The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers

by Aaron Patterson

  Sinking under again, I analyzed my choices. If Vitoria didn’t kill me, I would drown. I had to get my hands out of these ropes, or at least in front of me.

  Hunching over, I pulled my arms under my feet, but couldn’t get them around. My shoulders burned with the strain—I needed air. Tucking up my legs, I forced my hands down and felt my left shoulder slip out of its socket.

  Blinding pain shot down my arm. But I used the extra space, got my legs through the hoop my arms made, and kicked to the surface. Even though my lungs were on fire, I managed to gulp air quietly. I pressed my arms to a wooden dock support post and wrapped my legs around it, keeping just under the overhang.

  Vitoria ran to the end of the dock and looked out toward the ocean. Her shadow darkened the water.

  She screamed a curse. “Steele, don’t try to hide from me—this is not a game. You have no idea what you’re involved in.” She moved slowly back up the dock, getting closer to where I hid.

  “You think this is some small-time gang kidnapping women for a few credit cards? You think this is just me and my girls? They’ll come for you.”

  My mind raced and my shoulder ground bone on bone with each breath I took. Vitoria stopped and listened. I knew she would find me—the sound of my breathing was so loud in my ears.

  She stomped her foot like a spoiled girl.

  Her voice rose. “I’ll kill you slow, Steele, cut off each finger and force feed you them one by one. Then I’ll cut off your eyelids and make you watch the rest. You think you’ll live? There’s nowhere to go. You can’t swim all tied up, so if you’re hiding in the grass, I’ll find you. Give up now and I’ll make it fast.”

  Sounded like I wouldn’t be invited to her slumber party.

  Just when I thought I would get away free and clear, Vitoria looked down and laughed. I stared into the dark pools of her eyes. I sucked air and pushed myself under the water, but it was too late.

  VITORIA DROPPED TO HER knees, looking down into the water and holding the Glock out, ready to shoot. If I could see her, she could see me.

  My feet hit the muddy bottom. I bent my legs and pushed as hard as I could, launching myself up and out of the water. I looped my hands over Vitoria’s neck. I fought through the pain grinding through my shoulder. Her face slammed into the dock, but she didn’t fall into the water. I hooked my leg over the dock edge and hauled myself up. I still had my arms around her neck, so I took advantage of the momentum and wrapped her in a chokehold from behind.

  Vitoria gagged and thrashed under me. I twisted my legs through hers, forcing her flat on her stomach. She was strong, and she curled her legs under and flipped onto her back just as a gun fired.

  Vitoria screamed—her body stiffened. I snapped my head around to see Mia standing at the water’s edge, holding a gun. She ran forward and kicked me hard in the ribs. I felt one crunch. I gasped, and the pain was so intense I couldn’t breathe.

  Mia was talking, but all I heard was my own inner monster growling at me.

  Move, get away, and find the gun. Don’t think, just act, or you will die. Let go and live.

  Squirming out from under Vitoria, I scrambled sideways, trying to get away. Another shot echoed over the water and I felt something sting my neck.

  I looked down the dock, but couldn’t find Vitoria’s gun. Rolling to my knees just as another shot rang out, I saw the Glock lodged under Vitoria’s leg. She was on her back, coughing and gagging.

  “You’re not the leader anymore, Vit. I’m gonna run the show now, right after I take care of this American.”

  Mia was on the other side of Vitoria, holding a silver gun. It was trained on me. I looked her right in the eye and winked. Her face registered shock and it gave me the second I needed. I dove for the Glock, grabbed it with both hands, and fired.

  Two blooms spread across the front of her shirt. Mia hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. Her hands went limp and the gun slipped from her fingers. Her knees buckled—she hit the dock hard.

  I stuck the Glock to Vitoria’s temple. “Move and I put you in the ground.” Time seemed to slow down. She twisted away and backhanded the gun from my hands and into the water. Dang, she was fast. Blood seeped from her side—she couldn’t run. We both got to our feet at the same time and I managed a low sidekick to her right hip. She fell to one knee.

