by Lisa Ladew
"Sorry. Get off here. We gotta head to Pacifica. Knox and Daxton found the guy. They actually found him."
Bronx realized how close he was to losing his shit and he buckled down. Thought of Eme. "Talon, I have no idea what we're walking into here. You gotta know that."
Talon nodded. "I know. I got you. We'll figure it out. We'll find her."
Bronx could only pray he was right as he stared at his phone and waited for more news from his brothers.
But twenty minutes later, they still had nothing. Daxton had sent them the details on the car but stayed quiet on his end about where it might be, meaning he had no idea. Maybe there weren't enough cameras out here. Maybe none of them were good enough to read license plates.
Bronx watched another seven million dollar house slide by and knew that wasn't the case. The problem was, they weren't wired together, like the bridge cams were. Knox had to hack into each one of them separately. That would take all day. All week.
Bronx tried to imagine where they should check first. In the forest, or by the ocean? But he had to admit defeat. Since he knew nothing about the guy who had to have Eme, he couldn't even imagine how to worm his way into his head. But as Talon drove out of the forest and the sweeping vista of even more expensive houses next to the ocean opened up in front of him, he knew. The guy would be in the forest. In the quietest, most secluded place he could find. It was the only thing that made sense.
"Talon, turn around, let's go b—" His phone beeped. He swiped and looked at it.
Check Higgins Way. One cam from a house in the neighborhood got a partial on a vehicle that could be the one you are looking for. That's all we've got so far.
Bronx pulled up Google maps on his phone and typed it in, without bothering to respond. He checked the little rectangle that showed where they were and tried to keep his voice level as he gave Talon directions.
Within ten minutes, they were smack in the middle of the forest, the houses mostly obscured by foliage and no closer than every four hundred feet. He craned his neck to see in every driveway, check every house, until the road dead ended.
"Shit," Bronx swore, desperation building inside him.
"No wait," Talon said. "Look there."
Bronx looked the way Talon had indicated, down into a depression to their right, and saw a barely-there dirt road that wound its way through more trees. Bronx craned his neck and lifted himself out of his seat to see where it went. A new subdivision. He could see house foundations and driveways peeking through the trees where houses would eventually be, but for now, there was just one lonely brownstone, looking all sorts of out of place. And totally secluded.
"Go," Bronx urged.
Chapter 41
Eme
Eme fought the darkness, not knowing why, not wanting to. But she did anyway, clawing her way up to the surface of her consciousness as something clattered to the ground. Pain whipsawed through her jaw and her temple and her entire left side.
It hadn't felt like a slice or a stab though. It had been a blow. He'd backhanded her with his hand clenched around the knife.
She opened her eyes, her left one sticking, swelling already, and looked up at Dusan. He was massaging his empty left hand and staring at her with hatred in his eyes. When she'd died two years ago, he'd been dealing with the beginnings of arthritis in both his hands and some of his other joints. But the sight of him in pain did nothing to gladden her heart. Even if it lasted all day, every day, it was still less than he deserved.
But the knife? She dropped her eyes to the floor and didn't see it. Not that she could get it even if she could see it. She was tied in. Duct taped in, actually.
Dusan dropped his hands to his sides and stared at her, a cruel man with blue eyes, prematurely graying hair and a cold, hard grimace always on his face. He leaned in close, bringing his fingers to her eye and poking the swelling there. "We're going to be here for a while, Julijana. I hope you didn't have any plans to—"
He stopped and looked up as a bump sounded somewhere above them. Eme froze, not daring to breathe, but even before she could think to open her mouth, he grabbed up a roll of duct tape from the workbench and tore off a wide strip, then slapped it over her mouth.
He strode to the stairs and stood stock still, listening, his head tilted upwards as Eme tried to get enough air through her nose and strained her ears for another noise.
She heard voices. Two males. Muffled. Then the tinkle of breaking glass and the ceiling above her creaked as if someone were walking on it slowly and softly.
