Bound by Danger

by Danielle M. Haas

  Graham’s blood boiled hotter than the room.

  Pete glanced up and met his eyes. Damn, he looked like shit. His ashen skin sunk into the hollows of his cheeks and dried blood lingered around his swollen lips. Clumps of dirt clung to his close-cropped brown hair and red veins ran like spokes in the whites of his eyes. His hands clasped together on the table. His gaze stayed fixed on Graham as he walked to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

  Graham sucked in a deep breath and the hot air burned his lungs. He crossed his arms over his chest and hardened his gaze. “Where are the girls?”

  Pete never looked away, just shrugged his shoulders.

  “Is this where you want to live out the rest of your days?” Graham asked and waved a hand in the air. “This is hell. Tell me where the girls are and we’ll transfer you to the U.S. Better food, a clean bed, air conditioning. You can’t be stupid enough to want to stay here.”

  “It doesn’t matter where I am. Nothing matters anymore.” Pete’s voice held no inflection, no hint of emotion. His eyes stayed fixed on Graham, but they were looking through him.

  “Why? Because you were caught? You can’t honestly believe you’d have a better life here. Tell me where the girls are and I’ll bring you home.” Graham’s mind raced. He needed an angle, a carrot to dangle in front of Pete’s face to get him to give up the girls. If it wasn’t being expedited back to a more comfortable cell, what was it?

  “I have no life. Not anymore. Not when he has her now.”

  Graham’s heart rate kicked up. “Becca? Who has Becca? Tell me where she is and I’ll get her away from him.”

  “It’s too late. I’ve lost her forever.”

  The words pierced Graham’s heart like a dagger. “It can’t be too late. I can find Becca, if you help me.”

  Pete’s eyes cleared and pain contorted his face. “This has nothing to do with Becca. Paula! He has Paula! I fucked up so he took the only thing that matters to me. I got too caught up finally having her. I used my real name, I let Mickey into my life. All so she would finally be mine. And now she’s gone.”

  “Who has Paula?”

  Pete tilted his head to the side and he sneered. “Did you think you’d finally caught the bad guy? That it was over now? You don’t know shit.”

  Adrenaline kicked up his pulse. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not the man in charge. I don’t have the answers you want.”

  Graham curled his hands into fists and pounded them on the table. “Then who’s in charge?”

  “Did you think it was dumb luck I found Mickey? You should know there are no such things as coincidences.”

  Realization hit him like a fist to the gut. Someone else was helping Pete, someone who knew how to find Mickey. Fear washed over him. Someone who was still out there.

  Graham pushed up from the table, leaned forward, and grabbed the neck of Pete’s shirt. He pressed his face into Pete’s personal space. “Give me a name. Tell me who it is.”

  Pete hung limply in his hand, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. The blank look came back into his eyes, and Graham pushed him back in his seat. Panic clawed at him. He needed answers, and fast. He sat back in his chair and took a steadying breath.

  “I already told you, it doesn’t matter anymore. He has Paula and he’ll never let her go. She’s my everything.”

  As quick as lightning, Pete unclasped his hands and his palm curled around something, its sharp tip barely visible. He slashed it across first one wrist, and then changed hands and slashed the other. Blood oozed onto the table, and a razor blade fell from Pete’s now open palms.

  “No! Hector, get your ass in here, now.” He shot to his feet and his chair crashed backward to the floor. The door flew open and Graham yelled, “Get a medic in here. He slit his wrists!”

  Pete’s head lolled back, exposing his pale neck. Graham took off his shirt and used the razor blade to slice strips of material. He grabbed Pete’s arm and wrapped one strip above Pete’s wrist where the cut had been made. Grabbing his other hand, he did the same thing above the other cut. Thick, crimson blood continued to ooze from the wounds. Graham placed two fingers under Pete’s neck to check his pulse. His pulse was so weak, Graham could barely find it.

  He glanced up at Hector and he yanked his fingers off Pete’s neck. “It’s no use. He’ll never make it out of here alive.”

