by Keri Lake
Dax frowned, his eyes quickly diverting to the side, where the waitress sidled up to the table, and he waved his hand toward me, offering to let me order first.
“Coffee. Black. To go.” I hated drinking coffee at night, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be sleeping much, anyway.
“Same.” Dax gave her a nod and a wink, sending the waitress off toward the kitchen, and he leaned back toward me. “He tell you everything?”
I nodded and sat back in my chair, the pangs of disgust churning in my stomach all over again. “I’m not saying this for his benefit, but for Ty’s. Karl Kutscher, as you know, has connections. The kind that can eliminate a person’s existence as easily as blowing out a candle. Gone. I won’t let that happen to Ty.” I’d seen the effects firsthand, how easily my father could modify documents in such a way that Ty could find himself under investigation for ISIS terrorist attacks if he wasn’t careful.
With a huff, Dax sat back, stretching his arms across the back of the booth. Jesus, the guy’s wingspan was as wide as I was tall. Another smile cracked his lips, and he shook his head. “Slick motherfucker got to you, didn’t he?”
The waitress set the coffees down in front of us, and slid something in front of Dax—a white piece of paper he glanced down to and back. Only then did I take a minute to look at her young face, black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and slim frame with deep cleavage. She fought to hide a smile as she turned away from our table.
“You must get that a lot.” I sat forward, clearing my throat, and blew the steam away.
Pushing the paper off to the side, Dax lifted his cup, as if to drink it, but set it back down again. “Look, he’s on a mission, Sera. Ain’t nothing I can do. Everyone gets what’s comin’ to them.”
“I’m not arguing that. All I’m asking is, after you retrieve whatever it is you need on that ledger, I want you to send a message to my father. I want him to know something bigger is coming after him. More powerful. I don’t know who’s behind your operation, but it put a known criminal in hiding.”
“So, you want to scare the shit out of your dad. So he’ll do what? Flee?”
“Yeah. Why not? I don’t know the scope of Tesarik’s power. All I know is my father fears him. And whatever Tesarik fears.”
“Tesarik fears getting shut down. Losing money. His power.”
“Then, I’m certain my father will be pissing his pants when he finds out some savvy hackers have gotten their hands on that ledger.”
“You’re a conniving little mermaid, you know that? No wonder Ty’s all messed up for you.”
“What …. What do you mean, messed up for me?”
“Dipshit wouldn’t look me in the eye when he talked about you.” Dax pointed at his own chocolate brown eyes that complemented his dark hair and olive skin tone. “Eyes don’t lie. And he had a dimple in his cheek to top it off. Bullshit sundae with a cherry on top.”
I chuckled and dropped my gaze from his. “Well, going after my father doesn’t exactly make for a great start to a relationship.”
His lips thinned as he ran his finger over the plastic cup cover. “Nah, I guess it wouldn’t. But who knows? Hope’s a fickle bitch sometimes. Personally, I’ve never been much of a fan. But fate? Now, she’s the real deal.”
“I don’t think you can have one without the other.”
“Ah, that’s not always true. You can wish and hope all you want, but there is no escaping the one. No matter what. If it’s meant to be, it’s gonna happen.”
I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. Unfortunately, fate and I didn’t always have the best rapport.
* * *
I pushed through the door of my apartment, exhausted and in dire need of sleep, in spite of the coffee I’d chugged. So many thoughts swirled inside my head, I didn’t have the mental power to grasp a single one.
Coming home to quiet had become a depressing idea since rooming with Bea. Initially, I’d hated the noise and the constant distraction, but I could’ve used it right then. I had no idea how long it’d take my father to realize the ledger was missing, and of course, having given me the key, he’d immediately know who’d taken it.
I was certain if Dax had been privy to how little I actually meant to Karl Kutscher, he probably wouldn’t have requested it. Giving me the key had nothing to do with his trust, or love, for me. It was no different than strapping a bomb to a child and pushing her into the line of fire.
