation that suggested he was struggling to keep his temper under control. He took a deep breath and studied her face for a long second.

  “Ms. Rains, you have to trust that we’re working in your best interest here. We are doing our best to make sure you are not injured again, that a madman doesn’t come after you again. But the only way we can do that is if you do what we say.”

  “I need a phone!”

&nbs
p; He grunted. “Please, Ms. Rains, take a seat on the couch. We have rules—”

  “I don’t want to talk about rules and whatever you might have for me to see! I want a phone. I want to know what the hell is going on back at my farm! I want to know if I even have a farm to go home to!”

  Daniel sighed, suddenly coming at her and lifting her off her feet. She cried out, shocked by this manhandling, but the other two didn’t seem surprised. One of them smirked. The other just looked at his fingernails like it was just another day at the office.

  “Stay in this room until you’re ready to cooperate,” Daniel said, setting Abigail on the edge of the bed in the small bedroom. Then he retreated, slamming the door behind him. And then she was pretty sure she heard a lock engage.

  She got up and tried the doorknob. It was definitely locked.

  “You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “You can’t keep me here against my will!”

  But, apparently, they could.

  Chapter 30

  Springfield, Illinois

  Mastiff Security

  Durango handed Axel a file folder.

  “This is what the guys down in the lab were able to get from the tablet you brought in. It wasn’t much, just GPS coordinates. But it tells us where the guy was from the moment he turned the damn thing on.”

  Axel opened the file and looked through it. He recognized most of the locations: Rain Drop Farms, Mrs. Philips’ house, the downtown area of Virden. He’d been there for nearly two weeks. It was amazing Abigail hadn’t run into him sooner.

  “Why did he stay in a motel near Virden for so long before the client called and requested we take the case?”

  Durango shook his head. “That had me kind of curious, too.”

  Axel remembered Abigail’s theory, and he wondered if that gave it more weight.

  Was her professor friend, Morty Whatever, behind all this?

  “The identification on the shooter is in there, too, just like we talked about. I think it would be best if you headed up a team to go check this guy’s place of residence out. Pick your own team. Be in the air tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Durango leaned back against the front of his desk. “Things are going to be a little insane around here for a while,” he said. “The cops are talking to everyone. If you haven’t run into them yet, you will.”

  Axel closed the file and looked up at his boss, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles that hadn’t been there just a few days ago. He looked like a man who was trying to keep his life from imploding. And, Axel supposed, that was exactly what he was doing.

  “Have they set a time for the funeral yet?”

  Durango shrugged. “I’m going tomorrow to visit with her parents. I’ll make a firm wide announcement then.”

  “Good.”

  “The reason I bring this up,” Durango said, looking down at the floor like he was trying to gather his thoughts, “is because the firm is still running like it always has. There are dozens of operations going on out of these offices, not to mention the tech development and other things that we deal with on a regular basis. But Kyle was a driving force behind a lot of that, especially the day-to-day operations. Things will begin falling apart very soon without her support.”

  There was a catch in Durango’s voice. Axel sat back, thinking a little arrogantly to himself that this was why he didn’t have attachments. He didn’t want to be caught off guard by grief in this way.

  If you don’t care, you don’t hurt.

  Durango cleared his throat. “We’ll need to replace her as soon as possible. And my first candidate for the job is you.”

  Axel’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Durango shook his head. “You were the first operative we hired. You’ve been with the firm since the very beginning. You know how things work better than anyone else around here. And now seems like a good time to get you out of the field and into a better-paying job, don’t you think?”

  Axel wasn’t sure what Durango was hinting at. But the idea of a desk job wasn’t as frightening as he’d thought it would be. It seemed like a welcome goal after the weekend he’d had.

  “Just think about it,” Durango said. “When this case is done, we’ll talk about it again.”

  Axel nodded. “I appreciate the thought.”

  “Of course.”

  They shook hands and Axel walked out, not surprised to find Gracie Colson sitting at the desk that had been abandoned when he arrived a good twenty minutes ago.

  “Another one quit?”

  She sighed. “She was a temp. You’d think a temp would be better equipped to handle a difficult boss.”