  My body was overheating from adrenaline and pain, letting me know that I had a shoulder out, broken ribs, and had been shot. I pushed through the pain. This was not the time to nurse a wound.

  Mia’s silver gun lay just within Vitoria’s reach. She went for it. I kicked again and this time her arm snapped, bending the wrong way. I heard yelling and the sound of boots pounding down the dock.

  My hand wrapped around the gun at the same time Vitoria’s did. We each pulled and fought for it. I wrapped my index finger around the trigger. Pushing the gun barrel toward her face, I squeezed.

  Vitoria jerked. Her eyes flashed fear for the first time. Blood bubbled from a hole in her neck. I fell back, exhausted, body and soul.

  I DON’T REMEMBER THE ride to the hospital or the doctor wrapping my ribs. I don’t remember Mandy yelling at me for being so stupid as to go and get myself kidnapped again, or Solomon kissing me on the forehead and telling me I’d done a good job and he was proud of me.

  I was just glad to be alive. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, and it hurt even worse to laugh—which Mandy tried to make me do at every opportunity, because she was evil like that.

  “God, Mandy, stop making me laugh. Please, you’re killing me.” I was lying in bed in our hotel room and had sworn to stay off my feet for a few days. Solomon was fiddling with the TV and Mandy was acting crazy.

  “I’m not trying to make you laugh, but you do laugh at just about anything.”

  “It’s the drugs,” I said and took a bite of pudding. I had one arm in a sling. Eating was a bit of a challenge.

  Solomon sat on the edge of the bed and I winced. “Sorry.” He got up hastily.

  “It’s okay—just hurts to move.” I reached out my good arm and took his hand. “So you’re not above slipping tracking devices into my pocket?”

  This time, I got an expression of surprise out of him. “You knew?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Why else would I let you hug me when you smelled like garbage?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, so, you can never have too many backups.”

  “As a computer guru, I say a hearty ‘amen’ to that,” Mandy said.

  I was looking forward to getting out tomorrow, even if it was only for a walk. The FBI was covering our hotel and flight home as my fee for consulting. However, Dan was now calling me about every ten minutes, asking when I’d be back at work.

  Lili was the Blonde who made it out alive, and she was in custody. I knew there had to be a mastermind behind all of it, an outside man. Lili confirmed it, but she didn’t know who it was. All she’d said was that Vitoria had flown to the States every couple of months to meet someone. “So as far as we know,” I said, “Vitoria is the mastermind and the girls thought they were selling their stock to a buyer in South Africa.”

  “You can’t stop thinking about this, can you?” Mandy said.

  “Well, I’ve been out of it, and some things are still fuzzy.”

  Solomon popped open a mineral water and took a drink. “Lili said that something changed six weeks ago, a new buyer or something, because Vitoria started acting strange and then the killing began. The kills were all by Vitoria. The others stood by, and everyone was too scared of her to do anything.”

  “Can we trace her phone? See if we can track down the buyer and the boss?”

  Solomon nodded. “Doing it as we speak. Chances are that if we follow the money, we’ll find them. But this is just a small operation. Most of these outfits have small hubs like this one and the rest deal in human trafficking and drugs.”

  I wondered if that’s the path the Blondes had started down. It was only a matter of time before the
y went from stolen watches and credit cards to moving girls and drugs.

  Taking another spoonful of pudding, I thought about Emilia. If anyone had a chance to get out and start over, it was her. I told Mandy and Solomon that I was tired and could use a nap, so they went out to go shopping. I gave Solomon props for taking my best friend shopping. He would survive and achieve knighthood in my book, or run away and forever be a martyr.

  When I was alone, I closed my eyes and the tears came. I was so overwhelmed with mixed emotions that I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Her eyes—I could still see them—the life slowly trickling from her body.