Anyone looking for the key, if they wanted it badly enough, would surely come after his only daughter.
My thoughts drifted back to Shawn, my heart aching with sadness. How he must’ve looked at me, living in that mansion, seemingly doted on by the man who’d thrown him away. He could’ve killed me that night, but I prayed maybe he saw a small glimpse of his own pain. The fact that Karl had used the media to portray himself as a distraught father might’ve told Shawn what he’d needed to know—my father didn’t give a shit about me, either.
The only reason he’d bothered to keep me around was to give him the much-needed humanity he appeared to have lacked in the public eye. They’d begun to paint him as a monster sympathizing with other monsters. I became his prop, the one thing he’d reference whenever fingers pointed in his direction.
‘I understand your fears. I have a young daughter myself.’ His favorite line when addressing the accusations in press conferences. Always made me sick to hear him talk about me, as if he’d ever given any thought to the fears that plagued loving parents.
Heading toward the bathroom, I stripped out of my clothes along the way, tossing my shirt and jeans into a hamper. I flipped on the shower, letting the steam roll over the top, and reached back to pop my bra.
What sounded like a thud beyond the bathroom door made me pause, chin angled high, as I listened for any further movement. I glanced around me, searching for anything I might use as a weapon, and scrambled for the leather case under the sink, slipping Bea’s haircutting scissors from their sheath inside.
Another thump shot panic through my muscles, and I rose slowly, slipping into the robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door, and the pair of boots propped against the wall that I hadn’t bothered to put away the day before. Doc Martens served as an effective weapon when used properly.
While the shower sprayed on, I tucked the scissors against my chest and tiptoed toward the door, resisting the urge to call out for Bea. Wrapping the robe tight across my front, I continued on through the doorway, into my bedroom, eyes searching for the source of the noise.
Cold steel lifted my chin. A blade propped at my throat.
My body went corpse stiff, my throat dry as a carcass in the hot sun.
“Hello, Sera.” The familiar voice rippled down my spine, drawing a crimp from my lip.
“What do you want, Dane?” I growled, tightening my grip of the scissors still clutched in my right hand.
I didn’t give him the chance to respond, but drew back my fist and pounded the sharp steel tip into what I assumed was his thigh. The blade fell away from my throat at the same time his scream shattered against my ear.
He bent forward, and I slipped out from under him, stopped short by his grab of my ankle. “Little bitch!”
I kicked and wriggled, clawing across the floor to get away.
Flames licked my belly as he yanked me backward, and I pivoted to face him, aiming my boot for his nuts.
Before I could make contact, he leapt on top of me, pressing all two-hundred-some pounds onto my small frame, crushing my lungs beneath his weight.
“Get off!” I screamed, my voice turning raspy with the lack of breath.
“Oh, I plan on it, sweetheart. In fact, I was thinking maybe we’d send the video to your boyfriend.”
A flash in my periphery gave no warning before the cold hard crack smarted my jaw. Stars exploded behind my shuttered lids, and I rolled my head on the floor in a piss poor attempt to regain focus.
“That’s for stabbing me with the fucking scissors, but I
’ll save the real retaliation for your little boyfriend.”
Jaw throbbing, I shook my head, the bitter smile on my face failing to reflect the rage pulsing through me. “Dane, believe me when I tell you, you’re fucking with the wrong wolf.” A choked laugh punched through my chest, feeling like an explosion against the pressure weighing down on me. “You’re undoubtedly crazy, but Ty? He’s bat-shit with a side of schizo, and if you want to remain in one piece, I suggest you get the hell out of here right now.”
“I’m shaking. Really. How ‘bout if, instead of me running away like a pussy, we find a nice quiet place to film ourselves.” He lifted a rag from somewhere beyond my view and covered my mouth. “And then you’re going to tell me where you put that ledger.”
“You’re dead, Dane. So … fu …ka … deah.”
His face blurred, widened, like looking at him through a glass, where the edges slowly filtered in from the sides. Too quickly, he shrank to nothing but a pinprick.
