Ash Rising (DEAd Series)

by Melissa Fox

  Ash broke away with raised brows.

  “Oh, like I didn’t figure that out from day one.” Liz got off the bike and waved her hand airily. “But she can bitch and pout all she wants. I’m going to be the one taking care of this tonight.”

  She palmed him through his jeans, and he grunted at the unexpected but not unwelcome touch. “And every other.”

  “Got to go,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him again despite her words.

  Groaning, she pushed away, and he fisted his hands on his thighs, forced his feet to stay planted on either side of the bike to keep from going after her. She walked backward, her fingers touching her kiss-swollen lips, and he bared his teeth at her. With a startled laugh, she whirled away and marched into the house.

  Ash sat on the bike for a few seconds after the front door shut, willing himself to cool the fuck off before he did something stupid like chase her down and carry her away as if he were some evil villain. Mainlining caffeine and going over information on the next delivery to be cleared through the Port of Toronto was on his agenda. The job was big given the odd way Rico had been acting, and the whole deal made his instincts sit up and take notice. He needed to figure out why.

  Back at his apartment, he debated about contacting Andy, but he should get a better idea of what was involved in the shipment before reporting to the team. A knock sounded on his door before he could consider the wisdom of that decision.

  After glancing through the peephole with a hand on the gun tucked into his waistband—he hadn’t been expecting visitors that morning—he raised a brow and pulled the door open to find Andy in the hall. “Hey, man. I was just going to give you a call. I’m on my way to grab a coffee. I’ve got something I want to run by you, if you’ve got a few minutes.”

  Andy grabbed his arm to stop him as he moved around the apartment searching for his keys. “We need to talk, Asher, but not here. Now, okay?”

  “Okay.” He examined Andy’s features, and dread prickled in his gut at the look on his face.

  Ash followed him through the front door of the apartment and into the foyer. Only a few short steps, and they were out on the sidewalk where Andy hailed a cab.

  “Let’s head to the safe house,” Andy muttered as the bright yellow sedan jerked to a halt.

  Ash started to get into the backseat of the vehicle, but froze at the words to stare at his friend.

  “Jesus, Andy.” Alarm spread from his gut. If Andy wanted to go to the safe house, the news must be bad. A thought struck, and his heart shot into his throat, threatening to choke him. He swayed and reached out to steady himself on the open door. “It’s not Liz, is it? For fuck’s sake, Andy, it’s not…Liz?”

  “No.” Andy shook his head and pushed him into the car. “It’s not about her. As far as I know she’s fine and right where you left her. At home.”

  “How did you—” Ash shook his head. He didn’t want to know how Andy got that piece of information.

  He stared out the window during the ride across town, leg bouncing in the cautious silence until they arrived near their destination. Andy instructed the driver to pull over a few blocks away from the safe house.

  Ash couldn’t imagine what Andy had to tell him, so he tried not to guess. As long as Liz was safe, he’d deal. Andy unlocked the door to the townhouse and Ash followed him inside. When they were satisfied the residence was secure, Ash stalked into the kitchen and spun to face Andy.

  “What’s happened?” he demanded.

  Andy dropped his gaze, and Ash fought the urge to punch him. Had to be something big, but speculating was pointless. Andy would tell him soon enough.

  “Maybe we should sit,” Andy hedged.

  “Maybe you should just fucking tell me what’s going on,” Ash growled.

  “Ash.”

  His stomach jumped at the catch in his friend’s voice. Something was really fucked up. Andy raised wet, reddened eyes, and Ash’s pulse accelerated to sickening thuds.

  “Ash, your mom and dad were killed last night.”

  “Wha—” His chest tightened with a vicious squeeze. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe. “What?”

  He staggered forward, and Andy jumped to catch or support, but Ash held his hand out to stop him. Gasping for breath, he stared blankly at his own knees, body hunched over to ward off pain and welcome denial.

  “What…” His voice rasped hoarse, rough. Ash shook his head and tried again. “You’re sure?” He barked out a laugh. “Of course you’re sure. Sorry.”

