by Eve Langlais
“Meaning he won’t attempt to harm them. But you…” He slewed a glance her way. “He’ll be pissed at you. A man like that will want revenge.”
And she doubted that revenge would be quick. “The good news is, I doubt he’ll kill me. I betrayed him. He’ll want to savor my terror.” She said it matter-of-fact, mostly because over the years, she’d grown used to the familiar fear. How many times had she been convinced that he was coming for her? How many nights had she woken gripped in a terror so deep, she’d sat in the twins’ bedroom, gun in her lap, back to the wall, convinced that he was coming to get them?
Why wouldn’t he just die and spare her the grief?
“Aw, sweetheart.” Ted’s tone, it sounded…sad? She eyed him. He shook his head. “And you wonder why I want to help. I am not about to let a sadistic prick hurt you.”
“What you want doesn’t matter. But it might get you killed. If he finds out I’m alive, he won’t stop searching until he finds me.” Left unsaid? And makes me pay.
“Only if he finds out. There’s a chance he won’t. Maybe Ralph will keep his mouth shut, or your agency will find him before he can blab.”
“Ronin knows.” She could feel it in her gut.
Chapter Nine
Ronin
The phone call had been recorded and almost discarded. Except for one thing.
A name that caught the attention of his right-hand man, mostly because it was one forbidden to be spoken.
Macey.
And yet, of late, it kept appearing. First, in the recent database queries on his late wife. Then in that voicemail claiming she wasn’t dead.
Could it be true?
Even though it was probably some kind of shakedown, Ronin had to know for sure. One of his people contacted the street thug from America, a fellow named Ralph. Of course, when asked to confirm his statement, he had no pictures. No other witnesses because Ralph claimed Macey had killed Chen and someone named Eddie, too.
His Macey, a murderer? The very idea seemed laughable. He clearly recalled her expression the night he’d knifed his cousin. Repulsed. Afraid. Horrified. Not once had she ever raised a hand, and only barely ever used her voice. The perfectly demure and obedient wife, pregnant with his daughters, horrifically taken from him by his enemies.
Or so he’d thought. What if she’d not died in a botched kidnapping attempt? Could she have been hiding from him this entire time?
Defying him and keeping his children from their father?
Despite the inanity, the idea fermented, rousing an elation in him that he might get her back—and show her the error of her ways. But at the same time, he didn’t believe it. Because then he’d have to accept the ridiculous idea that she’d managed to kill Chen. Highly unlikely. The night she’d disappeared, it was another who’d wielded the gun that shot Chen.
Still… It wouldn’t hurt to look into the situation. Ralph claimed he’d seen them at some exercise studio, and he’d not changed his story even after being questioned. Few people could resist telling the truth when the right incentive was applied via a burning brand.
A press of a button brought up a screen and his computer wizard—Kira—appeared, her hair currently a striped pink and purple, yet another piercing in her brow, her lips a flaming red.
“Boss.” She snapped a piece of gum. Disrespectful, and yet so talented. But she’d soon have to be reined in without ruining her use. He couldn’t have her being so casual with him.
“Find out everything you can about a Flamingo Martial Arts business. USA-based. Owned by a Ted Grady.”
“Did you just say Ted Grady?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because remember how you wondered who’d been looking up your wife? You’ll never guess whose name appeared once I finally traced the seeker.”
The coincidences kept stacking. “Why is he looking?”
“Apparently, they went to high school together.”
“So, he knew her.” This Ted person must have seen her, or someone he thought might be Macey, then searched for her. His inquiries on the internet were public, only barely hidden by firewalls. But more interesting was that after the regular kind of queries were exhausted, a ping arrived on the Darknet, seeking the same information. “I want to know everything about this Grady.”
Next, he called in his right-hand man. “Get my jet ready.”
“Where to, boss?” Jiao asked.
“San Francisco for starters. But then we’ll be heading to the east coast.”
“On it.”
“Wait,” Ronin said as Jiao went to leave. “Also, locate Chen. I want him brought in for some questioning.” Ralph had claimed that Chen was dead, but Ronin wasn’t quite ready to simply take him at his word.
“Aye, aye, boss.” Jiao saluted and left. A solid man for the task, but not his former best friend. A friend who’d failed him.
Ronin leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, staring at the window and yet not seeing the stunning vista. He could think of nothing but the possibility that Macey lived.
My wife.
But, more importantly, he wondered about his children…
Chapter Ten
The kick to the ribs woke him. Ted rolled over to see a robed man standing over him, face veiled so only his eyes showed, cradling a gun in his arms.
He struggled to his feet, tired, hurt, hungry, and dehydrated. Prisoners were given the bare minimum to survive. He began to shuffle, knowing the routine. They’d take him to a tent or a cave, and someone would ask him questions in heavily accented English.
He’d offer a bullshit reply. They’d hurt him. But they wouldn’t kill him. Not yet. Not if they wanted to use him as a bargaining chip.