  Axel walked closer to the desk, surveying the piles of paper sitting on the top. There was so much that it was impossible to see the actual surface of the desk.

  “Maybe she’s just not used to such a backlog.”

  “Yeah. That’s why I came up here. I thought if I could take care of some of this, we could find someone who wouldn’t run the moment she stepped off the elevator.”

  “Good luck,” Axel chuckled. He imagined Gracie wouldn’t be able to make a dent in that mess even if she stayed all night.

  He headed off to the elevators himself, mentally reviewing the list of operatives he’d worked with in the past, trying to decide which he would choose for this team. As he considered it, thinking he should go back and check with Gracie over whether his chosen men were available when his cell—a replacement for the one stolen Saturday afternoon—rang.

  “Kinkaid,” he barked professionally.

  “Kinkaid, this is Williams over at the safe house. This woman . . . you should probably get over here.”

  “Why?” Axel’s heart jumped into his throat, his imagination placing Abigail in a few grotesque positions.

  “She’s insisting on using the phone. I locked her in the bedroom, and now she’s trying to kick a fucking hole through it! I’ve never had a client act like this! Even the damn drug dealers back when I was with the Marshall’s office didn’t act like this.”

  Axel couldn’t help the smile that split his lips. “All right. I’ll be there in a few.”

  * * *

  He could hear her beating against the door the moment Williams let him into the apartment. Without a word, he held his hand out for the key and crossed to the narrow door. She was kicking it so hard that if it had been the standard door that came with the place, she would have had it beat in already. But Mastiff had replaced all the doors in this place with specialty doors that had metal plates inside to keep clients from getting hurt should someone break in and begin shooting through the doors.

  She must be awful tired by now, though.

  Axel unlocked the door and cracked it.

  “It’s me, Abigail. Can I come in?”

  There was silence for a long moment. But then, “Are you going to let me use a phone?”

  He pushed the door opened and stepped inside, closing it behind him. He didn’t try to move closer to her, just stood there against the closed door, watching her. Her cheeks were bright red with exertion, her hair falling wildly around her face. Her knuckles were red from the effort of beating on the door, but not bloodied. And there was a definite limp when she backed away from him.

  “Why are you here? Do they think you can shut me up?”

  “You are causing a bit of drama.”

  “I need to check on my farm. I need to know what’s happening to my animals!”

  Axel took a step toward her. “I told you, someone is there watching over the animals. They’re fine.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not good enough. I want to know what’s happening to my farm! It’s my whole life, Axel. I can’t just sit here and let it fall apart!”

  “It’s not. Everything is fine, I promise you.”

  She shook her head again, sinking down on the edge of the bed. She was clearly exhausted
, but there was still a lot of fight in her. He could see it when she looked up and those beautiful eyes flashed at him.

  “I want to know what’s going on. How long am I going to have to stay here? Have they found him yet? Why did they bring me here? No one out there will talk to me!”

  “It’s not their job to talk to you. They don’t even know what’s going on, just enough to understand what to protect you from.” He crossed the room and stood in front of her. “They are just guys doing a job.”

  “Why didn’t you come and tell me what was happening?”

  “I thought it would be easier for you if I stayed away.”

  She snorted, reaching up to rub at her nose. “You’re an asshole.”

  “I know.”

  She looked up, startled. And then she laughed.

  Axel sat down on the bed beside her. “We identified the hitman from the prints he left on the gun. His name is Miguel Sanchez. He’s an accountant from San Diego, California.”

  “An accountant?”

  “Yes. Does his name sound familiar to you?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head.

  “He wasn’t one of your test subjects.”

  “No.” She ran her hands, palm down, against the thighs of her jeans. “All our test subjects were patients at a hospital in Boston. They were all from the Boston area.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We had to have family approval before we could work with them, so we had to choose local patients with family nearby.”

  Axel nodded, realizing that this only seemed to add more weight to the theories she’d suggested.

  “We’re going to check his place out tomorrow.”

  “I doubt he’d go back there. After what Morty did to him, the poor guy probably doesn’t even remember where he lives.”

  “We could get information from his family.”

  “Maybe.”

  She stood and paced a little, but she was clearly hurting. She limped, her hand reaching down to rub the spot where the bandage rested.