  “Ash. I’m sorry.” Andy lifted a hand toward him but let his arm drop.

  Ash gripped the back of the chair and concentrated on his knuckles, trembling and white with strain. He had to stop the room from whirling around him. Heaving in one breath and then another, he swallowed shock and grief, but the bitter, burning scorch seared his throat. Darkness grasped at his extremities and sapped his strength, threatened his control. He swayed but managed to stay upright, staring hard at the floor and then squeezing his eyes shut as fury washed over him in another soul-crushing wave.

  “How?” he managed to croak.

  “Carjacking,” Andy told him in an even tone.

  “Carjacking?” Ash’s gaze jerked to Andy’s. He spun and stood in the middle of the kitchen, pressing his fists to his forehead. Another choked, humorless laugh escaped him. “Carjacking?”

  “They were at the theater,” Andy explained, his voice low with heartache. “In your dad’s car, heading home. Someone came up when they stopped at a stoplight, and…and…”

  “And what?” Ash demanded through gritted teeth when Andy couldn’t continue.

  “And whoever it was shot them. First your dad, and then your m-mom. Ash—”

  A harsh sob tore free from Ash’s chest and erupted into the room. He wavered and stumbled before catching the counter, braced both hands on the edge and hung his head, shoulders heaving with the effort draw breath. In an explosion of movement, he grabbed the coffee pot sitting next to the refrigerator and threw it against the wall. The carafe shattered in a hail of glass, and then he did the same with the coffee maker. They both stared at the fragments, Ash panting for breath, Andy with tears on his face.

  “Ash.”

  He spun toward his friend. “I want to see them.”

  “What? No.” Shock broke through the grief in Andy’s voice. “You can’t.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  “Even if you weren’t undercover…Ash, there’s no way. It’s too dangerous. Your cover.”

  “Fuck my cover.” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

  “You don’t mean that. Daniel’s on his way over with the file—with all the information we have so far. Lisa…Lisa went down to identify them.”

  Another horrible sound tore loose from somewhere inside his being, and Andy flinched.

  “We’re taking care of them, Ash. Count on it.”

  They both looked up as the front door opened, and Daniel’s large figure appeared, momentarily backlit by the sun. He strode into the kitchen and dropped a leather portfolio on the table. Without preamble, he grabbed Ash and pulled him into a hard, rocking hug. Ash struggled for a brief second before accepting the embrace. His hands fisted in the back of Daniel’s shirt as a sob rose from one of them. Ash didn’t know whom the sound came from, but Andy’s arms wrapped around them both.

  He eventually separated from his friends, and Daniel examined his face before stepping back.

  “I’m sorry, man.” His gaze was steady. “We loved them, too.”

  “I know.” After a few intense seconds, Ash glanced away to see the thin binder on the table.

  “That’s everything we have so far. Isn’t much,” Daniel warned as Ash picked up the seemingly innocuous case. “Only been a few hours.”

  He moved to Ash’s side and put his hand over the file. Ash stared at him, his body tense as he prepared to fight for the information contained inside.

  “Pictures are in
there, buddy,” Daniel said. “Want me to take them out first?”

  Ash stared hard at the bland brown cover of the file. He swallowed and shook his head, fingers unsteady as he leafed through the pages. He couldn’t look. He had to see. Oh, God. A sickening lurch rocked both his gut and head, so intense he thought he’d explode in either vomit or a scream, followed by pure, scorching fury. He dropped the file on the table, braced himself on his arms over the papers, and an eerie keening sound issued from the depths of his chest. Daniel grabbed the file and snapped the cover shut, then handed it to Andy who placed the bundle on top of the fridge.

  “Knew that was a bad idea,” Daniel muttered, placing his hand on Ash’s back. “Are you okay?”

  Ash’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs with a strange whistling sound he heard from a distance. Grey seeped in from the edges of his vision—he was about to pass out for the first time in his life. His knees gave out, but Daniel caught him and eased him into a chair. After a long time of concentrating on nothing other than not puking, he gradually became aware of the rumble of their voices.

