by M. S. Parker
“If you let Allison go, I'll let you take me to Julius. Whatever it takes to convince you guys that I didn't do it.” I knew I was probably signing my death warrant – at the very least offering to undergo what'd be basically torture – but if it got him to let Allison go, I'd do it.
A way-too-familiar cackle came from behind me.
“What the hell do you want, Cleo?” Booker snapped. “This got nothing to do with you.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew everything was about to go sideways.
“Actually, you fucking asshole, it's got nothing to do with you.”
I started to turn toward her and caught a glimpse of something coming toward me. Then a sharp, bright pain. A loud bang...and then, nothing.
Chapter Seven
Bryne
I probably should've been hungry, but food was one of the last things on my mind at the moment. I picked at the plate of chicken Gavin had set in front of me an hour ago, not eating any of it until Carrie had practically forced me to. There'd been nothing for us to do but wait until Dena's cop friend showed up.
Officer Dunne was short and stout, a word combination that almost made me giggle. My nerves were frayed, and I felt like I was hovering on the edge of hysteria. Officer Dunne was a nice enough guy, but every time I looked at his red face, I kept thinking of that stupid kids' song, and the laughter just bubbled up inside me again.
“Everything's going to be okay.” Carrie's voice was low in my ear, startling me away from that song.
“Have you worked with Officer Dunne before?” I glanced again over to where Dena and the cop were engaged in what looked like a fairly intense conversation.
“Not personally,” Carrie said. “But if Dena vouches for him, he can be trusted. She knows what she's doing.”
“What about the rest of them?” I motioned to the other cops who were standing around the living room. There weren't a lot of them, but from what I could hear, there were plenty more waiting for a call.
Carrie took a seat next to me and put her hand on my knee. Her other hand rested on her stomach, and for the first time, I wondered about how all of this stress was affecting the baby.
“You can go rest if you need to,” I said. “I don't want you to do anything that could hurt the baby.”
She smiled at me, her eyes warming. “I'm okay. I've been through worse.”
Right. I'd heard bits and pieces about the events that'd surrounded she and Gavin's relationship at the beginning, but I knew there were details only the two of them knew. If what was happening now wasn't the worst she'd been through, I didn't want to know what was.
“How's Gavin doing?”
She raised an eyebrow. “He's doing okay. Skylar called a couple minutes ago, so he's talking to her.”
Right, Gavin's daughter. She lived with her maternal grandparents, referred to them as her parents, but she knew who he was. I hadn't met her yet, but I wanted to. She was my cousin, after all.
“Is everything okay?”
Carrie nodded. “She's at that age where she's starting to ask questions. Nothing too serious yet, but they want to be open and honest with her.”
Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes, letting the buzz of the cops talking flow over us. I leaned forward, putting my head in my hands.
“I can't believe this is happening. It just seems so surreal.”
If I was being totally honest, almost everything since I'd decided to come to New York had a dream-like quality to it. Meeting Gavin and Carrie, getting the female lead in Collide, all of the ups and downs with Dax. Half the time, I felt like I was going to wake up suddenly, back in my bed in DC, and realize that these past five weeks had been some sort of weird Wizard of Oz kind of dream.
In this moment, I almost wished it. If it'd all been a dream, that would mean my mom was safe, that I wasn't sitting here, feeling sick to my stomach and wondering if Dax had gotten himself killed. I'd be surrounded by all of my familiar things, with staff who'd known me since I was a kid and loved me. I'd be able to feel Nana and Papa all around me. I'd be safe. Comfortable.
And suffocating.
That was the realization that had finally sent me to the city. I loved my mother, loved all of the people who'd been a part of my life since my father died. I loved the house and memories of my great-grandparents. But with all of that came the crushing weight of expectations.
The worst part of being a legacy, I'd come to realize, was that pretty much everyone knew everything. Oh, they rarely discussed it to a person's face, but it was always part of the background gossip. How my grandmother had indulged herself in a passionate affair, only to be left alone with a child that the father didn't want, and that she didn't know how to raise. That, of course, was the reason my mother had done the unthinkable and gotten knocked up by a boxer. Bad upbringing. It didn't matter that my parents had loved each other, I was the reason they'd gotten married. Another bastard child.
I knew how much the talk of scandals upset Nana and Papa, but they'd never taken it out on my mom or me. They loved us both unconditionally. Which was why I always felt like I needed to prove myself to them, to everyone. I wanted to make them and my parents proud. The stress I'd put myself under had made me a nervous wreck by the time I was a sophomore in high school. That was when Nana and Papa had taken me aside and told me that they only thing they wanted was for me to be happy.
After that moment, I started looking for what would make me happy, but I still always felt like I couldn't truly be myself, not with everyone watching me so carefully, wondering how I was going to tarnish my family name even further. That was one of the reasons I moved. I'd believed – foolishly I saw now – that things in New York would be less stressful.
“Hey.”
Gavin's deep voice brought me out of my head. He sat on Carrie's other side, his body automatically leaning toward hers. He put his hand on her back, the gesture seeming so natural that he didn't even think about it. She put a hand on his knee, and he covered it, fingers threading together. They didn't look at each other, but everything about them screamed at an intimacy that made my heart ache.
