Sky looked around, as if she was just made aware of where they were and what was happening. The area around her was different than San Antonio, and she wondered if they were being watched. She shivered.
“Get back in the car. We’re not far from the border.”
“The—the border? Damn, how fast are you driving?”
“As fast as I can.”
She looked up and for the first time, she saw fear in Travis’s blue eyes, which made her shiver even harder.
“C’mon, Sky, you gotta hold it together, baby. Please?” he begged and took her hands in his. “Get back into the car, ok?”
Skyla nodded and let him pull her back to the Sportage. She attempted to dry the silent tears at her eyes as the sting of defeat pulled at her. She wondered if they were gonna survive this, if they were gonna die, be hunted down…and if they were caught, how much they were gonna be tortured until the relief of death came to them.
Geraci didn’t play, not unlike his counterpart Vince Perelli. These were men who were greedy, money and power-hungry players; if you didn’t play by their rules, you were an enemy. Enemies of the crime family were not treated with mercy, but with cold, hard deaths akin to medieval torture methods. All the previous files filled her mind and her heart swelled with terror, sickness tore at her guts, and she tried to hold back the gag that came.
They’d sold young girls into sex slavery, slaughtered innocents, made examples of people who deceived them. There was no end to their means of retribution, and now Skyla and Travis were on the wrong side of it. They wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t rest until she and Travis were hung up by their toes and made to pay for their supposed misdeeds against them. No amount of begging, bargaining, or threatening would matter. They were walking dead people.
Which was why she had to make that phone call and soon.
Travis let her calm down, although it took far too long as the panic leached through her veins like a dose of heroin; but, when she finally did, they were about to cross into New Mexico.
“I need to make that phone call, please?”
“Sky, I don’t know if—”
“If they’re following us, then we have to let Norm know where we are.”
“You let him know where we are and they’re only gonna find us fucking sooner. We have to wait until we know they aren’t on our trail.”
Sky calmed her heart and tried to think logically. They hadn’t seen the vehicle she and Travis had transferred to, didn’t know which direction they were headed, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be long before they found out. Travis was right. They had to hide their tracks, camp out, and wait for help.
It had to work.
Four hours went by slowly as they made a quick stop for gas once more and dined on some protein bars and Mountain Dews, passing the time with scavenger hunts and playing “Punch bug.”
“This diet is for the birds,” Travis joked. “My coaches would kill me.”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosy,” she reminded him. “Besides, it could always be worse.” She pulled out a bag of Funyuns and laughed at his reaction.
“Oh, man, it’s been years since I had those.”
“Right?” she giggled. “I couldn’t resist.”
They crunched on the salty snack and stared in awe at the Rockies when they came into view. Skyla was grateful to be crossing yet another border between Texas and those gangsters chasing them. She felt a sense of safety, even if it was only momentary.
The last year had been a cat-and-mouse chase as Jeffers tried unsuccessfully to catch Geraci at his game. It’d been difficult; Geraci was careful, and despite having a spy in their midst—Sky didn’t have a clue as to who the agent was—the chase was slow-going. According to Jeffers, this person had been in the ranks for over two years. It didn’t look as if they were any closer to shutting the crime boss and his organization down; although, Jeffers didn’t relay all the information he knew to her. The less people who knew, the better, he’d said. The only reason she knew about this inside job was because Jeffers had to tell her in private one day after some files came up missing and she questioned a fellow lawyer’s loyalty. It comforted her to know that they had a man on their side among the bad guys, but she personally couldn’t imagine the constant fear of having Geraci suspecting one of his own, when or if that time finally came.
She’d heard all about Perelli’s sick games and prayed Geraci was a pussy cat in comparison. Now, with what she’d seen firsthand, she feared Geraci was just as bad. Power and money made men like them invincible, turning ordinary men into self-imposed gods. And these gods had run Atlanta for a long time now. They had to be shut down. Good had to triumph over evil.
