“Don’t know. Don’t care. As long as I’m getting paid to babysit whatever special cargo is in the old storeroom, I don’t care. Ain’t got nowhere to go except bed, and I like my paychecks.”
“I hear you, man. Best part of this job.”
“Don’t you wonder what he has stashed in there? I mean we’re sittin’ on a ridiculous amount of product here. What do you think? About 15,000 dollars’ worth of H?”
Derision dripped from another voice. “You never could add two and two. I’d say it’s closer to seventy grand.”
“Shit. But that’s my point. What could he have hidden in there that’s worth more than what we’ve got here and packed into those old exam tables? I mean, I’ve seen him ticked off before, but he was pissed. Like, ready to murder someone mad.”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. And don’t even think about peeking. Gil, let’s try the breaker. This building is ancient. Maybe a fuse is blown or something. Tim, don’t fuckin’ touch anything and don’t shoot any shadows.”
This is just wonderful. The goon squad is armed and stupid.
Chapter 4
Bingo.
The idiots had just given him Leigh’s location. Hopefully he could keep it together just a few minutes longer. He cursed his injury and weakness. He wasn’t able to move with half of his usual stealth. Fortunately, luck was on his side and the only one who’d seen his movement was the kid. No one ever believed the new guy.
The maintenance room’s locked door might buy him a little time. Then again, if someone had the keys, the few seconds wouldn’t be enough. Regardless, his time was running out. He’d pushed past his limit.
He stayed as low as his leg allowed and made his way along a wall, toward the door in the back corner.
“Why are you so jumpy, man?”
“I’m not. I’m cool.”
The kid was anything but cool. He was one jitter away from a panicked eruption.
It gave him an idea.
He pulled out his lock pick kit and took out a couple of tools. Reining in his impatience, he waited. The moment the men relaxed, he threw his smallest pick to the opposite side of the room. The sound of metal hitting the floor was quiet, but clearly audible in the large, mostly concrete room.
As Rick had hoped, the kid’s anxiety only increased. “Did you hear that? Dave, is that you?”
“Chill. It was probably just a mouse.”
“No way. I heard the office girl say that everything in here has to be extra sanitary, because of the medical stuff. There aren’t supposed to be any rodents or bugs. I thought it was funny at the time, because of what we do back here. There’s nothing clean about what goes on here at night.” The kids voice rose in volume as his words tumbled out faster and faster. “Maybe we should leave. We’ll go in the storeroom, get whatever the boss is keeping in there, and take it with us. We’ll keep it safe and call him to come get it.”
“No. No way. It’s just a little darkness. Man up, for fuck’s sake. Just because it’s supposed to be clean, doesn’t mean it is. It was just a fucking mouse.”
Rick threw the largest pick in the same area. Then moved a few feet closer to the door. He was making progress, but this method wasted time he didn’t have. If they got into the utility room and turned the power on, he was screwed.
He threw two more picks, one right after the last. He needed something larger. Then he pulled the pocket mirror he used for seeing around corners. Useless in the dark, he wouldn’t miss it. He threw it just a few feet from the tools. In the silent, cavernous room the clattering sound clamored and echoed.
Finally, the kid lost his slippery grip on his remaining composure. “Shit!” Someone fired three shots fired in rapid succession. Light flashed in Rick’s periphery. He raced to the door and hoped for all he was worth that it was unlocked.
The world behind him erupted into chaos as someone else yelled. “Shut the idiot down before he kills us all!”
Rick shut out the cacophony and narrowed his focus onto one small pinpoint. The handle. He blocked out the pain, awkwardly running the remaining distance.
“What the fuck is going on here?” The guy who’d gone to look for the electrical panel had returned.
Out of options, Rick aimed at the ceiling and fired his own shot. He hoped the echoes would confuse them further.
“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t me! There’s somebody in here, I swear!”
He grabbed the handle and twisted. Thank the heavens, it turned. Yanking the door open, he lunged into the room and pulled it closed behind himself. The dim world spun around him as he leaned against the door and gasped for air.
