“You’re not going to kill me. I have the feeling I might be the only friend you have right now.”
Again, Xave chuckled mirthlessly.
“You are the most presumptuous woman I have ever met,” he snapped but there was a resounding loneliness in his voice.
It was what made her such a trusted intuit after all; she could hone in on tones and pitches, hearing sadness and wistfulness.
“I can help you out of this,” she told him with confidence although she had no idea if she was speaking the truth. “But you’re going to have to get rid of this car.”
“I can’t,” he growled, pressing on the gas.
“Well you better take it to a carwash,” she sighed. “There’s blood all over the trunk.”
Inadvertently, Xave slammed on the brakes, causing them both to lurch forward.
“What?” he screeched, his sea green eyes wide with shock. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
She shook her head gravely.
“No. That’s how I figured out what you had done.”
His mouth parted and he immediately stepped on the gas.
“Look around in the back for a bottle of water,” he ordered, pulling off on South 3rd Street.
As he looked around for a secluded place to park, Danica noted the time.
“Up there,” she instructed. “There’s a lot for sale and traffic won’t pick up for another hour or so. We can wipe it down and get back on the road without being noticed.”
“Look for water,” he told her but followed her instructions, finding them in a secluded lot near North Buchanan Street.
Instantly, they were out of the car, Xave’s eyes trained on the rear of the car.
He let a low groan.
“Shit!” he cursed as Danica joined him. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“It’s okay,” she said, handing him a half-empty bottle of water. She pulled off her hoodie, stripping off her burgundy t-shirt and handed it to him.
“It’s not okay,” he retorted, soaking the garment and wiping away the streaks of red from the back of the car as Danica put her outer layer back over her flat stomach.
“Come on,” he muttered.
“Leave that shirt,” she said, noting that he brought it along but he shook his head.
“No,” Xave replied. “I’m going to need it again.”
Danica’s cocked her head to the side.
“For what?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t be carrying a bloodied rag around with you. We’ll go wash the car.”
“We can’t wash the car!” Xave yelled as he pealed out of the parking lot. “I have to get rid of this body and get this car back to the girl it belongs to!”
A peculiar feeling flooded through Danica as she tried to make sense of his words.
“Get rid of the body?” she repeated.
He stared at her to gauge if she was joking, his brow furrowed.
“Yes,” he replied slowly. “How did you think the blood got on the trunk?”
Suddenly, Danica couldn’t make sense of how she had found herself driving toward Lake Tanglewood with a murderer.
The voice screaming caution in her head was deafeningly distinct but it was too late. The time to reconsider was long past.
What the hell were you thinking? You invited a possible stalker into your house, had sex with him and jumped in his car…after he basically confessed he killed someone?
Panic gripped her heart like a vice.
She had never been so reckless, so stupid. But the more she tried to understand, the more confused she grew.
She had no answer for any of it.
Yet sitting next to this morose soul still seemed to be exactly the right place to be. What the hell was happening?
Chapter Six
Sacramento, California
Drake waved at Elise from the front stoop, leaning casually against the roman pillars as she backed her BMW from the drive, smiling happily.
As she disappeared down the elegant tree-lined street, he spun and hurried back into the house, his focus clear; he needed to get into Vance’s locked office.
It had been weeks since she had left him alone in the house and Drake had to wonder if it was by design or simply that she was so smitten, she wanted to stay close to him.
In either case, he was beginning to lose his sense of humor, wanting desperately to get inside the library and see what he could find.
Elise had kept the study like a shrine to her dead husband, the room opened only for cleaning once a week.
He had broached the idea of entering numerous times with his lover but she had shot him down flat.
There had been a tactical team who had combed through the files after his untimely death, two decades earlier but nothing of substance had been discovered; or so he had been told.
But Drake had not gone through Vance’s paperwork personally, something he had been driven to do for twenty years. He knew the answer to all of the boys’ whereabouts was in his former confidant’s office; he also knew that he might be the only person who would recognize that information - he only needed the opportunity to look.
Elise had been like a burr, clinging to him unnecessarily since the day they had made love on the table.
She spoke of their future together as if they had been separated by time alone and Drake didn’t have the heart to tell her that when he found what he came for, he would be gone once more.
There was no doubt in his mind that the theatrics accompanying such an announcement would be legendary. He did feel a slight bit of remorse at the prospect of his treatment of her, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important, was finding the information that would lead him to his sons. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make that happen. Not anything.
He knew the longer he stayed unprotected in Sacramento, the greater his chances of being captured or killed by Oculus grew.
Once he got the information he needed, he would quietly slip out of Elise Berkley’s life - as silently as he had slipped back in.
“Can I help you with something, Mr. Conway?”
Tamara’s voice startled him as he tried the handle to the main floor study.
Dammit!
He had forgotten about the house staff.
“Yes,” he replied casually. “I need the key to this room. Any idea where I can find it?”
