by Paige Hill
Those are the last words I hear before my world goes black.
This placed is packed and my muscles are wound so tight, a light breeze could make me snap. She doesn’t need to be here and the fact that I’m behind this fucking bar when I should be close to her, protecting her, is eating at me. Just like every other man in the room, it’s impossible to keep my eyes off her.
“Declan. DECLAN!”
“What?” I snap, pulling my attention from thoughts of Teagan as I look up to a smiling Wendy.
“Hook, line and sinker man.” Her knowing smile grows. “I’ve only repeated the same drink order to you four times. You haven’t peeled your eyes from her every move, the entire night. I was beginning to think I would never see the day.”
“Am I that obvious?” I let out a depreciating laugh, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.
“I think its adorable. But do me a favor, she’s a good person, Declan. Don’t hurt her.”
“I’m here to make sure no one ever does again.” My tone takes on an icy chill, reflecting the sudden change in my mood.
“Good. I’d hate to see the damage my Louisville Slugger could do to that beautiful Jeep of yours. Now, how ‘bout those drinks?” She gives me a wink. With Wendy, it’s never an empty threat.
Placing the last drink on Wendy’s tray, my eyes seek out the only person on my mind. I can feel my pulse tick in my veins when my sight comes back empty. No sign of Teagan. Warning bells are going off inside me and my head feels like a distressed ship being eaten by the sea.
Bulldozing my way through the crowd, I turn toward the bar. My face must say it all because Wendy addresses me before I get the chance to speak.
“She’s in the stockroom, Caveman,” she says, waving her thumb behind her in the direction of the back room.
Good. At least we will have somewhere private to talk.
Making my way to the back, I focus on the things I need her to hear. Her safety is my number one concern. If protecting her means she’s got to be pissed at me, then so be it. I can live with her hating me. What I can’t live with is her going anywhere with that sick fuck. Or worse. My stomach churns as the stories from her past move to the forefront of my mind. That is not an option.
I’ve thought about the things I need her to hear. What about the things I’m not ready to say?
That thought is halted as my world tilts on its axis. One look and I know my life will never be the same.
Rage unlike any I have felt before warms my body. Fury burns in my chest. Like a dragon, I feel like I could breathe fire, ready to burn this town to the ground until I find her.
I’ve been trained for moments like this. Get your shit together O’Connor. Trying in vain to compartmentalize my emotions, I assess the room. Time is the most important factor. Aside from the busted case of beer, I see no signs of a struggle. She wouldn’t go willingly. Not my girl.
Faint boot prints made possible by the beer fade in the direction of the side door. Only one set of prints. He either knocked her unconscious or he drugged her. The implications blur the line between my emotions and my trained abilities.
“FUCK!” My voice roars and my brain finally tells my legs to move. I vaguely register Nate running behind me as my feet hit the pavement just outside the door. Frantically searching for any sign of movement, any clue, just… anything. But I’m too late. He’s taken her, and I let him. I failed to do the one thing I promised her.
I fall to my knees in a moment of disbelief, stones of despair beating me until I can no longer stand. How could I let this happen?
“What the hell man? What’s going on with you?” Nate stands a few feet back, unsure of how to approach me.
“He fucking took her.” My head hangs from my shoulders, unfamiliar with the emotions coursing through me.
“Who took who?”
His confusion unwittingly manages to break the shower of desperation. None of these people know who she really is. Who I am. Pulling out my phone, I dial the only person in this world I can trust.
“This better be good.” His voice comes through the line with a bite.
“He fucking got her. She’s fucking gone man!”
“Shit! Meet me at the office in ten. And Declan, we need to tell Ramos.” The only time he calls me Declan is when I need a brother, not a partner.
“My cover is probably blown to shit.” My hand mindlessly worries the stubble that covers my cheek. “He’s going to have my ass. If I don’t end up in prison when this is all over.”
“I think you underestimate him, man.”
With that, I end the call feeling more determined than I ever have. It beats the fuck out of the helplessness I allowed myself to feel just a few minutes ago. It’s time to call in the Calvary.
“I don’t have any idea what’s going on and I really don’t give a shit who you are, but I want to do what I can to help get Taryn back. She’s important to all of us.” I turn to see Nate’s eyes narrowed on me. Wendy stands just to the side of him, a hand thrown over her mouth in disbelief.
“Who I am doesn’t matter and she’s going to die if I don’t get to her.”
Wendy’s gasp carries in the thick night air.
“If you want to help, stay here and look for any clues about how he got in and where he took her. Question every single person in that bar if you have to!” Throwing my arm out and pointing to the building, my voice continues to rise with each word.
“On it,” Nate responds before he and Wendy bolt through the door.
I’ve only experienced this kind of gut-wrenching anguish once in my life. I was blinded by rage when I took the breath from my mother’s murderer. As a grown man, I still feel that rage in my bones. The rage I feel coursing through my system, the one feeding my soul, isn’t blinding. I can see crystal fucking clear and Mark Langford should be very fucking afraid.
