Desperate Girls

by Laura Griffin

“Yeah, I did.” He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it in the back, and Brynn was again struck dumb.

  His muscular torso was a work of art. And yet he didn’t even seem to notice her gawking as he rummaged through his duffel and took out a clean shirt.

  “What, you don’t want to hit the O-course?” she asked.

  “Do you?” He paused in the act of putting on the T-shirt, peering at her through the neck hole.

  “Kidding.”

  He pulled the shirt on. “You sure? I could help you. It might be fun.”

  “My idea of fun is a margarita and a beach towel, not a chin-up bar.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at him. “And speaking of . . . you have any plans tonight? There’s this Mexican place called Emilio’s not far from the Atrium. Amazing enchiladas.”

  Was she really doing this? Was she really asking her bodyguard out on a date after she’d kissed him in her bedroom? Evidently, she was. And he wasn’t answering, so maybe he thought it was weird.

  It was weird. Erik’s job was to be with her, so it was almost like having a paid escort. Ick.

  “Or we could get takeout,” she suggested.

  “Might be easier.”

  They climbed into the car and got moving, and Brynn tried not to overanalyze his response as they pulled out of the lot.

  Easier how? Because it would be less like a date? Was he trying to put her off ? He’d seemed so relaxed a few minutes ago, and now he’d tensed up. The fact that he was driving her around like a chauffeur just emphasized the awkwardness of their relationship.

  Not that they had a relationship, not in the traditional sense.

  He was her bodyguard. She was his client. Anything else was just . . . temporary friendship. Or a figment of her active imagination.

  But she hadn’t imagined that kiss. No, that had been very real. And he’d been very into it, if only for a few stolen moments before Trent interrupted them.

  Brynn took out her phone and pulled up the website for Emilio’s. “How about I place a takeout order?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

  “Sounds good.”

  Erik glanced at Brynn in the passenger seat. For the past twenty minutes, she’d been scrolling through phone messages and avoiding conversation.

  He’d damn near kissed her back there. He’d been a heartbeat away from dragging her against him and kissing the hell out of her when the sound of pistol fire had reminded him where they were.

  He clenched his teeth. What was he doing? He was on duty. He was supposed to be protecting her, not lusting after her.

  Erik concentrated on rush-hour traffic and tried to get his thoughts under control. By the time they reached the apartment, he was back in the zone. No more distractions, not for the next five hours. When midnight rolled around, his thoughts could go wherever they wanted, but until then, his mind was a lust-free zone.

  His problem was, it wasn’t just physical attraction pulling his mind off the job. It was everything.

  He liked watching her work. He liked talking to her—not just about Corby or her trial but about anything at all. She could recite her damn grocery list, and he’d be riveted by her mouth and the sexy tone of her voice.

  He even liked arguing with her, which seemed to happen a lot. She wasn’t afraid to question him or challenge him, and every time she did it, she got his blood going.

  He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a black Mercedes, where a woman was unloading shopping bags.

  “Thanks for the run,” Brynn said.

  “No problem.”

  “Thank your brother’s friend, too. It was nice of him to set us up.”

  “Sure.”

  Erik got out, scanning the surrounding area before opening Brynn’s door. He’d been on the lookout for a white Dodge pickup for days now, but he hadn’t seen a single one.

  Trent was in the lobby as they entered the building, and Erik caught his eye.

  “I need you to take Brynn up while I park,” Erik told him.

  “No problem.”

  Erik left her with Trent, and his phone buzzed as he stepped back outside. He didn’t recognize the number, but he’d given his contact info out to quite a few people over the past few days.

  “Erik Morgan,” he said.

  “Yeah, I got a message here from my supervisor,” a male voice said. “Someone wanted me to call about a white pickup in the parking garage at the Ames?”

  The Ames Theater. This would be the janitor Erik had been trying to track down. According to the building superintendent, he would have been coming into work Tuesday morning not long before the shooting incident.

  “Are you Mr. Mathis?” Erik asked.

