“How did you get tangled up with this low life?” Cool bastard that he was, Cap seemed unfazed by the new intel he’d been gifted.
“I worked for him in D.C. a long time ago.”
“Running drugs?”
She snorted. “No,” she denied vehemently, meeting Cap’s gaze directly for the first time since he’d been observing. “I never sold drugs. Never took them either, which is remarkable, all things considered. Victor picked me up off the street when I was fifteen. I was a runaway. My home life sucked, my mother was a drunk and my stepfather, well, let’s just say he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and leave it at that. Victor said he’d save me, that he loved me. I believed him at fifteen. At sixteen, I was earning my keep on my back. By seventeen, I was the main bitch in his stable. It sounds impressive, but didn’t get me any special privileges. So, my inglorious claim to fame and the hard truth is that I was a teenage hooker out of necessity, and Victor Mendoza was my pimp.”
Sean’s heart stopped, his mind reeling. He questioned what he’d heard with his own ears. Reflexively, he took a step back, reaching out to grasp the doorframe as his legs turned to jelly while shockwaves ran through him. The awful words replayed in his head. Victor Mendoza was my pimp. Christ! The bastard had turned his sweet Mara into a hooker at the age of fifteen. Unable to process more beyond that, her words became a buzzing in the background.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, zoned out, but the next input he was able to process, didn’t make him feel better, only piled on more guilt and agony.
“There were other pictures,” she whispered, pain evident in her tone. “I did that,” she waved her hand at the images on the desk, of her with the judge and Shelby, “because he threatened to send them to Sean. I couldn’t bear it.” As if fighting for control, she closed her eyes tightly for a moment before going on. “I left Sean because I loved him. I can’t say I regret the time we had together because it was the best of my life, but I do regret hurting him and dragging him down into my gutter. He’s a good man, but the love of a man like him is a pipe dream for a poor white trash girl like me. I overreached and as usual, got bitch-slapped back in my place. Now that you have all the illicit details of my fucked-up life, I’d like to go. I’m not feeling well.”
“Mara—”
She ignored him, without doubt having reached the end of her emotional endurance. Shakily, she stood.
“If you need to reach me, call my cell, or better yet, have the police follow up. That way, none of you ever has to see me again. Just make it fast. I’m only planning to stay in town for another day or two. Any longer and Victor will find me. If that happens, well, I’m sure you can imagine how things will end.”
Done talking, she picked up the envelope Sean had thrust at her and pulled out the wad of legal papers that was their divorce decree. She flipped to the last page, pausing to scan it. Like a statue carved from stone, he didn’t move and couldn’t speak as he watched her lean forward and add her signature. Before she finished, a teardrop fell on the paper, smearing the ink.
Other than the pounding of his pulse in his ears, the only sound in the room was the rustling of the papers as she tucked them away and returned them to the desk. As she straightened, he swayed slightly, leaning heavily into the door frame, afraid he would sink weakly to the floor in a heap. The wood creaked under his weight, alerting Mara, who twisted and stared at him.
Shock made her stiffen before it was replaced by visible pain, rippling in waves through her body as panic set in. With a cry, she lurched across the room to her crutches. The next instant she was moving toward him, the creak of the aluminum deafening as she moved toward the door. In trance-like inertia, he stood motionless, his mind tried to absorb the horror of her past. He wanted to grab her up, comfort her and cry out his grief, but as she moved closer, he couldn’t do any of those things, virtually paralyzed.
As she turned sideways to slip past, he heard her broken whisper. “I’m so sorry, Sean.” Then she was gone.
“My god!” Cap murmured, as shocked as he was. “She was fuckin’ fifteen. I’ll kill the bastard.”
Sean’s reply came out in a croak. “She never wanted to talk about growing up—ever. Never did I suspect…” He shook his head. “Dear god, what she must have endured.”
Cap moved forward, getting in his face. “Snap out of it, Sean. You’re practically catatonic. Did you get all that?”
“I zoned out between Mendoza was her pimp and she left me because she loved me.”
