Finding Fate: An Intense, Fast-Paced Romantic Suspense Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  "What if he brings a gun, takes her out right away?"

  Drake’s lips purse into a thin white line. "There’s that option, but you know as well as I do that this guy wants to gloat about getting her, will want answers on how she found him. He won’t take her out without getting information first."

  He's right. Damn it. He's always right.

  "Once she has a visual—" Drake takes a long sip of his coffee. "—the FBI boys will make the official arrest and we're done."

  "Arrest." I hold back my laugh and cross my arms over my chest. "This ends tonight."

  "I agree." Hmm, maybe this Matt guy isn't so bad after all.

  "We can't just kill him, Snowflake. When did you become all bloodthirsty?" Drake doesn’t attempt to stop his knowing smile.

  "This ends tonight." Falling into a chair, I interlace my fingers behind my head and stare at the floor. “There has to be another way.”

  "There isn't another way."

  "Nash." Mac’s voice sounds conflicted. "I know you don't want her to go, but with the time frame, it's our only choice. Matt and I will keep her safe, and we'll get this guy so your family and Fate are safe going forward."

  "I want more."

  Neither Drake nor the other two respond.

  "I want more FBI guys in on this if I'm gonna be stuck back here sitting on my ass while my girl walks into this shit alone. I want agents covering every road. Hell, call up a sniper while you're at it. Nothing happens to her."

  "Listen, I get it. You don't want your girl in the crosshairs, but guess what, Snowflake? She's already there. And if you want a chance to save her now, to keep her from looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life—hell, Mya too—then we do it my way. She leaves now. Alone."

  Drake turns and walks down the hall toward the downstairs bedrooms. End of discussion. The two on the phone have the same idea, signing off quick.

  I'm still staring at the floor, processing everything that's happened since she popped up two days ago, when a pair of sparkling Converses pauses in my line of sight.

  "I'm okay with it," she says above me.

  I don't look up. "Of course you are. You almost impaled yourself on some shrubbery earlier trying to do this exact plan on your own. Don't you get it, Fate? I won't be there. How...? What if...?"

  She drops to her knees, putting us at eye level. "I know you don't like it, but from what I heard, it's our only option, and I won’t risk your family just because you want to be there too. Mac and Matt will take care of me. It’ll be fine."

  Ah hell, doesn't she know every time someone's said that before a mission, it turns out the exact opposite?

  Chapter 35

  Fate

  Today

  Pure adrenaline pumps through my veins, making my tight grip tremble on the wheel. One more hour till DC. We all agreed the dungeon won’t be the final destination; no, Jace has something grander in mind. Which was why Drake insisted on putting this additional tracker on, though I’m not sure why he didn’t tell the others about it. His only response was “The fewer people who know, the better, Pops,” whatever that means. Either way, hopefully he and Mac have already thought through all the different possibilities Jace has in mind for the night and put backup plans into place.

  Nope, not going to let my mind go down the rabbit hole of possibilities. This is what needs to happen, and I've survived worse. Recently, in fact.

  Get the visual and get out. Easy. I can do this.

  The phone between my legs vibrates with an incoming call. Careful to keep an eye on the highway, I check the caller ID—Mac.

  "Hey," I say and flip it to speakerphone. "I'm driving toward DC right now. Are you and Matt getting everything set up there?"

  And then it happens—the something grander.

  "I'm sorry, but your friend can't come to the phone right now. He's a little... tied up at the moment."

  "Jace," I whisper into the dark cab. "You said this was between us. What are you—"

  An amused chuckle rattles the speaker. "I lie about a lot of things. Are you surprised?" He pauses, apparently waiting for an answer, but I can’t when my sole focus is on keeping this damn SUV in my lane. "And that little Mya. She's a spunky one. Can't wait to meet her next."

  "What do you want? Tell me what you want!" I scream to the windshield, my white-knuckled grip shaking the steering wheel. "Don't hurt them." My last words are barely an audible plea.

