by Mary Stone
Wait your turn, Ellie, there’s a queue.
Unlike the paper alignment, the letters were vibrant red and sloppy, marred by smears and drips. Almost like Kingsley had written the thing in—
“That’s Gabe’s blood, isn’t it?” Ellie spoke in a hush.
Clay steeled himself to be straight with her. As much as he yearned to sweep her up in his arms and protect her from any more pain, he wouldn’t lie. “Probably. Yes.”
Ellie stared at the red slashes dissecting the white paper for another few seconds before jerking her gaze away. Her chin jutted out. “Let’s get back to Frank’s vehicle. We need to hurry if we’re going to catch that asshole, and we could use some help.”
27
Rage curled my fingers around the steering wheel, building in me like a crescendo as we raced down the dark street away from the warehouse. That was a close call. Much too close. Otherwise, I’d still be safely tucked away inside, toying with my latest puppet.
When I spotted a dimly illuminated parking lot coming up fast, I pushed down on the gas and yanked the wheel hard to the right. The tires squealed as they veered off the asphalt and bumped onto a stretch of dirt and foliage. I hit the brakes before we crashed into a towering green bush. One quick turn to the left and the car was hidden from the street by another overgrown shrub. My fury boiled over as I wrenched the gear into park.
“Damn you, Eleanor Kline! How dare you interrupt my plans like that? You will pay for this!” I pounded the steering wheel, the vibrations reverberating up my arms. Again and again, unleashing wave after wave of sheer frustration.
How? How had this happened? What a complete, unmitigated disaster. Milos and I were on the road, covered in blood, with a half-dead man trapped in the trunk. Running away with our tails tucked between our legs like frightened mongrels. To top things off, this car was no longer safe. Not with cops flooding the warehouse at this very moment and spying on us with our own video feed.
I battled to regain control as my throat grew raw from yelling and pain radiated up my forearms. Plan now, rage later. We didn’t have time for this. “We need to switch cars. Go steal us one from that parking lot and then follow me up the road.”
Milos nodded and slipped out of the passenger seat like a ghost. He crossed behind the bush and slinked into the parking area from the rear. Only a few cars were scattered throughout the lot. Milos chose the one closest to us, a silver four-door that also happened to be farthest from the misty glow of an overhead light.
I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to decipher the make and model of the dumpy-looking sedan. When I did, I beat the steering wheel once more for good measure. No Mercedes or BMW, but an older model Honda Civic. Of course. Why should anything about this night work out in my favor?
In less than a minute, the Civic’s engine turned over. I reversed my way back over the dirt to the road. No blaze of headlights broke the darkness from either direction.
Yet.
I accelerated onto the asphalt, keeping my speed down until Milos pulled the Civic out behind me. Over the next two miles, my sense of calm returned. Ellie might have gotten close to catching us this time, but so what? As the saying went: close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades.
When I pulled off on a deserted stretch of the road, I was humming. Evolution favored adaptability, and I was nothing if not flexible. I shut off the ignition, hit the button to pop the trunk, and walked around to the back of the car. I lifted the trunk, triggering the interior light to bathe the man stuffed inside with a soft glow.
I tsked. “I’ve seen you look better, that’s for sure.”
Blood splattered Gabe’s body from head to toe. His eyelashes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. He twitched, his feeble arms trying to push him into a sit. They wobbled, then collapsed.
As I stared down into his pale, blood-splotched face, the desire I once felt for this pitiful man transitioned into disgust. “Once upon a time, you were so beautiful. A star like no other. Now, look what you’ve made me do to you. You’re ruined.”
Heat burned in my chest again, and I balled my fists in impotent rage. We’d been so good together, until Gabe had gone and ruined everything.
Him, and that bitch, Ellie.
“Mr. del Ray?”
I swiveled with a snarl, livid at the intrusion.
Milos stood like a scarecrow by the trunk, watching me with his shrewd, sunken eyes as he held out my duffle bag and a bottled water. “We need to go, sir.”