“He didn’t leave her many choices. The one she chose wasn’t smart by a longshot, but she seemed sincere that she did it out of love for you.” Cap paused, glaring at him. His hands gripped his arms and he literally shook him back to his senses. “Why are you standing here? You can’t let her leave like that. Go after her, man.”
Sean stepped into the hallway. Looking down through the interior lobby, he saw the elevator doors slide closed.
“Fuck!” he roared.
“I’ll call security and have them hold her. Go!”
Sean was already moving through the hall, hitting the stairs at a full run as he prayed the guard would stop her in time. Down ten floors, he entered the lobby minutes later winded, but not tired as adrenaline pumped through him. He scanned the crowded atrium until he saw her at the glass doors, pushing frantically on the panic bar as a guard tried to talk her down.
When they didn’t budge, she turned to the older man and demanded, “Open the door! You can’t keep me here.”
“Mr. O’Brien wants…”
“I don’t give a damn what Mr. O’Brien wants. I’ll have you arrested for false imprisonment. Open up!”
“Mara, wait,” Sean called out to her. He shouldn’t have because the sound of his shout made her panic worse.
“Let me out, dammit!” she screamed at the security guard. “I want out. Now!”
“Easy, Mara,” he spoke softly from behind her. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
She lost it then and freaked. Dropping one crutch, she fisted her small hand and slammed it against the glass. “No! I want out! Open this goddamned door!”
“At least let me call you a cab,” Sean cajoled, although there was no freakin’ way he’d put her in a cab by herself in this state. “You’re upset.”
“You’re damn right I’m upset. I want to go and you’re holding me prisoner.” Barely recognizable, her words were an ear-splitting shriek. Lifting her other crutch, she slammed it against the door, attempting to break the glass.
Grabbing it on the backswing, he murmured low, “No, darlin’, I’m not letting you go like this.”
He knew when the final thread of her control snapped, disintegrating before his eyes as she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably against the glass. As her legs gave way and she slid to the floor, Sean lifted her against his chest. His heart ached as she wept in his arms. Rarely had he seen her really cry, damp eyes maybe, a tear or two quickly wiped away, but never this torrent of tears.
Striding through the lobby, he ignored the curious onlookers. On the ride back up to Rossi, despite his attempts to comfort her, sobs racked her body and her breathing hitched to the point he feared hyperventilation. He took her directly to the down time room where he could lay her down. As he passed a concerned Cap and a stunned Jonas, he barked, “Call a doctor, 911, someone. She needs a sedative and I can’t say for sure she hasn’t reinjured herself.”
“We saw on the feeds, man,” Rick said from the door of the surveillance room. “With that leg, it’s a damn good thing you caught her before she hit the floor.”
“Lexie’s on her way to meet me for lunch, Sean. I’ll tell her to bring her kit.”
“Tell her to hurry, Jonas. She’s bad off.”
* * * * *
Through a haze, she heard hushed voices. She was being carried again. To where, she had no clue. Everything was foggy. It was the sedative Lexie had given her. Deservedly so. She’d totally lost it, scaring them all with her vi
olent outburst. It was out of character, definitely, so she hadn’t been surprised when she’d been shot up with Ativan. If she’d been her nurse, she’d have recommended the same thing.
Through her drug-fogged haze, she tried to make out what the voices were saying, but the words mixed up in her head catching only bits and pieces.
“On the bed, Sean.” That was Lexie. “She should sleep through ‘til morning.”
Sean held her. She knew it before Lexie said it, recognizing his strong arms, his muscled chest and the wonderful scent of his skin even after so long. He jostled her slightly as he placed her on a soft bed, then his arms pulled away. She mourned their loss with a whimper, wanting to open her eyes, to see his unforgettable face, melt in his blue-eyed gaze once more, but her lids were heavy as sleep called to her.
She felt the mattress shift beside her. A comforting hand stroked along her cheek and over her hair.
“I never would have guessed what she’s been through,” Sean whispered hoarsely.