  "We'll see how you behave. And you want to know what I want? I want you, you conniving little bitch. You've fucked things up for me. You realize that, don't you? I want you to tell me how you fucking found me. Tell me what gave me away. If you behave, this can all end with you. Only you."

  Frustrated tears clog my throat, making it hard to breathe. Pulling over on the shoulder of the highway, I grab the phone from the cup holder and stare at the screen. Only me. How can I believe him if he's already lied about so much? But can I risk not believing him is the real question.

  And the answer is no, I can't.

  But I don't have to do it alone. With the tracker Drake applied to my skin, plus the one in my pocket that the FBI is using, someone will notice I'm diverting off course. Nash will notice and come for me.

  I can stake my life on that fact. No way Nash isn't sitting there watching the beeping dot on some screen as he paces around the house, annoying everyone within hearing distance with his ramblings.

  "I’ll tell you. I'll come to you, but let him go. If he's hurt, I'll broadcast your clients' information, bringing the full force of the CIA right to their doorstep. You're not the only one with a bargaining chip here, Jace."

  "Maybe you should come, see how he's doing for yourself. How long does it take for a man his size to bleed out? Guess we’ll find out soon enough. Exit 97, take it. There's an old Honda in the Waffle House parking lot with keys and a new set of clothes inside. Change clothes, everything, and leave this phone in the bathroom. Instructions on where to go next are in the glovebox."

  Silence fills the car when the line disconnects.

  Chapter 36

  Nash

  Today

  Fucking hell, this is torture. Drake watches, looking bored as hell as I pace the room, checking the damn tracker signal every few steps, making sure it’s still on course. At least Raider, Mya and Liza aren't here to witness my unraveling, having left minutes after Pops did for a new secure location.

  "I should’ve gone with her, hidden in the SUV or something," I muse, then check the tracker again.

  "Then what would’ve happened when he makes her move from location to location? I bet this guy is smart enough to make her change cars a few times before meeting her wherever he really intends for them to, hence the trackers."

  "This is fucking bullshit," I bellow. "There has to be a way for us to get out there now without alerting this bastard."

  "I'm making a mental note for this bullshit to show up on your next evaluation."

  "You don't do fucking evals. Our eval is meeting the objective, and tonight's objective—"

  "Snowflake, you let emotions cloud your judgment. Stop for one damn second and think. Would I really be okay, me, sitting this out?"

  He's right about the emotions piece, but how do I not let the fear and fury churning inside me, flowing through every vein, dictate my actions and thoughts?

  I interlace my hands behind my head as I stare at the ceiling in an attempt to clear my mind of everything except the situation.

  Taking Pops, Liza and Mya out of the picture, if this wasn't personal, what would I see? What do I see?

  "You don't trust them," I say, looking to Drake who's across the room, leaning a shoulder against the stone fireplace. "It's why you added the additional tracker."

  "I don't trust anyone except you boys with the lives of our family." Family. Hell, guess it’s obvious to everyone how I feel about Pops. "Especially bureaucratic computer geniuses who've probably only fired a gun during their yearly qualifications. Plus we haven't c
onfirmed the CIA piece of shit is the inside source. Until that's confirmed, I'm keeping some of our cards close. What else, Snowflake? Think."

  The need to check the tracker again eats at my brain cells, shutting out everything else. Shoving aside the urgency to see that damn flashing dot, I keep my focus on Drake.

  "The SUV. You made her take your SUV. But... fuck, you're a genius. There's no GPS in my truck, too old, so the FBI, CIA, this bastard—no one can track it."

  "You're smarter than you look. Add in the small window after Raider left with Mya and Liza so this fucker thinks we aren't going anywhere and we're ready. So, you ready?"

  "Ready? Ready for what?"

  "To go protect your girl and get the assclown who's after your family."

  Fuck yes.

  BURNER PHONE IN HAND, we speed as fast as my old truck is able down the highway, closing the distance between us and the damn blinking dot.

  "She's pulling off somewhere," I tell him. "Wasn't the SUV full?"

