by S. E. Smith
Makayla swallowed and stepped out into the hall. She saw Helen grab her coat while Tyrell slung the backpack he always carried over his shoulder. She glanced toward the stairs when she heard the sound of the door several floors below open and close. Brian passed her, leading the way. Helen stepped up behind her and Tyrell trailed behind them.
She moved as quietly as she could, wincing when the wood board under her foot creaked rather loudly. She bit her lip and glanced behind. Helen was walking sideways, keeping an eye on Makayla and Brian while also keeping her gun trained on the stairwell.
Brian paused outside of a door marked 303. He softly knocked on the door, paused, and knocked again. Almost immediately, the door opened. The older woman inside cracked the door before opening it and motioning for him and the others to come inside.
“How many?” Mrs. Leu asked before closing and locking the door.
“Three,” Brian replied, brushing a kiss across Mrs. Leu’s wrinkled cheek.
“You know where the exit is,” she said with a curious smile at Helen and Tyrell. “Who are they?”
“Detective Helen Woo and Tyrell Richards,” Brian replied, striding through the living room into the kitchen. He opened a narrow utility closet and began pulling several items out.
“A pleasure, my dears,” Mrs. Leu said with a smile before it faded and she turned to Brian. “Do you need me to call for assistance?”
Brian shook his head and glanced at Helen before his gaze paused on Tyrell. “No, but if Tyrell can stay here until it is clear, I would appreciate it. They aren’t aware that he is with us,” he said.
“Like hell,” Tyrell growled, shifting his shoulders. “I’m staying with Makayla. Where she goes, I go.”
Makayla watched Brian return Tyrell’s stubborn stare. A muscle jerked in the huge black man’s jaw, and she knew that Brian had seen Tyrell’s fingers tighten around the strap of his backpack. The look Tyrell gave Brian reminded her that Brian and she weren’t the only ones who had changed over the last three years. There was a hardness in Tyrell’s gaze that spoke of a man who had also seen and experienced some of life’s darker side. Makayla breathed a sigh of relief when Brian turned back to Mrs. Leu.
“I’ll make contact once we get to a safe house,” Brian promised.
“Be safe, Brian,” Mrs. Leu said.
“I will,” he replied, pulling open the narrow door at the back of the closet and grabbing a small flashlight off the shelf.
Makayla paused, watching Brian squeeze through the tight opening and onto a narrow set of wooden stairs. She stepped through next, turning sideways to fit, followed by Helen. There was a muffled curse when Tyrell squeezed through the narrow opening. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to get his big frame through the narrow space. The moment they were clear of the door, she heard Mrs. Leu close it behind them, replacing the broom, mop, and bucket that Brian had pulled out.
Except for the small flashlight, the staircase was devoid of any light. It was so tight that she could barely stand facing forward without both of her shoulders rubbing against the walls. Behind her, Tyrell wasn’t so lucky.
None of them spoke while they descended the staircase. At the bottom was another door. The flashlight bobbed a little when Brian reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out an old key and inserted it into the lock.
A moment later, he pulled open the door. There was an old wrought iron door in front of it. Brian selected another key on the key ring and inserted it into the master lock connecting the chain that was wrapped around the bars. He pulled the chain loose and pushed the iron door open. Scanning the area, he glanced at Makayla, Helen, and Tyrell.
“Let’s go,” he said in a quiet voice.
Makayla followed him through the basement. They skirted several machines and large pallets of boxes that the local businesses on the first floor stored there. Several minutes later, they emerged in a side alley. Once again, Makayla felt a disorienting sense of unreality. Where had Brian learned to do this kind of stuff? Who was Mrs. Leu? And what kind of job did Brian have that included spies, crime lords, and international weapons? And what had she dragged Tyrell into?
She glanced over her shoulder. Tyrell’s face was set into a hard mask. If seeing them being shot at had been a reality check for the dangers of the situation, then being targeted by hitmen sent by the Hong Kong police had sealed it. She refocused her gaze on Brian’s back. Her eyes moved to his upper left shoulder where she had discovered another scar that hadn’t been there three years ago – caused by a different bullet.
14
Brian paused at the end of the alley. His car was blocked in by the vehicles the men had arrived in. He leaned back and gazed at the other three.
“My car is blocked,” he muttered with a frown.
“Mine is back at the marina,” Helen said before shaking her head. “We couldn’t use it anyway. It has a GPS tracking system installed.”
“I have mine,” Tyrell suggested. “No one knows about me. If we took your car, they could trace it. Since no one knows about me, they won’t know where we go.”
A brief grin curved Brian’s lips. He held out his hand when Tyrell pulled the keys out of his black leather coat pocket. Tyrell glared for a moment before he relented with a grudging nod.
“I know the city better,” Brian explained. “Where did you park?”
Several minutes later, Brian pulled open the door to Tyrell’s car and tossed the backpack into the back seat before sliding into the driver’s seat. Makayla slid in behind him while Helen and Tyrell hurried around to the passenger side. Tyrell climbed in the back seat next to Makayla. Brian hadn’t missed the inquisitive glance that she had shot him before she had climbed into the back seat. He knew that he would have a lot of explaining to do when they finally weren’t running for their lives.
