Gary moved off shortly, still far enough away from Isabelle that she didn’t feel like she needed to move. Holt was looking intently at Decker. Isabelle thought she might be daring him to talk to her.
“You know how easy it was for me to get Parker Caldwell in my pocket?” Decker asked, taking Holt’s dare.
“Drugs?” Holt asked.
“We started him off small. Just a little here and there. But pretty soon, there was no way he could ever live without me. I had one of my guys, a patient at my clinic, provide anything Caldwell wanted. Customer service is the key to any successful business.”
“Of course. How’d you get him to buy into your methadone plan?”
“The clinic was too fucking easy. Money like you have no idea. It happened accidentally at first. A patient died, but the paperwork didn’t get processed quickly. The state never caught on. They kept funding his slot. I kept filling out all the correct paperwork and upped his dose to two hundred fifty milligrams. We thought about just keeping the money and not buying the methadone, but that was too risky. People pay attention to what you buy and what you dispense. But if a person’s not taking the methadone, you can get rid of it on your own. If we had tablets, we really could have made a killing, but we thin out the Done and my guy sells it on the street. All cash transactions. Can’t really put that kind of money in the bank. It’s not like I pay taxes on money earned cheating the government.”
“That’s where the real estate comes in, right?” Holt asked.
“Sure. I have a few people I trust. We buy stuff in my name, their names. We create companies and charities and funnel the money through those. Anything to clean it up.”
“Where does Isabelle Rochat come in to all this?” Holt asked.
“She wouldn’t have been involved in this mess at all if Gary hadn’t sent her this dumb bookkeeping record he uses to keep track of our under the table business. She’s been my accountant for years and never knew any of the illegal stuff. She was completely ignorant. Until Gary sent her that stupid spreadsheet. I told him to leave it alone, but he wouldn’t listen. He and a buddy hatched a plan to scare her into not saying anything about what she had received. They got shotguns and ski masks and blasted away at her siding. I guess you know that; you were in her pool.”
“Not too pleased to be shot at either.”
“She kept asking questions, and you stuck around longer than I wanted, so we broke into her office. Just to send a message to both of you.”
“You dumb bastard,” Holt said, laughing, “she wasn’t even speaking to me until you tossed her office. That freaked her out enough that she gave me another chance. You were home free until that point.”
Isabelle found the conversation disconcerting. The recounting of the past few months of her life was too clinical, too casual, too unemotional. Imagining not speaking to Holt now seemed ridiculous and she could barely remember why she had been so stubborn. It felt comical that Decker Pence, a nasty criminal, was detailing her courtship with the amazing Holt Lasher. When telling the story, they would certainly leave out his matchmaking.
Decker brought her back to the moment.
“Well, we scared you both when I had Caldwell killed in Isabelle’s house. He got frisky and snuck out. I knew he would head for Rochat’s house. He had been eavesdropping a little too often. My employees were careless. He knew she was in trouble, and I guess the only remaining good left in him felt like warning her that she was in deep shit with me. You broke four ribs and the jaw of one of my guys. I was impressed with you. Not so much with my employee. That’s a body that will probably never be found. Along with my stupid secretary who sent Rochat the file in the first place, of course.”
Isabelle shivered. Thank God she’d hidden in the closet like Holt had told her to. She moved into the shadows to continue setting up her plan.
“And now here we are,” Holt said, seeming unaffected by Decker’s admission.
“You tried to play me. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out that you had control of Gary’s cell phone? What did you do with Diamond? The pictures were a nice touch. Had me going for a while. But I’m not stupid.”
“Let’s agree to disagree on that one. Now that we’re all caught up, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening?”
Decker paced in front of her, clearly working up his nerve again.
Holt wasn’t sure how she was going to work her way out of her current jam. She was trying to buy as much time as possible. Her chest was killing her where Decker had shot her, but she wasn’t about to complain since she was still breathing, albeit a little shallowly from the pain.