Dusan returned to the workbench and she watched him with wide terrified eyes. He snatched up a gun and turned back to the stairs, then made his way slowly up them. At the top, he waited, but she couldn't see him up there, couldn't tell what he was doing. She heard him moving something around, sliding something against something else.
She didn't have time to worry about what was going on upstairs. Kids playing around? A burglar? She had no illusions that she was about to be saved. She knew Dusan was coldblooded enough to kill anyone who had wandered in, kill her, then fly back to South Africa, leaving no trace of himself.
She looked around for the knife, even pushing with her legs to move the chair she was in backward. She saw it, on the floor next to the wall. She stuck out her foot and pulled the knife closer with her bare toes. Now what?
She threw a glance at the ceiling as someone seemed to walk right over her head, then focused on the knife again. She could get the knife between her feet and maneuver it with her toes, but when she tried to lift it to one of her hands, it fell. She shot her leg out, trying to get under it, to muffle the sound of it hitting the ground so Dusan didn't hear and come down to her.
It clattered to the ground, but not loudly, and blood welled from her ankle where the blade had hit her on its descent. He was gonna notice that for sure. Fuck.
She tried again, curling her toes, pressing her legs together, bringing her feet up to her lap. That all worked fine, but when she tried to get the knife to her hand, it all fell apart again. Down went the knife, clattering to the floor.
She heard Dusan shift above her. Heard the feet walking over her again. Bent to try again.
A few minutes later, flushed with sweat, her abdominal muscles screaming, and several more nicks on her lower legs, she had to stop because Dusan was coming down the stairs. Flat fear spiked through her, forcing out all thought, but by instinct she pushed the knife under the chair with her feet and tried to cover it.
Dusan dropped the gun on the bench, then approached her, a tight smile on his face. "Your lover showed up. Smart guy, I guess. Resourceful guy. Although I can't imagine how he found us."
Eme tried not to let the surprise and horror show on her face but she knew she failed.
"Don't worry, Julijana. I did nothing to him. He left already. See, I hid my car well, the house is dark. There's no sign I've ever been here, and the entrance to this basement is hidden in the garage behind a sheet of plywood I cut and moved myself, in a place no one would think to look. It really is a strange house, but perfect for the reason I wanted it. The paperwork for the rental shows I left this morning, so if that is how he found us, he will think I am already gone. We are safe down here, and he is probably on his way to the airport." He laughed. "This country is wonderful. All I have to do is drive down one of the wide freeways into another city or state, no guards, no checkpoints, and another airport will be waiting for me."
Eme just stared, unable to believe it had been Bronx. He had come looking for her. He had known something had been wrong and somehow had found her.
But he had left.
Which made her fiercely glad for him and savagely terrified for her.
Chapter 42
Bronx
They drove away from the house slowly, Bronx caught in a maelstrom of fear and helplessness. He checked his phone. Nothing more from Daxton. But the house had been empty. No car in the garage. No sign that anyone lived there. The for sale sign in the front and
the realtor's lock box on the door seemed to confirm that. They'd broken in and checked every room. No clothes in the closets, no dishes in the sink or food in the fridge. He'd been so sure, but now he just felt lost.
When they reached the upper road, Talon looked behind them, then drove twenty more feet, looked again, and stopped, turning to Bronx. "Someone was in that house."
Bronx's emotions spiraled completely out of control and he could not speak for a moment. He looked out the back window like Talon had, then faced forward when he realized he couldn't see the house so whoever was in it couldn't see them. He grabbed Talon's forearm and demanded wordlessly that he explain.
"I don't know where. But I felt it when we walked in. Wherever he was he had a gun. When we were in the garage, I could feel the thing pointed at my forehead."
"How?" Bronx hissed.
Talon shook his head. "Just a feeling I get. A crawling on my skin. From the army. I never mistrust my gut, and my gut says he's there."