He ditched his night vision goggles and peered into the spinning room. Looking for any sign of life, he listened to the chaos outside.
“Shit, I saw it, too.”
“I told you!”
The senior guy snapped at the kid. “Give me that fucking gun.”
Rick stood in a ghost town. His stomach dropped like a stone to his feet. He limped further into the room. To his left, he saw nothing but old file cabinets and a stack of cardboard boxes. To his right, a wall of shelves filled with industrial cleaning supplies and an array of chemicals. He might not be able to read all the warning labels in the dim room, but he suspected it was the kind of stuff you wouldn’t put in just any janitor’s hands. The entire wall was lined with gallon sized jugs. When he’d heard the men talking about special cargo, he’d been so certain they meant Leigh. Had they only meant the shit they used to cut the heroin?
Now what do I do?
He’d barely made it in there alive with the hopes of finding Leigh. Saving her was the only reason he’d had to keep himself together. Without her? He had nothing. No reserves left. And Leigh? God. Where was she? Could he have screwed this up any worse?
He smacked the back of his head against the door. “Fuck. Me.”
When gunshots barked right outside the door, she dropped like a stone to the ground. She had no idea what caused the commotion, but she wanted nothing to do with it or any stray bullets. When the door opened and closed just a moment later, she held her breath. Fear sent her heart racing, fighting to get out of her chest.
Then she heard two magical words. Six perfect letters.
“Fuck. Me.”
It wasn’t the words so much as the weak, rasping voice that spoke them. Before her brain could tell her mouth to stop and be cautious, quiet, the stupid orifice opened.
“Rick?” For all she knew, she might be imagining things. She struggled to rise, but in her haste, she fell.
Footsteps rushed over and then big hands were on her, turning her until she sat on her backside. Then in the murky darkness, she heard the voice that she’d worried might be gone forever. Rick’s. “Thank Christ. Are you okay?” She wanted to sob with relief, wanted desperately to wrap her arms around him and crush him to her.
Yet, she couldn’t. She was as helpless as a turtle on its back.
“I’m fine. Please tell me you have a knife?” Her head buzzed with a hundred questions, but their situation went above and beyond dire.
Low, a little bit gravely and a lot tired, he spoke into her ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t move.” She ached to lean closer and absorb his presence, his everything. He cupped her lower legs in his big palms and examined the ties around her ankles.
His hands shook as he pulled out his knife.
“Rick. I—I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Your leg? I—”
“Not now. And it’s not your fault. Never. Let’s concentrate on getting out of here alive. Okay?” He sounded so tired, utterly drained of his usual strength. He should be in a hospital bed, not running a Dark Horse operation.
Speaking of which… Something didn’t add up.
“Rick. Where are the rest of the crew?” It might be Rick’s newly formed team, but considering the shape he was in, she didn’t think Trent would let him participate in a rescue mission. She might have only known him for a few months, but she knew enough about Tre
nt Dawson to understand he would lock Rick down if he wasn’t up to a job.
His hands trembled on her legs. Alarmed, she looked at him closer. Was it the yellow tinted light casting the sickly hue to his skin? When sweat beaded on his forehead she feared it wasn’t. His breaths were short and shallow. He didn’t look up to walking out of the room on his own steam, let alone running an op.
Not to mention her overprotective brother Joe who, at the minimum, would be right in the thick of things, if not barging in and taking over. Something stank to high heaven.
“Sweetheart, don’t move.” Despite the noticeable tremble in his hands, he positioned the blade with precision beneath the tie.
“Yeah. You already said that. What’s going on?” When he wouldn’t meet her eyes, her stomach sank.
His only response was to cut her bonds loose. A million pins and needles stabbed her legs. An excruciating rush of feeling returned to her lower limbs. It was all she could do not to cry out. The trembling in her muscles made Rick’s hands look like immovable granite. He sat the knife down and, starting at her ankles, tried to massage some feeling back into her legs.