  “They were executed.” Ash thought he’d spoken clearly. The words and images were sharp in his mind, but his friends stopped talking to stare at him.

  “What?”

  “They were executed.” He said the words slowly, carefully. His voice echoed in the silent room.

  Ash caught the uneasy glance Andy and Daniel exchanged over his head before he lowered his gaze to stare at his hands. He unclenched and laid them flat on the scarred wooden table. Daniel crouched next to Ash’s chair, balanced on the balls of his feet, and covered one of Ash’s hands with his.

  “We don’t know that. There hasn’t been enough time to—”

  “You saw the crime scene photos.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Ash shoved his chair back and leapt to his feet. Daniel flailed but managed to stay upright.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit! You saw the same thing I did.” He flung his arm in the direction of the refrigerator and incriminating photographs. “They were fucking executed, and you know it.”

  Daniel could only hold his infuriated glare for a few seconds before looking away. Ash snarled and held out his hand, shaking his arm impatiently when Andy didn’t respond.

  “What?” Andy asked.

  Ash spun on him. “Give me the file.”

  “Ash, I don’t think—” Andy began uncomfortably.

  “Give me the fucking file,” he growled from between his teeth.

  Andy searched his face, but reached up and grabbed the folder, placing the heavy weight in his hand.

  “If you’re right…” Andy’s voice was hesitant. “If you’re right, the situation is all kinds of fucked.”

  Daniel stepped forward. “If you’re right, then your life is in danger, too.”

  “Your cover.” Andy shook his head. “The entire operation.”

  “Yeah.” Ash stalked out of the room to sit on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, his hands buried in the hair at his temples, forehead on his knees. He’d tossed the file on the table, and pages fanned across the surface. He couldn’t bear to go through the contents again, but he fought past the suffocating tightness wrapped around his heart and forced himself to examine each page, memorize every last detail, which proved to be both too much and not enough. He had no idea how much time passed before his friends appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the claustrophobic living room.

  “Hey.” Daniel braced his arms on the doorjamb.

  “I need to go home.”

  “Home?” Daniel repeated cautiously. “Like, lake house home, or…”

  Another vicious stab stole his breath as he thought of his home—his parents’ home. “Not the lake house. My apartment.”

  “Okay. We can get you a cab the next street over. Do you want me to go with you? Or Andy?”

  “No.” Ash struggled to unfold his large body from the small space he’d wedged himself into. “But thanks. I need to think.”

  “Ash.” Daniel helped him get to his feet. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  “Me? No.” He tried to grin but felt as awful as the expression must have looked. He paused when a thought struck him. “Does Davenport know?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel grimaced. “Look, Ash, if it’s true, if they were executed—”

  “If it’s true, then I’m fucked.” Ash’s voice was flat. “The entire operation is. Keep on top of this for me while I figure out what the hell is going on, okay? I need to know you guys have my back.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you,” Ash gripped Daniel’s shoulder more for support than gratitude, but definitely a lot of both.

  Andy scooped the papers off the coffee table and put them back in the file. Holy hell, the urge to grab them, to go over every detail again and again until they made sense…but nothing ever would. He couldn’t risk having the documents on his person or in his apartment, especially if what he suspected proved true. Daniel walked to the kitchen, talking on his cell phone, his voice quiet. He couldn’t make out what he said or whom he talked to, but that didn’t matter. He trusted both Andy and Daniel without question.

  “Come on.” Daniel came back into the front room where Ash stood motionless, staring at nothing, thinking nothing, doing nothing. He wanted to feel nothing, but what a futile wish. “We’ll walk a couple of blocks and catch you a cab back to your apartment.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Andy grasped his hand and then pulled him close for a brief hug. “I’m sorry, Ash. Let me know if there’s anything you need, okay? No matter what. I’ll figure out a way to get to you.”