“Come have a drink, Sean.” That came from Jonas. “She’ll feel better in the morning, as will you after getting some sleep.”
“I don’t know if I can shut my eyes without hearing her words and imagining— my god.” His voice cracked. He leaned over her, pressing his lips to her hair. “It must have been awful, my poor baby.”
Pity. He pitied her. Earlier in Cap’s office, he’d been unresponsive, stunned by what he’d heard no doubt. As it sank in she imagined disgust followed, as she’d always feared. Now on top of that there was pity.
“At least you have answers,” Jonas offered.
“Hell, I keep thinking maybe she was right to keep it from me. That it would be better if I never knew.”
Yes, her past would haunt him now too.
Unable to fight the drugs any longer, she drifted off, the last thoughts on her mind making Victor pay no matter the cost and once done, getting away from San Antonio and Sean, leaving him to his life, for good.
* * * * *
Bleary eyed, Mara awoke near dawn. As she turned her head toward the window, she frowned in confusion. Sitting up she took in her unfamiliar surroundings as painful memories of the previous day flooded back. Judging by the sun rising in the eastern sky, she guessed it to be around 6 a.m. She listened to the sounds in Lexie and Jonas’ condo. Nothing. Now was her chance. Following her first urge as always, she prepared to run.
Dressing quickly, she tiptoed into the hall. As she passed the bathroom, her bladder protested, but she couldn’t risk being heard. Carefully, she crept down the stairs. On the way to the front door, she noticed the office door stood open. She paused. Jonas was a Rossi man, surely he kept himself well stocked. Moving to the desk, she opened a few drawers and soon found what she needed and slipped it in her purse. As she tiptoed toward the door, a creaking noise from upstairs froze her mid-step and stilled the breath in her lungs. She waited, not moving for what seemed like forever and praying that no one was coming.
After long minutes passed and she heard nothing else, she continued to the front door. Mara stared at the security key pad trying to remember what Lexie had told her last night. As she lay on the narrow bed in the down time room at Rossi, Lexie beside her, speaking softly while the drugs kicked in. She had been groggy, but alert enough to converse and understand. At Lexie’s insistence, she’d agreed to go home with her and Jonas. She assured her she wouldn’t be a prisoner in her home, proving it by giving her the passcode to the alarm. It was a word. Struggling to recall, she replayed their conversation.
“You’re free to go anytime you wish, Mara, though I’d appreciate a heads up and a goodbye.”
Thank goodness for sweet, kind, trusting Lexie. Regrettably, she couldn’t afford to give her friend what she’d asked for. Lexie had been so kind, that was her way, positive, cheerful, with her girl next door beauty, she brought a glimmer of happiness into ever life she touched with her sunny disposition. That’s when it clicked. Jonas’ nickname for Lexie was the code. Sunshine!
She keyed in the corresponding number and gasped when it flashed red. Shit! Fingers shaking, she tried again, holding her breath while she waited for the alarm to scream and announce her covert leave-taking at any second.
What if Sean had stayed the night? She couldn’t face him.
Panicked, she tried again, blowing out a relieved sigh when it flashed green and the lock clicked. As quietly as possible, she exited, easing the door closed behind her.
At the elevator, she searched her purse that someone—likely Lexie—had been kind enough to leave on the nightstand. She found her phone with one bar of charge remaining and in her wallet a lone twenty dollar bill. Barely enough to get to her apartment and prepare for what she had planned, but it would have to do.
* * * * *
Feeling like she’d been on a three-day drunk, Mara leaning heavily on the handrail as she dragged herself up the three flights to her one bedroom walk up in Southtown. If Sean thought her D.C. apartment was a shithole, his head would explode over this one. It was all she could afford after leaving though. Her slimy and not-as-cheap-as-he-claimed attorney had taken nearly every penny for her new name, identity and the quickie divorce. The last being a waste since he obviously hadn’t followed through and made sure it was finalized. She was still married, but for how long?
