Baited Truth

by Hype, Jenn

  "What the hell do you guys do, anyway?" Maybe my delivery was flawed, but I felt I deserved to know about the company I was keeping. They referred to themselves as a 'team.' They had an arsenal at their place of 'business" and access to what I assumed were government databases, but I'd bet my life that they didn't actually work for the government. So what the hell?

  "I'm afraid that's not something I can tell you. Yet," Alice added when I started to argue.

  "Well, regardless, Jack is somehow connected to my mom's disappearance. I'm not going to just sit around. You guys won't tell me who you are or what you do, so to expect me to just obey orders and do as I'm told is an extremely unreasonable expectation. So, either let me be a part of this, or let me go and I'll look on my own."

  By the end of my rant, I was standing with my hands on my hips. Everyone stared up at me with apprehensive looks. That's right, people. I'm the real deal.

  It wasn't until Grant spoke up that I realized they weren't looking at me warily, but rather over my shoulder.

  "Fine, let's go."

  Didn't have to tell me twice. Finally. An argument I felt I'd actually won.

  #

  ~

  "This is where the almighty Jack lives?"

  The brownstone was surprisingly chic looking. Just a few streets over from downtown, it was fairly quiet. Family's walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the nice weather. I don't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't something so...domestic.

  "Actually, we all live here. Jack owns the whole building."

  That stopped me short. "Are you serious?"

  Grant gripped my elbow, gently guiding me towards a set of steps made of brick. "We need to get inside. We weren't followed, but I still don't want us to stay out in the open just in case."

  Horrible, horrible timing for me to be melting to a puddle. The quick drive had been tense. My eyeballs were sore from all the strain I put on them. Every two seconds they tried to glance in his direction, and I had to fight to keep them forward. My damn eyes just couldn't get enough of the tight black tee he was wearing. It sported the logo of some band I'd never heard of on the front and showed off his seriously muscular arms.

  Arms I'd spent last night in. And dammit, I'd been too hysterical to appreciate how damn hot he was. Now, with the hard contours of his muscles brushing against my bare skin, I wondered if I broke down crying right here on the steps if he would wrap those arms around me again.

  Seriously, Brooke? You're thinking of faking a freakout just to get a hug? What the hell?

  "Nice arms," I blurted. Idiot.

  "Hmm?" Grant hummed absentmindedly as he searched his keychain for the right key to unlock the door.

  "Nothing. Not important," I muttered quickly. Thank God he didn't push it. "So, why do you guys all live next door to each other?"

  He pushed the door open, holding his hand out for me to go first. Dammit. I wanted to get another look at his ass in those jeans. It seriously wasn't fair for him to be so damn sexy.

  "We all travel a lot. It's easier to be close so we can watch over each other's property. Plus, Jack doesn't charge us rent, so...bonus."

  "Is he loaded or something? Seriously, what the hell do you guys do? Rob banks?"

  Grant didn't answer, but I was too distracted to care. Looking around, I didn't see anything personal. Nothing that would reflect what his personality might be like. No art, photos, magazines or books. It was just like the other house. Devoid of anything that would indicate someone even lived there.

  My patience with the lack of information was wearing thin. At some point, and soon, Grant was going to start filling in the missing pieces for me. I wasn't an idiot. Grant and the rest of his team were holding things back from me, and since they were helping me find my mom, I'd tried to just let it go.

  "Does your place look as empty and lifeless as this one?"

  I'd just meant to fill the silence, but when Grant stilled, his spine stiffening, I wondered if I'd just crossed some sort of line. He looked up from the drawer he was digging around in to level those stark blue eyes on me. Lust, aggressive and unsolicited, snaked through me. My face flushed, the heat spreading down my arms, through my chest and down my torso. One look. That's all it took. One look, and my knees were weak and core melted, my body overheating until I was molten with need.

  "Yes. What we do is dangerous and puts anyone who knows us at risk. We have to keep our personal lives hidden. It's harder for some than others."