She had heard the same scream Decker had when he shot her. It sounded like a woman. She prayed it wasn’t Isabelle. Since no one had come in guns blazing, she had to assume her team didn’t know where she was. Whoever was out there might be the only thing she could count on for help, but the thought it might be Isabelle, putting herself in the line of fire they’d been trying to keep her from all this time, made her nauseous.
As Holt was plotting how to disable Decker and free herself from the chair, three things happened. First, the lights in the entire building cut out, plunging everyone in the warehouse into darkness. Second, firecrackers, the kind set off in the driveways of millions of homes on the Fourth of July, started spinning, exploding, sparkling, and popping in seemingly every direction. Finally, Decker fired off two shots straight into the air. Holt had no idea why he started popping his gun off. She hoped it was a sign of panic.
Holt thrived in these conditions. The fireworks were providing enough noise, distraction, and light that she could hop her chair over to where one of the spotlights stood, now dark. Decker’s random gunshots had allowed her to keep tabs on his location. The intermittent fireworks kept him in view. He didn’t seem interested in anything except who or what was attacking the warehouse. He was yelling, but even as close as Holt was, she couldn’t hear anything he said because of the noise, which was really quite overwhelming.
When she reached the light, she ran the chair into it, knocking it over. As she hoped, the glass on the light broke. She took a deep breath, purposefully tipped her chair over, and exhaled on the descent and landing. Her already sore chest screamed in protest, but four inches from her face was the object of her quest. A glass shard, roughly six inches long, and narrow enough to fit in her hand without completely destroying the skin, had come loose from the light face. She hoped it was all she needed to get out of there alive.
Someday, bad guys would learn to use handcuffs or something that wasn’t easily cut with objects lying around their evil lairs, but for now, Holt was happy Decker was an amateur. She used her knee, which was in contact with the ground, to spin the chair around until her hands were where her face had been. It took a few tries to locate the piece of glass in the dark, since the fireworks were beginning to fizzle out. Getting it to her hands in any useful manner was no picnic either. The ropes were tied tightly.
As she finally maneuvered the glass shard where she wanted it, the warehouse went silent and dark once again. Decker raged, sounding feral and desperate. Holt worked her glass piece faster, less cautious about keeping her hands from getting cut. She needed to get free. Decker was more dangerous now than he had been at any other point. She had seen men in his situation, a perfect plan gone south, trapped, and seemingly no solution. This was when people became reckless, desperate, and deadly.
Decker fired another wild shot, this time at the floor. It hit the cement floor five feet from Holt’s head. Her adrenaline was really pumping now. Unfortunately, the shot had provided just enough light for Decker to see Holt.
“You think you can get away with this?” Decker yelled, getting nearer as he spoke.
Holt worked the rope. She was almost free. Decker fired another shot, this one too close for comfort. She wouldn’t survive another, since he seemed to have figured out the bulletproof tux didn’t cover her head.
“Light, please,” Holt yell
ed, hoping those fireworks hadn’t been the grand finale.
On cue, a sparkler shot into the circle. Decker was almost on top of her. The little light projectiles licked the ground around them like welding sparks. Decker raised his gun as Holt freed her hands.
Her feet were still tied to the chair so she couldn’t stand and fight. Instead, she planted her palms on the floor, ignoring the shards of glass that shredded her hands, pushed herself into a tucked handstand, and whirled her lower body at Decker’s legs.
The chair hit him first, then her body mass. He went down in a heap, the shot meant for Holt’s brain hitting the ceiling. As he landed, the gun slid out of his hand and skidded five feet away. Decker cursed and grabbed his knee.
The force of Holt’s swing had twisted the chair from under her body. She was able to sit up and easily cut the ropes around her ankles. She was back to full strength.
So was Decker. As Holt hopped to her feet, so did Decker. The last few sparkles sputtered from the stick a few feet from them as they squared off. The room was once again pitch-black and silent as Decker swung at Holt.
