by Marlow Kelly
Lucy toyed with a gold chain that lay between her breasts. “Tyler, who has been assessing the damage, was about to give me a report.”
Tyler swallowed. “It took me a while to go through all the code and figure out what was stolen. He got key logs and passwords. With that information, our secret server is an open book.”
Lucy stood and walked around her desk before stopping in front of Tyler. “There’s been no trace of him for months. Why would he go after us now?”
“He could have planted the code when he was undercover and triggered it remotely.” The nerd sounded appalled by Papin’s audacity, which was a surprise considering he was a hacker himself.
“And you suspect his family is hiding him,” Ethan stated, realizing it was the obvious answer. The last time he’d seen Papin he was recovering from extensive injuries.
She sat on the edge of her desk. Her skirt rose, revealing her stocking tops. “Yes. I’ve scanned through his list of acquaintances. Most of them are ex-military, hard targets, so I’ve dispatched men to bring in his mother, sister, and the woman who hid him, Sinclair Quinn. Unfortunately, Quinn proved harder to subdue than we anticipated.”
“What happened?” The Syndicate had extensive files on Papin’s friends. Ethan wouldn’t have described any of them as “soft,” including his family and the woman.
“Ludlow and Kemp were supposed to get her, but she got away.” Finally, she made eye contact with Ethan. By the way she clenched her jaw, he suspected she was livid about the failure.
“What makes you think they know where he is? He could be in witness protection.” After Ackerman’s death in the spring, he’d done some digging, looking for Papin, but he’d gone to ground.
“My contact at the DOJ says he’s not. They have no idea where he is. Tyler here”—she nodded her head toward the runt—“says he was last seen in the company of the Quinn woman on the same night Ackerman died.”
Tyler didn’t add to the discussion. Ethan suspected he was mesmerized by Lucy’s attempts to seduce him.
Ethan had only ever been physically attracted to men, and his sexual appetite was inconsequential compared to the delirium he felt when he sliced someone. He was addicted to the moment when his blade split the skin, the cries of agony and the smell of the blood. They all coalesced to give him an orgasmic high. “So, the attempt on the woman failed… What about the mother and sister?”
“I’ve sent out a team to collect them. I’m still waiting to hear.”
“What’s my role in all of this?” Ethan flexed his fingers. He’d killed Petroff, and although he’d taken pleasure from watching the light dim in his victim’s eyes, it wasn’t the same as using his knife. He really wanted to slice that bastard, Papin. Ethan’s contact within the Syndicate, a computerized voice who called himself “The Trainer,” had been very clear: he was here to assist Lucy and follow her orders. Once the job was done, he would be reassigned.
Lucy smiled down at Tyler. “When I have his women, I will coax Papin out of hiding. It’ll be your job to ensure that he tells us everything he knows.”
Tension eased from Ethan’s spine. Finally, he would have an opportunity to use his blade. “You know torture’s not my specialty. I kill.”
Lucy kicked off her high heels and placed her foot on Tyler’s crotch. “I’ve heard you like to take your time.”
“I do when it doesn’t interfere with the job.” Ethan would never let his need get in the way of his professionalism.
“It won’t. I want him dead. You can play with him and find out how much he knows about our organization.”
Ethan nodded, resisting the urge to jump up and down with joy. Instead, he headed for the door, not caring that he hadn’t been dismissed. “You know how to get in touch with me.”
Lucy didn’t answer. She was busy unzipping Tyler’s pants.
Chapter Five
Michael eyed Sinclair as she bounced in the passenger seat, her right hand hanging on to the strap that was attached to the roof of the truck. The back road into the reservation was nothing more than a rough dirt track that was pitted with potholes and rocks.
They’d spent hours talking to Detective Ramirez of the Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department about everything that had gone down tonight. The detective had confiscated Michael’s Glock so he could confirm his side of the story, but Milo had provided him with a Barretta so he was still able to defend himself.