  "Sounds lonely." Again, only trying to make conversation. At least, that's what I thought I was doing. It wasn't until Grant stood up straight that I realized I'd closed the distance between us. His back pushed into my chest, and if there were one less layer of fabric between us, he would have felt my nipples harden.

  Neither of us moved. We just stood there, my front to his back, and not touching anywhere else. It should have been awkward. If anything, it was comforting.

  Before I could decide whether to reach for him or pull back, Grant made the decision for me and moved to the next drawer to rifle through.

  Maybe he thought I was judging with my remark about loneliness. He had no idea just how much I understood what it felt like to feel completely alone, even when surrounded by people who care about you. I never felt short of love when it came to my mom, and even Officer K, but affection wasn't a commonality in my life growing up. Mom was constantly working and Officer K wasn't big on touchy-feely types of things.

  From time to time growing up I would be invited to tag along with a friend on a holiday when my mom was working and Officer Knowles wasn't around. Even when he was, we didn't spend holidays decorating and baking cookies and dancing around merrily like a happy family. He wasn't even real family, and as much as I cared for him, that little fact was always lingering in the back of my mind.

  The few times I celebrated with friends, I knew they were pity invites from the parents, but it didn't matter to me. I watched my friends have Fourth of July cookouts where dads donned aprons with phrases like 'Grill Master' embroidered across them while standing in front of a grill, flipping burgers and laughing jovially. Elaborate Thanksgiving meals with dozens of family members from all over the country having driven in to reunite with relatives they rarely saw. My Thanksgivings with Officer K were frozen turkey dinners until I got old enough to cook, and even then, it was nothing much.

  Mom always had Christmas off, though. We didn't have much money, but she always made sure I had a few gifts under our tree. She did what she could. Always. It might not have been much compared to what others had, but it was enough for me. I think part of the reason mom and I didn't get close until I was older was due to the guilt that always weighed heavily on her. No matter how many times I tried to convince her that I was happy, that I didn't need more, she always beat herself up over not giving me the world. Until I was old enough to provide for myself, that put a wedge in our relationship.

  Scanning the bedroom I'd just wandered into aimlessly while lost in thoughts of my mom, I almost didn't notice the painting on the wall. Even then, I almost dismissed it. At first glance it looked like something cheap you'd find at a home goods store, but something about it kept drawing my attention. Being the only piece of decor or object with any color was most likely the reason, but I still couldn't shake it.

  It was small, maybe only eight by ten, and nothing spectacular. Just your run of the mill cliche beach scene, painted in tans and blues. Thin, white pieces of cheap, compressed wood framed the painting. Running my finger over the brush strokes, I tried and failed to find a reason as to why I was so entranced by something so random and insignificant.

  Something caught in my periphery when I turned to walk away.

  "Did you find something?" Grant asked from behind me, startling me.

  "Don't fucking sneak up on me, Grant! Jeez. You're like a freaking ninja with your stealthiness." Grant laughed, stepping up beside me to look at the painting. "I don't know what it is, but there's just something...off ab
out this."

  Grant shrugged and lifted the painting off its hook. Sure enough, behind it was a small wall safe.

  "Did you know that was there?"

  Grant shook his head no.

  "We'll only have three tries to get in before the locking mechanism shuts us out entirely." I shrugged one shoulder when Grant lifted a curious eyebrow. "Officer Knowles taught me a thing or two about safes."

  "Well, Jack wouldn't have your typical passcode like a birthday or something."

  "Wait a minute!" I ripped the dog tags over my head. "Remember you guys said it was weird that instead of a social security number, they only had six numbers?"

  No further explanation needed. Grant yanked them out of my hand and held up one of the tags, punching the numbers onto the safe's keypad. The click of the lock releasing had me fist pumping the air.

  "Damn, I'm smart," I commented when Grant didn't bother to acknowledge how awesome my brilliant mind worked.

