Impossible Promise

by Sybil Bartel

  Running with Neil was different than with Talon. Talon chatted as he ran. Neil was silent. I imagined Buck would be like Neil. The thought of Buck brought a sharp pain to my chest so I started to sprint.

  Heart pounding, legs pumping, lungs burning, I ran to escape. But the harder I ran, the worse it got. The suffocating feeling of helplessness closed in, and stripped me raw. Powerless over my life, no control, I ran faster. Every muscle burning, it hit me.

  I’d been waiting.

  I’d been waiting for three years. Waiting to be followed, waiting to be found and now I was waiting to be rescued. This was bullshit. Total fucking bullshit. No one could save me. I had to save myself. I had the power. Me. Six million dollars’ worth of stolen money power.

  The idea formed and I let it gel.

  Out of breath, my feet pounding the sand, I smiled for the first time in days.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I left the window in the bathroom open. I turned out the lights, got into bed and sunk under the covers. Turning on my side, I looked at the clock and started my countdown.

  Seven minutes later, Neil slipped into the guest room and went to the bathroom. The window slid shut.

  “Leave it,” I called.

  Neil came out of the bathroom. “You should be asleep.”

  “So should you. Please leave the window open, it’s a nice night. I want to hear the cicadas,” I lied.

  Neil stood motionless in the dark.

  “Please.”

  Neil left.

  The air whooshed out of my lungs and I lay back.

  But a minute later, he was back with a wooden spoon in his hand. He went into the bathroom, turned on the light and opened the window a few inches. He jammed the spoon into the casement and opened the window enough to wedge it into place, making it impossible to open the window any wider from the outside. Leaving the light on, he stepped into the bedroom and pulled a gun from his back waistband.

  “Do you know how to shoot?”

  I looked at the pistol. “An H&K USP9? Single or double action?”

  Neil stared at me. If he was surprised, I couldn’t tell. “USP9 SD,” he corrected. “It’s set to variant 7, double action, no safety.”

  I got all warm and fuzzy. “I think I can manage.”

  “Think or know?”

  I sat up and held my hand out. “Know.”

  Neil placed the cold metal in my hand.

  I released the magazine and chambered round and aimed away from Neil, pulling through the double action trigger. “That’ll work. What’s SD?” I loaded the gun and set it on the nightstand.

  Neil eyed me. “It’s the tactical version of the USP9. Who taught you to shoot?”

  Tactical version? Count me in. “Me. Call it a hobby.” I discovered two years ago that going to the shooting range made Miami’s men nervous. You’d be surprised how many different guns you can learn to shoot in two years.

  “This isn’t playtime.”

  No shit. “Then good thing I’m being serious.”

  Neil sighed and hit the bathroom light. “If anyone tries to come through the window, shoot them.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” I was almost giddy he was leaving the gun. I might’ve smiled.

  Neil eyed me. “Do you know what they teach you in Special Forces?”

  Dread replaced the giddiness. “No.” Fuck.

  “Tracking.”

  Icy prickles crept up my spine. “What’s your point?”

  “Do not be foolish.” And he went back upstairs.

  Shit. Shit. My plan now seemed like a really bad idea. I lay back and weighed my options. Raising my arms over my face, the raw flesh on my upper left arm scratched against the covers. I gingerly touched the wound. Yeah, hell no. I was doing this.

  * * *

  Two hours later I snuck out through the bathroom window. Gun, cash, toss-away cell, I crept along the shadows of the sea grapes and made my way out to the beach. Four houses down, I cut through to the main road and called for a cab, giving the address of the house I was in front of. Waiting the fifteen minutes for the cab to show was the hardest part. Heart pounding, I was sure Neil would show. He had a fifty-fifty shot of guessing which direction I went.

  When I saw the cab, I jumped from the shadows and met the driver before he pulled all the way into the driveway.

  “Airport please.” I sunk low in the seat, glancing around for Neil.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  No sign of him.