  Wiping Pete’s blood onto his ruined shirt, he grabbed his phone from his pocket. He needed to catch a flight back home as soon as possible. His main suspect was dead, he had no other leads, and someone on the inside was up to their neck in this shit. He had to figure out who, and fast. He ground his teeth together as he pulled up the flight schedule on his phone.

  One thing Pete had said kept spinning around in his head.

  You should know there are no such thing as coincidences.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A dull ache thudded behind Mickey’s right eye, matching the pounding in her shoulder.

  She shifted in the small seat in the back of the plane, but she couldn’t get comfortable. She hated the confinement of the chair. It wasn’t natural to her. She wanted to stand in the front of the plane with the flight attendants working the flight, but she didn’t know them very well. She usually worked with the same group of people, and had only met this crew a handful of times. They wouldn’t appreciate her annoying them.

  She inserted her earbuds and set her iTunes to shuffle. Exhaustion and pent-up emotion made her limbs heavy. Between almost being killed, Pete being behind bars, and her growing feelings for Graham…it was as if every emotion in her body screamed at her for attention. She’d kept her shit together when saying goodbye to Graham, and then waited hours for a flight. Now, all she wanted was to be home. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she leaned her head against the back of her seat to wait for takeoff.

  A slight hesitation in the song made her eyes fly open and check her phone. A message from Graham hovered on her home screen. She must have forgotten to put her phone on airplane mode. Swiping open the message, she read the text.

  Things didn’t go as hoped today. I’ll fill you in later. Catching a flight now. Should be back in Chicago shortly after you.

  A sigh of relief eased some of the tension in her neck, but her stomach dropped. Had Pete not told him where Becca was? She quickly shot back a reply.

  Sorry it didn’t go well. My flight was delayed…again…so we’ll probably land around the same time.

  Three bubbles popped up below her message and she waited for his response.

  Wait for me and I’ll drive you home.

  She sent back the thumbs up and kissy face emojis and then quickly set her phone to airplane mode before starting her music again. The plane jostled her sore body back and forth as it taxied toward the runway. She clenched her teeth and her fingers curled around the armrest. The engines roared to life and the plane sped down the runway until it lifted off the ground. Only a few more hours and she’d be home. Then she could find out what Graham had learned from Pete, and hopefully put this nightmare behind her.

  The floor rumbled under her feet as the wheels tucked into the bottom of the plane. Her ears popped and the plane tilted as it turned toward its correct flight path to Chicago. The turquoise blue of the ocean and the tall buildings of Cancun came into view, and were quickly replaced by blue skies and white clouds as the plane straightened and climbed higher in the sky. She leaned her head against her seat, closed her eyes, and settled in for the flight.

  The plane dropped down and Mickey’s eyes flew open. Her heart lodged in her throat and her head swiveled around the cabin. Her breath hitched on a gasp, and a gentle hand covered hers. “It’s just a little turbulence, dear. You can go back to sleep.”

  She smiled at the white-haired older lady next to her. “Thank you. It just startled me awake. I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep.”

  “We’ve been in the air about two hours. It won’t be long now.”

/>   The woman lifted her book up and Mickey glanced around. No one else had been disturbed by the turbulence. Hell, she wouldn’t have been either if she hadn’t almost died in a plane crash a week ago. The plane dipped again and her nerves shook. She needed to get up and stretch her legs, do something to keep her mind busy.

  Stepping into the small aisle, she smiled at the flight attendant at the back of the plane. Mindy? Mandy? She shook her head and walked toward the front cabin. It didn’t matter what the woman’s name was. She’d probably never see her again anyway. As she approached the middle of the plane, the door to the cockpit swung open and anxiety formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. The co-pilot stepped out and flashed a brilliant smile at her and she bit into her tongue to keep from screaming at him. He turned to walk into the bathroom, and her breath caught in her throat.

  No, not again. Close the damn door.