When Dax told me that he loved me, for a few brief hours, I allowed myself to imagine that I could have that kind of relationship too. Even now, as I remembered that Carrie and Gavin had gone through some crazy stuff when they first gotten together, I still couldn't see far enough into the future to believe that anything would ever be all right again.
“How's Skylar?” I asked.
“Good.” There was no mistaking the pride in Gavin's voice. “She won the spelling bee for her class and gets to compete against the other second grade classes next week.”
“How does she feel about the baby?”
The look on Gavin's face said he knew I was avoiding the subject that had us all here, but he went with my question.
“She's excited. Can't stop talking about how she's going to be a great big sister.”
The hand on Carrie's moved to her baby bump. His face softened as he looked down, and I knew this was the man Carrie had seen from the beginning. Not the tough, alpha male exterior, but the man who cared about his family above everything else, the man who'd die for the people he loved.
I knew that was why Carrie had fallen in love with him because that was the same thing that happened to me. Even when I'd been telling myself that Dax was supposed to only be a one-night stand, I'd seen something more in him than the man everyone else saw.
“I'm pretty sure Skylar thinks she's going to be taking the baby to show and tell.” Gavin smiled softly.
With that statement, that expression on his face, the love in his eyes and words, something clicked inside me.
Gavin had known he couldn't raise Skylar alone after her mother died, so he signed over custody to her grandparents. Some people thought that was selfish on his part, but anyone who'd ever seen him with his daughter knew that it'd been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. When he finally healed from l
osing the woman he loved, he could've taken Skylar back. When he made enough money that he could've afforded to hire the best live-in nanny so Skylar could live with him, he could've fought for custody. After he married Carrie, he could've brought Skylar into the family. It might've been a fight, but with the kind of lawyers he could've hired, he might have actually been able to get custody back.
But he hadn't.
I knew some people would assume that it was because Gavin hadn't wanted to give up his freedom to raise a kid on his own, or even after he married, that he was too focused on his new family to care about his firstborn.
I never thought that, not after I'd gotten to know Gavin and had seen how much he loved his daughter. I knew he'd done what was best for her.
But I never really understood what that meant until this exact moment.
It was one thing to say that you'd die for the person you loved. It was something else completely to sacrifice the life you'd wanted, the family you'd dreamed of because it was better for the person you loved to be away from you.
Gavin had Carrie, and they had a baby on the way. They'd have their family, and Skylar would always be a part of their lives, but Gavin missed his daughter. I could see it in his eyes. But he'd known that she needed a stable home life and that giving her what she needed meant he would never have the role of the father he wanted to be with her, not without breaking her heart. He sacrificed that because she came first.
And that was what Dax was doing for me.
He'd known how risky it would be for the cops to try to find my mom, but he'd been willing to put his freedom on the line to save her. Not out of guilt – or at least not only – but because my happiness meant more to him than his freedom. When we'd decided to go another way, he agreed to wait, but when he thought time was running out, he'd chosen to sacrifice himself. As long as Booker thought Dax had the drugs, he wouldn't kill him, but I had no doubt that Booker would resort to torture. And Dax had known it.
He'd done it for me, and I couldn't just sit here and let it happen.
I stood up. “I need some quiet.”
“If you need us, just say the word,” Carrie said as she settled against Gavin's side.
“I will,” I lied. No way was I going to get either of them involved in what I was about to do.
I walked toward the kitchen, keeping my steps even and unhurried so it wouldn't look like I was eavesdropping when I passed Dena and Officer Dunne.
“One of the boys just called in,” the officer was saying. “We have a CI who says Booker is holed up in one of the warehouses near the Hudson. He's supposed to be getting an exact address.”
“Once you get it, how long until you guys are ready to go in?” Dena asked. “We're on a deadline here.”
“Twenty minutes,” Officer Dunne said. “Then we can get everyone in place.”
“Not any sooner?”
The cop shook his head. “Not unless we call in the Feds.”
It was Dena’s turn to shake her head. “You and I both know that it'll just turn into a pissing contest between all the higher ups. That's why I didn't want to get them involved in the first place.”
“Yeah, ever since things went south on the Ross case, relations between us haven't been so good.”
“Exactly,” Dena said. “I'm not letting this be the one they decide to work things out on.”
While I appreciated that, and I trusted Dena to make the right call, knowing that it'd probably be another half hour before the police were ready to go made me even more certain that I needed to act.
I quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then headed back into the living room, lingering as close to Dena and Officer Dunne as I dared. As soon as I heard the address come across the radio, I started edging toward the door. As I hoped, the moment the cops started moving I had enough of a distraction to slip on my shoes and out the door.
“Hey, where are you going?”
I froze as a pair of young cops turned toward me. I hadn't realized Dena had put anyone on the door. Then again, that might've been Gavin's or Carrie's idea. My brain scrambled for a lie that would work.
“It's turning into Grand Central Station in there,” I heard myself say. “Everyone's getting their orders and talking over each other.” I smiled and held up my shoes. “I was just going to burn off some nervous energy running the stairs.”