They shuffled into the cave, his hands tied behind him, meaning he couldn’t stop himself from falling face-first when his guard kicked at his knee. He toppled, smashing his chin, feeling it jolt through his skull. He tasted blood in his mouth and rolled over to look at the chair.
His seat as he’d come to think of it.
Only it had someone sitting in it.
Macey, her head held high, her expression defiant.
“Submit.”
“Never.” She didn’t hesitate.
Ted uttered a sound that was half-moan, half-roar as she rocked from the fist that hit her.
He struggled to get to his knees. Helpless. Yet, he couldn’t simply lie there.
“Down, dog.” The blow to his head blurred his vision, but not enough that he didn’t see the leer, the fear on her face, the—
“Ted! Ted!” The hushed whisper snapped him out of the dream—the nightmare. The sour taste of it filled his mouth, and he clenched the flesh of his thighs lest he lash out, still caught in its net.
“Ted? You were thrashing in your sleep.”
“Sorry,” was his low reply as he shifted in his seat. “Nightmares.”
“Do you get them often.”
He shrugged and looked out the window rather than at her. “Sometimes.”
“I get the bad ones, too,” she admitted softly. “The psychiatrist I saw said it was normal. My mind trying to deal with my anxiety.”
“Because we’re not anxious enough,” was his snorted reply. “I usually take something to help me sleep so I don’t dream.”
“I can’t. I don’t dare slumber that deeply.”
An admission that caused his chest to tighten. “Whereas I sometimes don’t care if I wake up.”
She sucked in a breath. “You’re suicidal?”
He winced. “Not exactly. Not anymore,” he quickly explained. “After I came home from the war, I was lost for a while. Dealing with things I’d done. Things done to me.” He wasn’t about to spill his guts and whine about how he’d been a prisoner, tortured for weeks. How he’d killed to escape. How he’d made his torturer scream for hours before he ended his life. “I turned to drugs and alcohol. Copious amounts of it. Almost died a few times.” Was always surprised when he woke up.
“S
omething changed,” she stated.
“Yeah. I decided to stop being a whiny fucker.” He winced. “That came out wrong. But it’s right at the same time. I woke up one morning beside a friend—also a former soldier. Dead. In him, I saw my future. I saw…” Nothing. And he felt shame. How many had died who’d wanted to come home? How many families mourned their passing? Here he was, perfectly healthy and yet killing himself slowly. Making a mockery of their sacrifice. He cleared his throat. “I went into rehab that same day. Been clean seven years now.”
“But you still have nightmares.”
“I do.”
To his surprise, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad you found your way.”
“So am I,” he whispered. So am I.
They arrived in Texas early in the morning more than twenty-four hours after they’d left, having switched airports a few times and renting a Suburban for the last five-hour drive on their trip.
The cruise didn’t leave until the next day, meaning they needed a place to crash when they arrived in the slowly waking city. Luckily, BBI had a few rental properties and allowed them the use of a villa with several bedrooms and a pool that the twins eschewed. Instead, they chose to lounge in the house, headsets on, faces glued to their tablets. Kind of like their mother, who spent a lot of time on her phone and even more avoiding him. It was as if that intimate moment on the plane had never happened.
Yet, he knew something had changed between them. It had started with the kiss. He had caught her eyeing him a few times, once even touching her lips. Had the embrace ignited her as much as it had enflamed him? He’d not expected the heated spark. Nor the urge for more.
In high school, he’d been attracted to Macey, but then again, any girl who smiled pretty much drew him. Macey, though, she had been more than just a pretty face. She’d not made any attempt to conform. She didn’t wear makeup or worry about her clothes. She wore comfortable leggings, slim-fitting cowled sweaters in winter, T-shirts and jeans in spring and summer.
Even now, she remained natural, fresh-faced, her hair kept simple, usually brushed and pulled into a tail. Her clothes unassuming and not meant to draw attention to her curves. She remained smart. A woman of many talents—who still wasn’t interested in him.
He shouldn’t care. It was for the best. He came with his own baggage. Yet, his ego felt bruised.
Stressed, he exercised, in this case, he went for a swim. On his tenth lap—stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe—he saw little legs dangling in the water. He slowed and bobbed, recognizing Mae sitting on the edge.
“Coming for a swim?” he asked despite noting that she wore a summer dress.
She shook her head.
“Do you know how?”
A disdainful snort was his reply.
“The water is nice.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
A somber child, she appeared more serious than usual. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t say. When she spoke, her words took him by surprise.
“Our house burned down.”
“Oh, shit.” He heaved himself out of the water and sat down beside the girl, dunking his feet beside her. “What happened? How do you know?”
“I saw it online.”
Shit, the child had found out by accident. “That sucks.”
Her head ducked. “Yeah. It happened after lunch today.”
Later than he would have expected given how the cleanup crew had set fire to his dojo immediately.
“I’m sorry,” he said while he scrambled for a proper reply. He obviously couldn’t tell the child that the house had been burned to keep her safe.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t burn it.”
“No. However, I know how horrible it is to lose everything you have.” It’d happened to him a few times. Seven years clean was all well and good. The years before that, he’d made a mess of things, numerous times.
