Throw Dylan from the Train (S.A.F.E. Detective Agency)

by Piper Davenport

  “Fuck!” Asher shouted as he came.

  We collapsed on the bed and he held me until a different kind of hunger drove us out of bed to explore the boxes he’d left on the table.

  * * *

  Asher stayed the night with me, and left early the next morning. Without Addison to talk to, I spent the day alternating between computer games and mafia novels. I was hoping Asher would spend the night again, but he called and said he had to work late and wouldn’t make it over.

  The next day held the same boring routine. By the time Asher called and told me he had to work late again, I was so desperate for real life human contact that I started reading pizza delivery reviews to figure out who had the friendliest driver. It was a little after five p.m., and I was plotting out how to trap said driver into a conversation. Thankfully, my phone rang with an incoming call from Lakeview.

  “Hey, Dyl, it’s Dakota. How are you?”

  “Dak!” I said with no doubt way too much enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you called. Hey, how are you?’

  “Good. I called to give you an update on the damage your little tornado did in our town.”

  I chuckled. “We did shake things up a bit, didn’t we?” Dad was in the slammer awaiting trial. Apparently he’d known about the DA’s plan to kill off the nursing home elders, and had no trouble stealing jewelry from people who were about to knocked off, including his own mother. I was having a hard time coming to terms with that. My dad had a girlfriend in Klamath who was unloading the jewelry off onto the pawn shop, which explained why they had no record of him ever selling anything. Dad’s girlfriend was also currently a guest of the state.

  “How’s the town dealing with Dicky’s arrest?”

  “It’s a circus. Half the population has stepped forward to snitch about other things he was wrapped up in. By the time Klamath County gets it all figured out, I reckon he’ll have more cases against him than that old actor accused of date-raping all those women.”

  I felt a little proud of my home town then. “I’m glad people are finally finding the balls to nail him. That’s encouraging.”

  “Yeah, me and Brandy are stepping forward, too.”

  “Wait, what? You and Brandy?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve liked Brandy for a long time, Dylan. No offense, but you weren’t exactly my type.”

  I’d suspected as much. No matter what Dakota had said, there’d never been any sort of spark between us. “It’s because I wouldn’t sit on your lap when you told me you were the real Santa Claus, isn’t it?”

  That earned me a good belly laugh. “You sure got my number.”

  “So why did you act like you liked me?”

  “At first, it felt expected. You and I were gonna get married, like everyone said. Then I took a likin’ to Brandy, but ol’ Dicky’d already laid claim to her.”

  “What?” I asked. “How old was she?”

  “Sixteen. But what were we gonna do about it? Who could we tell, Dyl? You know how things are down here. So I kept tellin’ everyone you and me were still together.”

  “And the kid? Is he Dicky’s?”

  “That kid is the spittin’ image of me. If anyone would have looked twice at him, they would have figured it out.”

  “But they didn’t, because you were supposedly sprung on me. Man, I feel used. But no wonder Brandy hated me so much! Sheesh, you guys could’ve told me.”

  “You know how this town is. You can’t tell a damn soul. The goddamn walls talk.”

  He had me there. “Did anyone ever figure out what Wyatt’s role in all this is?” Even thinking about Wyatt made my chest hurt. You think you know a guy...then he cuts your cinch and tries to get you and your bestie trampled to death.

  “You remember Lizzy?” Dakota asked.

  “Wyatt’s little sister?” They’d always been close, and I hadn’t even asked Wyatt about her. Maybe Wyatt wasn’t the only bad friend in this relationship. “Is she okay?”

  “Not really. She got arrested last month for using and selling meth.”

  “Holy cow. Is everyone in that town messing with that crap?”

  He sighed. “Sure seems like it sometimes. Anyway, she’s got a trial coming up and Wyatt came forward and said Dicky promised he’d drop the charges and help Wyatt and his family get her into rehab if he distracted you from the case. And when that didn’t work...”

  “I get it.”