Tamara’s dark eyes turned hard and Drake realized she was going to report back to Elise. He was torn over what to do but forced a smile on his face.
“Mrs. Berkley and I are thinking about turning it into a games room,” he lied and the brunette housekeeper scowled.
“I find that hard to believe,” she said coldly. “Mrs. Berkley has always maintained that this room is to be kept in memorandum of Mr. Berkley.”
Drake idly wondered if he was going to have to kill her. He hoped not. There was nothing he disliked more than leaving behind a trail of bodies.
“You can believe whatever you want, Tamara, but keep in mind that soon I will be the one paying your wages,” he snarled. “Mr. Berkley has been gone a very long time. I think it is healthy for Mrs. Berkley to move on, don’t you agree?”
Her demeanor changed instantly and she lowered her gaze.
“I’ll see about finding that key, Mr. Conway,” she muttered. She would have to be blind not to notice the difference in Elise’s personality since Drake had arrived. Tamara had no reason to disbelieve that Drake Conway was about to become a regular fixture in the residence. Elise believed it too.
Drake waited impatiently until Tamara returned, pulling out a set of keys from her apron. She opened the door and stepped back, allowing him to enter.
“In the future, there are spare keys in the pantry,” she muttered and Drake knew that it pained her to tell him that.
“Thank you, Tamara,” he said, closing the door in the house servant’s face.
He didn’t need any distractions or witnesses to what he was about to do.
; Immediately, he hurried toward the desk, sitting in the swivel chair and pulling open drawers to analyze the contents.
With each minute, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated.
It seemed that the team who had tended to Vance Berkley’s files had been truthful and thorough; there was nothing in the desk which seemed to suggest the whereabouts of his sons.
Dejectedly, Drake sat back, staring at the desk calendar from 1995.
A pang of nostalgia surged through him as he recognized Vance’s chicken scratch hand writing, his hands tracing over the page with affection.
The man had been like his right arm. Getting by without him had been unbearable for the first few years, especially in the wake of losing his entire family.
As his fingers trailed off the page, he noticed a scar in the wood, just beneath the calendar page.
His brow furrowing, he stared at the bizarre scratch, his sixth sense screeching.
Instantly, he pushed the agenda aside, baring the top of the table.
Something was etched there and Drake stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Four seemingly random ideas floated before his eyes:
Q 47.606209/-122.332071
S 40.811550/-73.946477
V 39.29038/
Before he could finish reading the last two in entirety, his concentration was shattered as the door to the study flew open and Elise glowered at him.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed, rushing toward him. “I knew it! I knew you were up to something from the minute you landed on my doorstep! Get out of here! Get out of this room right now!”
Drake rose slowly, pointing at the figures on the desk.
“These are – “
“Didn’t you hear me? GET OUT!”
The fury in Elise’s blue eyes was unlike anything Drake had ever seen in the woman and for a moment, he was afraid of her.
“Wait!” he begged. “Let me write this down!”
She slapped him hard across the face.
“Get out! Get out! Get out of my house! You used me!”
He tried to shake his head in denial but another smack ensued and he knew he had to obey her request before she lost complete control.
“You never thought about me!” she screeched, tears pouring down her face. “You only came here to use me again! And I fell for it!”
“Elise please,” he begged. “I love – “
“If you say it, I swear to God I will get my gun and shoot you dead. If I ever see your face again, I will kill you.”
Swallowing, Drake spun and hurried from the study, Elise’s muffled sobs following him into the grand foyer.
When she calms down, I will talk to her, he told himself, stepping out of the house into the hot summer air.
But he knew that there was no chance that Elise would forgive him, not that time. He had crossed the line and he was aware of it, but he could not bring himself to regret what he had done.
Sighing, he reached into his pants for his cell phone to call for his detail.
I need those numbers, he thought, gritting his teeth. I need them all.
He wandered down the street to wait for Goetz to arrive, his mind racing. He understood the first one.
Q must be Ryder. The other two are Xavier and the twins.
The non-descript black SUV appeared, pulling up stealthily along side of him and Drake slipped in silently, barely acknowledging the driver who nodded at him.
“Sir.”
He closed his eyes and conjured the image of Vance’s workspace back to his mind. His identic memory recounted the numbers he had been permitted to read before Elise had stormed the office.
Q 47.606209/-122.332071, S 40.811550/-73.946477, V 39.29038/
He stifled a cry of anxiety, knowing that he only had half the information which Vance had left behind.
Half is better than nothing, he reasoned.
“Give me your tablet,” he ordered Special Agent Goetz and the man obliged without question.
“Did you find something?” Goetz asked curiously.
“Just be quiet and drive,” he snapped.
Unlocking the device, Drake got to work.
Vance had left behind coordinates and a clue as to the names of the families who had been enlisted in the care of the boys.