  Ash nodded, unable to speak. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to maintain the fierce grip he held on his emotions. He had to make it just a little while longer, until he was safely back in his apartment. Then he could let go for a few brief moments of grief before pulling the shroud of deception over his head once again. He followed Daniel’s large figure out of the safe house, his head down and hands in his pockets. A yellow cab pulled to the curb, and Daniel opened the door. Ash glanced at his friend, expecting Daniel to insist on seeing him to his apartment. He would have refused, of course, but thought Daniel would make the effort. Daniel merely angled his head, indicating he should get in the vehicle. Ash looked at the driver—not in alarm, but in interest.

  Pete Davenport sat behind the wheel. Ash eased into the backseat and met Pete’s gaze in the rearview mirror as the taxi pulled smoothly into traffic.

  “I’m sorry,” Pete offered. Ash jerked his head in acknowledgement and turned to stare unseeing out the window. “Of course we’re making this a priority. We’ll do everything we can to catch whoever is responsible.”

  “You saw the crime scene photographs.” Pete nodded, and Ash shut his eyes, leaning his head against the cool glass. “The guys haven’t figured it out yet.”

  Ash blinked, once again meeting Pete’s steady regard in the rearview mirror to see if his boss understood, and not the fact his parents had been killed execution-style. Pete maneuvered through the streets to Ash’s apartment. “No. Don’t imagine they’ve made the connection yet.”

  “But you have.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We have a leak.”

  Pete looked like he would argue but just sighed again. “Yes, I think we do.”

  “There’s no way anyone followed me home or to or from any of the other UC assignments, not that I’ve had many lately. The cover team would have picked up on a tail. I don’t have anything on me or with me that someone could use. Nothing. My apartment is clean.”

  “I know. I was just there. Clean as a whistle.”

  Good to know Pete hadn’t found anything incriminating. The fact didn’t lessen his sense of responsibility for what happened, but at least he hadn’t made a careless mistake.

  They rode in silence for a few blocks before Pete spoke again. “I’m going to pull you, Ash. If
there is a leak—”

  “No!” Ash sat forward and smacked his hand against the plexiglass separating the passenger compartments of the taxi.

  “If there’s a leak,” Pete continued implacably, “it’s not safe. You’re not safe.”

  “Not safe?” Ash bit out. “I haven’t been safe since day one. I knew that, knew what I was getting myself into. What I didn’t know is that it would bring my parents—my parents, damn it—into it. You can’t pull me now, Pete. I’ve got to find out who did this, who the leak is.”

  “All the more reason to pull you. You can’t be objective, Ash. Not safe for you or anyone else involved in the operation.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Exactly what I’m talking about. No,” he said when Ash started to interrupt him again. “Has it occurred to you the others aren’t safe, either? Daniel and Andy. Liz.” Pete pulled out the only reason that would give Ash pause. “And everyone else involved in the operation. Ash, if they know who you are, what you are, then they know about them. The entire team is vulnerable if it’s true. Think, constable.”

  Ash’s mouth opened and closed. He scrambled to find something to make his point, but he couldn’t. Liz. He’d sworn he would do everything in his power to keep her out of harm’s way, that he’d never let his job put her at risk. He’d sworn the same about his family, too, but all his promises and good intentions had done nothing but get them killed.

  “Find out,” he finally said. “Find out what happened, Pete, if Rico or any of his gang is responsible for this. We can go from there. If he did this…if he had someone do this…”

  Rage tangled his tongue and felt a whole hell of a lot better than the debilitating grief. He needed his wits about him more than ever. Taking a couple deep breaths, he fought the nausea still lingering in his belly. Pete cast him a concerned glance in the mirror but didn’t say anything until he pulled up in front of Ash’s apartment building.

  “Are you going to be okay tonight, Beaulieu?” He turned in his seat to meet Ash’s gaze.

  Ash nodded curtly.

  “No shame in needing some help, not after the news you got today. I don’t want to lose you, not now. Don’t do anything stupid. Ask for help, company, or a punching bag at the gym if you need to. That’s an order.”