  “He didn’t want to, Dylan, but you know he’d do anything for Lizzy. He asked me to apologize for him.”

  I sighed, trying to put myself in Wyatt’s shoes. I didn’t have any sisters, but I’d do whatever I could for Addison. My anger and hurt melted into frustration and irritation. Desperate for a subject change, I asked, “Hey, how’s Grandma?” It had to be difficult for her to know Dad had been locked up, and that he’d been in on the plot to kill her and her friends.

  “Don’t you go worryin’ about that ol’ woman. She’s doin’ just fine. She told me to tell you to call her once in a while.”

  I smiled. “I will, Dak.”

  “Now?” he asked.

  “No, not now. I’m on the phone with you.”

  “Not you. Just a second, Dylan.” There was some muffled talking, and then he came back on the line. “I’m supposed to tell you to turn on your laptop.”

  “My laptop?” I glanced at it sitting on the coffee table.

  “Yeah, you know the thing that runs Quickbooks.”

  I got the feeling invoicing clients was probably the extent of Dakota’s computer prowess.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Good luck.”

  I pulled the phone away from my cheek to see that the call had ended. Dakota had called to update me, given me some cryptic message, and then hung up on me. Intrigued, I tossed my phone on the sofa and opened my laptop.

  As I did, words typed across my screen and a computerized voice said aloud, “Hello, Dylan. Shall we play a game?”

  It was from one of my favorite geek-out movies, War Games. Very few people knew about my geeky side, and Dakota was definitely not one of them. And there was no way he’d be able to hack into my computer. Only one person I knew could do that—my gaming buddy, Quentin. I called his cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail.

  I stared at the blinking curser, wondering what Quentin was up to and how he’d gotten Dakota in on it. In the end, boredom and curiosity pressured me into playing along. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.

  “Love to,” I typed.

  “Good, answer the door.”

  The knock came immediately. I looked out the peephole and saw a delivery man on the other side. Wondering if I should open the door, I glanced back at the laptop. Again, boredom and curiosity won out. This was the most excitement I’d had in three days.

  I opened the door and the delivery man handed me two boxes and left. I carried them back into the room and opened them up. The first box held fitted black cargo pants, a black baseball cap, and a black tank top. The second box held new black combat boots. The sizes were perfect, which told me that whatever was going on, Addison had to be involved.

  “Get dressed,” my computer said as the words typed across the screen.

  I called Addison, but it went straight to voice mail.

  Too curious to stop now, I dressed quickly, putting my hair in a ponytail and pulling it through the back of the cap. Because I still had no clue what was going on, I even put on some makeup so I wouldn’t look like a boy. When I was done, I typed, “What now?”

  “Answer the door.”

  Another knock. I wiped the stupid grin off my face and looked through the peephole. Addison’s driver, Jimmy, was standing on the other side. I grabbed my keys, phone, and purse and headed out.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Jimmy.

  “You’ll see,” he said, rolling up the partition between us.

  Rude. Left to my own devices, I called Asher. Again, straight to voice mail. Frustrated that nobody would answer my c
all, I group texted them all, asking what the heck they were up to. Nobody texted back.

  The driver dropped me off at an unmarked warehouse where a man dressed just like me waited.

  “Dylan James?” the man asked.

  “That’s me.”

  “Can I see some ID?”

  Weird. I flashed it for him anyway.

  “I’m Sergeant Hernandez. I’ve been sent to brief you on our situation. Please come with me, Ms. James.”

  Before I could reply, he entered the dimly-lit warehouse and I had to practically run to keep up. I passed a laser tag sign and realized what was up. Someone was playing a game with me, and I was thrilled!

  “We have a hostage situation,” the sergeant said as we walked past a handful of black dividers. The lighting was awful. Overhead fluorescents were mostly burned out.

  “Who’s the hostage?” I asked, playing along.

  “We’re not sure, but we were told that you can help us out with this.”

  “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

  He picked up what appeared to be a bulletproof vest and handed it to me. “Put this on. We’re sending you in to rescue the hostage.”

