by Aden Lowe
Fucker looked at me like I sprouted a second head. "Ground."
I pushed the button and waited while the doors closed and the car jolted as it began to descend. Six seconds counted off before I hit the STOP button and halted the damn thing.
Fucking lowlife took a second look at me, startled. "What the hell, man?"
"Need to have a little chat with you." My .40 felt nice and solid in my hand as I raised it up for him to see. "You make some risky choices."
His eyes widened with fear. "I…I don't understand."
Of course he didn't. "Last night, you and your buddies chose to bother the wrong woman."
He clutched the handrail behind him and shook his head. "I…we didn't mean any harm. Please—"
"No fucking harm, huh? That's why you were just talking about her on the phone." I brandished the gun and got up in his face. "No, see, I know your type. When the odds are in your favor, you take whatever you want. Including pussy. What were you going to do if I hadn't come along?"
"I…we…it was Jason's idea. He saw her first and wanted some." The stench of fear rolled off the motherfucker, blood in the water with a Great White circling.
"I see. So whose idea was it to hold a gun on her?"
He shook his head, nearing panic. "That wasn't…" Better wrap this shit up before he started screaming and drew attention.
"Get out your ID." Shaking, he did so. "Now hold it up where I can see." Again, he followed my orders. "Well, hey there Vince. It's nice to meet you. I'm your worst fucking nightmare. And now I have your name. You might want to renew your license, by the way. It expires in two weeks. Don't forget to change your address, since you won't be living here anymore." I smiled and restarted the elevator, sliding the gun back into the waist of my jeans.
"Wha…what do you mean?" He wiped sweat from his face, probably feeling a whole lot better with my gun out of sight.
"I mean you get to come back here one time, and one time only, long enough to get your shit and get the fuck out." I grinned. "Or, she could file a report, complete with your name, about what happened out in that parking lot."
His face went red and fury filled his expression. "She better fucking not."
Stupid motherfucker. I let one fist fly, taking him in the belly. "See, that right there is exactly the kind of talk that gets idiots hurt. You're moving. And if you, or your buddies, get within a mile of her again, I'll fucking kill you." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the ground floor. "You have a great day, man, and good luck with the apartment search. I'm sure you'll find something." I turned and walked out, half braced for a bullet between my shoulders, but none came.
Chapter Sixteen
Azia
Mrs. Reis and I cried together for a few minutes, then she excused herself to go back and check on her husband. He evidently took Chris' death even harder than she did. Exhausted, and with my ankle throbbing, I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. Hopefully, my stalker would show himself soon, Flag could do his thing, and I could get back to my nice safe little life. Everyone else might think it was boring, but I realized now, excitement and danger simply did not work for me.
Everything about Flag spelled excitement and danger, from the tattoos covering his skin, to the almost permanent scowl he wore. I should be grateful he had no interest in anything long-term with me. The news bruised my feminine pride a little, but in reality, I already knew. Neither of us needed the hurt and heartache brought into the light of day again.
The doorknob rattled, and my heart jumped into my throat. Had the killer come already? I sat up, looking around in panic for a place to hide, then bolted for the bedroom. Except the floor came up to meet me, hard, as pain stabbed through my hurt ankle the moment my toes touched the carpet.
The door swung inward. "Sorry to take so long. Fucking line at the drug store." Flag came in and closed the door behind him. "Fuck! What's wrong?" Plastic rattled as he dropped to his knees at my side.
Relief combined with pain made it hard to breathe. "I thought you were the killer!" Then it struck me. "How did you get in? I asked Mrs. Reis to lock the door as she left."
He held up a familiar cat-shaped keychain. "Stole your keys when you weren't looking. Figured it was easier than you having to get up to let me in. And apparently I was right. You trying to break your neck in the process?" His hands slid across my body. "Where does it hurt?"
I couldn't think with his fingers pressing into sensitive areas and jolting heat across my nerve endings. "Uh, I don't know. My ankle is all, I think." An odd buzzing sound filled my ears as Flag lifted me to the couch. Did I hit my head, or injure something to make me hear things? I didn't think so. The noise faded away anyway.