He gritted his teeth, wishing that they were alone for just a little while. He started the car and pulled away from the curb, slowing down when he passed two of the vehicles that the men had emerged from earlier. Helen must have understood his intent. She pulled the small camera out of her pocket and twisted, taking a photo of the front license tags for each vehicle.
“Tell me exactly what was said in your conversation with your commander,” he ordered, taking the next left.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Helen murmured before she released a sigh and leaned tiredly back against the seat and stared out of the window. “Commander Ying Ji Yeng is my superior. He is new and I don’t know him very well. I should have taken the time,” she murmured. “He was not happy about the incident at the marina. I was not surprised about that. He asked me routine questions about the case, which didn’t concern me. Then, he started asking specific questions about my location, if Makayla was with me, and more pointedly, if you were there as well. That did raise a concern, as I had never mentioned you and there is nothing about you in any of my reports.”
“How would he know about Brian?” Makayla asked, sitting forward between the seats.
Brian glanced over at Helen when she twisted in her seat slightly so she could face both Makayla and him. She glanced down at the gun in her lap for several seconds before she glanced at Brian. Her expression was stiff and held a trace of resignation.
“He bugged my phone,” she said. “It was one issued by the department. Officer Wang delivered a new one to me shortly after Commander Yeng started. Wang warned me to be careful, that he had heard rumors of Yeng. I discarded his concern because Yeng had openly criticized Wang about his weight. Yeng wanted all detectives to use department issued cell phones. It was the only way he could have tracked me to your apartment. I never told him where I was,” she said with a soft voice.
“Nice boss,” Tyrell muttered, staring out of the window.
“Where is it now?” Brian asked, glancing at her before turning right.
“On the street outside of your apartment,” she replied with a sardonic twist to her lips.
“Good,” Brian muttered, g
lancing in the mirror at Makayla’s pale face.
She returned his stare before glancing away. He felt his gut tighten at the look of wariness in her eyes. He returned his focus to the road. They needed answers – and soon – for Henry’s sake, as well as their own.
*.*.*
Henry groaned and blinked through blurry eyes up at the man who had entered his prison cell. The man squatted down in front of him and stared into his face in silence. It took a few seconds before he could focus on the man’s face.
“What the hell do you want?” He groused in a rough voice, raspy from thirst.
“Tell me about this man,” the man demanded, holding up the blurry picture of two men.
Henry blinked and raised his good hand to rub it down his face. He needed his reading glasses. All he saw was two big masses in varying shades of gray. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the bulkhead.
“I can’t see a damn thing without my reading glasses,” he replied in a gruff voice. “It’s hell getting old, but better than the alternative.”
The man looked at Henry’s unfocused eyes. He carefully returned the photo to the manila envelope he had pulled it from. Henry watched him, acting only slightly weaker than he really felt. Oh, he wasn’t up to challenging the guy to another fight. No, he valued having at least one working arm. He just thought it might be better if he played the old man card in the hopes that they would get tired of his ass and dump it somewhere – preferably on dry land with him still breathing.
“Tell me about Makayla,” the man requested in a deceptively quiet tone.
Henry felt his body jerk forward in surprise and alarm. He reached out and grabbed the front of the man’s shirt with his good hand, his eyes clearing and his face stiffening in anger. The man didn’t move or try to dislodge Henry’s grip.
“You leave my granddaughter out of this,” Henry growled in a harsh voice. “I don’t know what you want, but you leave Makayla alone.”
“What do you know about the man she is with?” The man asked, carefully pulling another image out of the folder.
This one was less grainy and blown up larger so that Henry could see it clearly enough to make out the image of Makayla standing next to a younger man. Confusion swept through Henry at the familiar features. He glanced at the photo before turning his gaze back to the man’s face.
“Brian’s here?” Henry asked, releasing the man’s shirt and falling back against the cold wall again.
“Brian?” The man prompted, staring intently at Henry.
Henry licked his dry lips and nodded, suddenly feeling very old and very tired. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. What the hell had he gotten Makayla and himself into and why was Brian here?
“Brian Jacobs,” Henry muttered, opening his eyes. “He was a neighbor of ours back home. When he wasn’t at college, he worked during the summer on the boats down at the boat yard. Nice kid until he broke Makayla’s heart. After that, I just wanted to rip his heart out. If you want to kick some ass, I won’t stop you from kicking his.”
The man silently stared at Henry before rising to his feet. Henry didn’t bother to look up at him. The cold and pain was hitting him hard. His hand and wrist were swollen and throbbing and the cold was playing hell with the rest of his body.
“Where would they go?” The man asked.
Henry shook his head to clear the fog from his mind. He had already forgotten what the man had been talking about. He glanced up in confusion.
“What?” He mumbled.
The man stared at his face. Henry didn’t know if he was trying to decide if he was acting or not. The strength he had been hiding had drained from him when the man mentioned Makayla.
“Where would Brian have taken Makayla?” The man asked in a slightly impatient tone.