Pain throbs deep in the back of my head. I can’t even muster the strength to open my eyes. My right arm is numb from the position I’m lying in. Why can’t I move? Using what senses I can, I try to piece together where I am and how I got here. The ground beneath me is hard and cold against my skin and the air is thick. The smell of rotting fish wafts through the air.
As my senses slowly come back to me, I heave, reflexively gagging on the odor. Panic fires up every nerve ending, forcing my eyes to open. Fighting to move is useless, my arms and legs are bound tight. My skin is raw and burned from the rope.
Where am I? What happened?
Confusion feeds my panic. Looking around, I try my hardest to assess the situation. The room is small, with an old, rusted metal desk on the other side of the room. A single chair missing an arm rest lays upside down a few feet from me. The midday sun shines through the dirty, broken window high on the wall, illuminating the layers of dust that coat everything in sight. The floor, ceiling, and walls are all concrete. Curling into myself as best I can, I shiver. The movement causes pain to radiate from my neck and suddenly, everything comes rushing back.
The stockroom.
The pain.
Mark.
My blood runs cold as I remember exactly what happened. That asshole drugged me!
As if my thoughts could conjure the monster himself, Mark comes through the door, in his ever-present designer suit.
“Ahh, you’re awake. Good to see that you are coherent so early after a dose that large.”
Calmly—too calmly—he picks the chair up off the floor and places it in front of the desk, facing me, before taking a seat. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to answer or not, but his pause is unsettling. I don’t trust myself to speak just yet. I’m scared and angry, neither emotion I want to show him.
“Why do you always insist on pissing me off? It hurts me every time I have to punish you for your behavior.” He’s always treated me like a petulant child. “After that stunt you pulled shooting me, father wanted you dead. Lucky for you, I convinced him that was too conspicuous. He has too much at stake to risk it all over a cunt like you, so h
e pressed charges. Decided it was best to let the media run off with it.”
He smiles, taking in the slight confusion on my face.
“You thought father adored you? That’s cute. He’s a politician, sweetie. He’s a professional liar and you are too ignorant to notice when someone makes fun of you. He tolerated you because you’re mine.”
Finding my voice, I question the one factor in this story that doesn’t make sense.
“Then why am I not in handcuffs?” My voice is low and steady.
“Darling, don’t you understand? I am your husband; therefore, you are mine to punish. No one else touches what is mine. I believe you’ve met my friend Lee, the new security guard at that disgusting bar. Lee is actually FBI. Let’s just say he owed me a favor. He’s been keeping tabs on you and slowing the investigation from the beginning.”
My mind struggles to piece together all that he has told me. Mark is far more unstable than I thought. And smart. The two make a terrifying combination.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? Ignorant girl.” His tone is placating. He’s mocking me.
I have nothing to say. I really am a fool. A mistake I won’t be making again.
“You know, I’ve never let you in on the family business,” he says, standing to remove his jacket.
Family business? Politics?
Pulling a small baggie and straw from his pant pocket, he sits back down, looking at the desk in disgust. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he wipes a small section of the desk top. The baggie has a white powdery substance in it, one I can only assume to be cocaine or heroin. The Mark I know is ruthless, on top of the world… but drugs have made him a monster.
He continues working as though I’m not even in the room. Dumping a decent amount of the powder onto the desk, he gathers it into a line before putting his nose to the small black straw and inhaling, snorting up every bit and rubbing his nose frantically.
“You see, you don’t have the kind of family money we have just by going to law school or politics. No, no. You earn it by controlling both sides of the coin.”
Turning his attention back toward me, he starts to roll the sleeves of his perfectly pressed shirt before he continues his tirade.
“We control the largest cocaine import in the state, completely anonymously. By controlling state law, we give the people the face they want to see, and we get to make millions. It’s a brilliant system. Father lectured me about never using the vile stuff. But how do you think I made it through law school?” He chuckles.
His eyes meet mine, and any laughter on his face is wiped away.
The transformation begins. It is something I’ve witnessed many times before I left Oklahoma. The high starts to claim him as his eyes glaze over. His demeanor changes and he’s agitated almost instantaneously.
“Why couldn’t you just be fucking happy?!” He spits. “I gave you everything! A nice house, clothes, cars, the life all women want!” He stands, slamming his fists down on the desk. The old metal creaks from the force and I think it might break.
“And this is how you repay me? By fucking the first guy you meet? You’re nothing but a dirty whore!”
He moves faster than I anticipate, and his hand comes down hard on my face. My head bounces on the unforgiving floor, causing my head to swim.
Moments like this are rare in life. The ones that force us to make a choice. To show the person whom we truly are.
This is my moment.
I am no longer that scared little girl, the forgotten teen, or the naïve young woman desperate for love.
I am a fighter.
Briggs pulls up just as I reach the building, the engine vibrating the ground beneath my feet. Wasting no time, I storm the building, preparing for war. Rubbing my hand across my left peck, I mentally recite the words permanently marking my skin.
Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum
If You Want Peace, Prepare for War.
Those words have never meant more to me than they do in this moment. My thoughts are swimming with endless scenarios. How is Teagan reacting? Is she cowering? Fighting back? Has she buried her fear? Or given into the exhaustion of the chase? The final thought has me flexing my fists. No way. My sunshine? She’s a fighter and I can’t forget that.
