by Dana Mentink
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her neck. “You shouldn’t have to prop me up after what you’ve been through today.”
She pulled him away then, and put her hands on his face, stroking thumbs over his cheeks. Her eyes brimmed with emotion and strength.
“I will always be here for you, Zach, always.” She kissed him where she could reach, aiming for his cheek and getting the corner of his mouth instead. Prickles formed all over and everything in him wanted to bend and capture her mouth to his properly. The thought startled him.
What are you doing? This is Violet, remember? A longtime family friend who’s just being nice because you’re a complete basket case. For a moment he was paralyzed between the logic of his head and the needs of his heart. Warmth, comfort, soothing, friends, duty, honor...love?
Let her go.
With effort, he finally released her. Her cheeks were pink, probably from her work in the diner, or the cold, and a single long curl that had escaped the barrette grazed the side of her face. He used one finger to pull it away from the satin curve of her cheekbone.
“I do not deserve a friend like you,” he said.
Something glimmered in those brown irises. Another few seconds and she smoothed her apron and sent him a saucy grin. “You’re right. You don’t.”
That was the Violet he knew. Strong and sassy. A die-hard friend who would not bring up his moment of embarrassing weakness again. He sighed, cleared his throat, called to Eddie and they reentered the diner. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he’d get grief for not eating, so he made a stab at it. Noah and the others were eating, too. He waited until some of the team had gotten up to go before he caught Luke’s attention.
“Sorry, man,” he said. “You did the right thing. I was just blowing off some steam, but I shouldn’t have directed it at you. There’s no excuse for what I said.”
Luke shrugged. “I get it. We’re gonna figure out what happened to Jordy and someone is going to pay for it.”
Carter and Noah nodded. “Copy that,” Carter said.
His gaze drifted to Violet, who was cleaning up after the lunch service. For a moment he remembered the feel of her misplaced kiss, the silken caress of her wandering curl. He blinked back to reality. Jordy’s case was still digging at him, but now he had another matter to attend to: keeping her safe and putting Xavier Beck behind bars.
He noticed Violet’s curl, the one he’d touched, was loose again, a ribbon of brown silk against her cheek. His stomach tightened when he remembered his urge to kiss her. She did indeed represent all the things he craved...warmth, comfort, friendship, duty, honor...but love? No. Violet Griffin wasn’t meant to be that for him.
No more confusion, Zach.
You have a job to do.
Don’t mess this one up.
SIX
After she’d cleaned up from the dinner hour and left the kitchen spotless, Violet found Zach and Eddie waiting outside the diner. Zach drove to Violet’s apartment. The more she fumed, the more cheerful he became, an annoying strategy he’d learned early on in their relationship.
“Don’t mind us,” Zach said, plopping down on her sofa and flipping on the TV to the sports channel. Eddie wasted no time scrambling up next to him, since he wasn’t allowed on the sofa at their home. “We’ve stayed in much worse accommodations. We’ll just catch some sports news and fix ourselves a snack later. Pretend like we aren’t even here.”
Like that was possible. Violet shut the bathroom door more forcefully than was strictly necessary, stripped off her soiled work uniform and showered until the hot water ran out. Marginally restored, she slid into a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft sweater. It was still only a little after eight, and the evening stretched in awkward hours before her. What was she supposed to do with Zach sitting out there?
Zach still lounged on her couch, legs sprawled out in front of him. Eddie curled up at his hip. Eddie wasn’t exactly the ferocious, killer K-9. More of a lovable couch potato, she thought fondly, certainly much more easygoing than his owner.
Since she’d been too busy to eat dinner, she cooked grilled cheese and warmed up some soup for a late meal. Without asking, she set Zach a place at the table, too, happy to see him dig in with gusto. Why was it so satisfying to feed this man? Sure, she’d enjoyed preparing her best dishes for Otto, but there was something so downright fulfilling about feeding Zach Jameson. It mystified her.
“No people food for Eddie,” he called, catching her in the act of treating Eddie to a leftover crust of bread.
“Says the man who bakes gourmet treats for his dog.”
“Like I tell my brothers when they rag on me about it, Eddie works hard. He deserves quality rewards. I make them out of approved organic ingredients and besides, it’s the only thing I know how to cook. If there really is a zombie apocalypse, Eddie and I are going to survive on gourmet dog treats and if you are very nice, we will share with you.”
She laughed, enjoying the friendly teasing, the comfort of a shared meal. Remembering the peanut butter cookies she’d stowed in the freezer, she was about to try and tempt him with dessert, but he excused himself to take a call. When he returned, a frown etched his brow.
“We pulled the info for the Emerge Airline frequent fliers in the past six months. Beck showed up, Roach twice and one more guy. Do you recognize him?” He showed her a picture on his phone.
Her stomach clenched. “Yes. I’ve seen him several times. Is he connected with Beck and Roach?”
“Probably, but he’s likely just a small-time courier. Last time they all flew to Miami. Their destinations were different this time. One was headed to Miami, and Roach to San Francisco. This third guy, Victor Jones, has got a record, but no outstanding warrants at the moment. We’ll find him and ask some questions, but it’s best that...”
