by Lisa Ladew
Bronx looked over the scene, making sure he didn't see a woman anywhere. He didn't. As much as he wanted to, walking down into that nightmare would be a mistake. He couldn't help Eme if he were dead. They would have to walk out until they got a signal. Call the cops. Have them swarm in force. Then they could search for Eme.
Although Bronx had a feeling she wasn't down there. Wasn't in one of those trailers. It just didn't make sense. He was missing something. But with as little as he knew about her, he might never figure it out.
He turned and nodded at Talon and they began the hike out. His mind seized on Isaacs' face and he shook his head. That piece of shit wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Bronx went through every nasty name in the book, calling Isaacs each one, then turning on himself when he realized if Eme wasn't here, he was wasting valuable time out here on Isaacs.
They got back to the car quicker than they'd come in. "One bar," Talon said. "Here goes nothing."
He dialed three numbers and then looked up at Bronx. "What did you say that pussy's name was again?"
Bronx went rigid, his mind serving up an image.
He knew who had her.
Chapter 37
Eme
Pounding brought Eme more fully conscious, making her shake her head and try to lift it again. This time she got a little farther. She blinked, feeling pain stream through her neck. Her body was back. Drugged. She'd been drugged somehow. Burning pain on her face told her it had probably been chloroform. But who?
Even as she threw off the effects of the drug she knew who. Had always known it would come to this someday. The only question now was how.
If how even mattered. She had no illusions that she was going to leave here with her life. Her husband didn't want her back. He wanted her dead.
She looked down at herself. Naked and wrapped in the sheet off her bed. Great.
The pounding stopped and Eme realized it had been his boots coming down stairs. A light flared and she blinked against it.
"Julijana," he purred, his voice deep and without mercy.
Eme's head whipped toward his voice and fear spiked in her so great it threatened to drive her insane. It was him. Oh God in heaven, Dusan had found her and now he would do what he always promised. What he had done to his first wife. Please let it be quick and relatively painless, she prayed. She didn't want to lose all of her dignity, begging him here in the dark.
"Julijana, I know you can speak. Say something to me."
He came towards her and took her chin in his hand. She lifted her eyes to his and cowered. She couldn't help it. His eyes were still as cruel and lifeless as she remembered them. She had never understood how no one he worked with in the government of the tiny country they'd lived in had ever seen it, called him on it. He was the Deputy Minister of Finance, for God's sake! How could it be possible that a psychopath could ever raise to such an important position. He was being groomed for ministry by his boss, and who knew, someday, he might make a bid for president. He was only forty-eight now. Thirty-six when he'd gone to her father asking to marry her. Her father had been blinded by Dusan's position and power, even though then he'd only been an assistant to the minister of finance.
Dusan's fingers tightened on her chin, pinching it, then let go and traveled downwards. She trembled. He would rape her first. Of course. Which would destroy the sweetness she'd found with Bronx.
Eme shook in the chair as Dusan found and ripped her necklace from her neck, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Bronx's handsome face and sweet smile filled her vision. If Dusan had found her, did he know about Bronx?
Dusan stared at her jewelry, the emerald that hadn't left her body since she'd mounted it inside the silver swirl, then dropped it to the concrete and ground it under his heel. Eme felt pure pain spike through her. He truly was destroying her, and everything she loved and had fought for. He spun and walked across the room, and Eme tried to follow his movements. Tried to anticipate what was coming.
He clucked his tongue at her. "I always knew letting you work would cause problems. I was a fool to allow it. I should have called your bluff and let you slice your own fucking throat. I could have talked my way out of it." His voice was deadly, and it made her mind and body slip back easily into those days when she'd been his to command, to control, except that one time, when she'd stood up to him once and for all. That one time she'd had what it took to captain her own life.
She'd been twenty-two, married to him for six years already, walking around like a zombie, unless he was there to force her to animate herself. At that time it had been three years since he'd first hit her. Their marriage had never been what she would call good even on their honeymoon, but in the early years it hadn't been the living hell it would become later. That first time, she'd been nineteen, newly pregnant with his child, and walked in on him receiving a blow job under his desk from the maid. She'd yelled, threatened to divorce him, but in truth she'd been glad at what she saw as the dissolution of the marriage, even if she was carrying his child. Other couples managed it. But then he'd come calmly around the desk and struck her across the face, sending her to the floor. He'd beaten her until she'd bled, then left her in the room by herself. She'd gone to the hospital where she'd lost the baby. She'd tried to tell herself it was good that she had, even if she sometimes cried at night over dreams of the little one. But no one needed a father like that, right? She'd asked for police in the hospital, but they'd never come. When she'd finally left, she got her first introduction to the kind of power her husband truly held. At the police station, they simply refused to hear her. They'd called her hysterical, turned away from her bruises, and said that she needed to work it out with her husband. He'd been there to take her home, and when she had refused to go, a police officer had escorted her there. That was the first time she heard a threat against her mother, although there would be many more.