Sinclair had done a double round of interrogation because she also had to answer questions about being attacked in the alley. The cop had referred to that crime as a mugging, which was ridiculous. But he doubted Finn had told the Granite City Elkhead County Police Department about the Syndicate, so they probably had no idea what they were dealing with. To local law enforcement, tonight’s events were a mugging and a home invasion, and they had no reason to think differently.
Michael’s stepdad, Milo, Michael’s mom, and his teenage sister, Ava, sat on the bench seat behind them. They were headed to a cabin that belonged to his cousin’s husband. The kinships held by his mother’s Cree family ran deep. There was no way they would tell an outsider they were here, not even the police.
Sinclair had been way too quiet on the trip up here. Every muscle in her body seemed to be wound tight. She’d made no attempt at chitchat, which wasn’t surprising because she wasn’t really a small talk type of person. If she had something to say, she said it.
Her silence could be a sign she was still pissed with him. He had to admit she had a point. He should have warned her and his family. But saying he hadn’t been thinking straight because of the pain sounded like he was making excuses. Instead of involving her, he should’ve hidden on the reservation.
To make matters worse, Finn had taken him aside while Sinclair and his mom were in the kitchen. Michael thought he’d wanted to talk about the Syndicate, but his concern had been for Sinclair. Whatever is between the two of you, sort it out. I don’t want to see her get hurt. That order had been given in a curt, menacing tone.
Finn was the second person in their friend group to notice his connection to Sinclair, or maybe it was the awkwardness between them that gave them away. Her brother, David, had also mentioned it.
It was interesting that Finn thought Michael could hurt her. She wasn’t a fragile butterfly who needed delicate handling. In every way that mattered, she was a warrior who protected the weak. But Finn was a trained FBI agent. He saw things that others missed. Although Michael had also been a federal agent, his specialty had required a different skillset.
The only time they’d ever worked as a couple was the weekend they’d spent together when they were in boot camp. They’d had three wonderful nights and two whole days lying in each other’s arms. They’d returned to their outfit on Sunday. He’d told her he loved her, knowing he was due to leave that Monday for Officer Candidate School. He’d completed boot camp and had degrees in computer engineering and computer science and wanted to use his abilities to serve his country. He’d thought she would understand. But he’d never discussed his decision with her, not when he applied and not when they spent their weekend together. One day he was with them and the next day he was gone. He’d done what was right for himself, and that was all that mattered. Looking back, he realized he’d behaved like a selfish child who was scared of commitment.
That was sixteen years ago. David was right. It was too long to yearn for someone and do nothing about it. When David had given Michael the okay to get involved with his sister, Michael had been lying in a hospital bed, unable to sit up, walk or use his left arm. He hadn’t been in any position to act, and if he was being honest, he was terrified she would reject him. He also wasn’t sure what would happen if they actually did reunite and it didn’t work out. Would it mean the end of his relationship with Finn, David and Tim?
What if he never tried and spent the rest of his life not knowing what it was like to hold her or wake up next to her every day? That last question terrified him more than the i
dea of losing his friends. Not taking the chance was worse than being rejected. If she turned him away, he would deal with it, but he didn’t want to live with the regret of not trying, or the knowledge that he was too much of a coward to try. At this moment, she was here with him. It was now or never.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter as the truck hit a rock and bumped sideways. This was the first time his two worlds, his street family and his home family, had met. He had never allowed their paths to cross because he’d broken his mom’s heart when he ran away and lived with Sinclair and the others on the street. His mom had been gracious and kind to Sinclair, but that wouldn’t last once she figured out their history. Nadie had a sixth sense where her son was concerned. Nothing got past her. She’d known the reason he’d stayed on the street for months, instead of days, was because of a girl. What would she say when she discovered the girl he’d lived with was Sinclair? It could get ugly.
Although, to be fair, Sinclair wasn’t the only reason he’d remained. As a child prodigy, he hadn’t shared classes with kids his own age and had never fit in. When he was with his “street” family, he belonged. They accepted him. They didn’t care that he was smart. When it came down to it, he knew they would always be there to protect him, and he would do the same for them.