Ryder was the only one of his boys that he had found, so he didn’t really need the information for him. And he did not have full coordinates for the twins, but he finally had a lead on his second son!
It was a start and as he entered the numbers he had recalled, he exhaled slowly as the satellite closed in on Harlem, New York.
He was that much closer to finding Xavier.
Hang on, son. I’m coming.
Chapter Seven
They were silent driving home, both in somewhat of a state of shock.
Seeing Clark Jameson’s blueish face, still stiff from rigor mortis as they hauled him from the trunk had affected Xave more than he had expected and he eyed Danica as they dumped his body into the lake.
Her expression mirrored how he felt and he wondered how he had dragged this complete stranger into his mess.
As they made their way back to the heart of Amarillo, his phone began to ring incessantly.
“You need to answer that!” Danica snapped as they pulled up to her house on Mirror Street. “It’s making me crazy.”
“It’s the owner of the car,” he muttered, stopping at the curb. “I can’t deal with her right now.”
“Well you’re going to have to,” she insisted. “She’s not going to stop calling.”
Danica hadn’t asked for details on what had happened and Xave was not sure he wanted to disclose any of them.
I need to leave this girl and forget I ever met her, he thought but he knew it was not so simple; Danica was aware of his name. When the story of the missing basketball player came to light, she would be a liability.
“Go get changed,” he ordered her. “I’ll wait here.”
She stared at him, her grey eyes wide with concern.
“And then what?” she demanded.
“And then you’re coming with me.”
She shook her head.
“I can’t!” she replied. “I have a roommate. She’s going to wonder where I am.”
Xave scowled, shaking his head. The situation was becoming more complicated by the minute.
“Let’s go,” he snapped, turning off the phone. His cell began to ring again and he snatched it up, gesturing for Danica to wait.
“Sasha, let me do my job!” he snarled into the phone.
“Oh my God, Xave! Where is my car? What happened? Is he gone?”
With gritted teeth, Xavier growled, “Don’t call me again. I’m bringing your car home in the next hour. Text me your address.”
He didn’t allow her to respond, ending the call and turning off his phone.
“Come on,” he told Danica. “Hurry up. We still have to take the car for a car wash.”
She didn’t argue, slowly climbing from her spot but suddenly he read the worry in her face.
She’s having second thoughts now, isn’t she? He thought with grim acceptance. It’s not so fun when she realizes that it’s not just a cheap thrill. She’s no different than any of the “ladies” at Lady Katrine’s.
“Were you hired to kill that man?” Danica asked as they stepped over the threshold into the front room.
“Of course not!” Xave growled, slamming the door behind him. “Go take a shower and get changed. We have to go.”
The sooner he was rid of Sasha’s car, the better he would feel. Then he could figure out what to do with Danica.
“Come with me,” she urged and he stared at her in surprise.
“You want me to shower with you?” he asked and she nodded, lowering her eyes. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks, unsure of what to do.
Is this a trick? What does she hope to gain?
In the light of day,
suddenly the mystique and intrigue which had surrounded their bizarre encounter seemed phony, and dozens of questions flooded through Xave.
“I’ll hang out with you in the bathroom,” he muttered.
He glanced about the room, noticing the mess they had made hours earlier and he felt a shiver of pure lust, recalling how they had tussled on the floor, each vying for the upper hand in their lovemaking.
Danica nodded curtly.
“All right,” she agreed but she seemed upset by his response.
Is she trying to seduce me? Is she somehow trying to gain my trust? Xavier’s history with people had taught him always to look for the ulterior motive. To dig deeper and determine what the person actually wanted from him.
Xave reasoned that she might be successful. There was something ethereal about Danica Cortez, a quality he had never seen in another woman but not one he could identify with words.
“Upstairs,” Danica said and they made their way to the second floor, Danica pressing her fingers to her lips. “My roommate is sleeping.”
He didn’t respond but to nod his head and they stole into the small bathroom where Danica wasted no time stripping off her clothes.
He admired her toned, tanned skin, resisting the desire to move behind her and grasp her luscious butt in both hands, grinding his cock against the crack of her ass as she leaned over the bathtub to turn on the faucet.
Stay focussed, he warned himself but he was finding that task insurmountable.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” she asked softly, but there was little allure in her tone. Suddenly he realized that she was scared.
She wants me to comfort her, he thought dazedly, staring into her smoky eyes. Have I ever been needed to comfort someone??
Swallowing, he shook his head.
“No. I’ll wait here,” he replied shortly, turning his head and trying to ignore the bulge in his pants.
The shower curtain zipped closed and he could sense the disappointment emanating from her.
You have to think, he told himself. After she cleans up, we wash the car and take it back to Sasha. No one breathes a word of this.
He slipped his hands into his pockets, adjusting his swollen unit and as he did, his fingers grazed a piece of paper.
Hard Time: A thief and a con artist - who will come out on top? (Hard Series Book 2) Page 6