  A half hour later I was in another cab heading for Miami Beach. I’d negotiated a flat rate with one of the taxis in the queue and told the driver I would pay double if he made good time. The plan in motion, I put my head back and tried to sleep.

  A little before 5:00 a.m., the cab pulled up in front of my house. I paid the driver and settled on the bench by my front door. I didn’t go inside. I pulled out the cell phone and started dialing.

  I went through all the numbers I could remember.

  The third one was picked up.

  “What?”

  I didn’t recognize the voice. “I want a meeting.”

  Soft laughter filled the line. “I’ll fucking meet you, chica. You got an itch? Need me to scratch it for you?”

  I reined in my anger and forced my voice to stay monotone. “Tell Miami he has one hour. Meet with me or I go public.”

  “He ain’t meeting shit.”

  “One hour.” I hung up.

  A second later the phone rang. I put it to my ear.

  The same voice. “Don’t fucking play games you can’t win, chica.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He swore. “Where are you?”

  “Home.” I hung up again and tried to stop shaking.

  It took twenty-three minutes. A non-descript sedan with tinted windows pulled into my driveway. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Hands shaking, knees buckling, one breath away from hyperventilating, I walked to the passenger window and waited.

  The glass slid down and the owner of the voice on the phone sneered at me.

  “Get in.” Twenties, Hispanic, bed rumpled hair and clothes, he looked pissed as hell.

  “You got a problem with directions?” Thank God my voice didn’t shake. I slipped my hand inside the purse hanging across my body.

  “I don’t got a problem with shit except you. Get in the fucking car, bitch.”

  “Now he has thirty-seven minutes.” I started to back up and he reached to the side of his seat. Without hesitation, I pulled Neil’s gun from the open purse and aimed right between his eyes.

  He froze.

  “Thirty-six minutes,” I warned. Buck was right. A minute counted. Goddamn, it counted. “I’m out of patience.”

  He swallowed. “You won’t pull the trigger, you don’t got it in you.” He tried to sneer but I saw the sweat on his forehead.

  “You won’t care what I got in me when my 9 millimeter makes a giant hole out of the back of your head.” Three goddamn years of hell. Who the fuck was he to say what I had in me?

  Slowly, his hands crept up. “Relax, chica.”

  Asshole. “Call him.”

  He didn’t move.

  I raised my voice. “Now.”

  Deliberate, slow, he dialed his cell and put it to his ear.

  “Speakerphone,” I demanded.

  Two rings and I heard the voice I hated more than anything in this world. “What’d she say?”

  I didn’t wait for him to answer. “She said she wants to meet.”

  Miami’s chuckle slithered across my skin. “You tink that’s wise, hijita?”

  “You think it was wise to break into my apartment? You think it was wise to shoot me?”

  “You the one who ran, little one. You brought that on.”

  Bull-fucking-shit. But I saw where this was going and I’d made a crucial mistake. “Thirty-five minutes,” I warned, trying to gain the upper hand back.

  Miami sighed. “What’s this about? We have a deal.” />
  “We had a deal. New rules.” One way or another, I was done. I was done being his fucking prisoner. I was done bringing Buck and Talon down. I was done living in fear. I was done, period.

  “You don’t get to make the rules,” Miami snorted.

  “Wrong answer.” I swept left and pulled through the double action trigger. The headrest behind the asshole exploded into a million pieces of stuffing and leather.

  He screamed like a girl and dropped the cell phone.

  Ears ringing, I leveled the gun back between his eyes. “Next time I won’t miss. 10:00 p.m. tonight, Hotel M, the rooftop bar. Tell him to be there.” The South Beach hotel’s bar would be packed and I needed time to put my plan into place. “Drive away before I change my mind.”

  The asshole floored it.

  I scanned for witnesses then skirted around my property. Stepping behind my neighbor’s nine-foot-tall awabuki hedge, I called for a cab and headed to the main gate of my development.