Outside the room, one voice rose above the others. The one who’d taken charge and seemed the most capable had returned. “What the hell is going on here? Give me that fucking gun.”
All the other voices started talking at once, spilling a tangled story.
“Something’s up. The door to the utility room is locked. It was unlocked when I got here. I found the key. Don’t let anyone out, nobody fucking move until I get the lights back on. Not a fucking millimeter.”
“We gotta go, babe. We’re sitting ducks.”
“Okay.” The only thing she knew was that she had to trust Rick’s abilities.
He considered the window then he looked back to her. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can make it.”
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and helped her to her feet. He didn’t have to tell her to hold still. She willed her shaking legs to remain steady so he could free her arms. A moment later, her arms dropped to her sides. If she thought the pain in her legs had been bad? The agony in her arms was about ten times worse.
She kept her misery in check by reminding herself that Rick had a gunshot wound, and he’d come to rescue her. His torment had to be a hundred times greater. And his willpower? Apparently, the man had more than a wounded superhero on a mission to save the planet.
“Help me move the desk, babe. We’re running out of time.”
He hurried to one end, and she went to the opposite. In unison, they lifted the heavy monstrosity and shuffled it over to sit beneath the window. His shoulders heaved with deep breaths as he straightened.
He braced himself with a long, steadying breath and used his arms to climb up onto the desk with an awkward hop. He pulled an odd hammer shaped tool from a pocket on the side of his fatigues and broke the window’s glass. He ripped off his tee, wrapped it around one hand and used it to clear the remaining shards from the frame.
“All right. Let’s go. You first.”
“But—”
With one look, he quelled her objection. He made a step with his clasped palms. She stepped up with one leg and swung the other into the opening. When it was through to her knee, he supported her so she could put the second leg through.
He grabbed her hand and slapped a set of keys into her palm. “Turn left and run one block. My car is parked on the far side of a red brick, two story building. Wait one minute. If I don’t show, go without me. Count to sixty, then get out of here. Find somewhere to call for help. No arguments.”
The soft light of dawn highlighted his hard features. A new, darker light entered his eyes. In the few months she’d known him, she’d learned he lived life far too serious. She could count the number of times she’d seen him smile on one hand. Kylie, her six-year-old niece, had been responsible for most of them.
But this darkness? It scared her on a bone deep, visceral level. She didn’t know this man. A stone cold, merciless warrior’s eyes stared into hers, demanding her obedience. She was a stranger walking in an unfamiliar world. He lived, even thrived here.
She’d be an utter fool to disobey this new, somehow impossibly darker, Rick.
“Leigh. Promise me.”
“Okay. I promise. One minute. Please don’t make me leave without you. Please.”
“I’ll be right—”
Voices outside the door broke into their conversation. Unsurprisingly, they heard the kid above everyone else. “Light! Finally. I can see. Hey, the door’s locked.”
“Move out of the way, idiot.”
Rick crushed his mouth to hers in a hard, brutal kiss.
Then his mouth was gone, and the dark eyes returned. “Go.”
Her feet touched the ground. As if they heard his order, they ignored the screams in her heart and ran across the parking lot. When the first gunshot rang out behind her, she didn’t stop to look. She put her faith in Rick and kept running.
And praying.
Several more gunshots followed the first. Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks as an iron fist squeezed her heart. Following his directions, she ran to the truck as the soft morning world blurred through a wet shimmer. The moment his vehicle came into view, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one with the unlock button. The car chirped at her and she threw open the door and jumped into the driver seat. She put the key into the ignition. Thunder rocked the earth, shaking the seat beneath her.
Reflexively, she ducked her head and covered her ears.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Rick.
Her head popped up. Smoke billowed from the warehouse.
Forget waiting.
Forget waiting and driving away from that blast, from Rick.