He propped my foot on a small pillow and returned the cold pack to my ankle. "Sit still, I need to check and make sure you didn't actually break your neck." Sitting on the edge of the couch beside me, he started to inspect me more carefully for other injuries.
My heart raced as his fingers traced my collarbones. If only the concern in his face were real. I missed having someone actually worry about me. Before, he always asked if I had eaten, and taught me basic self-defense so I could escape whenever one of my mother's boyfriends decided he wanted the younger version. But no, that wasn't mine anymore, and he wanted to avoid entanglements. "I'm fine, Flag." The buzzing sound kept coming back, and then fading, but I kept that to myself.
"You have any windows open?" The question took me by surprise.
What did that have to do with anything? "No, why?"
He shook his head. "Never mind. Probably my imagination." He sat back, elbows on his knees, watching me carefully.
I tried to hold his gaze, but the butterflies in my stomach had other ideas. What was he looking for? The noise returned, louder than ever. "What is that?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
Flag gestured me to stay still. "It's why I asked if you had windows open. I first thought it was a leaf blower, but it's way too loud."
It kept changing, first hissing, then buzzing, louder and closer, then lower and farther away. Had we stepped into some alternate reality where giant insects buzzed buildings? Suddenly, it grew insistent, reminding me of a bee trapped in a hot car, desperate to get out.
"It's a fucking drone."
The word had no context for me. "A…what?"
"Drone. Unmanned Aerial Vehicle." He pulled the curtains back to reveal a hovering…thing…like a cross between a big bug and a helicopter. It hovered just outside the window for a full minute, then dove out of sight. "Have you heard that sound before?"
I tried to push down my panic. "What was that thing?" I knew after seeing it, but I didn't know why it was outside my window.
Flag scowled. "Just tell me. Have you heard that before?"
I searched my memory. "No, I don't think so. Why was it here? Who would do that?"
"The fucker had a camera mounted on it. Someone is surveilling you." He yanked the curtains closed and went to the kitchen, where he did the same. "Pretty sure we drew the fucking killer out."
My stomach fell and a hot brick of terror took its place. "Camera?" Thoughts of someone watching me from a distance, like the plot out of every spy movie I'd ever seen, ran through my head. Had he done it all along? Was that how he knew who I spent time with? What all could he have seen?
Flag took both my hands, demanding my attention. "Hey, don't panic on me. This is what we needed. If that was him, now he'll come after me." The statement did little to reassure me.
Instead, my heart slammed into my ribs with fear. This man had already taken so many I cared about. And now he would come for Flag. "I don't want him to." And I didn't. I could never have the past back, but I still couldn't lose him again.
The corner of his mouth drew up in a little half-smile I remembered so well. "I'll be fine, Azia. I've survived the hottest combat regions in the world, and I've lost count of how many psychopathic killers I've made it past." His confidence did little to help the fear po
unding through my veins.
Then another thought sprang into my mind. "What if he goes through with whatever he already had planned? What if it's Carrie? He might try to get her first, right?"
His brow furrowed. "You have a point. Let me make a call. I'll make sure she's safe." He pulled out his cheap phone. What had he called it? A burner? Yes, that was it. After a moment, whoever he called picked up. "Man, I need you. Unofficial, but I'll make it worth your while." He waited, nodded, then gave the listener my address, and hung up. "Okay, one of my buddies is coming. He'll watch out for Carrie."
It made no sense. "How do you know? You just said you need him, but you didn't tell him what for. What if he hates kids?"
His chuckle caught me by surprise. "For one, X-Man is pretty new, so he does whatever his superiors tell him. For two, the motherfucker owes me for saving his ass. He's also the steadiest man I know, other than Trick, but he's busy with his new wife and baby. He'll do fine."
Wife and baby? Did that mean men like Flag could have normal lives too? Fear faded under the sudden need to know more. "Who's Trick?"