He remembered then, Talon had been a sniper in the Army. Bronx squeezed his arm, glad Talon was with him. "We have to go back."
"We should call the cops."
"Fuck that," Bronx roared. "He could be in there right now, k—." He clamped his lips together, not willing to say more. He scrambled for his door handle and slid out of the truck, running as soon as he hit the ground.
Talon tackled him from behind, catching him in a bear hug. "Ok, we'll go, but you gotta do it my way Bronx, or we're dead. Got it?"
Bronx nodded, his gaze searching through the trees for a peek at that house. He tried to listen as Talon laid out the plan, he really did. He forced himself to look Talon in the eyes and nod and repeat words, but really, all he could see was the hazy memory of the big man in his memory. The guy with the cruel face who had barreled into him. They were wasting time. They had to move.
***
Eme
Eme curled her toes around the knife under the chair and tried to get enough air in her lungs. Dusan stood over her, looking down at her, his intentions palpable in the air between them. He was going to make her suffer.
She snuck a look at his face and saw he was frowning, his eyes on her shins where tiny rivulets of blood were leaking. She uncurled her toes and forced herself to let go of the knife so it didn't come out with her feet if he yanked on her legs. It was her only chance. Such a slim chance. Like no chance at all.
He reached out and tore the duct tape from her mouth, taking some of her skin with it. She screamed and buried her face in her shoulder, waiting for the burning to stop.
"What happened to your legs, Julijana? What did you do while my back was turned?"
Her mind spun, trying to think of some way to answer him, when a sliding bump from upstairs drew his attention.
Dusan snatched his gun off the workbench and raced to the stairs. Eme clearly saw the murder in his eyes and it made her sick to her stomach with fear.
No time for that.
She pushed backwards with her legs so the chair eeked across the floor two feet until she could see the knife. She stood, taking the chair with her. She had failed at getting the knife to her hand too many times to try again. Now she would get her hand to the knife. She dropped onto her knees painfully, her back bent unnaturally from the chair, even as she heard another noise from upstairs.
She bent forwards, over the knife, losing her balance and slamming into the concrete, her swollen face taking all of the hit. But the knife was right there, under her hand that was duct taped to the arm of the chair. She grabbed it up carefully, twisted it with her fingers, and hacked awkwardly at the duct tape on her arm. Blood flowed from her wrist but she didn't even see it because a slice appeared in the tape. She hacked at it again, then dropped the knife, and pulled her arm as hard as she could, straining until the duct tape split up the center and let her go.
Triumph! She snatched up the knife with her free hand and sliced the tape holding her other arm, then she sat still, her face and knees on the concrete, the chair on her back, listening. She heard nothing. She stood up carefully, holding the chair on her back and spinning to see the stairs. She could see Dusan's feet at the very top, but he hadn't noticed her yet.
She set the chair down quietly, trying not to make a sound, and froze at the tiny squeak one of the legs made as it met the concrete. Dusan didn't shift. She yanked the sheet off of her and threw it to the ground. She couldn't take the chance of tripping over it.
She crept to the bottom of the stairs, completely naked, and looked up. She could see all of him now, as he moved forward and stood on a landing, raised his gun, then pushed it out some sort of a slit in the wall. Even in the dim light, she could see his finger move from the trigger guard to the trigger, which broke through to her mind, telling her she had to move. She would die, he would shoot her, but if Bronx somehow managed to escape, it would be worth it. Something indescribable told her it had to be Bronx up there.
She pounded up the stairs, the knife held aloft in her hand, and screamed as loud as she could. "Gun! Gun!" Even as the gun swung around to meet her at the top.
She beat it though, and heaved the knife downward with all her strength and the weight of her body behind it, into his shoulder. She felt the blade separate flesh, burst through muscle, slice even into bone, as her weight carried her and Dusan forward to slam into the door he'd been up against.
Wood splintered and metal screamed against metal as their bodies burst through the doorway, first breaking, then destroying the plywood, spilling them into the garage. Eme felt the cold steel of the gun in her naked belly as she landed on top of Dusan with a grunt.