Sweating, her leg throbbing in agony by the time she got to the third floor landing, Mara reviewed her mental ‘to do’ list as she limped down the hall to her apartment. Packing, cashing out her savings—all $403 of it at last count—and getting out. A beach community might be a nice change of pace. Oh, and she couldn’t forget the most important item on her list, tracking down Victor and eliminating him from her life. At this point, becoming a murderer seemed inconsequential. What more did she have to lose?
At the door, when she inserted her key, the slightest pressure against the lock made it swing inward. Like in the movies, it barely moved an inch and of all the luck, the hinge creaked loudly. Someone had been in her apartment. Shit! Maybe they hadn’t left. She back stepped, turning to run, but too late as a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. Dragging her backwards, a rough hand clamped across her mouth, muffling her screams. The door swung shut, as a mocking drawl rang in her ear. “I’m… baaack...” It was followed by Victor’s nightmarish laughter.
Chapter Nineteen
The rough bark against her skin could be overlooked, not so the nagging ache in her thigh. Mara rubbed the tortured flesh. She’d been on it too long. The hike to the main road from the broken down shack where she’d been held captive these last two nights hadn’t helped either. Thank god, Victor’s henchmen were idiots. The one watching her today—Manolo or Manuelo, whatever—had been fool enough to leave the window unlocked. And, if that didn’t beat all, her purse was lying on the table, apparently unchecked because as she swung the bag over her shoulder, she heard the distinctive clank of metal. Not stopping to ponder the why’s and how’s or to question her good fortune for a change, she practically dove out the window to freedom.
Feeling the toll of too much activity, she shifted her weight to her good leg. The pain was distracting, though not nearly as much as the sight of billowing black smoke rolling out of the shattered windows or the flames that licked up the side of the high-rise on the next corner.
Lights flashed and sirens wailed as a veritable fleet of emergency vehicles encircled the base, with more arriving each minute. Policemen pushed gawking spectators behind temporary barricades as firemen battled the blaze. As flames raced to the roof, it seemed hopeless, the building appearing to be a total loss.
Despite the chaos surrounding it, she recognized the building, although it looked drastically different from when she’d been there only a few days ago for her showdown with Sean in Cap’s office.
Her heart lurched as she thought of the people who may have been trapped, praying desperately that they’d managed to evacuate after the explosions. She tried to count the stories involved, bottom up, but i
t was too smoky. Sixteen floors in all, she counted in reverse, not getting far and stopping on the twelfth. Everything below that level was fully engulfed, including Rossi Security located on the tenth floor.
In spite of the stifling heat, dread ran through her like an icy wind. It was late, maybe everyone was gone. The next instant her hopes were dashed as she remembered the 24-hour surveillance the team ran for clients. That meant at least one man was there. Or, if they had a skip—what Sean called a bail jumper—in holding, or a meeting, or if Jonas was running a background check, or T had a new recruit training in the basement, the possibilities were endless. Any one of her friends, or all of them could have been inside. Her eyes closed in anguish. The loss, not only to the team, but the life altering impact for Regan who was pregnant, or Elena who had gone through so much and was just getting her life back with Dex, or Lexie who had almost died and was planning her wedding to Jonas, and Megan, good god, Megan, she had newborn twins. What if Cap were inside? It was heartbreaking to think about losing any of them.
And what about Sean—
A tremor shook the street as another explosion rocked downtown. The air seemed on fire as flaming debris arced from the building, falling in a shower of embers. The crowd below scattered, people who had pushed closer to gawk frantically ran for safety behind the barricades. She blinked rapidly as a breeze kicked up, blowing acrid smoke in her direction. Right then, another blast sent tremors throughout downtown.
This was Victor’s plan, exactly.
Her eyes shifted to where he stood, no more than fifty yards away. Woefully out of place in his three-piece dark suit, she watched the crimson plume bob above the crown of his white fedora, an exact replica of the one his uncle Esteban always wore. The bright feather glowed like the flames in the background, the downy barbs fluttering in the breeze, dancing against the sides of the hat like the fire that flared up the sides of the building.
Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) Page 22