He braked within sight of the darkened cabin, but left the engine running and the lights on so they illuminated the isolated property. He hadn’t visited the place since he was twelve and remembered it as being off-grid and rundown.
Sinclair reached under her seat, retrieving her handgun. “We’re gonna check this place out, aren’t we?
Milo loaded his shotgun. “We’d better.”
Michael scanned the area. “There’s only so much we can do. There’s no way we can comb the forest. We’ll check the two outbuildings and main cabin. Let’s go.”
The three of them climbed out of the vehicle. Michael withdrew his weapon and a flashlight from his pack.
After they’d searched the perimeter and ascertained the coast was clear, he entered the main cabin first with Sinclair following close behind and Milo bringing up the rear.
It had been renovated since his last visit. It was now a simple yet surprisingly stylish open-plan home. The spacious kitchen was to the right of the front door. The living area was straight ahead. A bedroom with a double bed was at the rear of the structure, and a small clean bathroom was located in an addition off the left side of the living room.
“Indoor plumbing. Nice,” Michael said once they’d made sure the place was clear.
“Your mom’s family did this place up a couple of years ago. They dug a well and put in a septic tank. There’s also a generator and a propane-powered fridge and stove. They did a good job,” Milo agreed.
“Let’s get the outbuildings checked, then we can get settled.” Sinclair sounded tired. Her jetlag, the thumping she’d endured, and the horrendous encounter at his parent’s place had to be catching up with her.
The garage was as derelict as Michael remembered and, unlike the main house, hadn’t been restored. It was a miracle it was still standing. The logs that made up the walls were rotten and reeked of mold.
The third structure was new. It was a simple log construction with just a main room and a bathroom. There were no closets, just a large couch with two end tables. The interior walls were plastered and covered with exquisite pencil sketches of people and animals. The images were in black and white, and yet they displayed a beauty and knowledge of their subject matter that was stunning.
Sinclair gasped as she stopped and stared at the artwork. Her reaction told him that she, too, was affected.
Milo entered, filling the small space. “Your cousin, Daniel, is very talented.”
“Where is he now? Won’t he need this place to work?” Sinclair ran a finger on the edge of a half-finished drawing of an older woman. With just a few strokes of the pencil, Daniel had displayed her wrinkles, her age, the sparkle in her eyes, and her wisdom.
“He’s in rehab so…” Milo shrugged his big shoulders, not finishing his explanation.
“Sinclair can sleep here.” The sofa bed was large enough for two people. There was a distance between them, and if he was going to get closer to her, they needed time alone.
She stared at him, wide eyed. “I don’t want to put anyone out. Whatever works best. I’ll sleep wherever.”
He turned and met Milo’s gaze. His stepfather was a man of the world. He would’ve noticed the undercurrents between them.
Michael hadn’t always had a positive relationship with his stepfather. He’d run away at fifteen because Milo had committed the sin of falling in love with, and marrying, his mom. But over the years, he had proven himself to be a good husband and father. Plus, he’d supported Michael’s decision to join the Army and later to become a federal agent.
Milo nodded. “That’s settled. Your mom and I will take the bedroom in the main building, and Ava can have the couch. Then he turned and exited the small cabin.
Sinclair was still staring at the sketches on the walls and failed to notice that Michael hadn’t been assigned a place to sleep. He followed Milo out. She would figure it out soon enough.
He waved to his mom and sister who were climbing out of the truck. Milo hauled a large rubber container of food past him, heading for the house.
Michael smiled as he grabbed Sinclair’s small carry-on case out of the bed of the vehicle. The term carpe diem sprang to mind. Seize the day.
****
Sinclair stood near the front door of the main cabin as Michael’s family made themselves comfortable. They seemed to know what had to be done without being told, but she didn’t. That lack of familiarity made her feel like an outsider, someone who had been forced upon them. Milo had turned on the propane and started the generator. The gas motor hummed in the distance. Then he headed outside to chop wood. Nadie filled a kettle and set it on the stove to boil.