  That sounded fun. I strapped on the vest and he handed me a laser gun. “Take this. You’ll need to fight your way in. It’s the fourth door on the left, past the dividers. If you hit the back wall, you’ve gone too far. The place is full of hostiles, so shoot anything that moves until you get to that room.”

  “Got it.” I checked my weapon and made sure it didn’t have a safety.

  Sergeant Hernandez smiled. “I see you’ve done this before?”

  Played laser tag? A million times, but it had been a few years, and I was really looking forward to it. I nodded.

  He took me to the entrance, patted me on the back, and wished me luck.

  The first hostile was only a few feet from the entrance and standing in plain view. I shot him and jumped behind a divider. I took out two more on my way to the next divider. Three more went down over the next three minutes. I was feeling pretty cocky by the time I rounded the fifth divider and almost ran smack into another hostile. I startled him, and before he could get his gun off, I shot. His vest pinged and went dark.

  The obstacle course was longer than any I’d ever seen, and it took me almost fifteen minutes before I reached the first door. As soon as I sneaked past it, it opened, and I shot the hostile coming out. A cardboard cutout flew down at me from the ceiling between the second and third doors, but I got a headshot off on it. I was having the time of my life—and getting in a decent workout—by the time I reached the fourth door on the left.

  Holding the handle, I put my back against the door and slowly turned the knob. The door creaked open. It reached the halfway point before a body came flying at me. I fired two shots and pushed the dummy aside.

  Asher was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, holding a giant bouquet of tiger lilies, Gerber daisies, and others I didn’t know the names of but loved.

  “Are you my prize?” I asked.

  He set the flowers down on the chair and dropped to one knee. “Actually, I was hoping to be more than that. Like your husband. Marry me, love.” His hand trembled slightly as he pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it out to me.

  My heart leapt into my throat. “For real??”

  He laughed. “Yes. For real.”

  Tears formed in my eyes. I blinked them away and nodded as I gestured for him to get up.

  “This is the part where you say yes,” he said, rising.

  “Yes!” It was all I could manage before his lips were on mine and familiar voices cheered in the background. I laughed, and tears ran down my cheeks, as Asher kissed me silly. By the time he finally put me down, Addison and Jake had emerged from their hiding spot behind a corner divider.

  Asher slid the most gorgeous old-fashioned engagement ring that I’d ever seen onto my finger and took us all out to celebrate. I’d never been happier in my life.

  “I missed you last night,” I said while we waited for our food.

  “I wanted to come over, but that first night...you dropped to your knees and I swear I almost asked you to marry me right there and then. I would have been so pissed at myself for ruining the surprise.”

  I laughed, my cheeks burning at the memory of that night.

  “Wait, what?” Addison asked, butting in. “Dropped to her knees?”

  She’d been deep in a conversation with Jake and I didn’t think she’d hear me. “Uh...” Shit! I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “Dylan Linn James, you had sex and you didn’t tell me?”

  I didn’t answer. Keeping my gaze locked on Asher, as I silently prayed we’d poof to Asher’s house now, so I could avoid this whole conversation. Nothing happened, and the air around us was charged with tension.

  “She’s staring at me, isn’t she?” I asked Asher.

  Laughing, he nodded.

  “Dammit.” Turning, I smiled at my bestie, hoping to derail whatever train of embarrassment was about to come roaring from her mouth.

  “You know what, forget it,” Addison said. “You two can get freaky tonight, but tomorrow you have some serious explaining to do, missy. You can tell me all about this on the way to our new job.”

  “New job?” Asher and Jake both asked, sounding horrified.

  “Yes. One of my cousins is in need of our amazing detective services. We start tomorrow!”

  Asher and Jake both groaned.

  “What? It’ll be fine,” Addison assured them. “We’ve handled a bucking horse, taken down a corrupt DA, and un-framed Dylan. What could possibly happen that we can’t handle?”

  “One of our cousins?” Asher asked.