She threw the car into drive and stomped on the gas. Tires squealed, but she didn’t stay to smell the burning rubber. She cut the corner and drove over the curb, driving back the way she’d just come.
She would not leave without the idiot.
Where the hell are Joe and Trent?
Racing around the corner, she half expected to run into him. But he wasn’t there. Other than the smoke pouring out of the warehouse, the early morning scene sat silent and still before her.
She braked, halting the car in its tracks. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she scanned the area. Then she saw him. Up ahead, lying on the far side of the parking lot was a body. Black pants, no shirt, dark hair.
Rick. Her Rick. Lying face down in the parking lot. She put her foot on the gas, speeding across the pavement. She pulled up directly beside him then braked to a hard, jolting stop. Hopping out, she raced to his side. She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse at his neck.
Relief washed over her when she felt the rapid flutter against her fingers.
“Rick, come on. We have to get out of here. Where is your cell?”
“In the truck. Battery’s dead.” Each word spoken seemed a struggle.
“Then we have to find a phone and call an ambulance.”
He raised his pale face to meet her gaze. He was sweaty and filthy. Abrasions marked one cheek. She’d never seen a more precious sight than the light of his dark eyes staring back at her. “No. Get in the passenger side. The blast knocked me down, but I’m fine. We have to get you somewhere safe.”
“Rick, you need a doctor.”
The muscles in his upper arms bulged as he braced his arms against the pavement to push himself up. “Now, Leigh. Get in.” He stiffly rose and gripped her upper arm. “Marcus will arrive any moment. Who knows what his men are doing? We have to get you out of here.”
“Are you crazy? You’re hurt! I’ll drive.” A gunshot rang out.
“Leigh, damn it. Get in!” He barked the order and ushered her inside the vehicle. Once she was in, he slammed the door and limped at a run to the driver side.
A moment later, they were on the way.
He shifted in his seat, as if to find a comfortable position f
or his leg. His hand shook as he put it back on the steering wheel.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I think we’re far enough away for me to drive.” She prayed he’d let her take over. He looked ready to pass out. God, he’d been shot what? Twelve hours ago? This was crazy.
She couldn’t believe so much had happened in such a short time. All she’d wanted to do was drop off food for Addie. Feeling it might not be safe, he’d warned her against it. She hadn’t listened and nearly gotten them killed. Rick had been hurt. Her brother, Cara, they’d all been shot at. She could have accidentally drawn the orphaned girl into a shootout!
Another terrible thought punched her in the belly.
She’d assumed everyone had made it through that mess, simply because the alternative was unthinkable. But any number of horrible things could have happened to them. What if Rick was the only one capable of coming after her?
Nausea roiled in her belly, pushing bile higher and higher in her throat. The edges of her vision wavered and grew dim. She had to know, but couldn’t make herself ask the question that might trigger an answer capable of breaking her in two.
“Leigh? Stay with me. You’re safe now. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be in safe territory. Morning traffic is rolling in and they won’t chance a scene in front of witnesses. Marcus has too much to lose. C’mon, baby. Breathe. Slow deep breaths in and out.”
How pathetic was she? She was physically fine, safe, and here she was, on the verge of a panic attack. He’d been shot, was likely bleeding everywhere, and he was taking care of her.
Time to get my shit together.
“I’m okay.” She closed her eyes and forced the words out of her mouth. “Joe? Cara? Kate and Trent? How is everyone?”
“They’re fine. Truly. I was the only one injured. Well, not true. Cara’s ankle is probably twelve shades of purple, but it’s not broken. She refused crutches. Joe didn’t have the strength to fight her over it. Your parents are staying with Kylie up at the big house on Walker Farms.”
All the worry and fear whooshed out of her in one long exhale. Beyond a bomb shelter, she couldn’t think of a safer place for her family than the Walker’s horse farm. The place had always had an extensive security system in place. After her cousin Kate’s kidnapping, Trent had only increased its safety measures.
Finding Leigh: Dark Horse Inc. Book 3 Page 4