“What you concentrating on so hard over there? I smell something burning,” Trav smarted.
Sky rolled her eyes. “Funny,” she said and watched a hawk circle over their heads in the bright sunlight, grateful for the day’s warm rays on this early morning.
Travis yawned big, and Sky scowled over at him; she hadn’t even volunteered to drive yet. It was her turn.
“Hey, when we get to the border, let’s fill up and I’ll drive for a little while.”
“No, I’m good. I don’t even know if I’m gonna be able to sleep.” Trav looked resignedly over at her and she understood all too well.
“Well, you can at least try,” she offered and ended the conversation.
They’d made it to Trinidad, Colorado when they stopped at a QT. They filled up, emptied their bladders, and Trav grabbed a couple coffees and biscuits. He was the one who was shielded most from suspecting eyes with his sunglasses and hat, so Skyla began to head out the door, only to be stopped when she saw the face of Sampson Steinberger on the television. He was crying, or trying his pathetic best to, and she approached so she could hear what he was saying.
“I’m utterly devastated and can’t believe this is happening.”
The screen then flashed to a picture of Travis, in the crimson and gold uniform of the Gladiators, running a play. He was carrying a football and rushing into the end zone for a touchdown.
Sky’s mouth dropped as the caption read, “NFL RB Travis Redmond wanted for questioning. Assistant DA Skyla Larson missing.” Sky gasped out loud but immediately shelved it so as not to draw attention to herself.
She looked over at Travis who was paying for their breakfast and silently made her way outside.
She had to make that phone call to DA Norm Jeffers, and she had to do it as soon as possible.
Travis immediately picked up on Sky’s mood as he handed her the coffee cup. “What?”
“Uh, nothing, I uh—”
“Skyla, what’s wrong? You got ‘Holy shit’ written all over your damn face.”
“Our suspicions were correct…”
“About?”
“About being implicated in the murder. Only you look like a suspect who kidnapped me. The news isn’t saying it officially, but you’re wanted for questioning and I’m missing.”
“Motherfucking shit!”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get your name cleared. But we’re still being hunted so we have to keep driving, right? We stick to the plan.”
“This is bullshit, but I fucking knew this would happen. Son of a bitch.”
“Hey, don’t worry. We’re gonna bring this motherfucker down. He’s done ruining lives. It stops with us, ok?” Sky looked hard into his eyes, fierce blue eyes that sparkled with the promise of victory.
“Well, you sure changed your tune, ADA Larson.”
“Oh shut up,” she scoffed and put the car in drive.
“No, it’s hot as fuck. Is that how you are in the courtroom. Feisty and sassy? Like you are in the bedroom?”
She gaped even as she brought the coffee cup to her lips—to avoid his eyes he knew—and turned back onto I-25 North.
They were quiet for a few minutes as he handed her an egg-and-bacon biscuit, his stomach growling hungrily.
“Sorry, I wanted something hot in
my belly.”
“I appreciate the gesture.” She grinned over at him before taking a bite of her biscuit.
They ate and took in the sunshine and mountains, grateful for a reprieve from the figurative darkness in their periphery. It was a beautiful November day, and Travis suddenly remembered all the vacations he’d spent here in Colorado with his family when life had been good. His mom and dad had brought him and his brother to Vail and Aspen many times as children; Travis loved skiing and snow-boarding. He’d always been quick on his feet and had great hand-eye coordination. His father had never been prouder than when he’d committed to LSU in his senior year of high school. He’d always strove to make his old man happy, despite what a hard-ass he’d been during Travis’s teen years.
From the outside, they’d always appeared to be the perfect, loving family. His father had been a Harvard graduate, his mother, a San Antonio socialite who made Martha Stewart look bad, and Travis was the golden child; but inside their immaculate six-bedroom mansion, an entirely different story played out.