36
Ty
A man who feared nothing had either never stared into the black void of his future, or had and accepted what he saw there. For every risk I’d taken in life, I’d always accepted the consequences, the unknowns that most sought to avoid. They’d rather live in the safe corners, where fear was nothing more than a news report, or a dark room. A channel they could change in one click, with the urge to flick on the light and never have to think about it again.
For some of us, fear simply wasn’t an option, because every day was unknown. Like being locked inside a room with no light switch. Every day brought us one step closer to death. And when the body became accustomed to surviving, fear simply no longer had a purpose. I’d reached the intoxicating pinnacle of fear, staring miles down into the blackness with a smile on my face, knowing damned well whatever lay at the bottom was fated to be my end.
For the first time in my life, though, I dreaded the future. Without Sera there, I couldn’t stand to look beyond, to peer into that void without the shuddering reality that she would never belong to me.
I had no choice but to let her go.
As if my body was pulled by strings, I moved like a puppet, no feeling, no emotion, no desire anymore. On X-ray, my insides would probably show up as one big, vacuous hole—no heart, no lungs. Just hollow.
I set my pack on the bed, not surprised that my whole fucking life fit into one bag.
Three things I’d learned while living with my Uncle Hank—pack light, don’t get attached, and clean up your mess afterward. Yet, for being completely dead inside, I found myself struggling with the last two.
Living with him had taught me that, once you started a life on the run, you couldn’t sit still for any great length of time. Sera didn’t strike me as the type of woman who’d be content always running from place to place. She’d never leave Jo—that much I’d gathered just from watching her care for Eli’s mom.
I shoved bottles of whiskey, a couple waters, and some granola bars into the hiking backpack. Once I’d eliminated the last name from my list, I’d hide out until things settled. Maybe after, I’d reclaim the plans for Dubai and travel that part of the globe for a while.
Clutching the pack, I blew out a harsh breath and shook my head. Anger, like molten steel, crawled through my veins, and I threw the pack against the wall, watching the contents explode onto the floor.
I wanted Sera. I wanted her more than anything. More than watching that fat prick’s face twist in pain. More than my fury and the insatiable craving for revenge. I wanted her more than the fucked up life that awaited me—the blackness on the horizon promising death.
It wasn’t about her beauty, her smarts, her body, although those had certainly left their mark on me. I was drawn to her light. Her purity and innocence, as if I’d been buried alive in a cold dark tomb for too long, before being given one breath, one moment of warmth on my skin. I craved her as much as the air and the heat I needed to feel alive again.
A high-pitched screech ripped through my eardrum, rattling my spine, and I spun around to see the boy, mouth gaping. Eyes black as death watched me fall to my knees, my hands vised to my ears to block the screams that only seemed to grow louder, more intense.
“She’s mine!” I shouted, trembling at the piercing stabs that bounced over my eardrum.
The screams went silent.
I opened my eyes, lowering my hands to the chime of my phone.
The boy had disappeared, but I glanced around to be sure, then focused on the text popped up on my screen.
From Sera.
I pressed play on the attached video. The screen panned over a woman’s slim bare legs, while the cameraman reached out, running his hands over them. As it scanned higher, over her bra, my pulse thrummed at a murderous pace through my veins. He landed it on Sera’s sleeping face and, with a bruising grip of her jaw, zoomed in, setting off an explosion of rage through my muscles.
I breathed hard through my nose to keep from crushing the phone.
I have something you want. Meet me on the roof of the old Free Press building.
Free Press building. What the fuck was at the Free Press building? No doubt the text was a set up, but it didn’t matter. I had no choice.
The game had changed once again, only that time, someone else had stolen the first move.
And that someone was about to die a painful death.
* * *
Construction equipment lay scattered across the front of the Free Press building, and beside it, an enormous tower crane that stretched over two-hundred feet toward the sky. The handgun Hank had left me sat tucked inside my waistband, alongside the hunting blade he’d gifted me, snapped inside its sheath and clipped to my belt.
