My heart thumped loudly in my chest, a haze of white descended over my vision, and I stumbled forward in disbelief. Adrenaline forced its way through my body, forcing my limbs to shake uncontrollably, and the apple in my hand slipped free and rolled across the floor. Before me lay both Norm and Pen-Chan, face down, their hands secured behind their backs and blood seeping from their heads onto the stark white laundry tiles. So much blood. My breathing quickly became ragged as I struggled to stay upright. I’d never been good with blood, but since that night when I had worn it like a morbid dress, I was even worse. Just a drop caused me to fight passing out, and right now there was a lot more than a drop.
“Norm?” I whispered, my foot sliding in the blood as I stepped closer. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, I whispered under my breath, fighting the rapid breathing. Catching myself on the laundry bench, my stunned gaze took in the horror, my eyes seeing it, but my mind not wanting to believe it. I was no expert, but it looked like they had been shot in the back of the head.
“No, no, no,” I chanted, backing away from the bodies, my feet leaving a bloody trail of footprints as I moved out of the laundry room. They’d been shot. Then the fear hit me hard and fast. Was their attacker still in the house?
“Lola?”
I screamed and spun at the same time, the new voice flooding my body with the fight or flight response. With my legs poised to leap into a run, a familiar figure standing on the veranda brought my world to a stuttering halt. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said before his face morphed into a frighteningly beautiful mask of terror. He drew a gun from somewhere under his shirt. “Duck!”
While I couldn’t comprehend or find reason in his command, my body obeyed. Dropping to all fours on the polished hardwood floor, a popping sound rang out followed by a grunt and stomping feet.
Suddenly, I was lifted from the ground, and I lashed out at whoever had me, kicking and screaming to get free.
“It’s me, Lola,” said Drew, releasing me, that beautiful, familiar face leaning close, concern causing a small furrow in his brow. “Run.”
A not so gentle push in the middle of my back got me moving, and I ran out the front doors and down the stairs, almost face planting into the dirt at the bottom. Drew’s big hand latched onto my arm and prevented me from eating dirt.
“This way,” he urged, pulling me away from the path that led to the front office and instead around the tall support beams under the Gillies’ home.
When I reached the other side of the house, I paused, but Drew’s persistent hand pushed me again.
“Where?” I wondered out loud. In front of us was nothing but thick gardens which led to the Ping River. We’d be trapped between the water and whoever we were running from.
“To the river.”
This was Drew’s world, rescue and retrieval. He was once military, from what little information I was able to garner from Rebecca, so his instincts in this situation were far superior to mine. So, I ran, trusting Drew would keep me from whoever was behind us.
“Who was that?” I asked, already feeling short of breath.
“No idea,” he answered, not even panting.
Leaves slapped my face and branches scratched my skin as I ran blindly through the gardens. When I burst out the other side and felt the heat of the sun hit my skin, Drew grabbed my elbow and steered me along an overgrown path that ran alongside the river. Eventually, we came to a small bridge, and Drew pulled me up the slight incline until we were standing on hot asphalt. He didn’t stop, though; he tugged me along the road and towards the crowds which grew thicker as we neared the center of town.
My breath came in rasping gasps, and my lungs no longer felt big enough. My thighs burned, and my head thumped in time with my too fast heartbeat. My bare feet felt raw, and sweat dripped down my back and face when Drew finally slowed us to a brisk walk. Casting him a quick glance, I noticed he was no longer holding his gun, but he was hyper aware, glancing back over his shoulder and all around, his gaze never staying in one place longer than a heartbeat.
“Shit,” I spat out as I kicked my toe on a curb, and Drew cursed before taking my elbow and pulling me in another direction.