  "Hmmmm. Pretty strange coincidence that the numbers on the dog tags were the combo, no? You sure this Officer K didn't tell you anything about Jack?" Grant asked as he reached into the safe and pulled out a manilla folder.

  "No, he didn't. And like I said, he's dead now, so you can't ask him yourself, and I've already told you everything I know."

  "You'd be surprised how much we can dig up without having to ever contact the person directly."

  I snorted. I wanted to comment on how it was extremely unlikely that their means of acquiring said information were legal, but the retort died on the tip of my tongue when Grant flipped open the folder and I saw the picture inside.

  "Holy shit, that's my mom!" I tore the folder out of his hands, scanning the pages beneath the photo. The picture itself looked like a professionally taken headshot, and it had to have been taken when she was really young. Maybe in her twenties.

  "Are you sure? The name on the file says Maria Johnson."

  I flipped through the documents and sure enough, Maria Johnson was the name at the top right hand corner of every page. "Maybe her picture is in here by accident?"

  As soon as the words left my mouth, another picture slipped from the back of the file and floated to the ground.

  Me. It was me in the picture. Taken the day I was born.

  My head was spinning, my heart racing. More questions, never any answers. The more I found out, the more confused I got, and it was starting to feel like this was some kind of sick joke.

  Grant bent down to pick up the picture. He must have known it was too much, at least right in that moment, because he didn't say anything to try and snap me out of my daze. His phone buzzing in his pocket did the trick though.

  "Masters."

  All the blood drained out of Grant's face when shouting came from the other end of the phone.

  Apparently shit was about to get even worse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Get Away, Getaway

  Grant

  "Grant, get Brooke somewhere safe. You need to get out of Jack's house. Now!"

  Gunshots. Yelling. Shuffling and heavy breaths, like Trent was running.

  "What's going on?" I shouted, cursing when I heard the gunshots get louder, like Trent was running closer to the source, not farther away.

  "HQ was infiltrated. Don't know how they got in. Found us through a tracker on Brooke's car. Mechanic found it during inspection. Get somewhere safe. Code Grey."

  More gunshots, then the line went dead.

  "Fuck!" Spearing my hand through my hair, I warred with myself over my next move. My team - my friends - were being attacked. They could handle themselves, but without knowing how many men they were up against, unease settled in my gut.

  Fucking tracker on Brooke's car. It must have been hidden well, because Hunter had done a thorough search before having our team's mechanic check the nooks and crannies we can't easily get to.

  "Shit!"

  Brooke flinching out of the corner of my eye made my decision for me. We had protocols and safety measures for a reason. I had to trust my men could take care of the issue at HQ. My job now was to get Brooke somewhere safe.

  "We have to go," I ordered, a little more harshly than I'd meant to. For once since meeting her, she just obeyed. Thank fuck.

  When we made it to the front door, I stopped short. Through the crack of the curtains, I could see someone standing next to my car. They weren't touching it, but it didn't matter. Normal people didn't just walk up to a car and stare inside like it was the doorway to fucking Narnia.

  Grabbing Brooke's hand, I pulled her behind me, making my way to the back door. There wasn't a chance we were followed, I made sure of it. Which meant it was either a coincidence that we were here, or they knew how to find us. Either way, I wasn't risking it. Taking my car was no longer an option.

  "You going to tell me what's going on?"

  It was the first time she'd spoken, and while normally her words would be dripping with sarcasm, this time they only held concern.

  "HQ was attacked. We need to get to one of our safe houses still standing. Can't take my car and I'm pretty sure we've got company."

  Pushing my back up against the wall next to the back door, I pressed my hand to Brooke's abdomen, forcing her to do the same. Discreetly pulling the curtain covering the window on the back door aside, I spotted two more men. Nothing about the three men looked unusual at first glance. To a passersby, they wouldn't give them a second look.

  But I knew better. No one else occupied this building but us. Two men with their hands in their pockets, looking around and whistling like they were trying to intentionally look casual... too fucking weird to be coincidence.