  * * *

  I spent the morning zig-zagging between South Beach hotel lobbies so I couldn’t be tracked. I’d bought a tight, black, stretchy dress and pair of cheap heels that’d keep me from standing out tonight but otherwise I’d kept moving as I made my calls. Barrett and I had set up a way to contact him, but it took time. I called a restaurant and placed a bogus order, the restaurant called back after a half hour to confirm the fake order, and that got the ball rolling. Two hours later, I’d bought a new toss-away phone, turned off the one from Talon and was waiting. When Barrett finally called, I told him it was game on. If he didn’t hear back from me by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow he was to release the story and give the recording I’d made years ago of Miami’s voice to Lara.

  “Can I ask what changed?” He didn’t sound happy.

  “I’m tired of running.”

  “We’ve talked about this. I can help you. We can set you up somewhere safe and then call the authorities.”

  That might keep me safe, for a while, but it didn’t protect Buck, or Talon. “Thanks, I’m good. Remember, by five tomorrow unless I call you back.”

  “Jennifer, I’m strongly urging you not to do whatever it is you’re about to do. As your lawyer but also...”

  “I know, I hear you. And thank you—for everything.” I hung up, pulled the SIM card out of the phone and threw it away.

  I walked to a hotel a few blocks away from the ocean where I knew they’d take cash and got a room. I thought I’d feel elated, or nervous, or even relieved. But I felt nothing except tired. I stripped the nasty bedspread, set the alarm clock and fell on the bed.

  I woke to darkness. Eight-oh-two. Showtime. I took a quick shower and pinned my hair up. I threw on the dress and heels, turned on the cell I still had and left the hotel on foot. By the time I stepped out of the elevator to the rooftop bar, I was sweating like a pig. My heart was beating a cagey rhythm and I wanted to run. Bad.

  My eyes scanned the bar but I didn’t know who I was looking for. I knew Miami wouldn’t come alone, but since he had a revolving door of flunkies, I didn’t know who the hell he’d show up with. Fuck.

  Eight-fifty-six.

  Eight-fifty-nine.

  Double fuck.

  Nine.

  Nine-oh-one.

  I stood.

  The cell phone in my hand vibrated. Unidentified caller. I put the phone to my ear.

  “We have a deal, hijita.” Miami’s tone was serious, deadly serious.

  “I guess you don’t value your freedom or your money.”

  A thick, strong arm snaked around my neck and grabbed the phone. Fear, so intense, splintered my heart with sharp pain as my body jerked and my mouth opened to scream.

  “Don’t say a fucking word,” Buck hissed in my ear as he shut the phone and jammed it in his pocket.

  Shocked, I looked up into a face that was livid with fury.

  “Walk. Now.” Hand on my neck, he propelled me toward the elevator and punched the call button with his fist.

  The elevator arrived and Buck shoved me forward. For some reason I wanted to cry, and that pissed me off. I scrambled to the corner and Buck crowded me in. Despite him not touching me, I felt him everywhere. Staring straight ahead, Buck didn’t speak. The muscle in his jaw ticked in the time to the descending floors. At garage level, the doors opened and his hand went to my neck again, ushering me to a red Mustang.

  Beeping the door open, he less than gently pushed me inside. “Seatbelt,” he barked.

  I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. I fastened my seatbelt and Buck screeched tires all the way to the street. He drove like we were on fire. Weaving in and out of cars, gunning it through yellow lights, he broke every traffic law I could think of.

  I finally found my voice. “Slow down.”

  Buck slammed on the breaks, pulled into a turn lane and stopped. Whipping his head toward me, he let loose. “What the fuck—what the fuck!—were you thinking? This is your plan? Your plan? Using yourself as bait? Getting yourself killed? What the fuck, Layna?”

  “You’re blocking traffic,” I said nervously.

  “I DON’T CARE!” His fist slammed into the dashboard.

  I started to cry.

  “Goddamn it.” His hands brushed over his face, his head then he pulled back into traffic, driving only marginally slower.

  The distinct sound of a phone set to vibrate filled the silence between us. The second time it rang, Buck reached in his pocket, opened the window and tossed my phone out.

