A Captured Spirit

by Dakota Black

  Sniffing, he grabbed a cigarette and his lighter, lighting up as she fumbled to find her keys. She had no idea what she was in the middle of. What fucking luck. Taking a puff, he envisioned her face the moment she learned the truth.

  When she stopped short, her entire body tensing, he took a long drag, allowing the smoke to swirl before blowing out of the cracked window. There was no way she could see him or distinguish anything about his truck or his appearance. He’d taken careful steps to avoid being recognized, even now.

  She turned in a full circle, her eyes searching the darkness. Who exactly was she looking for? If only she knew what he was thinking.

  He waited until she climbed inside and started her engine before turning the key. At least following her would be easy enough given the location of the building. The interstate was within a mile and the traffic was heavy. However, he had no trouble following her. She did as he expected her to do, followed the same path back to her tiny house, on a lonely rural street that had few streetlights and neighbors who didn’t seem to give a shit about safety.

  When she eased into the driveway, she took a full minute to collect her things before heading into the house. He pulled the truck just across the street, killing the engine. And he waited again. He could easily take her, breaking her neck or worse, but she remained of interest, intriguing in a way he hadn’t anticipated. She was also the catalyst. His gut had given him the instant moment of clarity the minute he’d seen her eyes, the way they bore into his, searching.

  Yet, she had no idea the kind of monster she’d challenged. He longed for a stiff scotch, maybe two, but he had work to do before he could obtain any relief.

  A single light turned on, then another. She was going out tonight. Her house would be left empty. A playground of information. For her, waiting would almost be a pleasure. Leaning back against the seat, he folded his arms and closed his eyes. He was unable to help envisioning her face, her naked body. His cock twitched, grinding against his tight pants. He had to keep his mind out of the gutter. One night. Yes, perhaps one night.

  His keen senses would let him know when she was leaving but he forced himself to watch her house.

  He didn’t have to wait long. He knew the moment she walked out of her front door, could sense the fact she’d changed clothes. Even in the darkness, he could see and study the way the dress clung to her voluptuous body, was able to gather a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. He inhaled, allowing the sweet perfume to permeate his nostrils, fill his lungs. He breathed in and out, savoring the moment. Even his cock remained at attention, aching to have her, taste her.

  Gritting his teeth, he slunk further into the shadows as she drove past. Everything had to be a surprise, perfect timing. He waited for two full minutes before exiting his vehicle. There was no worry that a curious neighbor would approach or bother calling the police. There was no need to duck behind plants, hiding his intentions. No one gave a shit.

  He was able to maneuver the lock easily and was inside within less than a minute. As he became accustomed to the darkness, he listened for any signs of a pet. There was nothing but a slight rattle coming from the kitchen. He slipped into gloves and made his way through the house, turning on what lights he needed in order to scan the perimeter, search the various drawers. The woman had very little to her name and certainly nothing of any value.

  The thought was enough to give him a grin. As if things mattered to him. He had all the money in the world, yet he cared for nothing. No one. The only reason he was inside her house, digging through her precious and private things was to find a connection. Any connection. If there was none, maybe he’d allow her to live.

  He stood in her bedroom, his eyes sweeping the tiny room. After searching her closet and dresser, he was satisfied at finding nothing useful. Then again, too fucking bad. His thoughts turned venomous, his desires breeching the very limited amount of humanity he’d been able to capture, pretending he was another man.

  No, he had to wait. To play this out. He left her bedroom just as he’d found it and headed for the front door. The second hallway drew his attention. The half bath contained nothing remotely useful, but the closed door grabbed at his curiosity. A cold wafting of air assaulted his senses when he walked in and he fumbled to find a light.

  The harsh overhead illuminated a series of pictures, paintings that he knew instantly belonged to her. He was drawn, pulled toward them as if by some unforeseen force. He studied the faces, men and women who had no idea their picture had been taken. The situations were odd, very off kilter. Why would anyone paint something like this?

  A wave of anxiety grabbed at his heart, closing his throat. The faces were all familiar. But from where? There was nothing beautiful about them. No smiles. No laughter. They were all in the throes of despair. Anger, hatred, fear and self-loathing aspects were portrayed. Time and time again in bold and vibrant colors. He moved around them, refusing to get but so close. If he touched even the edge of a canvas, he knew he’d be sucked in, pulled into her realm. What in the fuck was he thinking?

  He rubbed his mouth, hissing as beads of sweat flowed down both sides of his face. Who was this girl? His air supply continued to be constricted and he had difficulty catching a single full breath. He had to get out. He had to leave this place. Dear God, they were all coming for him. The people in the paintings were looking at him. Staring at him. Beckoning to him. “No!”

  The word seemed to echo. Then they were laughing. They were laughing at him. Panting, he tried to make sense of what was happening as a cold chill shifted down his spine. Nausea gripped his stomach and he backed away, stumbling. Red. Blood. Something caught his eye, the details swirling, images moving closer to him. Closer still. “Get away!”