Tyler Redmond had been a no-nonsense business man with a penchant for perfection; the top had never been high enough to please him, and they all eventually got fed-up with trying to meet his unobtainable expectations. Tyler had started going on drinking binges by the time Travis was fourteen and came home cursing everyone out. He got physical at times, and Travis became the whipping boy to save his mother and brother from the angry fists of a violent drunk. Trav’s mom, Fiona, finally left his dad when Travis graduated from high school. After Travis left for college, Tuck had taken the brunt of the beatings, and somewhere along the way, it had broken him; he’d gotten into trouble with drugs then gambling later on.
Travis felt guilty about that now, looking back. His mother should have left his father sooner and perhaps Tucker would’ve been spared. Trav and his mother, Fiona, had always had a strained relationship. They were so different, and she never seemed to understand him. He hated when she compared him to his father, for he was nothing like that belligerent fuck. He’d protected her from the flying fists and lashings—or had he?
He’d seen proof of the bruises over the years and finally confronted her one day when he was sixteen, getting a, “We all have a price, Travis. Let it be.” As time went on, he began to learn exactly what she meant by that. The cost was going to be his downfall. The cost for fame, fortune, and freedom.
He must have been thinking aloud for Sky’s hand came to rest on his forearm and he jerked, startled at being pulled from his reverie. “I’m sorry. Are you ok? You got pale, as if you realized something. It frightened me.”
Travis shook it off and gave her a grin, not wanting to alarm her. “Nah, I’m good. Just enjoying my biscuit, wondering how long we’ll have to camp out in this cabin before we’re rescued by your boys.” He winked and took another bite of the calorie-laden, sorriest excuse for a southern indulgence he’d ever had. Hey, at least it’s hot, he thought.
“Hopefully not long. This cabin isn’t gonna be like what you’re used to though, I should go ahead and tell you.”
“Oh?” he asked, his curiosity piqued as she blushed.
“Yeah, it’s very small and barely has running water. Not fancy, Mr. Big Shot.”
“Oh, well in that case, turn this car around and head back to San Anton,” he mulled exasperatingly, getting a laugh out of Skyla.
“I’m serious. You’re gonna be disappointed.”
“You know what? If it has a bed I can sleep in and a bathroom, you won’t get a single complaint out of me. Boy Scouts’ honor.”
“I’m holding you to it. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Duly noted, doll face.” He chucked her chin and got a swat back, laughing before he asked, “So, you spent a lot of childhoods at this place?”
“Yes.” She smiled and it lit her up, making her even more beautiful than she already was. “My father and I came up to fish Lake Estes and fell in love with the Stanley Hotel. My dad’s a huge Stephen King fan. Plus, his buddy Terry had the cabin, so it was cheap to spend our summer months here.”
“Your dad was pretty frugal, if I remember correctly.” Travis fished, crumbling his wax paper up and tossing it into the bag they’d designated for trash.
Sky’s eyes warned him, but he’d always been curious about what made her father so damn eccentric. According to his own father, Lorenzo Larson had as much money as they did. So why hadn’t he showered his daughter with the money he hoarded following his wife’s early demise?
“Frugal, eccentric, a nut job, choose your words, Travis,” Sky smarted. “He was a brilliant man with a broken heart. Either way, money isn’t everything.”
Travis held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. Just curious.”
“My father didn’t talk about money or my mother, so you know as much about it as I do.”
Her demeanor changed and she got quiet once again.
Well, that went well, Travis, he scolded himself. Now that you’ve pissed her off, you can get the silent treatment. “Well, I guess that’s my cue to shut the fuck up and take a nap.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Sky’s brows went up and she smirked over at him.
“Wake me when you’re ready for a reprieve.” He settled into the too-small seat and leaned back, letting his mind drift to imagine this trip as a pleasure cruise where he and Sky were on their way to a luxury cabin with a hot tub. He smiled, visions of a naked redhead with porcelain skin and freckles dotting her curvy flesh filled his mind. He moaned and let himself indulge.
“And I take it, you’re on their trail?” Geraci asked into the cell phone.