I seethed with the urge to yell at him. I decided when we needed to go, not him. Pragmatism held my tongue. Milos was right. The longer we dallied here, the more likely Ellie and her little entourage would catch up to us. All my delicious plans for Gabe, destroyed. That redheaded bitch would regret ever being born.
“I suggest we get cleaned up here before heading back on the road.” He lifted the contents in his hands a few inches higher. “That way, we can burn everything at once.”
Burn. A thrill raced across my skin. Maybe this night wouldn’t be a complete loss, after all.
I removed my ruined shirt. My pants came next. Once I’d stripped down to my boxers, I squirted the bottled water on my bare skin and used a patch of my discarded shirt to scrub Gabe’s blood from my arms and neck. I emptied the entire bottle before stepping into the clean slacks and shirt I found in the duffle bag.
Removing the stained clothing did wonders for my mood. This time when I studied Gabe’s mangled but somehow still exquisite face, my heart filled with an unexpected warmth, along with an intense, stabbing urge. Those beautiful, full lips. It was now or never.
I leaned over and pressed my mouth to his, sighing against his soft skin. I inhaled deeply. Beneath the coppery tang of blood and a faint sourness, I detected a hint of that delicious soap Gabe had always favored. Even if nothing else had gone as planned, at least this one fantasy had finally come true.
Our lips still touched when Gabe’s eyes flew open. He jerked his head back and lurched onto his side, whimpering like an animal. Our connection severed. Even in his weakened state, Gabe was desperate to escape me. So much for my little fantasy.
Pretty boys, they were all the same. Always believing they were too good for me. A growl built in my throat, and my fingers curled into claws, eager to teach him a lesson, but I was too aware of Milos’s sepulchral presence nearby to degrade myself like that.
Instead, I watched Milos shake a gas can over our pile of bloody clothes. He kept pouring until gas fumes polluted the air, creating a path from the clothes to the car. The cleansing liquid saturated the interior and baptized Gabe where he lay.
Milos worked with an efficiency of motion. Without any needless prattling on. The admiration already seeded in me for Creighton’s referral sprouted into a deeper appreciation. Here was a man who didn’t require any prompting to jump into action. Milos was a regular Boy Scout. Although, the troop leaders might not approve of the way my gaunt assistant went about earning his fire badge.
I snickered as Milos upended the can to drain the last of the liquid before tossing the empty container into the back seat. He returned to me, holding a matchbook in his hand.
Thump!
The sudden noise startled me in the quiet night, drawing my attention back to the trunk. One of Gabe’s hands curled around the side as he strained to pull himself up.
I clucked my tongue. Silly boy. What a wasted effort. He should know by now that no one escaped me.
Without taking my eyes off Gabe, I held out my hand to Milos. “Give me the matches.”
Milos dropped the package into my open palm. I removed one and struck the red tip along the rough patch. The tiny stick sparked to life.
“Goodbye, sweet Gabe.” I reached down to drag my knuckles over his soft cheek, excitement rushing through my every cell when his wide eyes reflected the tiny orange flame.
“D-don’t.”
With a gentle smile, I drank in one last glimpse of that lovely face before stepping back and fli
cking the match. The orange light landed in the clothes piled a scarce foot from the bumper. I cherished the joy that swelled within me as the nearby air whooshed and the material erupted into a wall of flames.
Gabe’s screams accompanied our return to the silver Civic, the perfect soundtrack to end this act. With my heart still brimming with joy, I rolled down the window, wanting to relish my former assistant’s howls of pain before the night swallowed them for good.
Milos accelerated, and the orange-red flames grew smaller until they disappeared. No matter. Cold air roared inside the open window. Instead of rolling it up, I reached out, grinning while I splayed my hand to feel the icy rush between my fingers.
“Look out, Katarina and Ellie. I’m saving the best for last.”
28
For the first mile, no one spoke as Frank gassed the big SUV down the street, propelling the three of them away from the warehouse. Ellie peered out the windshield from the back seat, her nails dug deep into her thighs in an attempt to ward off yet another wave of urgency.