  Vitoria was a murderer. How were we different? I had no intention of ending a life when I walked into the warehouse. But I had killed people. Where was the line drawn? And how could I see it before it was too late?

  My shoulders shook with sobs and I hoped I wasn’t twisting into something I wasn’t, like Vitoria had. I had to stay strong. I had to stay me. I couldn’t let that dark side take control ever again.

  THAT EVENING, SOLOMON CAME up to my room dressed in a suit and holding a red rose. He handed it to me and leaned down to kiss me. I looked like the bride of Frankenstein on a bad hair day, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “You are one of a kind, Sarah Steele. I thought just one rose would do—any more would not say what I really want to say.”

  I flashed him a smile, holding my breath. “And what is it you really want to say?”

  He sat down in a chair and scooted it closer to the bed. “Sarah, from the first day I met you, and from the moment you picked up that gun …” He laughed, and I had a dumb perma-grin on my face. “I knew you were different. And you know what? I like you—I like you a lot. I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to be around, so if you feel the same way, I would love it if you would be my official girlfriend.”

  Memories and old fears flooded to the surface, but I shoved them down. For once, I listened to the lighter side of me, the optimistic voice.

  Besides, if Solomon really was the enemy… What did they say? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. This guy was one who would be nice to hold close.

  “I would love that, Solomon. Do I need to sign any paperwork, you know, to make it all official?”

  He chuckled and leaned down. He gently kissed my neck, nibbled my ear, and made his way to my mouth.

  No, it wouldn’t be bad to keep this man close at all.

  THE NEXT DAY AT our hotel, Mandy and I were getting ready for a day of sun and something served in a coconut.

  She stuck her head out of the bathroom, mascara wand in hand. “Hey, so you remember when you told me to look into Eddie Lofton’s financials?”

  I was attempting to dress myself. Even though my sling was off, my ribs were really tender.

  “Yeah, you find out anything?” I’d totally forgotten about it after all that had happened.

  “I’m not sure, but there is something very strange going on with his records.”

  I walked into the bathroom. “And?”

  “He wired fifty thousand dollars to an account in Norway, which isn’t that strange considering he has a cousin who lives there.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Geez, you went through his life with a lice comb.”

  “I do research the right way,” Mandy said. “And thanks. Anyway, this money wire went to an offshore shipping company which has a local branch here in Rio.”

  “Sooo?”

  “That facility is where you and the Blondes had your little showdown. Oh, and guess where this shipping company gets all its money from?”

  My gut balled up, and I had a bad feeling I knew all too well. “Williams,” I whispered with one eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah, the one and only. So that means Eddie paid Williams Inc. and he didn’t want to be connected with it, hence the ring around the rosie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yup, data doesn’t lie. It’s all on my laptop.”

  “Fifty K—the going rate for a decent hit job these days. Do you know what this means?”

  “It means we should talk to Eddie.” Mandy stopped, her eyes growing sad. “He must’ve hired Vitoria to kill his wife.”

  I BLINKED SLOWLY, AS if in a dream. The soft white comforter pillowed around me and I felt warm and at home. Every muscle had melted into the bed. I felt attached, as if I couldn’t move if I tried.

  The window was open. The cool sea breeze and the smell of sweet flowers wafted in.

  Gradually craning my neck to the side, I looked at the time.

  Ten o’clock.

  I had done it. I had slept in for the first time since college.

  This vacation was officially a success.

  WE PACKED UP AND went over the room one last time, making sure we’d grabbed everything. “So, Mandy, we didn’t get to everything on your list.” I made a pouty face.

  “That’s okay—the list was more like a guideline, anyway. You were right—I’d make a terrible mom to a street kid.” She smiled her big, sparkly, full-of-life smile. “We got to surf and talk to parrots and solve mysteries, and even stop a few criminals.” She dusted off her hands and I smiled. “Not a bad vacation at all.”

  “I got to sleep in, so I’m happy.”

  “You’re easy to please.”