  “That’s me. I work in the theater four days a week. I was here Tuesday, but I didn’t see any white pickup truck.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. This note here says you’re an investigator. Is that Dallas PD?”

  “I’m with a private firm,” Erik said as he got behind the wheel. “You remember what time you got to work Tuesday?”

  “I get in every day at oh-seven-hundred,” he said. “Seven a.m.”

  His words caught Erik’s attention. The man sounded like former military, which would make him more observant than the average civilian.

  “What about other vehicles?” Erik asked.

  “What about them?”

  “Did you see any vehicle that didn’t belong there? Or any suspicious people hanging around there in the parking garage?”

  A pause.

  Erik sat behind the wheel, waiting. “Mr. Mathis?”

  “There was a black Honda. About ten years old. It was on level three, parked right by the stairwell when I pulled in.”

  “You happen to get the model on that?”

  “A Civic, I think. Or could have been an Accord. The back bumper was dented—I noticed that.”

  “Anyone in the vehicle?”

  “Yeah, a guy was sitting there. Looked like he was reading something. Or maybe on his phone. I figured he was waiting for someone.”

  Erik started the car. “Listen, Mr. Mathis, are you at work right now? I’d like to swing by and show you a few pictures. It will only take a minute.”

  “I really didn’t see much.”

  People always said that. And then they were always surprised by how much they did see. An in-person interview would help Erik get details this guy didn’t even know he’d picked up.

  With a little more convincing, Mathis agreed to meet, and Erik made a call to notify Trent before pulling back onto Commerce Street. He drove west a block, then got into the left-turn lane to catch the cross street that would take him to the Ames Theater.

  Erik scanned the intersection as he waited for the light. The streets were busy with people coming home from work or heading out for the evening. Several sidewalk cafés were filled with happy-hour customers.

  A man in a baseball cap caught Erik’s eye. Medium height, medium build. Nothing unusual, except . . . something was off about him. His shoulders were hunched up, and he had his chin ducked low as he stared out from under the brim of his cap.

  A horn beeped behind him, and he glanced in his rearview. He took the turn, then watched in his mirrors as the guy walked into the yogurt shop two blocks down from the Atrium. Erik caught a glimpse of his goatee.

  The hair on the back of Erik’s neck stood up.

  Was it Corby? He looked a lot like one of those police drawings. It was hard to tell for sure at a glance, though. But he made a habit of following his instincts, so he dialed Trent’s number as he turned onto a side street and circled the block.

  “Are you with Brynn?” Erik asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You’re in the apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t leave there.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just stay there until you hear from me.” He hung up and called Skyler. “Where are you? Where’s Ross?” he asked.
<
br />   “He’s right here. We’re about to pick up dinner. Why?”

  “I just saw this guy—”

  Muffled screams came over the phone. Erik swerved to the curb and jammed on the brakes.

  “Skyler?” He jumped out and ran toward the Atrium. “Skyler, report!”

  More muffled screams. Then Skyler’s voice, “Man down! Man down!”

  ERIK CUT through the crowd, his gaze locked on a commotion on the sidewalk in front of Bamboo Palace. A knot of people had formed there, and Erik’s heart lurched as he saw Skyler kneeling on the pavement.

  Ross lay on his side in a pool of blood, blinking up at the people gathered around him.

  “Call 911!” Skyler yelled, shoving her phone at a bystander.

  “Skyler!”

  She looked up at Erik. “He stabbed him! Then he took off !”

  “Which way?”

  “East. Baseball cap, black hoodie, jeans.” She stripped off her T-shirt and pressed it against the gushing wound at Ross’s side. “I’ve got this. You go!”

  Erik raced down the street, darting around people. He caught sight of the man in the ball cap as he ducked around a corner.

  Erik sprinted after him, SIG in hand. He sidestepped a jogger and pushed through a knot of people clogging the sidewalk near a bus stop, then ran around the corner just in time to see Corby disappearing around a building.