“Don’t even say it. I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
He scowled. “I don’t like it.”
“You’ll have to live with it.”
He rapped his knuckles on the table. “How come you get to be irrationally stubborn and I don’t?”
“Woman’s prerogative,” she said.
He sighed and said little for the rest of the evening.
She tried to watch her favorite home decorating show on TV, but Zach’s restlessness prevented her from sticking with it. He would stroll to the window periodically and look down onto the darkened street. Then it would be back to his phone, checking messages, and several times he completed a series of pushups on the kitchen floor. Eddie’s brows twitched as he took it all in from the comfort of the sofa.
“How can you stand it?” she asked the dog. “Doesn’t he ever sit still?”
Eddie blew out a breath, ruffling his lips.
When Zach started in on arranging her shelf of cookbooks for the second time, she abandoned her magazine. “Zach, you’re driving me bonkers.”
His brows shot up in surprise. “I am?”
“Yes. Can’t you relax for a couple of minutes?”
He blinked as if taking internal inventory. “I am relaxed.”
“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but no, you’re not anywhere close to relaxed. You’re like an overwound top.”
“Oh. Is it the pacing?”
“The pacing, pushups, rearranging and the like. I’m afraid you’re going to start busting out walls and remodeling my apartment when you run out of other things to do.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry. Carter says the same thing only he doesn’t use such nice words. How about I go take a shower? Sometimes that will do the trick.”
“An excellent idea,” she said. “Use all the hot water you want. Please.”
“Yeah, Carter says that, too.” Chuckling, he disappeared into the tiny bathroom.
She smiled to herself. Zach had always been like a fully wound clock, forever in motion, driven
by some internal engine. At times it got on her very last nerve, but the moments when he was still and thoughtful and fully attentive were precious as pure sunlight. Violet was just settling in to her magazine when her phone buzzed with a text.
It’s Nan. I’m downstairs. Purse stolen so I’m borrowing this phone. Buzz me in?
Textbook Nan. The girl in apartment 315 would probably lose her head if it wasn’t fastened securely. It was a wonder to Violet how her friend kept her job as a receptionist in a dental office.
Violet texted back.
Buzzing you in.
She buzzed and opened her magazine again.
Not working, Nan texted a few minutes later.
Violet sighed. Door problems were a common occurrence in her aging apartment complex. She slipped on her animal-print flats and let herself out without disturbing Eddie, who still had eyes locked on the bathroom door, waiting for Zach to emerge.
She took the elevator down to the lobby. Through the lobby doors, she saw a car parked on the curb, probably the Uber Nan had taken. Violet did not intend to do anything stupid, considering her own precarious situation. Unless she saw her friend Nan through the glass panel of the front lobby door, she had no intention of opening it. She had not made it two steps away from the elevator when the stairwell door opened. In a matter of moments Xavier Beck had pulled her in, the door closing behind them.
She tried to scream, but he clamped a calloused hand over her mouth and jerked her tightly to his shoulder. “Hello, Violet.”
He smelled of cigarettes. His stubbled chin rasped against her face. “Thought you’d ditched me for good? It was easy to wait and sneak into the building behind some oblivious tenant. Her name tag read ‘Nan.’ She looked about your age, so I took a chance that you knew her. I didn’t think you’d actually fall for the buzzer didn’t work trick. Dumber than you look.”
Fear nearly left her immobile, but she kicked, her shoe coming loose, missing her target. There was a camera in the stairwell at the first landing, but they were not quite in view of it. Beck must have known because he pulled her in the other direction, backing into the panic bar of the basement door.
The basement...no cameras, no help, no way for Zach to know how to find her. Now she felt the full onslaught of panic, kicking and twisting, trying to scream as Beck dragged her down the flight of stairs, pushing open the heavy door with his boot.
He shoved her inside and she fell to one knee, but only for a moment as she scrambled to get away. Beck flicked on the bare hanging bulb, which illuminated the space in a ghastly glow. The smell of mildew mixed with the sharp odor of bleach.
A labyrinth of tall shelves stretched from cement floor to dripping ceiling, cluttered with bottles and tools, plastic containers that looked as though they hadn’t been opened in decades, a moldering fake Christmas tree lying like a corpse across a shelf. The opposite wall housed a set of washing machines and dryers. She jerked backward as far as she could go until her shoulders banged into a washing machine behind her.
Beck’s expression was relaxed, happy, almost, as he shut the basement door, wedging a doorstop under it. “Don’t you want to scream? No one would hear you, anyway, but it would make this game more fun.”
She clamped her chattering teeth together. She would never give him the satisfaction. “They’ll find you. They’ll arrest you,” she said.
“The cops?” He laughed. “You know who wins in the end, at this game of life, I mean? The ones who don’t follow the rules. Cops have to follow the rules. Me? I haven’t followed any rules since I was twelve years old. Cops always lose.”
She tried another tack. “I...I won’t testify. I’ll forget what I saw in your suitcase.”
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t, but you don’t get to the top in this business by leaving loose ends. I’m going to prove to my boss that I’m ready for bigger responsibilities.” He grinned. “Your death will be a line item on my résumé.” He pulled a knife from his pocket. The tip of it shone white in the dim glow. “Ready?”