Allowing Drew to lead me to wherever he had in mind allowed my jumbled thoughts to find order. Oh god, Norm and Pen-Chan were dead. Like a taut rubber band, reality slapped back and hit me with sharp focus. Blood, so much blood. Glancing down at my feet, I noticed the dried crusted residue wedged between my toes. My gaze frantically sought something, anything, to prevent the panic attack that was about to own me. A slapping noise caught my attention, and my gaze settled on the colorful flags that flapped in the breeze atop one of Chiang Mai’s most famous restaurants. There were twelve in total; I’d counted them before. One, two, three, four, five, six . . . The familiar process calmed my frayed nerves a little, and I would have continued to count from the last flag back to the first if Drew hadn’t dragged me into a dimly lit store.
My arm was still held in his firm grip as he guided me to a rack with rubber soled flip-flops. Glancing at my feet, he swore.
“Pick a pair.” And with that, he vanished down a narrow aisle.
I quickly found my size and grabbed the first pair from the front of the rack, red, like blood. Shoving them back into their place, I took the blue pair that sat beside them. Drew was back, and his hand wrapped around my upper arm as he guided me toward the checkout. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a wallet, and threw on the counter what looked the Thai equivalent of twenty US dollars then turned and dragged me back towards the front doors.
“Change, change,” the young Thai woman behind the counter called out.
“Keep it,” Drew answered in fluent Thai.
Once back out in the crowds, Drew guided me to a shadowed alcove and knelt before me, ripping open a small pack of wipes. “Foot up,” he ordered with a quiet voice, tapping his thigh.
Lifting my foot, I placed it on his sturdy knee and watched in morbid fascination as he gently wiped away the blood from both feet. Then he tore away the tag from the flip-flops and placed them on the ground so I could slip into them. He nodded with approval before those sharp, intelligent eyes were surveying the world around us once more.
“They’ll do.”
“We should go to the police. We need to tell someone what happened to Norm and Pen-Chan. We can’t just leave them there like that,” I rambled as Drew began hauling me out into the open.
“No police, not yet.”
The thought of Norm and Pen-Chan lying in a pool of their own blood made me feel ill. I didn’t want their bodies disrespected like that. I wanted someone to care for them like they’d cared for me.
“When?” I solemnly asked.
“Soon, I promise. Right now I need to get you to the safe house.”
I would have asked where, but it didn’t really matter. As long as it was safe.
Drew cast me a quick glance. “There’s a safe house in Bangkok, from there Dillon will get us on a flight home,” he said, as if hearing my thoughts.
“Home?” The word felt so foreign off my tongue.
“Claymont,” Drew clarified.
My heart lurched. As much as I missed the place, there were memories from there that tarnished the idea of going back.
“Be calm, Mouse,” Drew whispered, pulling me closer to his body as we sidestepped a young child running through the crowd.
“I can’t go back,” I gasped, my throat closed tight with emotion.
Going back meant facing the place I was raped, and it almost felt like I’d be walking right into the arms of a waiting monster. I knew I was being overly dramatic, yet again, but it was difficult to separate emotions.
Drew gave me another quick glance, those eyes that saw everything taking me in, observing every detail, searching for something. Finally, he nodded and resumed his quick pace.
“Let’s just get to Bangkok. We’ll do this one step at a time, Mouse.”
CHAPTER 7
DREW
Lola’s terrified scream had taken me by surprise. It wasn’t like I had snuck up on her anything. The moment I was able to drag my eyes off the beautiful vision I had finally admitted I missed, it was to find someone standing at the end of a long hallway with a gun aimed at her. If she hadn’t ducked when I told her . . . my body shivered at the thought. There was no room for ‘what ifs’ in life. She was alive, but she was a target. Keeping my head clear and following the mission was my priority. Lola would live because there was no other suitable option. Not a damned hair on her head would be harmed.