  Erik raced to the location. It was an alley, and he bolted down it as Corby neared the end, where he grabbed a milk crate and flung it into Erik’s path before ducking around another corner. Erik ran after him, hurdling the crate and pulling the buzzing phone from his pocket with his free hand.

  “Where are you?” Jeremy demanded.

  “Corby’s fleeing west on Pearl Street! I repeat, west on Pearl.” Erik didn’t take his eyes off his target as he tore after him. Horns blared as Corby dashed through traffic, then slid across the hood of a red Corvette parked at a meter.

  “Give me a description,” Jeremy ordered. “We’ve got the marshals on the phone.”

  Erik halted to wait for a break in traffic, then sprinted across, sliding across the hood of the same Corvette.

  “Brown goatee, blue baseball hat, black hooded sweatshirt and jeans.”

  “Armed?”

  “Skyler reported a knife. He just turned down an alley heading north. I’m in pursuit.” Erik darted down the alley and spied a tall chain-link fence at the end, blocking off a construction site. Corby was nowhere, but Erik saw a gap in the fencing.

  “He just entered a construction site. Pearl and . . . Fifth, I think. You copy?”

  “Copy that.”

  He shoved his phone into his pocket to free his hands as he reached the fence. He yanked back the mesh and pushed through, snagging his T-shirt. Jerking it free, he paused to scan the site, a maze of concrete slabs and heavy machinery, dominated by a towering steel skeleton in the middle. Workmen stood around swigging water and peeling off orange safety vests as they wrapped up for the day.

  No Corby.

  Cursing, Erik skimmed the giant steel beams and bundles of rebar. He jogged up to the nearest worker.

  “Hey, have you seen—”

  A jackhammer drowned out the words, and Erik’s chest vibrated with the noise.

  On the far side of the job site, Erik spied a man in a black hoodie. He wore a yellow hard hat, but Erik knew it was Corby and charged after him. As if sensing someone behind him, the man glanced over his shoulder, then broke into a sprint.

  Erik sidestepped a concrete barricade and leaped across a trench. Corby reached a gap in the fencing, squeezed through, and took off down the street.

  “Shit!”

  Erik raced after him, reached the opening, and plunged into the street, crashing into a businessman.

  He looked in both directions and spotted Corby barreling through a line of people standing beside a food truck. Corby ducked into a building, and Erik glanced at the sign. Mulligan’s Pub. Erik’s gut clenched with dread when he thought of the potential hostage situation. Adrenaline fired through him as he raced to the door and yanked it open.

  The place was dim and noisy. His eyes adjusted, and he heard a loud yelp, followed by shattering glass. Pushing through the crowd, Erik followed the noise to the kitchen, where he found a waitress kneeling by a pile of broken bottles.

  “Son of a bitch!” she spat, looking toward the back exit.

  Erik rushed past the her and plowed through the door. He was in another alley. Corby could have gone in either direction, but he seemed to be traveling more or less west. So Erik took off that way, toward Pearl Street. They’d made a loop, which might or might not have been intentional.

  Erik reached Pearl and checked both directions. No yellow hard hat. No black sweatshirt.

  A squeal of tires had him spinning around. A black car peeled away from the curb and swerved into traffic. The car sped through a red light as horns blared and drivers slammed on their brakes.

  Erik yanked out his phone and called Jeremy.

  “He’s in a black four-door heading west on Pearl! Just crossed Sixth.” Erik raked his hand through his hair and cursed as the taillights disappeared. “Repeat, a black four-door. I think it’s a Honda.”

  “Copy that. Are you in pursuit?”

  “No, I lost him.”

  BRYNN TURNED off the shower and heard noises.

  Voices. Footsteps. The front door opening and closing.

  She wrapped herself in a towel as someone pounded on her bedroom door. She rushed to open it and found a panicked-looking Hayes.

  “What’s wrong?” She peered over his shoulder to see two huge men standing in her foyer. “Who the hell are they?”

  They had guns and badges and looked like plainclothes cops.