They’d found so much blood at the warehouse. Gabe’s blood. Time was running out, and they still had no idea where to find Kingsley. “Can’t you go any faster?”
Frank grunted. “Not if you want us all to stay in one piece.”
Despite the marshal’s testy reply, the SUV lurched forward. Darkened blobs that represented trees whizzed by Ellie’s window at an even faster clip. “Any word from the locals yet?”
“Yeah, Vancouver PD and Clark County Sheriff’s Department are working together on roadblocks as we speak.” Frank swerved around a bend, cutting Clay off momentarily. He grabbed for the ceiling handle and waited for the road to straighten back out. “If luck is on our side, we’ll catch them before Kingsley can disappear again.”
Ellie gritted her teeth and sank her nails into the cloth seat. When it came to Kingsley, luck never seemed to be on their side. She prayed tonight would be the night that all changed.
“Hey, you see that?”
Clay pointed out the windshield, so Ellie leaned into the middle of the seats to get an unobstructed view. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Up ahead in the distance, off the right shoulder, an orange light glowed.
“I see it.” Frank sounded about as happy as Ellie felt.
Fire.
“What are the odds that’s unrelated to our guy?” Frank didn’t wait for an answer before hitting the gas. The speedometer climbed higher.
“I’d guess about one in a million.”
“Clay’s right. There’s no way that fire wasn’t started by Kingsley or one of his men.” Ellie double-checked her seat belt, even as she willed the SUV to go faster.
“Could be a decoy, to buy them time,” Frank said.
Clay nodded. “Only one way to find out.”
The tiny orange glow grew bigger and bigger. The SUV ate away at the road, bearing down on the fire quicker than Ellie expected. Frank too. Metal shrieked when he slammed on the brakes. The SUV jerked, the impact slamming Ellie’s head against the headrest. She bounced forward, her sternum smacking the taut nylon of her seat belt before Frank swerved the SUV to the side and cut the engine.
“Jesus, Frank.” Even the typically stoic Clay sounded shaken. “Remind me never to ride shotgun with you again.”
Ellie didn’t catch Frank’s reply. Her focus was too intent on the scene ahead, where an object started to take shape within the dancing flames. Ice slid across her back.
Car. The thing on fire was a car.
She wrenched open the door and jumped out, into night air polluted by the stench of gas and melting plastic. She was on her feet and sprinting toward the burning car before her companions had even unbuckled their seat belts.
“Ellie, wait! Dammit!”
Ellie ignored Clay’s curse and pumped her legs harder. She refused to wait. She couldn’t. Not now. Not when she was sure she’d heard a muffled scream.
The air Ellie raced into grew warm, then hot. Flames engulfed the car, crackling and licking toward the sky like a hungry god, and the acrid stench grew stronger. A second scream emitted from beyond the fiery curtain blocking Ellie’s view.
Raw. Terrified.
The high-pitched cry burrowed into Ellie’s ears, triggering her to run harder. A faint voice in her head whispered a warning, about gas tanks and explosions. A possibility, even if they weren’t nearly as common as cop shows portrayed. But she overrode that warning now that she was certain.
Based on those screams, someone was trapped in the car.
She skidded to a halt when the temperature shifted from hot to boiling, searching the flames for a glimpse of a human shape. Squinting into the brightness, she could just make out the structure of the car. Her best guess placed her location as directly behind the trunk.
A shriek rang out. Ragged and shrill with agony. Only a couple of yards away.
“Gabe?!”
No answer. With heat singeing her cheeks and eyelashes, Ellie inched closer to the open trunk of the burning car, desperate to reach whoever was trapped inside. The heat intensified, pushing her back. Frustrated, she cupped her hands and yelled again.
“Gabe! It’s Ellie!”
Nothing. Until another scream pierced the night.
Ellie’s breathing slowed. Stopped. She couldn’t be one-hundred-percent positive, of course, but she knew all the same. It was Gabe…being burned alive.
And there was nothing she could do to help him.
“Watch out!”