My eyes scanned every inch of the crowd around me, and I kept close to the shop fronts that lined this busy street, keeping our backs somewhat covered. The thick crowds would work to our advantage. While I knew I had hit the son-of-a-bitch who had dared point a gun at Lola, I wasn’t sure if it had been a kill shot. I might have only scratched him which wouldn’t keep him down for long; he could be looking for us right now. That thought spurred me on, and I reached back and grabbed Lola’s elbow, pulling her along more quickly. She didn’t protest, letting me drag her around Chiang Mai like some sort of Neanderthal. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to be gentle right now; I needed to keep her alive. I also needed to get her on a bus to Bangkok. Dillon had given me the location of a safe house in this country, a small one-bedroom apartment above a restaurant in Bangkok. It was in the middle of the city, surrounded by busy vendors who traded all night long with a good clear view of the street, front and back. It would be the perfect place to lay low for a night while Dillon organized our flight back to the US.
Catching sight of a man surging through the crowd, I automatically pushed Lola back into a small alley, pressing her back against the brick wall behind us. Reaching into my jacket, I allowed my hand to wrap around the butt of my Glock as I watched the people milling around the street. The man had been Caucasian, too tall, too wide, military buzz cut not unlike my own, with eyes far too intense. He appeared to be alone and in a hurry, and that in itself sent alarm bells ringing. I found my target on the opposite side of the road. Catching a glimpse of him between a float, I knew he was the one after us. Red blossomed in a deadly spray on the sleeve of his blue t-shirt, blood.
When his harried gaze moved over the celebrating villagers and tourists, he almost missed us . . . almost. He locked onto me like a fox might do its prey, and I turned, pushing Lola ahead of me and down the narrow alleyway. She didn’t argue or ask questions; she simply obeyed my unspoken command and moved. When we were safe, when we could pause and rest, I’d praise her for allowing my brutish behavior without complaint.
I’d been to Thailand several times over the years, but I had never been to Chiang Mai. Even so, I’d had several hours between Claymont and my destination to study its geography and maps. I’d planned for every scenario and had mapped all ways in and out of the small town. There was no room for error, and there’d be none, because I knew exactly where I was going. Two blocks north, there was a small shopping mall, and if I cut through there, the bus station was only two streets away. Between now and then, I needed to lose the guy following us.
Turning down another tight alleyway, I took the opportunity to glance over my shoulder. Seeing nobody behind us, I grabbed Lola’s elbow and pulled her through a screen door and into the back of what I assumed was a restaurant. Lola let out a small yelp at the unexpected detour, but otherwise kept quiet and jogged to keep up with me. The kitchen was empty as I pulled her around the prep area and stopped abruptly when a young Thai man pushed his way through a swinging door. He too came to a halt, his hands laden down with empty plates.
“Sorry, we took a wrong turn somewhere,” I said in his language as I forced our way past him.
Thai was one of four languages I spoke, and even though it had been a long time since I had used this particular language, I didn’t have any trouble recalling it.
Slipping seamlessly around the busy tables, my fingers slipped from Lola’s arm to her hand. We’d been getting harried looks from strangers, and the way I was manhandling her would likely draw unwanted attention. Lacing my fingers with hers, I gave her hand a gentle squeeze hoping to convey that I had this, that everything was okay. When she squeezed my hand back, I almost turned and hugged her. I was so proud of my little mouse; she was handling this shit better than most. Doing a quick sweep of the street in front of us, I tugged her out of the restaurant. The town seemed to be in the midst of some sort of celebration, and the parade had already moved through this area, the crowds weren’t as thick as they had been back in the city center. It made moving easier, but it also made us a more obvious target.
We backtracked a block and headed east, instead of west, which was the direction I really needed to go. The hair on the back of my neck didn’t prickle, and I knew we had thrown our follower, for now.
The air was muggy and warm. Perspiration slid down my temple, and I brushed it away on the sleeve of my jacket. It was too hot for the heavy clothing, but I needed it to disguise the weapons I was carrying. All the while, Lola remained silent. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were flushed from exertion. Sweat beaded on her brow, and I knew both of us needed hydration. As soon as we reached the bus terminal, I would take care of her. After everything she had been through, the fact she was still running pissed me off. The woman deserved a fucking break; she deserved to be taken care of. She deserved a home she didn’t have to run from.