He glanced at me, one brow lifted, while he did something with a gun he pulled from somewhere. "Trick is another Unwanted Soldier. He was on patrol with me that night, and got put on the same plane." A series of metallic clicks from the gun grated on my nerves.
"But he's married? And has a baby?" My breath stalled in my chest while I waited for the answer.
Flag nodded. "Yeah, he is. He's the only one, and it could have put a target on Lauren's head, but it's too soon to tell. The powers that be haven't really said much yet." The gun disappeared back to its hiding place.
My vision went fuzzy, and I realized I held my breath. A little oxygen took care of that problem. This news excited me. "What does his wife do? I mean, does she have to hide out all the time? Or does she have a normal life?" I clutched my hands together to hide the trembling.
His suddenly cold stare made me squirm. Was he angry with my questions? He shook his head. "Don't get any big ideas, Azia. I'm not Trick. That bastard went head to head with a presidential candidate to protect Lauren. And they both went through hell and back. He's a good, solid man. I'm not." He stalked toward the kitchen, clearly not pleased. "I'll get you something to drink."
Did he not even want to try and see if it was possible? In the old days, Cass would have pushed to try anything that might make his life better. Had his situation beaten him down to the point where he just didn't care any longer?
His words came back to me. 'He's a good, solid man. I'm not.' Flag really believed he wasn't a good person. He'd already made that clear. The things he'd been forced to do scarred him deeply, far worse than any physical wounds he received. And he blamed himself for every bit of it. He reminded me of my grandfather, whom I only met a handful of times when I was about ten. He'd been a bitter, paranoid man, always ready to expect the worst. I hated the thought of Flag becoming that man.
He returned from the kitchen, markedly calmer. "Your refrigerator isn't much better than mine." He passed me a bottle of water, and opened one for himself.
Why did I feel the need to make excuses for my lack of domesticity? "I usually just grab something on the way home from work." Okay, that sounded truly pathetic, and it was too late to take it back.
He grinned. "So you can't boil water without burning it, huh?"
That annoyed me. I wanted him to see me as capable. "It's not that I can't cook. I actually took several courses when I was in school. It's just a pain to cook something nice for one person." And that sounded even worse.
Flag's knowing grin only irritated me more, made me want to make him understand.
"Food's expensive, and if I'm going to buy a bunch of ingredients, I hate to see any of it go to waste. That's what happens when I cook for myself. I can never eat it all." Oh, God, I should just give up. Nothing I said would improve things.
"Well, I'll let you prove it to me one day." He took a long drink of his water, and my gaze refused to leave the strong column of his neck, transfixed as he swallowed. "In the meantime, we have to figure out how to convince Carrie she needs X-Man in her life. Somehow, I doubt she's going to buy that she needs a fucking bodyguard."
How could he know her so well after such a short time? "You're right. After Brian's death, she was determined to do everything for herself and never need a man again. She even learned to change her oil and fix the roof." A little laugh escaped me at the memory of Carrie limping into the classroom that day, her knees burned raw by hot shingles when she tried wearing shorts to repair a small leak. She cursed the home repair book for a week for not including long, heavy pants in the instructions, but her roof was fixed anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
Flag
The thought of dealing with another hard-headed woman fucked with my own head. If my assessment of Carrie was right, then how the hell was I supposed to get her to admit she needed someone to watch over her and protect her from a killer? Especially when that killer might not even be after her. We had no evidence to back up Azia's fears, just a string of deaths that oddly coincided with bouquets of red roses. What if she refused to see reason? It wasn't like we could just kidnap her and her kids and hide them until the killer was dealt with, no matter how appealing the idea might seem.
I wracked my brain and still came up with nothing. "How do we get Carrie to accept a bodyguard?" The frozen broccoli on Azia's ankle had melted, condensation soaking the dishtowel I wrapped it in. I lifted the makeshift ice pack away, relieved to see minimal bruising and no swelling.