Heading straight toward the gun cage, Briggs grabs my shoulder, the force of my steps nearly knocking me over.
“Ramos first,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He must see the turmoil in my eyes. I don’t have time for this. “Trust me.”
He isn’t going to let this go until I talk to him. I committed a felony by harboring a fugitive. I’m fucking fired anyway, probably going to jail.
“Fine,” I say, turning on the balls of my feet, heading the opposite direction. My entire life is about to fall apart, and he is the only person who can help me hold it together. I’ve never had to hand this kind of control over to someone… There is still a chance he will refuse and have me arrested. Fuck, why is everything so convoluted?
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The wooden door rattles beneath my fist.
“Sergeant Ramos, we need to talk.”
“I’m busy,” he shouts, his voice grumpy, making his accent heavy.
“I’m wasting my fucking time!” I snap at Briggs as I turn to stalk away. I don’t have time for this shit.
Briggs snags my arm before I’ve taken two steps. “It’s time sensitive, sir. Someone could die.” He speaks to the closed mahogany door.
“Fine,” he huffs from the other side of the door. “Come in and close the door behind you.”
Refusing to waste any more time, I bust through the door quickly, earning an irritated glare from Ramos. His office is very much a reflection of his outward personality. Everything is stark. All clean lines and minimal décor. Everything screams former military. Except his desk. Stacks of documents, maps, and empty coffee cups litter his desk. Annoyance masks his features, but his eyes tell me something haunts him. But I don’t have time to think about his odd behavior. Every second counts. Fear settles in my throat as I take a seat, but I push it down.
“Sergeant, what I’m about to tell you could send me to jail, but I need help. An innocent woman is going to pay the ultimate price if I don’t hurry.” His hardened face falters momentarily but he quickly recovers.
“Damn it O’Connor, your ballsy ass better start talking.”
The moment of truth.
“Teagan Langford is an abused wife, not a cold-blooded murderer.”
“Goddamn it!” He slams his open palms against the loose papers on his desk. “You assholes brought that media shitstorm to my front door?”
“We have proof. Mark Langford kidnapped her from Blind Luck, half an hour ago. He’s been sending her threatening messages.” I pause, knowing it’s going to take more than that to get his attention. “She shot him trying to save herself.”
Briggs pulls out a bag I didn’t realize he had and proceeds to spread photos over the debris on the desk. There are mugshots of a beaten Teagan, crime scene photos from her house, and the photos he took from the recent threats. Finally, he pulls out a copy of the first police report Teagan filed. The one that highlighted the path Mark was on. The one that everyone ignored.
Looking up at Briggs, I can’t seem to find the words to thank him. The brother I never had. Feeling my stare, he nods curtly before turning his attention back to Ramos, who is eyeing the evidence intently. His face morphs into stone before he speaks.
“What is it that you need from me?”
“An army, sir.”
“This is strictly off the books. Any man willing to take this mission does so of his own volition. Make sure they know exactly what they are walking into, because O’Connor, the state government will do whatever they want. And I have no doubts that the governor will do whatever it takes to protect his image.”
“Yes, sir.” I stand in a hurry to get this ball rolling.
Briggs follows me down the long hallway, the sound of our feet echoes through the empty space. We stop at the training room, a massive gym housing everything we need to train new recruits and keep ourselves in shape.
Letting out a loud whistle, I gain everyone’s attention and wave my arm, requesting them to come closer. Every face in the room looks at me with question, but every foot steps closer.
“I have a favor to ask. A big one. An innocent woman was taken today, and the clock is ticking. I need all the assistance I can get to locate her. Once I find her, I do not know what I will encounter.” I glance at every man in the room as I speak. “But you should know, this mission is not sanctioned by this agency. We would be going at this on our own with limited use of the agency’s resources.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I get to the point. “You have all seen the story on the news. The DA’s wife attempted to kill him then goes missing before charges are filed. The governor is doing everything he can to have this woman burned at the stake. But things aren’t always as they seem. Teagan Langford is an abused woman who did what she had to do to survive. She has been receiving threats over the last few weeks and now that he has her, it’s only a matter of time before he kills her. The governor is going to do whatever it takes to protect his image, including that of his son. So, if you can’t put yourself in that position, I understand. But at this point, I have no leads. I need my team.”
For a long moment, no one speaks, clearly processing the information.
“I’m in.” Turning to look over my shoulder, Sergeant Ramos nods at me. “I can’t let my team go in alone.”
“Me too,” Erin, the head of our intelligence department, chimes from the opposite doorway. “And I have an idea.”
“Fuck it, I’m in.”
“Let’s do this.”
I can’t help but smile, realizing the lengths we would all go to, to help each other out.
“But I do have one question,” Erin asserts, a sly grin on her pink lips. “Why do you care what happens to this woman?”
Something squeezes in my chest as I consider her question. My thoughts fill with visions of Teagan in a white dress, flowers all around. Her smile while she hangs pictures on the walls, making our house a home. Her silky auburn hair spread out on my pillow. Breathing becomes more and more difficult as thoughts swirl in my mind. I can’t imagine a future without her.