Three years later, on secret birth control, she'd thought she was thoroughly cowed, but had proved herself wrong. She'd gone to work four hours a day as a secretary at a fire station in one of the poor districts. They had one tiny truck that was always being worked on, no training, not enough uniforms, and no real structure. After a fire in which they'd lost an entire block of ramshackle houses waiting for the real fire departments to show up from the rich neighborhoods, she'd taken an interest in the plight of the station. She'd worked closely with the captain for over a year, working to acquire a new truck, come up with some sort of a training program, distribute radios to all of the backwards, unconnected departments, and model their department after the ones in the rich districts, even enlisting help from her husband in funneling money their way. She'd been useful and independent, and she learned to love the feeling.
Eventually, she'd had to admit she wanted to be a firefighter. She'd volunteered at first, not telling her husband, hiding the fact that she was one of only a handful of woman firefighters in the country. But when the captain had offered her a chance to go for training and take a paid position, she knew she had to take it, or die.
She'd gone to Dusan, explained her need, and been prepared for the laughter and refusal she'd received. She'd grabbed a knife and he'd laughed harder. They both knew he could take that knife from her easily. But she hadn't been planning on using it on him.
She'd slipped the knife into the skin of her own neck, only a half inch, although she knew it could still be deadly. She didn't care. "How easy will the police be able to ignore a knife wound to the neck?" she'd said, her voice as deadly as his. "Or the news media? Will this be the thing that finally gets their attention?" She'd sliced wider, twisting the knife a bit, feeling the cold patter of blood on her hand as it gushed out of her. Cold. Her blood had been cold. But there had been no pain. "You will agree to let me do this, Dusan, or I will make this four inches across, wipe the knife, and tell everyone you did it to me. I'm certain someone will believe me. This is all I will ever ask of you."
His eyes had finally found life. They'd widened in disbelief ev
en as he held up his hands as if to stop her. She couldn't be stopped. She would get what she wanted, or she would slice her own throat from ear to ear. Living with a madman had awakened her own inner lunatic. Or created it. She didn't know. But she did know it was the only time he'd ever acquiesced to her. Of course, all of that had been before he'd started locking her in the tiny room in the attic. Before she'd learned what had really happened to his first wife. Before she herself was used up.
Dusan stood before her in the basement or whatever they were in. Watching her. Reliving it with her. He leaned backwards against what looked like a workbench in the dim light, then reached down and picked something up off of it. A kitchen knife, much like the one she'd used that day.
"Julijana, your husband wishes you to speak. We have so much to talk about. So open your mouth and tell me what in the hell made you think you had the right to leave me. Did you not believe I would find you?"
Chapter 38
Bronx
Bronx lifted his phone and tried to think what to do first. They were on the highway, Talon behind the wheel and booking it.
"Any idea where we're going?" Talon asked.
"Not yet. To the city for now. Maybe the office," Bronx replied as he dialed a number. Pick up Dax, I need you.
Daxton did pick up and Bronx jumped right in. "Daxton. Do you remember about a month ago, the day after I started at Station 66, I was walking in the office right as some guy you turned away was walking out. I told you he called me a pussy. Remember? He wanted to find—"
Dax cut him off. "Yeah, I remember."
Bronx's heart beat faster. "Do you remember the name he gave?"
Daxton didn't speak for a moment. "Nah. Long time ago."
Bronx felt like he'd been pitched out of the truck at fifty miles an hour. Dead fucking end. Until Dax spoke again.
"But I kept the file. Look it up."
The metaphorical lane opened in front of him, and Bronx felt the wind in his hair. "Thank God. We aren't at the office yet. What's it under?"
Dax covered the phone and said something to someone else then came back on the line. "We're still out of state but I know I had Belinda scan everything. I'll dig it up digitally and send it to your phone. What's this all about?"
Bronx looked at the highway signs rushing by him. He had time to talk. If this guy had Eme, he would need Daxton's help to find him anyway. Or rather Knox's. The guy could find anything with a computer, and if he couldn't, he had friends who could.
"It's about my girlfriend," he started, but Daxton cut him off, his voice raised.
"Since when?"
"Since when what?"
"Since when have you had a girlfriend. Here I thought you were gay all these years."
Bronx ignored the dig. "Since yesterday. Now pay the fuck attention. This is important."
He told the story, hoping he'd left nothing out, and knowing Daxton would understand every significance.
"Suck me sideways," Daxton breathed. "That's one hell of a fuck up you've got yourself into. She worth it?"
Bronx's blood boiled. "It doesn't fucking matter if she's worth it or not, asshole. She's a fucking human being and whoever this guy is, he doesn't—"
Dax cut him off again, raising his voice over Bronx's yell. "Bronx, sorry dude, I didn't mean it that way. Calm down. I was just...surprised I guess. Wondered what made her special. I've never heard you call anyone your girlfriend before. And why haven't I even met her?"
Bronx looked out the window, breathing hard. There he went again. The anger. He had no experience with it. "Look, just send me the file, ok, we need to know where we're headed. And if we're on the right track."
"Yep. Five minutes."