  As I followed her out the door, wheeling my suitcase, I swept the room with my eyes one last time. My eye caught on something and I stopped. The light reflected on something in the air vent next to the desk. I knelt and peered into the metal grate.

  “Would you look at that …” Taking two pens from my purse, I used them like chopsticks to grab what had fallen between the slats—Mandy’s dragon bracelet.

  I smiled. I guess not every mystery had something twisted behind it. And I was glad of that.

  For Klayton—you’re a little monster, but I love ya.

  Good and evil press together, fighting each other, only to melt into something stronger than steel.

  HOTAH SQUEEZED HIS EYES shut and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the next room. He hugged his bear and hid his face in its soft fur. But try as he might, his being was focused on his grandmother.

  It sounded like a muffled scream, as if she was being held down. The thin walls didn’t do much to conceal what was going on just past his bedroom, and yet the noise was muted.

  “Don’t you dare, whore. One sound and I’ll tear your tongue out. I like my women quiet.”

  A muted whimper made its way to him. His grandmother was in pain and he knew what it sounded like, what it smelled like, and what it felt like.

  Hotah covered his ears and rocked back and forth on the floor. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. Even through his hands he could hear her crying, his grandfather hitting her over and over again like some kind of drum. It had a sick rhythm to it, as if he was playing an instrument and her pain was the music.

  Pressing his temples, Hotah groaned.

  His grandfather raised his voice. “Why do you treat me this way? Why do you make me have to punish you?”

  His grandmother didn’t answer—she never answered. Hotah wanted his grandfather just to end it, to kill her and be done. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he just do it? Maybe Hotah should. Maybe he could show him what it meant to finish things off.

  A hollow thud made his bedroom wall shake. Now he was throwing her.

  Hotah opened his eyes and picked up the hunting knife his uncle had given him for Christmas from where it lay by his left foot.

  “It’s okay,” he told himself. Catching his reflection in the blade, Hotah stood, barefoot, and gripped the hilt so hard his knuckles turned white. He smelled weed and sweat and heard the music of fists. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

  Holding up his right hand, Hotah dug the knife into his palm. It cut through the skin. A rivulet of blood ran down his wrist. He grunted and cut a second line across, making an X. He imagined making the same mark on his grandmother’s fo
rehead. That would make her sing.

  IT WAS SUNDAY MORNING, and I was the closest I’d been to a church in a decade. Mandy and I sat in a rental car across the street from the Indian Hills Community Church in Lincoln, Nebraska.

  Mandy sipped loudly on her chi latte, studying each person who entered. I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. We were here to face Eddie Lofton. Two weeks ago I’d have said it would be a congenial encounter, but that was before we found out he’d hired a hit on his wife.

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  The more important question running through my mind was, what was I going to do? I recited the list of events that happen when you deal with murderers. “He’ll lie and tell us it was all Williams, Inc. We’ll keep pushing him and he’ll threaten us and when that doesn’t work, he’ll try blackmail—or something worse.”

  Mandy looked at me, eyes wide. “You mean he’ll try to steal my Yankees baseball card collection? Or—” She gasped. “Make me listen to the latest tween pop star?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Dang, seems like you’ve got high hopes for this little outing. You know, he could confess and make our job easier. It happens on CSI: Miami all the time.”

  “Nothing wraps up in forty-two minutes like it does on TV. Eddie Lofton has way too much on the line—he didn’t have his wife killed and go through all that he did just to get caught by the likes of us.” I drummed my fingers on the armrest, wishing I could be back in my apartment in Boise. Things were simple in Boise.

  “The likes of us? Oh, girl, we’re like Nancy Drew married the hot Hardy Boy and their twin baby girls grew up to be us.”

  I turned my head so Mandy could see my full eye roll, but I laughed before I could complete the maneuver. “You’re such a dork, Mandy.”

  “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘awesome’, because I’m … You know… awesome.” She rambled when she was nervous.