Mae cocked her head. “I guess you do know. The article said they think it might be a serial arsonist given your studio burned, too. And our school.”
“Your school?” It surprised him that the cleanup crew had gone that far.
“Only the junior high wing.”
“I’m sure they have a plan in place for their students while they conduct repairs.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t matter since we’re not going back.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, cautious to not reveal anything.
“Mother packed her memory box. She usually leaves it locked up and hidden under the floor in her office.”
What could he say? He knew Macey wouldn’t appreciate him butting in with her daughter. Hard to believe Mae was supposed to be only ten years old. She had a maturity and an astuteness to her that meant he couldn’t lie.
“I can’t speak to your mother’s plans, but I can assure you that she only wants what is best for you.”
“Are we in danger?” Again, a direct question that saw through the subterfuge.
“What makes you think that?” he hedged.
“Three fires are more than a coincidence.”
“Not really. Studies have shown that arsonists have a tendency to escalate.”
“And just happen to hit three places that have one thing in common? My family?” The girl proved much too bright as she connected those dots. “We’re running from something.”
Would he lose his man card if he bellowed for Macey? He wanted to respect her wishes. Didn’t want to meddle, but her daughter seemed determined.
“It’s not my place to tell.”
Which in and of itself was an admission.
Mae smiled. “You don’t have kids.”
“No.”
“Why?” She kicked her feet in the water, light enough to agitate the surface.
The question out of the blue startled. “Because I never got married.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none that stuck around.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’m not an easy guy to be with.” It didn’t help that the nightmares woke them and frightened.
“Neither is Mom. She never dates.”
“It’s probably on account she’s so busy with you and your sister, plus her work.”
Mae shook her head. “It’s because of our father.”
“Oh. What makes you say that?” he asked, aiming for casual. What had Macey told the children about their dad?
“I know it’s because of him because she never talks about him. Has no pictures, not even a wedding one. She says they got lost, misplaced by some movers. And if we ask about him, she shuts us right down.” Mae slashed her hand.
“It’s likely a difficult subject for her.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, looking for rescue. This wasn’t a conversation he should be having.
“We have a right to know about our dad,” Mae declared.
“She only wants what’s best for you.” It sounded lame, like a cop-out. Yet no way would he tell this child that her father actually lived and might be a danger to her mother.
“Sure, she does,” she replied sullenly. “You’re just taking her side because you’re a grown-up, too.”
“Your mom doesn’t seem like the type to do anything that would hurt you.”
“Never said she was hurting us. There’s this girl in our class, said her mom hated her dad so much, she moved away and blocked him from calling.”
“I hardly think the situation is the same. Your father is no longer with us.”
“Or so Mom says.” Mae’s next foot kick held a hint of petulance. “Do you know we’ve never met anyone in his family?”
“That’s not uncommon. I don’t have any.”
“We do. On Mom’s side of the family, we have a bunch of aunts. Cousins. And a grandma, too.”
“Sounds like you have plenty of family members.”
“Grandma adopted a bunch of them. They’re not our re
al family,” Mae insisted.
“Family isn’t always about blood, it’s about trust.” His reply was careful. He’d had his own issues for a while and had burned more than a few bridges. Saying “sorry” didn’t always fix them, which was why even though he’d cleaned up his act and apologized, he tended to remain a loner.
“Doesn’t matter if she trusts his family or not. I should be allowed to make that decision. Not her.” The child sulked.
“I really think you should talk to your mom about this.”
“Why? So she can lie? She’s keeping a secret from us. And so are you,” Mae accused.
“You and your conspiracy theories,” Lin snorted a moment before she shoved her twin into the water.
Splash. As Mae screeched and flailed, Lin took her spot on the pool’s edge beside Ted.
“Ignore my sister. She has issues.”
“You are so dead.” Mae treaded water and glared.
Lin stuck out her tongue. “Go ahead and try.”
“Girls.” He sounded as helpless as he felt. “Don’t fight.”
“You’re not our daddy. You can’t tell us what to do,” Mae hotly declared.
“Our father is dead,” Lin’s rebutted.
“No, he’s not.”
Uh-oh. He’d have to warn Macey that Mae was on to her.
“He is so dead, and I wish you’d stop pretending he isn’t,” Lin huffed hotly. “I don’t see what the big deal is, anyhow. All dads do is fart and tell dumb jokes.”
Ted blinked. “Um, I’m pretty sure they do more than that.” Then again, what would he know? He’d been raised by a single mother, his father having left to be with another woman when he was young. He hadn’t seen Ted much before he died of a heart attack at forty-one.
“Dads punish bratty sisters who are mean and push their favorite daughters into the water,” Mae declared.
“You looked hot. I was doing you a favor,” Lin stated with a shrug of her shoulders.
“You look hot, too. You should join me.”
“No, thanks. I’m not in the mood to change.”
Ted knew he shouldn’t do it, but seeing Mae in the pool with her sister acting smug…