She rolled, feeling the gun tracking her as she went, even as the heavy thump of the bullet leaving the chamber reached her ears.
Chapter 43
Bronx
Bronx heard Eme scream before he saw her and relief hit him like a wrecking ball. He trained his gun towards the sound of her voice, but pointed at the floor. Across the garage, to his left, Talon did the same. Bronx's eyes searched the solid wall, looking for a way in.
Then it exploded. Eme, naked, and the guy he remembered wearing a dark suit, burst through the door. Motherfucker. Bronx was going to kill him. But he couldn't get off a clean shot, not with Eme tangled up with the guy.
She rolled and Bronx saw what was going to happen. The guy was going to shoot her in the gut even as she rolled away, still in his line of fire. There was nothing he could do.
Gunshots rang through the room, deafening in the garage, bouncing off the walls repeatedly. Bronx counted two shots even as he ran forward, determined to destroy the guy.
It was already done. Bronx saw the two holes in the guy's forehead. By the time Bronx reached him, he was slack on the ground, the gun having fallen out of his hand. Bronx kicked it away, then shoved his own gun in the waistband of his pants and went to Eme, searching her for injuries.
She lay curled on her side, her eyes wide and terrified, her hands on her belly. He took her wrists gently, seeing blood, knowing she was shot. Oh God, he had to get her out of there.
But when he peeled her wrists apart, her belly was smooth and unmarked. His eyes searched her body but he found only small cuts, until he got to her face. The entire left side was puffy and bruising, like the guy had hit her. Bronx whipped his shirt off his back and gave it to her, holding the bottom open so she could shrug into it.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered as he heard Talon come up behind him and take the gun from the ground, then check on the man he'd killed.
Her eyes found his, and his heart hurt at the pain on her face. "How," she asked weakly. "How did you find me?"
Bronx searched her face and wiped away a tear that had begun to track down her cheek. "It's a long story. I'll tell you, but let's get out of here, go out in the sunshine. Call the police and an ambulance."
She just stared at him, then he saw the damn break behind her eyes. She spoke quickly, her accent heavy. "My name is Julijana Bulc. I'm from South Africa, not
Ireland. Not Germany. I lied to you. He is my husband," she said, inclining her head at the body.
Bronx nodded. He hadn't known. But he had, too. "I figured it was something like that. It's ok. I understand that you had to do it."
Eme shuddered and the tears rolled down her face. Bronx felt his own eyes shine.
She pulled him to her. "You came for me," she whispered into his ear.
Without thinking, he replied with what was in his heart. "Of course I did. I love you."
She trembled against him, but didn't say a word.
Chapter 44
Eme
Eme stared in the mirror and poked at her healing face but still-puffy eye with her finger. It had been almost a week since Bronx and his brother had found her in that basement and saved her life.
Everything was different now.
Bronx had taken her to the morgue so she could see Dusan's body, still there, still dead.
She'd talked to her mother, told her they didn't have to worry anymore, didn't have to get her mother a fake name, and she could come to America or not, her choice.
She'd talked to Dusan's boss and the police back home, told them everything she knew.
She'd had an audience with the SFFD Chief and shared everything. The chief had been very understanding, and told her they would figure out a way to deal with the paperwork and make sure Eme could keep her job if she wanted it.
She walked out of the bathroom and sat down at the kitchen table, smelling the lovely scent of the new bouquet of flowers Bronx had sent.
He was at work. He'd wanted to stay with her another day, but she'd insisted he go. He was a probie and if he missed too many days he would be fired. Her nose was broken and her cheekbones were bruised, but there was nothing to do for either, and she didn't need a nurse. She needed to get back to her life.
She sat at the table, her head in her hands, remembering back to that dark basement and the tiny garage, when Bronx had covered her with his shirt and held her in his arms and told her he loved her.