Henry shook his head, feeling it starting to droop again. “Don’t know… The Defiance, maybe,” he muttered, his eyes starting to feel weighted. “I didn’t even know the boy was here.”
With a low sigh, the man rose to his feet and turned away. Henry blinked, trying to focus on the man, but decided it was easier to give into the darkness. If Brian was here, he’d protect Makayla. As mad as he was at the boy for breaking her heart, Henry knew deep down that Brian would do everything in his power to keep Makayla safe.
“Please watch over her, Mary Rose,” Henry whispered, sliding down to lay on the dirty floor.
*.*.*
Ren Lu strode down the narrow corridor of the freighter tied along the port. He snapped out an order to one of the men standing to the side. The man nodded and disappeared. Taking the steps two at a time, he ducked his head when he passed through the upper level hatch and stepped out onto the deck.
He had not been able to get as much information as he had hoped from the old man, but he had at least gotten a name to go with a face – Brian Jacobs. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he pressed in an unlisted number and waited. Almost immediately, a voice answered on the other end.
“Brian Jacobs, American, connected to Makayla Summerlin,” he said before disconnecting the call.
Ren Lu knew he would have information within the hour about the man who had been on the dock with Makayla. He thought about the way the man had moved. Even through the binoculars, he could see the man had been in control of the situation when Sun’s hitman had fired on the women and him. He was about to slide the phone back into his pocket when it vibrated. Glancing down, his face stiffened.
“Yes,” he answered, crossing the gangplank down to the dock and striding over to his car.
“Mr. Sun ordered a freelance hit,” the man that he had assigned to Sun Yung-Wing said in a deep voice.
“Location,” Ren Lu demanded, sliding behind the wheel.
He waited, listening to the information being relayed to him by a member of his security team. Starting the car, he turned the wheel sharply to the right, spinning the tires and leaving a dark line when he accelerated. His lips tightened. He had been closer to his targets than he had realized. It was time to start cleaning up the mess that Sun had created before it got out of hand.
He spun the wheel, turning the black BMW sedan through the intersection. He barely missed a taxi. Pressing the accelerator, he made another left before turning down an alley and cutting between two main crossroads. He glanced to the left to make sure the coast was clear. Turning right, he glanced at the street sign. He had three blocks to go before he intercepted the men Sun had hired.
An unusual curse escaped him when he was forced to slam on his brakes when a group of adults and children crossed the road in front of him. Two women glared at him and motioned toward him in anger. The second they were clear, he shot around them. Less than ten minutes later, he pulled up in the narrow alley across from the address his man had told him was Jacobs’ residence. He arrived just in time to see a group of men entering the building.
He turned off the car and thrust open the door. Locking it, he glanced both ways down the street, scanning it in case another man had stayed behind before crossing the road. His hand slid into the pocket of his long black coat and he pulled out a pair of black gloves. Pulling them on, he paused outside the door leading into the building and looked around once more before pulling the door open and stepping inside. Once he was in the narrow stairwell, he slipped the gun from the holster under his coat and pulled the silencer out of his pocket. He soundlessly climbed the stairs, attaching the silencer as he went.
15
Makayla leaned back in the seat and stared out at the passing buildings. Her mind was sifting through Brian’s behavior. He had been calm, confident, and obviously well prepared and well trained. Her brow creased when she remembered Mrs. Leu opening the door to his unusual knock, as if they had coordinated the move.
“Who is Mrs. Leu?” She asked quietly.
Brian briefly glanced at her in the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road. They were moving away from the city. The sign showed they were entering the Island Eastern Corri
dor that ran along Victoria Harbour.
“She is a sweet old lady who has had a very interesting life,” Brian replied.
“I bet,” Makayla muttered, sensing that he wouldn’t tell her anything else. “Where are we going?”
“I need to see what is on the file. I have a friend who might be able to help break the encryption,” Brian said, glancing at Helen. “What are you going to do? If your commander sent those men, you’re in danger now, as well.”
Helen gave him a taut smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes. “I have been temporarily relieved of my position,” she replied, glancing back at Makayla. “It would appear stealing a yacht, even in the pursuit of justice, is against the law. He was also not impressed when I refused to bring Brian and you in for questioning.”
“What did he say when you told him that you wouldn’t?” Makayla asked, curious.
Helen gave her stiff smile. “That it could be hazardous to not only my career, but my life if I were to get in the way. That is when I saw the men pull up and put two and two together,” she responded dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Makayla whispered, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
“You know, I’m really not liking your boss too much at the moment,” Tyrell said, glancing at Helen.
“I don’t either,” Helen admitted with a wry grin.
“Don’t blame yourself, Makayla. If anything, the US and British governments are to blame for what has happened. Harrington never should have risked a civilian in this mission,” Brian replied in a hard tone and he glanced at her again in the mirror, locking gazes for a brief, fierce moment before he concentrated on the road again.
Makayla swallowed. A brief flash of memory swept through her of Brian’s eyes flashing with anger once before. That time, it had been directed at her. Her hand jerked in surprise until she realized that it was Tyrell reaching out to hold it in support. She glanced over at him before she turned away – uncomfortable with the familiar look of compassion and understanding in his gaze.