  "Maybe a quarter tank gone. No reason for her to be stopping unless she needs to take a leak. Is she the type to piss a lot?"

  "I don't know." I grimace across the bench seat. "Does your wife?"

  "Don't talk about my wife pissing."

  "Then don't talk about Pops pissing," I retort. "I'm calling her."

  Lights from the oncoming cars illuminate the cab, making Drake’s slight nod in agreement, or permission—let’s go with agreement—visible.

  Ten rings and voice mail.

  I try again but no answer.

  Each ring ticks at my nerves. "She's not fucking answering. Speed up. We're too far behind."

  "This isn't a damn sports car, Snowflake. I'm going as fast as your piece-of-shit truck will go. Speaking of which, get a new fucking truck. Where the hell is all your money going?"

  "I love my truck." I run a loving hand along the sun-bleached dash. "Fucking prick."

  "Cheap ass."

  "She’s on the move again. Looks like she’s getting back on the highway. Thirty minutes, give or take."

  Shit, Pops, I'm coming. Wait for me.

  Don't do anything stupid.

  I'm coming for you.

  Chapter 37

  Fate

  Today

  Every article of clothing the idiot left hangs off me. Which makes every turn in this piece-of-shit car uncomfortable as the big granny panties ride up my crack. For the fourth time in the last five minutes, I sit up slightly to resituate the annoying cotton.

  I’ve had two other stops since picking up the car and clothes. Each second, each minute, fear of what's happened to Mac eats at my already frayed nerves and logical thoughts.

  Pulling up to the curb in front of my old apartment, I gaze up at the large bay window and the small flicker of light streaming through.

  I really did love that apartment. Maybe because it was the first luxurious thing I'd ever given myself. And now here I am staring, waiting, wondering what I'm going to find once I walk inside.

  And I will walk in. There's no waiting for Nash to come save me. Even if he did see my tracker veer off course, there's no way he'll make it in time for whatever Jace has planned.

  The old metal door squeaks open and I step out into the chilled night air. Bastard didn't even leave a jacket, just this ratty tie-dye T-shirt. The first time I trip on the too-big flip-flops going up the stairs, I curse the cheap plastic excuse for footwear. The second time, I rip them from my feet and launch them at the bottom floor landing.

  Better. If only I could do that to the underwear too.

  The large wooden door appears ominous. What will I find on the other side? Mac could be dying or already dead or not even here at all. Shit, didn't think of that one earlier. What if Jace duplicated Mac’s number and called me?

  I'm an idiot. But then again, I have to know. Because if he is in there, dying, hurting, then I have to do what I can to help.

  Mind made up, I stare at the door. Do I knock or...? What's the protocol here?

  Before I can contemplate it any longer, the door swings open.

  "You made good time," Jace says, motioning me into my old apartment. A single cheap lamp sits on the floor in the corner, the only light on. I scour every corner I can see from this angle in search for Mac but come up empty. "Looking for your friend? Like I'd leave him out here to distract us. Don't look so disappointed, Fate. You'll see him soon enough."

  My feet don't move from the other side of the door. I'm a stupid fool for believing Mac would be here.

  "Don't think about screaming or calling out for help." From behind his back, he withdraws a large black gun with a long, narrow tube situated on the end of the barrel. Movies are educational; I know that’s a silencer, and I also know I'm fucked.

  Using the gun, Jace motions me into the apartment. I’m still unable to move on my own, so he grips my wrists and pulls me inside, the door snicking shut behind me. Gun at my back, he guides me down the hall toward the main bedroom. That must be where he's keeping Mac.

  The knob slips twice in my clammy, trembling hand. An annoyed huff brushes the back of my neck as he leans around me and pushes the door open himself. One small, hesitant step in and I immediately know.

  Jace is a damn liar, and I'm a fucking idiot.

  Something pricks the back of my neck, sending a burst of cold into my veins. The room sways and bends even though I'm not moving, or at least I don't think I am. When my knees go out, he doesn't bother catching me or easing my fall. Even through the numbness, the smack of my head against the hardwood shoots a bolt of pain throughout my body, but my voice doesn't respond, or my lips, when I try to scream out in pain.