Ellie whirled, then skittered back as Clay rushed toward the fire, swinging his jacket at the flames. Frank appeared on his left, brandishing a small blanket. Sweat glistened on their faces as the two men beat at the flames, and hope unfurled in Ellie’s chest.
A hope that wilted when Clay’s jacket ignited.
“Dammit!” The agent cursed as he relinquished the garment to the greedy flames.
Frank’s blanket wasn’t faring much better. The small rectangle of fabric was no match for the fire’s rage. From a logical standpoint, Ellie recognized that the odds of a successful rescue were slipping away. But her heart refused to concede. Desperation fueled her legs as she panted and spun, searching for some kind of miracle. Gabe couldn’t die like this.
In her distress, Ellie tripped and crashed to the ground. Her palm scraped the dirt, burning as she tore the skin.
Her gaze fell to her hand where it still touched the earth.
Earth. Dirt.
In a dim recess of her mind, Ellie understood the cause was lost before she ever started clawing at the ground. Even in the summer, when the freezing temperatures didn’t pack the earth into an intractable surface, she would have run out of time, trying to gather handfuls of substance to smother the flames.
But Ellie didn’t care. She clawed the ground like a rabid creature. Again and again, scraping up handfuls of dirt in hopes of forming a big enough pile to quash a section of the fire.
A mound formed, but so slow. Too slow.
She had to work faster.
Adrenaline spiked, injecting her cramping fingers with new life. She lost all sense of time, crouched over the earth, digging her nails into bloody stumps.
Gabe. The young man who had risked everything to save her and Jillian. She had to save him in return.
Ellie had no concept of how long she’d been working when strong hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her up. At first, she fought like a person possessed, lashing out with her elbows and kicking with her feet. “Put me down! We have to help him! If I can just get enough dirt…the fire…”
One of her kicks landed, and Clay released her with a muffled curse. Ellie staggered back a step and whirled, wild-eyed.
He edged toward her with his hands lifted. The way one might approach an injured animal. “We tried, but the fire was too strong. I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
Ellie scrambled a step back, refusing to believe the words. Refusing to believe what she could see with her own eyes.
“N
o. You’re wrong. We have to keep trying.”
But even as she uttered the words, she knew Clay was right. No further cries spilled from the trunk.
Gabe was gone.
The fire climbed higher, the whooshing of the flames the only living thing out there besides the three of them. New odors wafted to Ellie’s nostrils. It took her dazed brain a few moments to place them, but when she did, her stomach lurched. Charcoal mixed with the reek of hair left on a curling iron too long.
Clay gripped her shoulders and attempted to turn her away from the apocalyptic scene. “You don’t have to torture yourself like this.”
Ellie resisted the desire to take the comfort he offered. To bury her head in his chest and hide. Because torturing herself was exactly what she had to do. What she deserved. Hiding wouldn’t bring Gabe back. Nothing would.
So Ellie stayed, watching the car burn while fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She waited until she was sure that no last-minute miracle option would present itself. Then, when she couldn’t stand to watch any more, she allowed Clay to gather her in his arms and lead her away. “Come on, Kingsley can’t be far,” he said. “Let’s get back to Frank’s SUV and see if we can’t track that son of a bitch down.”
At first, a peculiar numbness engulfed Ellie, like her entire body had been injected with Novocaine. She barely noticed as Clay ushered her to the SUV with his hand curved around the small of her back, steadying her.
Too late.
They’d been too late again, and now another man was dead by Kingsley’s hand. On autopilot, Ellie climbed into the back seat. Clicked on her seat belt. Stared ahead at nothing at all.
This was too hard. Too much. What was the point? Nothing she’d done so far had brought Kingsley down, and now Gabe was dead. Because of her.
She wanted to sink back into the seat, close her eyes, and pretend none of this was happening. She wanted to give up trying, because failing hurt too much. But deep inside her, that spark that had prompted her to become a cop in the first place refused to snuff out. As Frank started up the engine, that spark turned into an ember and then a flame, burning away Ellie’s numbness and filling the void with red-hot determination.