She sensed the blow, aimed at the left side of her head, and batted it away with her left hand. The body to body contact gave her a measure of how far away Decker was and at what angle his body was positioned from Holt. She threw a jab to where she expected his torso to be and was rewarded with a grunt. The punch wasn’t hard enough to do damage. It was an information gathering expedition and was followed by a lightning quick combination of left punch, right hook.
Decker fell forward into Holt and grabbed her shoulders to regain his balance and to keep her from getting in any more serious punches.
“Decker,” Gary yelled from close by.
“Over here,” Decker wheezed, still locked with Holt. “Get me out of this mess.”
Holt tried to extract herself from Decker’s grip, but he had his arms wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms at her sides. She was moving her feet quickly, and he was having trouble keeping up. At times, she felt his feet come completely off the ground, but he wasn’t letting go. He was also throwing a shoulder into her throbbing chest as often as he could and trying to bite her shoulder. Luckily, the tuxedo also seemed capable of deflecting oral assaults, but Holt was annoyed she couldn’t get free, and the pain was wearing her down.
Suddenly, the lights were restored. Doors all around them burst open, and Holt’s team and members of the Providence Police Department rushed in. Holt used the distraction to fling Decker off her. Gary was running at them, gun waving wildly. When Holt stepped toward Decker, Gary fired three shots. Two missed completely, but the third lodged in Decker’s left shoulder.
“You fucking ass, you shot me,” Decker screamed as he and Gary were surrounded by police officers and arrested.
Holt saw her team looking her over anxiously, but she didn’t see the only person she had any interest in being with right now. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for Isabelle to fly from behind a pile of boxes nearby and propel herself into Holt’s arms. The force caught Holt off guard and they both stumbled backward, arms clutching, lips meeting. Holt’s heart was pounding.
Even though they were surrounded by police officers and just about everyone who worked for her, Holt didn’t want to stop kissing Isabelle. They weren’t gentle, loving kisses, but the kind you give someone after you thought you would never get the chance to do it again. Isabelle buried her face in Holt’s neck and squeezed her tightly. Holt realized Isabelle’s legs were wrapped around her waist, and you couldn’t fit a playing card between their bodies. Her chest hurt, but not only from the force of the gunshot. She really hadn’t known if she would see Isabelle again.
“Uh, boss?” Lola had apparently lost the game of rock-paper-scissors her team often played to determine who had to do a particularly unpleasant task.
“Yes, Lola?” Holt was in no mood to be angry with anyone, not with the woman she loved in her arms and the greatest threat to both of them lying angry, bleeding, and handcuffed on the floor.
“The police have a few questions, and, well, so do we.”
“Oh, wait,” Isabelle said, disentangling herself from Holt’s grasp and bouncing toward the pile of boxes she had emerged from earlier. She pulled out her cell phone and beelined for Moose and the police officer who looked like he was in charge. Holt followed.
“What’s that?” Holt asked.
“Decker’s confession,” Isabelle said. “Since you went a little off the rails with what was my understanding of the plan, I thought we should improvise.”
“He Tasered me and dragged me to this stupid building,” Holt said, feeling a little defensive. She was embarrassed she had been so easily trapped.
“I saw you getting dragged down here. Amy and I came after you.”
“I have an entire army of highly trained ass kickers, and you’re the one who swoops in to save my biscuits.”
“I have more invested in the biscuits than the others,” Isabelle said, touching Holt’s chest gently. “Are you okay?”
“Was it you who screamed?” Holt asked, already knowing the answer.
“I saw him shooting you and I couldn’t help it. How did you stay so calm?”
Holt was aware the whole room was watching their conversation, their heads going back and forth like they were watching a tennis match, but she didn’t care. The only one in the room that mattered was the one who needed questions answered immediately. Everyone else could wait.