  Before everything goes dark, I hear Jace's muffled voice. "Once she's gone, we're home free."

  It could be the drugs, but I swear another familiar voice responds.

  MUGGY MEMORIES FILL my mind as I come to.

  What the hell happened to me? Fear catches my breath at the thought of opening my eyes to find myself back in that dilapidated shack. Think, Fate, think. One finger responds to my desperate pleas, lightly brushing against the ground. Solid, cold, smooth—concrete. Not the damp dirt floor of Africa. If I could weep, I would at the immense relief that bit of knowledge allows.

  Now to figure out where I am.

  The last thing I remember is Jace. My apartment. No Mac.

  Even though I should be pissed at myself for falling for his ruse, knowing Mac isn't in danger makes the anger nonexistent. Instead, acceptance settles in. This is my fate. My whole family’s fate. It started with Destiny, overwhelmed Mom, and now me. This man will take out an entire family within the span of two years.

  Who was I kidding thinking Nash and I ever had a chance? My whole life has been leading up to this point, and I know what I have to do. No matter what happens next, Jace can't survive the night. He can't be allowed to lure, or lie to one more victim ever again. I have the power to stop him, even if he kills me right here, right now. Nash might not have a single clue on what to do with the information I gave him, but at least he has it.

  Vibrations against the floor beneath my back signal someone's coming. Two someones. Something heavy lands beside me. And groans—no, whimpers. There's comfort in the sound of a female voice instead of a man’s. Not Nash or Mac—good—but who? Forcing my eyes open, I blink several times to smooth away the blur and hurry the adjustment to the darkness.

  Only the faint light from the cloudless night sky and ambient glow of faraway city lights streams into the small room. Another whimper draws my attention back to the small lump beside me.

  "Hello?" I whisper. Damn, how long was I out? By the dryness of my throat and mouth, it feels like days since I last had water. And I need to pee. "Who are you?"

  "Where am I?" the girl moans.

  Like me, her hands are secured behind her back but her feet are free. Hoping I don't nudge her anywhere she's injured, I hook my feet against her hip, rolling her to her back.

  Squinting, I search h
er profile. "Lauren?" What the hell? "What are you doing here?"

  Her head rolls to face me straight on, eyes widening as she sucks in a breath. "You? What... why... where’s Jace?"

  "Right here," a man’s voice replies. "So you two do remember each other. Good. I wondered if taking the whore was in vain or not. Seems like not."

  "What's going on?" Lauren cries and rolls like she's trying to scoot as far away from the man looming in the backlit doorway as possible. "You said...."

  "Why is she here? This is between us, Jace."

  "What's between you two?" Lauren screams. "Get me out of here. Someone help—"

  I don't hear it, don't see it, but the gurgling, wet coughing from beside tells me everything I need to know. Seconds tick by as the sounds of looming death fade and then stop completely.

  Maybe Africa hardened me, or the shock of what's happening in the moment has numbed my senses, but I don't cry, don't scream, just stare at the lifeless body beside me.

  "Why?" I eventually whisper. "Why her?"

  "Damn, this gun is cool," he muses to himself, rotating the gun in front of his face. "Why her? She's the only one who can tie me to you. Once you tell me what gave me away and you're taken care of, I'm back to being a ghost, which is what I should’ve stayed. Except you"—his shoe nails my bare ankle with a crack—"had to go on your crusade. And now look at where we are. He should’ve let you die in Africa, let me tell them who you were early on and all this could’ve been done. But no, you think you’re so fucking smart leaving the information behind, secure. And now we’re here. Damn he’s pissed because if they find me, they find him."

  "He?" So it's true that bastard from the CIA has been in on this from the beginning.

  "Now I get to wrap up the loose ends, which I'm fine with. Killing you is something I've dreamed about since I learned who you really are. So sneaky watching me online and off. So tell me, what gave me away? What did I leave behind that you tracked to me? What was my tell?"