  As if he read her mind, he turned back toward the cockpit and closed the door before heading into the bathroom. Relief washed through her and her knees buckled. Her hand gripped the chair beside her and she swayed against the woman in the aisle seat. She glanced down to apologize, and shock rooted her to the spot.

  “Paula? Is that you?”

  The woman in the seat beside her glanced in her direction. Large, dark sunglasses covered her eyes and a wide-brim hat sat low on her head. Mickey had noticed how ridiculous the woman had looked when she’d boarded the plane, but hadn’t given her much thought. But now, there was no doubt in her mind it was Paula sitting beside an older man who was definitely not Jose.

  Her eyes were hidden behind the glasses, but if they were as blank as the rest of her face, Paula showed no signs of recognizing her. Mickey crouched down in the aisle so their faces were inches apart.

  “Paula, why are you going to Chicago? Where’s Jose?”

  The older man beside her leaned over and held Mickey’s gaze. “Excuse me, miss, but I think you’re mistaken. This is my wife, Marcia.”

  Mickey straightened and looked down at the man with kind brown eyes and an easy smile. Something wasn’t right. The woman by his side might be acting strange, and true she couldn’t see her whole face, but it was Paula. She had the same bow-shaped mouth, the same small oval face. Her hair might be hidden by the hat, but wisps of blond showed at her neck, and her tan skin stood out in contrast to her white cotton dress.

  The woman was relaxed and calm beside the older man, even if she wasn’t answering any questions for herself. Nothing was adding up.

  She forced a smile on her face and a bright note in her tone when she said, “I’m incredibly sorry for the confusion. Your wife looks so much like a friend of mine. I thought for sure it was her.”

  The man chuckled and waved away her apology. “No worries, my dear. She gets that a lot. Has one of those faces.”

  “I guess so. Excuse me.” She gave him one more smile, her eyes landing briefly on the woman next to him, before turning back toward her seat.

  She tried to put the weird encounter out of her mind and relax for the rest of the flight, but the absurdity of it kept circling around. Not to mention the straw hat stayed in her line of vision every time she glanced toward the front of the plane. Something just wasn’t sitting right. That woman was Paula Williams. So why was she pretending she wasn’t? And who was the man pretending to be her husband? He had to be close to three times her age. Unless Paula had pulled one over on her yesterday, Paula was happily married to a very handsome man who hadn’t been much older than her.

  Mickey shook her head, instantly dismissing that train of thought. If Paula had lied to her about her marriage to Jose, she could have been lying about her relationship with Pete. That was a string she didn’t want to pull.

  Grabbing her phone from the pocket in the seat in front of her, she made sure it was connected to the in-flight wifi and opened her messenger app. Graham needed to know what had happened, and he needed to know as quickly as possible. He had said he’d be landing in Chicago close behind her, but if there was a chance he could reach out to Paula or Jose before she could, then she had to give him the information as soon as possible. She quickly sent him a message.

  Paula is on my flight with a man I’ve never seen before. She wouldn’t answer me when I asked her questions, and the man insisted I was mistaken and she was his wife. I know it’s her. Something’s not right.

  She slid the phone back into the pocket in front of her and leaned against her seat. She would keep her eyes on Paula for the rest of the flight, just in case the woman tried to gain her attention. Graham had told her it was important for her to stay diligent, attuned to her gut telling her something was wrong. This was one of those times.

  The rest of the flight dragged on, and Mickey’s nerves crawled under her skin like annoying gnats by the time they finally touched down in Chicago. The sun dipped below the horizon and the pink and purple swirls of twilight danced across the sky. Pain pounded a steady rhythm through her wounds and her sore body yearned for a soft bed to lie on and Graham’s firm arms wrapped around her.

  Nodding a polite acknowledgment to the crew as she stepped off the plane, she kept her gaze locked on the straw hat that bobbed along in front of her. Crowds of people weaved between her and Paula once she stepped into the terminal. She quickened her pace and every muscle in her body screamed at her to slow down. Her carry-on bounced along behind her and she slipped in between harried travelers to keep the space between them close.