They exchanged looks, and the freckle-faced one spoke. “One of us should probably come with you.”
I shrugged as I made a show of putting on my shoes. I wasn't fast, but I was pretty sure I could get away if I timed it right. “Come on then.”
The one with the freckles followed me as I jogged toward the stairwell. I wanted to just run down and out, but I knew if I looked like I was running away, he'd radio for back-up, and I'd have people chasing me instead of working on finding my mom and Dax. If I waited until we got to the lobby, I might be able to convince him I needed to use the restroom, then make my escape. Hopefully, he'd be embarrassed enough that he'd come after me himself, at least for a few minutes.
I started down the stairs at a brisk enough pace that the officer was two steps behind me from the start. I'd never been a very active person, but I'd done enough that I could push myself to the limit and make this happen. By the time I reached the lobby, the cop was a dozen steps behind me.
“I'm just going to run to the restroom,” I called over my shoulder. “I'll be right back.”
I was through the door before he could argue, then took off full blast, determined to get outside before he could see that I hadn't gone in the direction of the bathrooms. I felt the desk clerk staring but didn't slow. Through the doors, past the doorman, and down the sidewalk, ignoring the icy wind or the confused people I'd left behind.
None of that mattered. All I cared about was getting a cab and getting to that warehouse before Booker decided to kill two people I loved.
Chapter Eight
Dax
Getting shot had hurt like hell, but the headache I now had as I regained consciousness was no picnic. The back of my skull felt like it was swollen twice the normal size, and I was pretty sure if I felt it, there'd be a nasty knot. Someone had hit me with something solid.
Cleo.
Right. She'd shown up, said something to Booker, then I'd seen something out of the corner of my eye. She hit me.
Gunshot.
Fuck.
I hadn't seen a gun on Booker, which meant Cleo had one. She'd shot somebody.
Allison.
My eyes flew open, immediately landing on a figure sitting across from me. Bronze curls, familiar enough features. When she raised her head, a wave of relief washed over me.
“Allison.” I raised my voice to hardly more than a whisper. “Mrs. Dawkins, are you okay?”
“The accommodations are a bit lacking, but otherwise, I'm fine.”
Her dry statement almost startled a laugh out of me. It also sent a sharp longing through my heart. She even sounded like Bryne.
“I thought Cleo shot you.”
She shook her head and glanced to the right, a sick expression on her face. I followed her gaze and saw Cleo standing a few yards away, watching the door I'd come through. I took a moment to figure out my surroundings. We were near the room Booker had come out of, but I didn't see him anywhere. I was laying at an angle, my arm twisted under me for so long that my fingers were starting to fall asleep. It looked like Cleo had left me where I'd fallen. Allison, however, must have been brought out here because I know I hadn't seen her before I was knocked out.
“I was in there.” Allison jerked her chin toward the room. “But that man who took me, he left the door open.”
“Booker,” I said quietly. “His name's Booker North. He used to be my boss...sort of.”
“She shot him.”
I stared at Allison. I must've misunderstood her, or she misunderstood me because there was no way she could be serious. “What?”
“That girl.” Allison's eyes dart
ed toward Cleo, then came back to me. “I heard all of you talking, but I could only see that man. Booker. I saw him get shot. She had a gun when she came into the room to drag me out here.”
The nausea I was feeling didn't have anything to do with having a possible concussion. Something had gone really wrong here. Beyond kidnapping Bryne's mom wrong.
“Where is he?”
Allison looked toward a shadowed corner near the door. “The first shot didn’t kill him. He got up, and I couldn't see him, but I heard two more shots. When she dragged me out here, she said that if I didn't behave, she was going to do to me what she did to him.”
“Are you sure he's dead?”
Her skin took on a slight gray tinge. “She went over and...and started kicking...”
“Okay.” I didn't want to hear anymore, and I definitely didn't want to make her say anymore.
I eased myself up in a sitting position, taking it slow so that everything wouldn't start spinning. I needed to think, but the throbbing in my head wasn't helping matters much.
Allison's hands were tied, but not her feet. I assumed that was so she could be moved around easier. If I could get her up, I might be able to distract Cleo long enough for Allison to run away. I just wasn't sure how to do that. My hands weren't tied, but the thought of fighting Cleo like I would have a man made me feel even more sick. I'd do it to save Allison, but only if I didn't have another choice.
Maybe if I figured out why Cleo had killed Booker, I'd understand her motives and be able to talk my way out of it. I couldn't think of a good reason though. Cleo had always been part of the gang. Okay, not a member, but she wasn't some one-and-done groupie the guys fucked and then she disappeared. Cleo made her way around all the members, but as far as I knew, nobody had told her she needed to go.
Unless that's what happened. Had Booker finally had enough of her and told her to hit the road? It was a possibility, but I couldn't see why. Cleo put out for anyone in the gang, didn't act like any of them were in a relationship with her. She didn't steal from them, didn't narc. She fucked whoever wanted to fuck her and left everyone else alone. She was the kind of woman a gang liked to keep around.