  He walked forward, unable to stop himself. He tried to back away. He tried to leave, to get the fuck out of this…

  You will die…

  Had the words been said? Had he issued them. He continued taking steps closer. One more painting. One last vestige of his very sanity. Then he saw the face, the man’s face and he…

  He wasn’t certain how long he’d been inside the house or how he managed to get out. He honestly had no idea if what he’d seen was real or a nightmare created so many years before. As he started the engine, he gave her house one last look.

  Then he smiled.

  “I’ve been looking into New Horizons,” Mitchell said casually as he sat back in his seat. “Quite a bit, given our concerns.”

  “Interesting. I thought that was my job.” Zach studied the small jazz club and tried to relax. He knew enough about his friend that Mitchell wouldn’t let his concerns just drop.

  He nodded and leaned forward. “While you were enjoying some recreation, I was doing some digging and don’t you dare push me away. If we’re going to do this deal with New Horizons, we need to know what we’re facing. If there’s something going on that’s of a sinister nature, then we are walking away.”

  Zach wanted to be angry but regardless of the threats, he couldn’t allow Rush to become compromised for any reason. “All right. I agree.”

  “Good.” He glanced around the room before leaning further over the table. “Didn’t it seem odd to you that the owner of the company suddenly disappeared, leaving two men we’ve never talked to in charge of the deal?”

  “Business. Happens all the time. What are you getting at?” His buddy was fishing for something.

  “The owner, Jeff Parker has been a go getter on the development scene since he was eighteen years old. New Horizons belonged to his father and Jeff took over when his father had certain issues.”

  “Issues. You mean the criminal activity?” Zach had spent several hours digging into the corporation, trying to find any dirt or otherwise unscrupulous activity. “There are some missing pieces regarding the company. His father was a heavy hitter, and not in a good way.”

  “An understatement. You know? We pay you well for a reason.” Mitchell laughed and wrapped his hand around his drink, lookin
g over his shoulder then lowering his voice. “Jeff worked hard trying to alleviate the bad reputation his father had left on the floundering company. From what I’ve been able to tell, New Horizons was stellar in business practices as well as how they handled their clients. Jeff is a consummate businessman and worth millions.”

  “But?”

  “There have been certain insinuations made during the last year.”

  Zach thought about the various newspaper articles he’d read. “Worries that the recent development failures forced Jeff to turn to his father’s old clients?”

  Mitchell nodded. “Bingo. Then out of the blue the man disappears. There is no sign of him. None. He left his office one day and hasn’t been heard from since. No wife. No real family to speak of given his father died almost two years ago. Poof. He’s gone.”

  “What are you thinking? That he was murdered?”

  He exhaled and took a sip before answering. “I’m thinking that there’s some reason New Horizons wanted to dump the land. As far as Jeff’s whereabouts, my guess is that he’s sitting on some pristine beach, drinking margaritas at this point. He’s a smart enough man to know when to get the hell out.”

  “And you don’t think this has anything to do with Indian burial ground.”

  “Well, in a manner of speaking, yeah it does, but not for the reasons of whether or not bodies are rotting away in the dirt.” Mitchell swirled his glass, dropping his gaze as he shook his head. “I know some people who have been around the real estate development world for over thirty years. I asked a few questions.”

  Zach heard the tone of Mitchell’s voice change. “What did you find?”

  Mitchell hesitated, his eyes sweeping over Zach.

  “What are you so afraid of telling me?”

  “When you unearth ugly rocks and turn them over, you know what you find, rats and roaches.”

  Zach was beginning to feel smothered. He took a gulp of his drink, a sixth sense settling in. “Spit out what you’re dying to tell me.”

  “Just hold on. Christopher Parker, Jeff’s father, was considered one of the most corrupt businessmen in California. He was worth millions and although he started out legit, at least from what I’ve heard, his needs escalated. Power is often treacherous.” He allowed the words to sink in as if waiting for a retort. “Then he got involved with some shady characters. They developed a new business, one that branched out.”

  “Illegal activities. I read the limited reports. They ran the West, spiraling their business practices into various industries, allowing them to stay one step ahead of the law.”

  “You knew more than you wanted to tell me. Interesting,” Mitchell said quietly.

  “I like to put all of the pieces together. You know that,” Zach retorted.

  Mitchell snorted. “Okay, then no doubt this is redundant but let’s go on with the story. Mr. Parker and his consortium had ties to organized crime and while the four men involved maintained lucrative and legal businesses, their fortunes were made in drug money. That much is on the records. There were difficulties, threats and many of the employees were rounded up and sent to prison. That put a damper on the business.”

  Zach remained unblinking, sipping his drink.

  “When Christopher turned over the business to Jeff, he was being investigated by the DEA as well as the FBI for various crimes. There was supposed to be a significant amount of money on the table that also disappeared. The story gets sketchy from there. A hell of a lot of information simply doesn’t exist. From what my friend told me, Christopher was indicted then the charges were dropped soon after.” He took another gulp of his drink.

  Beads of sweat oozed down the back of Zach’s neck. This much he didn’t know, didn’t care to learn. “The witnesses disappeared.”