  Her phone vibrated in her back pocket and she grabbed it, casting a quick glance at the screen to see who it was.

  Graham.

  She connected the call and pressed the phone to her ear while still keeping laser focus on the back of Paula’s head.

  “Hey. Did you land?” she asked, her words breathy as she tried to keep her lungs filled with air.

  “Yeah. Where are you?” Voices clashed in the background. He must still be on the plane.

  “I’m walking toward the exit. It looks like Paula and whoever the hell she’s with didn’t check any bags. What do you think’s going on?”

  “Nothing good. Pete slit his wrists when I was questioning him, after telling me someone has Paula. I don’t think I’m going to like it when I find out who he’s been working with.”

  Mickey’s feet stopped working and she stood in the middle of the busy corridor, shock rooting her to the spot. Bile filled her stomach. People moved past her in a haze. “Oh my God. What happens now? How do we find Becca?” A weight sat on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She closed her eyes and pushed her teeth together to keep from crying. They’d been so damn close to finding Becca.

  A whoosh of breath sounded through her speaker. “I don’t know. Eric’s meeting me later at the office. I want to take you back to my place, where it’s safe, and then we’ll come up with another plan.”

  Opening her eyes, she nodded her agreement. Not like he could see her. His apartment was a much better option than hers. Who the hell knew where Connie was? Disappointment crushed her, making her limbs heavy. With Pete in custody, the threat that had hung over her head the last few days had disappeared. But not anymore. “Okay. I’ll meet you outside. I need some fresh air. I thought this was coming to an end.”

  “I did too. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Mickey disconnected the call and put her phone back in her pocket. As soon as she got to Graham’s, she needed to call Suzi. She had a right to know what was going on. Graham might not like it, but she didn’t care. Suzi was Becca’s mother, and she had a right to know where things stood. And maybe…just maybe…it could help bridge the gap between them.

  Glass doors whooshed open in front of her and she stepped into the warm night air. The warm temperature wasn’t as bad without the life-sucking humidity that had been in Mexico.

  Shit! Paula.

  Her conversation with Graham had distracted her and she’d forgotten to keep her eyes on Paula. She walked over to the curb. Cars lined up, waiting to pick up pas
sengers. Her pulse kicked into high gear and she turned in a circle, her bag tipping to the side beside her. She bent down to pick it up and the squealing of tires caught her attention. She turned toward the road, and her heart stopped. A black SUV screeched to a halt beside her just as the back door swung open. Her feet stood rooted to the spot, and fear turned her bones to cement. She opened her mouth to scream, but a large hand bit into her bicep, yanking her into the back of the SUV. The wind whooshed out of her lungs and pain shot through her chest.

  The man from the plane pressed a rough hand holding a sweet-smelling rag down on her mouth before she could make a sound. The door slammed shut behind her. She flailed her arms and legs, trying to connect with the man who’d grabbed her. Her head thrashed from side to side until she faced the wide blue eyes of Paula. She lifted her hand and reached toward Paula, but her arm fell to her side. Lead weighed down her limbs and her eyelids fluttered closed.

  In the darkness, the cackle of a woman rang in her ears. “It’s about time someone took this bitch down.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hysteric voices and crowds of people clumped in small groups greeted Graham when he stepped out of the airport. Phones were pressed to ears and mothers clutched their children to their side, their eyes wide with fear.

  Great. What now? I don’t have time for this.

  Biting back a sigh, Graham walked over to the chaos. A black carry-on bag lay on the sidewalk in the middle of the mess. “Is everything okay?”

  A brown-haired woman with a small child on her hip turned to him. “No. A car just pulled up, grabbed a woman, and took off. It happened so fast. No one had time to help her.”

  The hairs on his arms stood on ends. “What kind of car?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t know the specific make. But it was one of those big SUVs. Black.”

  Graham muscled his way to the middle of the group and crouched to the ground beside the abandoned bag. He held his breath and turned over the luggage tag tied on the handle. Mickey’s name and address stared up at him. His stomach dropped.