  Addison’s smile faltered. “Point taken. Still, relax, Ashey. We’ve totally got this.”

  I smiled up at my crazy bestie, hoping she knew what she was talking about. It could happen, right?

  Copyright ©2017 Harley Stone

  18+ for language and sexual situations...

  Heir to a powerful crime family, D’Angelo Mariani is being groomed to rule the Las Vegas underworld when a beautiful and mysterious adrenaline junkie jumps eight hundred and twenty-nine feet, landing smack dab in the middle of his life.

  Now he’d sacrifice everything to keep her.

  Fleeing from a corrupt system, Markie Davis has spent the past year hiding in a secluded African village. But when her sister falls off the grid, Markie is forced to return to the states and finally face a future she’s powerless to change. She never anticipated meeting a man like Angel.

  Now she’ll have to confront her destiny to stay with him.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dominico

  THE DAY BEFORE Halloween I paced my office, trying to figure out the secret to widening the radius of an electromagnetic pulse blast of a pocket-sized device without increasing its dimensions. I palmed the device, once again working through the equation in my head. I had to be missing something.

  A figure darkened my doorway. “Angel, we’re gonna be late,” Bones nagged.

  My best friend, bodyguard, and schedule keeper stood just under six feet tall, inches shorter than me, but with a build that dissuaded muggers and a scowl that forced hardened criminals to drop their gaze and cross to the other side of the street. Smartly dressed in a suit that screamed “funeral director” or some other occupation paid to put people six feet under, his real name was Franco Leone, but I’d nicknamed him Bones in fourth grade when he shattered the wrist of an aspiring bully who’d shoved me against my locker. The nickname stuck, and so did our friendship.

  “I know. I know. One more minute.”

  “The big man’s gonna fuckin’ ice us if we’re late. You know how important this drop is.”

  “The drop’s at three, right?”

  He nodded.

  I glanced at my watch. “Then don’t worry about it. We got plenty of time.” It was too early for rush hour, and little things like traffi
c weren’t exactly a big deal for my family. Our technical guru had the city wired and controlled the lights from the comfort of his hidden office.

  “Plenty of time? Aren’t you forgetting something?” Bones gestured toward my body.

  I followed his gaze and swore. T-shirt, jeans, sneakers; I needed to change and had forgotten to bring a suit. We’d have to stop by the condo, which would add another twenty minutes to our commute. Dropping the device on my desk, I ran for the exit.

  “Angel.” Bones’s tone held laughter, causing me to stop and look at him. He grinned and whipped out a garment bag he’d been hiding behind his back. “Who’s got your back?”

  “You’re the shit, Bones,” I said, taking the suit. “Best goddamn butler I ever had.”

  He flipped me off.

  Laughing, I went back into my office and changed. Once I’d donned the family-approved wiseguy apparel, Bones and I took the elevator up to the ground floor, emerging into the busy plastics manufacturing plant that served as a front for my father’s technical development business. Nobody even glanced our way as we hurried toward the garage.

  “Keys?” I asked.

  He tossed them to me. “She’s all gassed up.”

  I climbed behind the wheel of my black and silver Hummer H5 with tinted bullet-resistant glass and tires designed to resist deflation when punctured, glancing over my shoulder into the backseat. Blankets hid the machine guns we’d be delivering.

  “Thanks for making the pickup. I’m close to figuring out a way to keep the—”

  “You’re close to making us late, is what you’re close to.” Bones tapped the clock on the dashboard. “Twenty-three minutes. I’m calling Tech.”

  I nodded and put the Hummer into reverse. As we pulled away from the building, Bones spoke a code and the dashboard screen came to life. The screen blinked, requiring another password. Bones rattled off a series of numbers and then placed his thumb in the center of the box.

  The face of a man I’d known for years, but had never met in person, appeared. “We are secure, Bones, how can I help you?” Tech asked. Nobody but my father knew the real name of the head of the technical department. To the rest of us, Tech was the autonomous human version of a digital personal assistant and knowledge navigator.