  “Two in particular and the others refused to testify after that. My buddy couldn’t tell me much else other than the name of one other member of the consortium. There’s no information that I can find on this man. No newspaper articles, no reports of any kind. The consortium all but disappeared, along with a huge amount of the money the group had amassed.”

  Zach had no idea what to say.

  Mitchell eased his glass onto the table and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I did find this.” He held his hand on top and locked eyes with Zach. “Things are often not what they seem. Look carefully, my good friend.”

  The words were a double-edged sword, a direct jab. When Mitchell finally slid the paper across the table, he hesitated before picking it up. The black and white picture was grainy, the four men standing in front of an office building obviously taken from a telephoto lens, but in the few moments as he concentrated, staring at a moment from the past, he held his breath, his mind swirling. He was taken back to so many years before, a time that he wanted nothing more than to erase from his mind.

  And from his life.

  “The one on the right is Christopher Parker. Do you recognize the other three?” Mitchell asked after a full minute.

  He swallowed and fingered the photograph, his anger increasing. Tamping back his emotions, he looked at his friend in the eye. “Not at all. Do you know who they are?”

  “I have one name. The other two men were never in the forefront of the business.” He held back, his finger moving back and forth across the lip of his glass.

  “Who is it?” Zach managed.

  “Thomas Blackfoot. From what I understand, he is a well-known Indian Chief, or at least he was before his untimely murder almost ten years ago.”

  The words hung, floating around him. “Never heard of him.”

  “Hmm… Okay. Well, at least we have one of the names.”

  “What are you getting at?” Zach challenged. “What does this have to do with the real estate deal we’re facing now? Are you trying to insinuate that one or most of them are back in the picture?”

  Mitchell leaned forward again. “I’m not insinuating anything. These four men controlled Indian real estate as well as introducing drugs to various reservations. They used certain tribes in order to gain profit. They allowed their greed to destroy good men and women. Christopher and Thomas were murdered because of their involvement. At least that’s the gossip from years ago. Word on the street is that the third man in the consortium wanted to take control and the fourth simply vanished, much like Jeff has. Whether Jeff has any remaining ties to his father’s organization is anyone’s guess. Then again. Like father. Like son. Family business is hard to shake. This sale is for a reason. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  He pushed the picture back across the table. “Then we don’t purchase the land.”

  “I don’t think that’s what this is about any longer. Do you? I think there are deeper and much darker reasons that Rush is involved. My guess is. So. Do. You.” Mitchell polished off his drink then shoved his chair back, climbing to his feet. His hand gripped the table and he tipped his head, his face pensive. “When you’re ready to tell me the truth about your past, I’ll be happy to listen. When you’re ready to allow me in, to give me an understanding of why, then I’m here. Until that point, you’re on suspension as our counselor. Do you understand?”

  He could hear such angst in his friend’s words, such trepidation and sadness. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do. I think you understand completely. Why you decided to hide your past from Camden and myself is beyond me, but I guess you have your reasons.” He took a step away from the table then leaned down. “I suggest you look in the mirror. The past is coming back to yank you straight into Hell.”

  Zach homed in on the words, the inflection and the thumping sound as Mitchell left the table and walked toward the exit. His heart racing, he gripped the table and slumped in his chair, glaring at the picture. Why now? Why couldn’t he leave the ugliness from his past in the padlocked black box he’d placed it in? Why?

  He knew the answer and it terrified him to death.

  Hanging his head, he grab
bed the photograph, shoving it into his pocket. The secret was coming to a head. The monster who’d brutalized his life would never leave him alone. Death was the only answer.

  He dropped money and couldn’t get away from the table fast enough. When he stormed through the club, a table caught his eye. Even in the darkness, the simply lit romantic space highlighted by the glow of warm candles, he could see her face. Cassandra. She was laughing, her face lit up as if enjoying every moment.

  Sucking in his breath, he watched as if in slow motion the way her companion eased his hand over her arm, gripping. Caressing. Danger. The word hovered like a wretched omen. His life was being ripped apart.

  Only this time, he refused to accept what was happening. This time, he would take control. And no man was going to take what belonged to him.

  Not without a fight to the death.

  Cassandra sat in her car in front of her house for at least ten minutes. She wasn’t frightened of going inside. She didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Then again, she’d been offered the opportunity to go home with Diego. He didn’t want to take no for an answer. He’d seemed surprised, even incensed when she’d rejected the offer. Yes, the man was good looking and yes, she could have considered dating him in another lifetime, but not after watching both he and Ken maneuver around their objectives for having her at the meeting. One thing was for certain. Diego Myers and Ken Logan were more than they pretended to be. She didn’t need her spirit world to tell her that piece of information. Slimy had come to mind, even though she wasn’t entirely certain why.

  They were just… Hissing, she allowed her thoughts to shift to Zach. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with him, hold each other tight. She had a terrible feeling that wasn’t going to happen soon if ever again.

  When she finally found the courage to ease out of the car, she shivered, her body covered in goose bumps. She’d seen Zach at the bar and knew he’d noticed her. The look on the man’s face had been…accusatory. Then again, Diego had been more than attentive, hungry to find out more about her.