  "Okay, so there's at least three of them. They most likely don't know we're inside, or they would have their weapons drawn. But they'll know soon enough if they figure out who that car out front belongs to. We need to try and make it out of here undetected, then we'll have to hotwire a car before they spot us."

  "Okay. Or, we could just take them out. We have the advantage if they don't know we're in here." So confident. You'd never know she'd just killed someone for the first time the day before. I looked her over, checking for signs that she was only giving a false bravado, but found nothing. Her hands steady, her eyes clear and her expression determined.

  She raised one eyebrow when I handed her my phone. "In case we get separated. Passcode is 3212. Repeat it to me."

  Fear and trepidation darkened her eyes before she repeated the number back to me.

  Leaning down, putting a firm hand on her shoulder, I made sure she was looking me in the eye before talking. "Hey, you're going to be okay."

  Brooke snorted. Snorted.

  "I know I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

  Shaking my head, I handed her the revolver from my ankle holster. "Only you are capable of being a sarcastic smartass in a time like this." Brooke opened the chamber and gave it a spin. As if I would carry around a gun that's not fully loaded. It was either habit or she seriously thought I was an idiot. "Just stay behind me and try not to do anything stupid."

  "You know how good of a shot I am. Keep bossing me around and my finger might start to get twitchy."

  I looked outside again in time to see the two men out back nod at each other and head towards the house. Just then a clicking sound came from behind us. The sound of the front door being pushed open. Brooke rolled her eyes when I put my finger to my lips, telling her to be quiet.

  Pushing Brooke backwards, we took careful steps away from the door and into the kitchen. All of our houses had trap doors that led to a safe room beneath our brownstones. Jack had them installed for this very occasion, but we'd yet to need them until now. Each of our kitchens had a hutch that sat over the opening, the cabinet empty and the bottom unfastened. The door to the room beneath was seamlessly flush with the rest of the hardwood flooring. Unless you knew what you were looking for, it would be damn near impossible to find.

  We just needed to get in there before the shooter
s saw us.

  When the backdoor started to open, I knew we'd run out of time. Sure, we could take our chances with just shooting the fuckers, but I wasn't going to put Brooke's life at risk if we could easily get to safety. Even if we took down the three, who knew if there were more?

  The cabinet was shielded in a small nook of the kitchen, not easily seen from most angles. When I closed the cabinet door behind us and climbed down the ladder after Brooke, I sent up a quick thank you for Jack being so damn paranoid.

  "What the hell is this place?" Brooke whispered, getting my phone out to use as light in the dark room. The screen brightened her face enough for me to see not fear, but wonder, in her eyes. Just about anyone, unless trained to handle such threatening situations - and even then - would be freaking the hell out right about now. Not Brooke. No, she looked like she wanted to go exploring. Maybe dig for hidden treasures.

  "It's a safe room. There's another small opening over there that opens into a tunnel that will take us away from the house a few yards. If we can manage to get a car quickly, we should be able to get out of here safely."

  "Find a car? What are you gonna do? Steal one?" She sounded so damn incredulous. Like finding a getaway vehicle was the only issue with our current circumstance.

  "Seriously? That's what bothers you about this situation?"

  I held the opening in the wall, gesturing for Brooke to go in first. She looked like she wanted to say something and then thought better of it, instead looking at my phone while climbing through the passage that was just big enough to fit a person through. I was halfway in when the first gunshot sounded, the small explosion in the barrel echoing loudly.

  "Run!"

  Yanking the door behind me, I latched it from the outside. Thanks again, Jack, for thinking of every possible scenario. It wouldn't hold up very long, but it would buy us time.

  The tunnel was really confined. If someone claustrophobic were down here, they'd be having a full out panic attack. Not Brooke. She was leaving a trail of dust as she barreled down the long corridor. Didn't matter that she didn't know where it led. I said run, and she ran.