The phone went silent and Bronx stared at it. Five minutes. He could wait that long. But it wasn't as easy as it should have been. Luckily, Talon kept quiet and just drove. Bronx didn't want to snap at him too. He just wished he didn't feel quite so desperate.
A large contingent of state police vehicles passed them, going the other way. Bronx counted at least twelve of them and that made him hope he wasn't on a wild goose chase, with Eme actually behind them at Isaacs. But that didn't make any sense.
His phone beeped and he jumped, then swiped it. The first page of the file was filled with words he would read in a second, but first he had to see...he swiped right three times, looking for a picture.
And there it was. Eme. In a formal gown with long blond hair, swept back from her forehead, her eyes haunted and looking far away from the camera. Bronx stared at the picture for a long time, feeling the heavy weight of three realizations settle in on him.
First realization. She'd lied to him. About a lot of things.
Second realization. She'd had to do it, so she was already forgiven. She'd been running from something.
Third realization. He loved her. With everything he was. And he would suffer if she disappeared.
He made a choked noise in the back of his throat, then held up a hand as he saw Talon look at him. He swiped back to the file and read through every word.
The guy had said his name was Durm Brewlin. He spoke with heavy accent that Daxton had not been able to identify. The man had been unwilling to state where he was from or give any particulars about himself. He said only that his sister had disappeared from her home country and his last intelligence had been that she was in San Francisco, possibly held against her will, although it might not seem that way. He'd spun an elegant story about a cult and a man who had fooled her, stolen her money, brainwashed her mind, and taken her away. Durm said she was in mortal danger and he just wanted to find her, to talk to her, to offer his aid. But when Daxton had pressed him for more, he couldn't or wouldn't give it. He'd named her as Julijana Brewlin, but Daxton had notated he thought the names were all lies. When Daxton had asked if there had ever been a police report or if there were some sort of proof Durm could offer of the veracity of his story, the man had offered to triple the fee Alpha Private Security would charge. Daxton had made sure to take a scan of the picture the man had given him, then gave it back to the man and turned him away.
That was all they knew.
Bronx stared at it. Read it again. Chewed on his inner lip. He was certain they could pull up a security camera picture of "Durm" but even that would not help them at all. There was nothing in the file that would help them find him.
He could be anywhere.
Including halfway across the country already. Bronx felt that violence threaten to come back. He tried to remember what little he could about the guy and it gave him an overwhelming urge to choke something.
He looked up at the road. Jesus. They were speeding to nowhere, with absolutely no options, no leads, nothing to go on.
Chapter 39
Eme
"You killed my father," Eme said, her voice dead.
Dusan didn't move for a moment, but she could tell that was not what he had expected. Good. If she could have followed it with a kick to the balls she would have. Or a stab to the heart. Even better.
Dusan turned and paced and Eme let her eyes fall closed. How long until he just got it over with already? She didn't want to be here anymore. Didn't want to fight. She was ready for it all to be over. If only she could somehow know that her sweet Bronx would be safe.
She opened her eyes again and watched Dusan. Was that his way? Would he go after Bronx? She didn't know. She knew he was quick with his fists with women, and quite fake diplomatically, but he'd never seemed unreasonably jealous of the men she worked with. Maybe Bronx had a chance?
Dusan stopped. A smile spread over his face. A horrible, mind-twisting smile that scared her to her core. "I did have your father killed. You should not have gone to him. You should not have told him what went on in our marital home. That was not his business. So maybe, you should concede that it was in fact you, who killed him, Julijana." His voice was low. Pleasant. Evil.
Eme closed her eyes. Yes. Just like that was exactly how she had always heaped the bla
me on herself. Daddy had been killed in a robbery attempt outside his office, exactly two days after she had gone to him and begged him to get her out of the marriage. She'd always known it had been Dusan. And her fault.
She clamped her lips shut and stared at the floor. She had nothing more to say to him. No matter what.
But he had more on his mind. "What about your lover? The fireman. Shall I kill him too?"
Eme gasped and looked up at him. The murdering bastard knew exactly how to twist the knife. She had never hated him more. If she had a gun in her hand, she would have shot him dead through the heart then emptied the entire clip into his body.
He laughed and picked up the knife again. "Maybe I will. But that would be good right? Then you can be together once more."
His hand with the knife in it raised on an arc and she couldn't help it but look. She followed it with her eyes. The hand carved down towards her face, striking her with a great blow that rolled her eyes back in her head.
Darkness.
Chapter 40
Bronx
Bronx tried to think of what to do and came up with nothing, his mind operating at a bleak halt that scared him. He was about to tell Talon to slow down, not to risk a speeding ticket since they were going nowhere too fast when his phone beeped.
We watched the security tapes from that day. Got a license plate number of a rental car. Fake name and address were given but we're tracking the car with the bridge cams right now. It was last seen in Pacifica two hours ago. We lost it when it left the highway but Knox is hacking into local networks right now, checking security cams. If we find anything you'll be the first to know.
Bronx read it over one more time then whipped his head up. "Turn around!" he shouted, looking out the window as the last exit to Pacifica whizzed by.
Talon jumped and let out a curse. "Fuck man, you don't do that to a vet!"