Eventually, we wound our way back in the direction we needed to go, losing ourselves amongst the heavy crowds of the parade once more before ducking down a side street. The bus terminal was little more than a store front, and I quickly purchased two tickets, feeling far too vulnerable in the open space. After buying two bottles of water and a couple of chocolate bars from the vendor right beside the ticket booth, I led Lola down another alleyway and to the back of the bus station. From here, I could see the area the bus would pull in to and depart from, only a short walk from the shaded overhang I positioned us under.
“Water,” I encouraged Lola, pushing the bottle into her hand.
She didn’t argue and drank deeply while I did the same. As discreetly as possible, I watched her, looking for signs of shock. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was labored, but I think it had more to do with the running than shock. She looked so different from the last time I’d seen her. Her hair was longer, almost to her waist, and it was much lighter, with a reddish tinge under the sunlight. She had lost weight, and she’d already been too thin when she left. The dark circles under her eyes indicated exhaustion. Even so, she was beautiful. Ben Crane hadn’t broken her and the proof was the fact that one year later, she was still standing, still breathing, holding an inner strength that belied her tiny frame. She was so small compared to my hulking mass, and her skin was a few shades lighter. Her petite nose tipped up at the point, and her bottom lip was slightly fuller than her top. The woman was so tiny, like a delicate little mouse.
“What?” she asked, and then rolled her eyes. “I have something on my face, don’t I?”
It drew the corner of my mouth into a small smile, and I shook my head.
“No, you’re good.” The red in her cheeks deepened, and she glanced away with embarrassment. “Are you okay with me calling you Lola? I mean, your birth name is Lily. Would you prefer I call you Lily?”
“No, Lola is good. I prefer Lola.”
“Good,” I confessed as my gaze took in the street, our backs pressed into the rough brick of the building behind us.
There were a few people around, but otherwise, it was relatively quiet. The bus was due in fifteen minutes. That’s all we had to wait; fifteen minutes then we would be on our way to Bangkok.
“Why?” Lola’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Why what?” I wondered as I continued to watch the street.
“Why is that good?”
“Lola suits you,” I answered honestly.
“Oh.” She went quiet for a short time befo
re her sweet voice broke the silence. “Why do you call me mouse? Is it because I have big ears?”
“What?” I balked, my gaze swinging around to settle on her gorgeous face. Her solemn eyes and the slight crease between her brow told me she wasn’t joking. “There is nothing wrong with your ears. They're perfect, like the rest of you.” The pink in her cheeks deepened, but she didn’t look away. Embarrassment wasn’t something I felt often, but right now, I wanted to climb into a hole. Rubbing the back of my neck I looked away. “You’re small and sweet and . . . delicate. Like a mouse.”
Giving her a sideways glance, I searched for her reaction. The nickname had been plucked out of thin air one day when I’d been watching her in Bouquets. The way she scurried around buckets of flowers doing her job and her fine features reminded me of a little mouse. It wasn’t meant to be derogatory, but if it bothered her, I’d never call her mouse again.
She seemed to think about what I’d said for a long time before taking another drink from her bottle of water.
“You going to horde all that chocolate to yourself?” she asked
The corner of my mouth threatened to curl into another grin, and I dug out one of the bars and handed it over.
“You should know, I really, really like chocolate. The thought of my life without chocolate is like a life without air.”
“Duly noted,” I said, trying to suppress my smile, filing that nugget of information away. My mouse had a sweet tooth.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Stop yourself from smiling.”
I shrugged, having never really noticed I did it. “Habit, I guess. Haven’t had a whole lot to smile about in my life. My face got comfortable frowning.”
“You do know it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile?”
Anndddd I was holding back that damn smile again. “Well, I guess since I’ve got so many muscles, I’ve perfected the art of frowning.”
“I like your smile,” she confessed after a quiet moment.
Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5) Page 5