“I had to. It’s part of the job. People do dumb things when they’re stressed or angry or agitated. Staying calm can save your life. And bulletproof tuxedos.”
“The dry-cleaning is going to be a nightmare,” Isabelle said.
“Do you happen to know who unleashed pyrotechnic hell in here?” Holt asked, trying to suppress a smile.
“I did,” Isabelle said. “Those boxes are full of them. Gary was looking all over for me. I didn’t want him to find me, and I figured you needed Decker distracted. I asked Amy to cut the lights when she left to get the ass kickers, so when the lights went out, I thought it was time to liven things up. There were a couple wheely cart things so I loaded them up, lit the fuses, and shoved them off. The smaller ones I lit and threw. It was actually kinda fun.”
“Where did you get the lighter?” Holt asked, not sure why she cared about the tiny detail.
“I had it in my purse. One of those just in case things that got thrown in. Now I know what the ‘case’ was that I needed it for. Setting off fireworks to save you from a madman.”
“You don’t have any shoes on, and your purse is the size of an eye patch, but you had a lighter in there?” Holt was amazed. “What else do you have ‘just in case’?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Isabelle said before kissing her again.
“My girlfriend is fucking awesome,” Holt said.
“Your girlfriend, huh?” Isabelle asked, looking quite happy.
“Is that presumptuous?” Holt asked, realizing she was making assumptions. She also realized she hadn’t followed Jose’s advice about telling Isabelle how she felt, and the worst had almost come true. She didn’t want to go another minute without telling her. “’Cause I almost died, and all I could think about was that I never worked up the courage to tell you that I love you.”
“I love you too, Holt. I think I’ve known it for a while but was too terrified to admit it. Before I met you, I couldn’t have done what I just did. I might not love your job, but I’m a stronger, more confident person when I’m with you. And at the end of the day, anyone who’s been a victim of a crime deserves a hero like you on their side. God, I love you.”
Holt felt like she was floating. Despite all the shit she had just been through, she had never been happier. She kissed Isabelle. They were really getting going again when Moose tapped Holt on the shoulder.
“Why don’t you and Isabelle get on home? I’ll take care of the paperwork here and the police can interview you both tomorrow. You don�
�t need the emergency room, right?”
“Not tonight,” Holt said, putting an arm around Isabelle’s waist. Every one of Holt’s team shook her hand on the way out the door. Each expressed in their own way how happy they were she and Isabelle were okay. Amy and Jose were last in line. They didn’t have to say anything. Holt could tell she was going to get an earful from her friends.
“It’s not going to be tonight,” Amy started, “But you are going to have to promise us a few things before you go out and make stupid plans like the one you had going on tonight. Got it? Isabelle won’t be around every time to save your ass.”
Holt laughed and nodded. She kissed Amy on the lips, Jose on the cheek, and finally pushed open the warehouse door. She and Isabelle stepped into the Providence night.
“My car keys don’t happen to be in that amazing purse of yours do they?” Holt asked, feeling euphoric and exhausted after the wild evening.
Isabelle dangled the keys in front of Holt’s face. “Take me home, sweetheart.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Thank you for saving my ass tonight,” Holt said. “I can’t believe Decker caught me so easily.”
Isabelle couldn’t believe Holt was thanking her. “I seem to remember you being the one risking your life for me. I don’t think you need to thank me. Now that it’s over, what did you think the odds were that the plan was going to work? Be honest with me.”
“Oh, probably about fifty-fifty,” Holt said, smiling slightly. “It was a shit plan.”
“Then why did you go with it?” Isabelle was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she needed Holt to tell her. If they were going to be a team going forward, they had to be open and honest with each other.
“Because the alternative wasn’t an option,” Holt said. “And before you ask me to, no, I won’t promise to never do it again. If your life is in danger, I’m going to do whatever I can to protect you. I guess Decker Pence was right about that. We’ll both do whatever it takes to get what we want when it matters enough.”
The Chase Page 21