“Yes sir, we picked it back up in Lubbock.”
“Hmm, why Lubbock?”
“Redmond has a house there, we’re gonna go check it out.”
“You think they would be dumb enough to go to a property he owns?” Geraci smarted.
“It is on the way, sir, better to be sure,” Mathers answered back.
“I’ve always appreciated the way you think, Kane. By all means, leave no stone unturned. And make sure you make a statement.” Geraci growled.
Mathers knew Gio was pissed, but he was going to give ADA Larson every second he could to get somewhere safe before he brought the war to her, playing as dumb as he could. He’d not checked back in with Jeffers or his boss, Arnold, as he’d been on the road and hadn’t had the opportunity. For now, he could buy time, which was exactly what Larson needed more of.
“Will do, sir. I’ll check in with you at 0900,” Mathers stated and hung the phone up. “1245 Autumn Drive, Biggs, and step on it,” Mathers grumbled, playing his part to a T.
They were on their way to wreck Travis’s house, leaving breadcrumbs for the cops. He knew the FBI would be hot on the trail, and knew his boss well enough to know he was waiting. They would see real fast that Redmond was, and had been, a pawn in this game for a while. Geraci and his crew were going down.
The final countdown had started; time to throw the first punch.
Sky smiled as they closed in on the old cabin in the woods at the top of Eagle Mountain Lane, just above the ridge from a tributary and lake. It was about halfway between Drake and Estes Park, very remote, and for once, she was grateful for its unremarkable allure. They parked out front and Travis whistled.
“Woo-wee, you weren’t kidding. This is out in the boonies.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” she asked as she looked around at the abundance of trees, barer than she was used to seeing with it being late fall as opposed to summer.
“It’s perfect, Sky.”
She could breathe easily, knowing that even though it wasn’t luxurious, it would do for the time being to keep them somewhere safe and away from the predators hunting them.
“So, you’re sure there’s no alarm?”
“Positive, it’s the same way I left it last summer.” She moved up the front porch steps and looked the door over, seeing the old wood and locks
hadn’t changed. “Hope you’re good at breaking and entering.”
“Ha,” Travis laughed. “Negative, Ghost Rider. I could probably shove my way through the door but picking locks, nope.”
“Well, damn.” Sky began to rifle through her huge purse that held everything from screwdrivers to hairspray, thank God. She was grateful she had it with her when the shit had hit the fan, especially when she reached in to find a bobby pin and smiled in triumph. “Ha ha!”
It took ten good minutes of picking, swearing, and getting pissed before she was able to jimmy the lock. She was a bit shocked by her skills and had been two seconds from telling Travis just to bust the door down before the lock gave and she turned the knob.
The hinges creaked as the door opened and the familiar musty, woodsy smell assaulted her nostrils. It took her back to her childhood, and she smiled as she entered, setting her bag on the small wooden kitchen table.
“It needs some airing out but it’s got potential,” she stated with content.
“The Property Brothers would have a field day in here.” Travis looked around at the rusty wood-burning stove, peaked ceiling with large wooden beams, and the old leather couch that looked like it had survived a bear attack with clear disdain.
“I told you it wasn’t a damn Hilton, Robin Leach.”
“Hey, I’m glad it’s here. Not complaining, I swear.” Travis took his shades and hat off, stretching his arms up.
“Sure, sure. The sheets are clean and there’s running water, so shut it, Moneybags.” Skyla moved over to the sink, grateful there was water and it was hot. Thank God!
“The little things are always the most important.” He looked at the far bedroom and pointed. “Well, first things first, Ms. Larson. I’m taking a nice, long shower. Wanna join me?” Travis bobbed his eyebrows at her.
“In your dreams.” She rolled her eyes at his confidence, not shaken at all by their predicament. “I still stand by what I said at the bar, Travis. Nothing has changed.”
UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT (Gods of the Gridiron Book 1) Page 5