“Can I help?” Sinclair took a step closer, hoping that if she had something to do, she wouldn’t feel so awkward. The kitchen filled one corner of the cabin. The counter stretched from the front door to the far wall where the stove and fridge were hooked up.
“I’m making tea. I have to admit I’m a little unsettled.” Nadie’s hand shook as she removed a china mug from a cupboard and set it on the small white table. Then she stopped and stared straight ahead. “I didn’t bring milk. I can’t drink tea without milk.” Her lower lip quivered as she picked up another mug. “I thought we were going to die.”
Sinclair put an arm around her shoulders, comforting her in the same way the older woman had consoled her earlier.
Nadie had been strong throughout their ordeal, but now things were catching up to her. She picked up the mug, her trembling making it shake violently.
“You handled yourself well. Do you want to talk about it?” Sinclair took the cup from her before it hit the edge of the table and broke and placed it out of reach.
Nadie shook her head. “Do you mind if I sit with my daughter for a while?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
Nadie shuffled to the living room, her shoulders slumped. She had probably been in fear for, not only her life, but her daughter’s and husband’s, too. She made herself comfortable on the couch in the living room and watched as Ava sorted through a pile of DVDs. Without a word, the teen picked a movie and slid it into the player. Then returned to the sofa and snuggled with her mother.
In many ways, Ava looked like her brother. She had the same dark hair, high cheekbones, and good looks. But that was where the resemblance ended. Unlike Michael, Ava seemed sullen. She rolled her eyes every time Sinclair talked, which was just downright disrespectful. Sinclair hadn’t said anything because she was a guest, and everyone had been through enough tonight. If she was honest, she just didn’t have the energy to argue with a teen.
Sinclair exhaled. This would be a good time for her to focus on her own healing regime. With that in mind, she hois
ted the rubber tote from the floor onto the counter. “Do you mind if I do some baking?”
Nadie waved from the couch. “Help yourself.”
She would’ve liked to give Nadie and Ava some alone-time, and she could’ve done with a few hours by herself, too, but hiding in her cabin didn’t feel right. Everything was too fresh, too raw. She was still on guard. She needed to make sure everyone was okay before she could stand down.
A dull thud followed by the sound of splintering wood caught her attention. She glanced through the kitchen window to see Milo splitting logs. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was keeping busy in an attempt to grapple with his own feelings of shock.
She searched the cupboards, looking for utensils and pans and found a flat tray and a muffin pan. There was no food processor or whisk, which wasn’t a problem. She wasn’t a high-tech, fancy baker. The act of measuring the ingredients, combining them until they were the right consistency, and then placing them in the oven grounded her in a way that nothing else did.
The tote held flour, sugar, salt, eggs, butter, cooking oil, blueberries, and chocolate chips. She wasn’t sure what Michael’s family liked. Maybe they didn’t have a sweet tooth. Maybe they didn’t like baked goods.
She was second-guessing herself, which was out of character for her. Normally, she decided on an action and took it. But this wasn’t business as usual. Her job was to get victims out, whether it was a group of women who were held in bondage or a teen tricked into sex slavery. She rescued them. Their emotional recovery was taken care of by experts who were far smarter than her.
She stared at the chocolate chips. All these ingredients had come from Nadie’s kitchen, so someone in the family liked them. She would just focus on cooking and not care whether they liked the results. This wasn’t about them; it was about regaining her equilibrium.
Michael entered. She wasn’t sure what he’d been doing and decided not to ask. She didn’t have the strength to deal with him right now. He grabbed his mom’s purse, which sat at the far end of the counter, and rummaged through it. “Aha.” He held up her smartphone with a look of triumph. Using a tool that looked like a straightened paperclip, he slipped out the sim card. Then he pried off the back and took out the battery. He threw the pieces into an empty fruit bowl, which sat on the white laminate table.