  “U.S. Marshals,” Hayes said. “Corby’s in the area. There’s been an attack.”

  “What?”

  Hayes looked tongue-tied, and she pushed past him.

  “Where is Ross?”

  The marshals were stone-faced. If they knew who she was talking about, they didn’t show it. Fear seized her, and she whirled around.

  “Hayes! Where’s Ross? Where’s Erik?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Brynn stalked past him back into the bedroom. She dropped her towel and threw on some clothes, then returned to the hallway. The sound of sirens outside sent a chill through her.

  “Where’d they go?” she asked Hayes, who was alone in the foyer now, talking on his phone.

  She hurried to the window, parted the blinds, and peered out. Two police cars raced down the street below, sirens wailing as they whipped around the corner.

  Brynn’s heart squeezed. Whatever was going on, she couldn’t see it from this side of the building. She ran back into the bedroom, grabbing her phone off the dresser as she rushed to the window. With trembling hands, she dialed Erik.

  Then she heard his voice booming in the hall.

  “Where is she?”

  She turned around, and he was in the doorway.

  “What happened? You’re bleeding!” she yelped.

  “Get away from that window.” He crossed the room in two strides and yanked her back from the glass.

  “Your arm’s bleeding!”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What the hell happened?” Her voice was shrill as she stared up at his sweat-slicked face.

  “Corby attacked Ross.”

  “What?”

  “He stabbed him.”

  Brynn’s stomach seemed to drop to the floor. “Stabbed him? Is he—” She didn’t want to say the word. “Is he alive?”

  “I believe so. The wound is to his lower back.”

  Brynn felt dizzy. “What . . . where . . .”

  “He’s in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. That’s all I know.”

  “Where did this happen? And what happened to you?”

  Erik’s jaw tightened. “I got there right after Corby fled. I tried to chase him down but lost sight
of him for a minute. He had a vehicle waiting.”

  “You tried to chase him down? Why didn’t you shoot him?”

  “There were people around.”

  “But . . . how did he get to Ross? Where was Skyler?”

  “They were on their way to Bamboo Palace. Corby jumped Ross from behind, stabbed him in the back.”

  Brynn put her hands over her eyes, horrified by the image. “Oh my God.”

  “Brynn. Take a deep breath.”

  She dropped her hands and stared at him. “Are you insane? Ross was stabbed. How can you be so calm and emotionless? You’re like a robot!”

  “Brynn, I need you to take it easy while we sort this out. You should sit down.”

  Fury welled inside her. “Don’t treat me like I’m some hysterical female. I want information! Tell me how this happened.”

  “Erik?”

  They turned to see Hayes standing in the doorway. “Jeremy’s with the marshals. He needs you to call him.”

  Erik started toward the door, but Brynn grabbed his arm. “Wait. Wait. I have to go to the hospital.”

  “It’s better if you stay here.”

  “No way. Which hospital?”

  Erik just stared at her. She looked at Hayes. “Which hospital, Hayes?”

  “Uh . . .”

  Brynn strode past both of them. The closest hospital was probably Methodist. She reached for a set of keys on the bar, but Erik cut around her and grabbed them.

  “God damn it, Erik!”

  He pocketed the keys. “You can’t go. The area’s not secured.”

  “Ross is in the hospital, and I’m damn well going!”

  He put his hand on her shoulder like a clamp. “You are not going anywhere right now.”

  “But—”

  “How much more proof do you need that you’re in danger?” His grip tightened. “I will go to the hospital. When the area is secure, then I will come here and get you. Are we clear?”

  He was right, she knew, but tears of frustration welled in her eyes, making her even more furious.

  “Fine. Go. But don’t even think about leaving me here all night. I need to be there, Erik.”

  “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  Half the marshals in the state seemed to be milling around the waiting room. They were joined by local cops, sheriff’s deputies, and even a few Texas Rangers in cowboy hats. Corby would have to be suicidal to show up here, but that didn’t ease Erik’s worry as he watched Brynn from across the room.