* * *
Zach felt it as soon as he exited the bathroom. Violet was gone. He sprinted to her room to confirm that she was not there. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. What could have persuaded her to leave the safety of the apartment? To leave his protection? He yanked open the apartment door, but there was no sign of her in the hall.
Trying to still his rattling nerves, he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and shut Eddie in the apartment with a stern admonishment. “Don’t chew anything up.” Then he was jogging to the elevator. He gave the button a half dozen pushes and waited for an interminable amount of time before he decided to take the stairs.
Everything was fine, he told himself. There had to be a good outcome here. No need to freak out, but his legs churned faster and faster until he reached the first floor. Sprinting into the lobby, he found the super strolling by the mailboxes, a screwdriver sticking out of his plaid pocket.
“Where’s Violet Griffin?” he demanded.
“How should I know that? The tenants don’t have to show me hall passes or anything.” His narrow mustache quivered as he laughed at his own joke.
Zach ground his teeth. “Did you see her come down here recently?”
“No. I just came a second ago to unjam a mailbox.” He squinted at Zach. “What are you doing here, by the way? You’re a cop, right? The one with the dog? I’ve seen you in uniform before. Is there a problem?”
Oh, yeah. Big problem. His stomach clenched into a fist. Where was she? “When you came down did you take the elevator or the stairs?”
“The elevator, and it was just me, if that’s your next question.”
“Go look at the lobby camera footage right now. Tell me if you see where she was headed and if anyone was with her. Text me.”
“What’s your...?”
Zach grabbed a pen from the manager’s pocket and before he could protest, Zach scrawled his cell number on the man’s palm. “Do it. Now.”
He left the manager gaping, texted Noah and dashed out to the sidewalk, holding open the door with a chair so he wouldn’t get locked out. There was no sign of her in the bitter cold. The damp sidewalk sent shock waves through his bare feet since he’d not taken the time to put on his shoes. Doubling back he reentered the stairwell. Nothing on the landing.
He looked again and his breath caught.
A woman’s shoe, Violet’s animal-print flat. He put himself in the assailant’s mind. He’d waited patiently until a resident had shown up and snuck into the building when they buzzed the door open. Concocting some story, he’d gotten Violet to come down, giving her an excuse she’d believed.
There was a lobby camera, but it was facing the outer doors and didn’t catch the stairwell action or maybe the guy didn’t care. Had they taken her out of the building via the front entrance? He didn’t think they’d risk it since someone on the street might have seen them and she’d be struggling for all she was worth. Back upstairs? Why? The answer sickened him. To find a secluded place to kill her, a place where her screams would not be heard.
His phone signaled a text from the manager.
Short, muscled guy pulled her into the stairwell. Don’t know if they were going up or down.
His heart slammed his ribs. Up or down? Upstairs, ignoring the cameras? Pulling an unwilling victim? No, Zach thought. He’d go down—easier, closer—to the basement laundry room. He swallowed. Soundproof.
Terror filled him as he considered. Beck would likely kill her in the basement where they wouldn’t be interrupted, where it would be hours or more before anyone discovered her.
The manager texted again.
What can I do?
Cops are on their way. Go open the lobby doors. Then lock yourself in your office and wait for them to arrive.
But...
Do it.
He heaved a
t the basement door and found it jammed. Kicking with all the strength he could bring to bear, he succeeded in forcing it open. The wedge of wood that had secured it skidded across the floor, lost in the darkness. Dropping as low as he could, gun drawn, he made entry.
Dank air assaulted his senses as he took up a position behind a tower of crates and listened.
Voices?
A woman’s, high and scared. Violet.
“Police!” Zach shouted at the top of his lungs. “Let her go.”
The answer came in a scream. “Zach, he’s got a knife.”
“Hold on, Violet, I’m coming!” he yelled before he charged.
SEVEN
Violet could not breathe through the fear that clawed at her chest. Zach would be an easy target for Beck’s knife. What could she do?
“Drop your weapon!” Zach shouted again.
She could not figure out where Beck had gotten to until she heard the creak of protesting metal. He was behind a shelving unit, circling around Zach, who could not possibly spot him in the insufficient light.
She could only think of one thing to do. She grabbed up the first item her hands could reach, an old toolbox that was almost rusted through. Flinging the top open, she began throwing the contents as fast and as hard as she could in Beck’s direction. An old screwdriver, a file, a series of clamps and finally the toolbox itself. The heavy metal container crashed with a thunderous noise into the spot where she figured Beck was waiting, clipping the overhead light, shattering the lightbulb and plunging the room into complete darkness. The ink-black compounded her terror. Any moment she expected to feel a knife plunging into her back or hear Zach fall victim to Beck’s ambush.
She fumbled for her phone to turn on the flashlight. The clang of metal and crash of something falling nearby almost made her scream. Was it Beck running? Going after Zach? Coming around for her again? Glass crunched only a few feet away. Finally, her shaking fingers found the light button and she was about to flick it on, until a hand reached out from the gloom.