She moved her foot around, wincing a little when she flexed the ankle, but otherwise, showing no signs of real pain. "I think it's okay. It'll just be a little sore." She sat up and swung her feet to the floor, standing carefully, testing the ankle. "We just have to tell Carrie the truth." She took a cautious step, actually bearing weight on the injured side. "If she doesn't like the idea, I'll remind her she promised Brian she would do whatever was necessary to keep the kids safe." Another successful step. "It's fine. I'll have to be a little careful, but it's nothing serious." She returned to her seat.
My hands burned to massage that delicate joint, but I kept them to myself. "Well, we have to convince her fast. He's not far away. Should be here within the hour." X-Man shocked me a little with his eagerness to take on an outside job. And him being only a couple hours away made no sense.
Azia sat, deep in thought, tapping her chin like she used to whenever she wrangled with a puzzle. "Okay, I got it. She invited us to dinner. I'll call her and set it up for this evening, even though it'll be late. Your friend can come with, and we can tell her then." She grinned, pleased with her solution.
I glanced at my watch. "It's eight o'clock. You really think she would go for it so late?"
"Carrie likes to play cards. We could always pick up pizza, if she doesn't want to try out her new recipes. She won't refuse that." Her certainty made me shake my head.
"If you say so. You should go ahead and call her, though." My phone dinged with an incoming message. I ignored it for a moment. "And you should pack for a few days away. With this fucker spying on you with a drone, I don't think you should be here at all." The bastard could do so many nasty things with any images he managed to grab, it made my skin crawl. I needed to protect her from that kind of fallout.
She sobered immediately. "Do you still think it's Richard Riley?" Her quiet voice appealed to every damn protective instinct I had.
"I still don't know." I felt like a fucking idiot for not having a definitive answer for her. "He had a drone at his house, but it was a smaller model, more like a recreational one that nerds fly around the park." Would he put that kind of money into watching Azia? I recalled the way he looked when he spoke of her. Yes. He definitely would.
She nodded. "So the one at the window was a serious drone?" Her eyes seemed huge in her pale face.
How much of the truth could I tell her? If she were terrified, she would be unable to hel
p herself at all, but she had to know the reality of what we faced. "Yeah, it was a fucking serious drone. A couple thousand bucks' worth of serious, at least."
Her phone vibrated on the coffee table, and the screen lit up with caller ID, proclaiming that Richard Riley wanted to speak to Azia. She picked the thing up like it might bite, and answered the call, putting it on speaker. "Hello?"
"Hey, Azia, I'm glad I caught you." The fucker's voice annoyed the piss out of me. "I'm in your area and thought I'd see if you wanted to grab a late dinner, or a drink, with me. You can't spend every Saturday evening locked up in your apartment."
She glanced my way, fear showing in every line of her face. "Uh, Richard—"
"Come on, I can pick you up in five minutes. You have to get out. Mrs. Nealy has more social life than you do."
Her lips twisted with annoyance. "Did she put you up to calling me?"
"What? No!" He sounded horrified by the suggestion. "Why would she do that?"
Azia squared her shoulders. "I can't, Richard. I already have plans for the evening."
He gave a derisive laugh. "Oh, let me guess, you'll be reading the latest housewife porn."
The glance she sent my way declared her anger. I'd heard enough, myself. "No, man, she'll be riding my dick."
Absolute silence came from the other end of the call.
Azia laughed a little. "Come on, Flag, you can't say stuff like that?" Her hand came up in a gesture, telling me to continue playing along.
"Well, since we're engaged, that outcome should be obvious."
Riley cleared his throat. "Azia, you don't know what you're doing. This is a dangerous game. You can't act this way. You have a reputation to think of."
She actually gritted her teeth. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Richard, and it's certainly no game. My reputation will survive, I'm sure, since no one would dare spread nasty rumors. I have to go, Richard, bye." She clicked the end button. "I can't believe the nerve!"
"You think he talked to the wicked witch from the restaurant?" My head buzzed with possibilities. Everything this joker did made it seem more likely he was the killer, but still, nothing confirmed the suspicion.