Same blade I’d used to cut out Trevi’s eyeball.
I hopped the fence in front and entered through the torn-away plywood at the front of the building. About fourteen stories spiraled above me, as I stared up the stairwell toward the roof. Flight after flight, I rounded each one, taking easy steps to conserve my breath, until I reached the top-most level of the building.
Dead pigeons lay scattered on the rusted paper-littered landing leading to the roof door, as if an apocalypse had come through, wiping everything out. Ear to the door, I listened for any sounds on the other side, and slid my Glock from its holster. Nothing.
Slamming my shoulder into the hard steel cracked it open enough to slide through. The rooftop greeted me with the sounds of traffic below and the crane, whose boom hovered over the north side of the building. Lights from the nearby buildings offered enough visibility to see in the darkness. Midnight had settled on the city, casting shadows across the gravel. Watching for any sign of movement, I rounded the small roof access to the south side, coming to a stop at the sight of Dane’s gun pointed at me.
My gun pointed at him.
I’d already resigned myself to the possibility that I’d be ambushed, but seeing Dane standing over Sera, who lay slumped, passed out on the gravelly rooftop in nothing but a robe and boots, served to fuel my desire to kill the motherfucker.
“That’s close enough.” Dane’s smug grin had my fist curling, and all the ways he could’ve already violated her played like the set up for a slasher flick through my mind.
Bruises on her legs and jaw had my blood pumping like liquid iron, ready to rain hell.
“Where’s the ledger?” he asked, his question failing to draw my eyes from Sera, even if the surprise momentarily broke my thoughts.
Jesus Christ, she’d gone after the ledger, anyway. The distraction didn’t last long before my current situation yanked me back to attention, and I focused on how exactly I’d go about killing the little cocksucker.
“I’ll start with your fingers,” I told him. In my mind’s eye, I pictured slicing my blade through them like butter, seeing how many would fit inside his mouth before I taped it shut. “For touching her.”
“So sweet. Emotions must come as a surprise for a psychopath like you.” He chuckled and lifted the gun
higher. “That’s why I’m not letting you near me, or her, let alone my fingers. See, I’ve done some homework about you. And I’m pretty sure Sera here is in deeper shit around you than she is with me.”
“I’m going to sever your femoral artery by stabbing your thigh as many times as it takes to cut through, and watch you bleed out,” I continued, ignoring him.
“Or you can answer the fucking question before I take the first shot.” Gun trained on me, he stepped behind Sera, backing himself to the wall of the railing. He sat down and pulled her limp body over top of him like a shield. “Doubt you’d take the chance.”
Sera’s eyes blinked open, and she stared up at me from below her brow. Her tongue swept across her lips, and in the next breath, she knocked the gun from his hand, rolling onto the ground beside him.
As he reached for his fallen weapon, I nailed the first shot in his shoulder, striding toward him.
“Motherfucker!” He gripped the wound, still clawing after the gun, and I hammered my boot into the back of his palm. Took less than a second to draw my blade, and I stabbed his index finger.
Dane howled in agony, while I pushed on the hilt of the knife, slicing clean through the tip of his finger.
A sting struck the back of my calf, where he bit down into my flesh, and I speared the knife into his thigh, the small trickle of blood telling me I’d missed my target. Dane screamed a second time, and at the crack of a gunshot from behind, he quieted to a whimper.
I twisted to find a portly man in a business suit, lowering his gun from the air, a tiny wisp leaking from its barrel.
Only he didn’t aim the gun at Dane or me. He held it steadily toward Sera.
With my attention fixed on Sera’s father, I didn’t notice Dane snatching up his own gun again until he had it pointed at me, and I alternated between aiming mine at him, and the man I had every intention of killing before night’s end.
“I thought you were in New York until Tuesday.” Sera’s voice, though tinged in disgust, quivered with fear.