  Crossing my arms over my stomach, I turned away from him and began to doubt every single step I’d taken since last night. By the time Buck took the entrance ramp for 95 north, I had to talk. I had to explain myself.

  “I was going to offer Miami a deal—his six million for my freedom. I didn’t want you or Talon or anyone else fighting my fight for me anymore. I’ve caused enough trouble. This is my fight, not yours.”

  “And when he killed you tonight, then what?” Buck bit out through a clenched jaw.

  “He wouldn’t have.” Or at least I didn’t think he would. “Then he wouldn’t get his money and he knows I have my story waiting to go viral. He knows my death would trigger its release.” I’d told him often enough. “He would’ve taken the deal, it’s a fair trade. Six million and my silence for my freedom. We’d both walk away. And if he didn’t agree, then I told Barrett to go public.”

  Buck’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His foot pressed down on the accelerator. “You actually thought he would’ve let you walk? Did you think for one minute that you would’ve survived that conversation? He would’ve put a bullet in your head and been at Westcott’s house before your heart stopped beating!”

  I shrunk in on myself. “I was going to disappear.” Somehow, someway.

  Buck didn’t say a word.

  My hands twisted. I dared to glance at him and for the first time I noticed what he was wearing. Dark, fitted jeans, a button down and shoes—black shoes, not boots. He looked...he looked like he was on a date. “How did you find me?” I whispered.

  No response.

  “Did you track Talon’s phone?”

  Nothing.

  Then it occurred to me. Neil or Talon had tracked me. And they’d told Buck what was going on. My mind made the leap. Buck, royally pissed, had come to get me. Not because he cared but because he was pissed I was being stupid and putting them all in danger. “Where were you when you got the call?” Misery set in.

  “Out.”

  I turned back to the window.

  Buck pulled into Talon’s driveway in half the time it would’ve taken me to drive from Miami to Dayton. Neil’s truck was parked by the garage and all the lights were on inside. I pushed the car door open and Neil came out of the house. If he was pissed, I couldn’t tell, he looked like he always looked.

  He inclined his head at Buck and there was a moment where none of us moved. I didn’t know what to say and suddenly, I had an uneasy feeling. I shut the car door and looked at Buck but he didn’t say
anything, he just stood by the open driver’s door. When his hand brushed over his head, I knew. He wasn’t staying. I turned to go inside.

  “Layna.”

  Reluctantly, I faced Buck.

  “Call Barrett off.” He tossed a cell phone at me.

  I caught it and walked into Talon’s house.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A hand gently pushed my hair off my face.

  “Wake up, sweetheart.”

  My eyes opened to pitch black. “Buck?”

  “No, Sugar, it’s me.”

  “Talon?” I sat up.

  “Yeah, Sugar, just me.” He sounded sad.

  I could just barely make him out on the edge of the bed. He was back. Alive. “Talon!” I threw my arms around his neck.

  “Hey, hey,” he soothed, pulling me close.

  His scent, so wonderfully familiar, filled my lungs with relief. “You’re back!”

  “You didn’t doubt that, now did you? I wouldn’t leave you hangin’.”

  “I was worried.” I buried my head against his neck. God, I was worried.

  Talon stiffened slightly. “Hey, c’mon now, none of that.”

  I pulled back and looked at him, my eyes adjusting to the dark. “Did you get a recording?”

  Talon tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and ignored my question. “That was a stupid stunt you pulled.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “They weren’t good ones.”

  “I’m not going to apologize. I wanted all of you out of it and it was the only way I knew how.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that we don’t want out?”

  I stilled. “No,” I whispered.

  Even in the dark, I saw his sad smile. “You’re stubborn as hell, darlin’. Did you call off your lawyer from leaking the goods?”

  “Yeah.” I’d been up for hours after Buck left, doing exactly that. “Tell me I did it for a good reason, tell me you have the recording.”

  Talon stared at me a moment. “I do but first things first, we’ve got a full day. Then we’ll sit down and talk.”