Mystery Man

by Kristen Ashley

  “Oh God, do you think that’s true?” Tracy asked.

  “Yes,” I replied immediately and then turned to Elvira. “You get anything, call me, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Where?” Elvira asked, her eyes not leaving the computer screen.

  “Nightingale Investigations,” I answered.

  “Shit,” Cam muttered.

  “I’ll come with,” Tracy offered and I looked at her.

  “No, babe,” I told her.

  “I’m coming with,” Tracy repeated.

  “No, Trace, this is dangerous. Stay here, maybe you can help Elvira,” I suggested knowing this wasn’t true.

  Elvira’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

  “I’m coming with,” Tracy stated again.

  “Trace –” I started but stopped when she grabbed my hand.

  “I’m… coming… with.”

  I stared into her eyes.

  Then I whispered, “Okay.”

  “Shit,” Cam muttered again.

  * * * * *

  Tracy sat next to me in my car. I drove and tried to be focused as panic threatened to overwhelm me. Tracy was beeping buttons on her phone.

  Then the beeping stopped and she put the phone to her ear.

  “Troy?” I heard her say and nearly ran off the road.

  My eyes flew to her. “Trace! What are you –?”

  She waved a hand at me and I looked back at the road.

  Tracy kept talking. “Yeah, listen, now’s not a good time. You know those baddies who were after Ginger?” Pause. “Well, they have Hawk.”

  “Tracy!” I cried.

  She ignored me. “I know, I know, they want to trade him for Ginger and I need you to do your thing, find any properties owned by Nelson Roarke or any owned by any companies he’s involved with.”

  Wow. That was a good idea.

  That would also probably ping on some Federal Bureau of Investigation Super Nerd Computer in the basement of some federal building.

  “Trace,” I tried again.

  “No, of course we’re not going to do anything stupid,” she lied through her teeth.

  I closed my eyes then quickly opened them and turned off Speer heading to 15th.

  “Okay, if you don’t want to help, don’t help. But if something happens to Hawk and Gwen gains seventy pounds by going on a diet of pure cookie dough, don’t come to Nordstrom’s and expect to use my employee discount!” she snapped then flipped her phone closed and stated, “He’ll run the searches. He likes Armani suits.”

  “I can’t believe you did that, Trace, he could get into trouble.”

  “Well, sure, but Hawk could also get dead.”

  This was true.

  I whimpered.

  Tracy’s voice got soft. “It’s going to be okay, babe.”

  I pressed my lips together and turned on 15th.

  * * * * *

  My phone rang when we were on the sidewalk; I saw it said Tack Calling so I looked at Tracy.

  “Can you get us coffees? I have to take this.”

  She looked at my phone then at me then she nodded and headed toward The Market on Larimer.

  I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear.

  “Tack.”

  “Peaches, how long they give you?” he asked.

  “They didn’t,” I answered.

  There was silence then, “All right, babe, there’s bad news and that’s all I got.”

  My heart squeezed so I squeezed my eyes shut too to try to block out the pain.

  “What’s the bad news?” I whispered.

  “We went in soft to every place we know Roarke works dirty. We got nothin’. We’re outta leads.”

  Shit!

  I opened my eyes. “I know someone who’s a mortgage broker. He’s checking databases now. If he gets anything you haven’t got, can I feed it to you?”

  “Don’t wait, babe, get his ass on it and call me.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Later,” he replied then hung up.

  I looked down the street where Tracy had disappeared.

  Then I made a decision.

  I flipped my phone open and went to my text screen.

  Then I typed in, I can’t get to her but if you trade Hawk for me, you got Tack, Chaos MC, Hawk’s boys and probably Mitch Lawson who’ll find her and trade Ginger for me. No tricks. No joke. Him for me and you get Ginger. Deal?

  I hit send and stood on the sidewalk waiting. People might have passed but I didn’t notice. I just stood there staring at my phone.

  Then it chirped.

  I flipped it open.

  She’s at 83 Bannock. You get her, text. That’s the deal.

  Shit! How did I get my sister out of an FBI safe house?

  Shit!

  My phone chirped again and I looked down at it.

  Call off Chaos or you’ll get a body to bury.

  I closed my eyes.

  Then I opened them, flipped my phone shut, flipped my phone open and headed to my car as I called Tack.

  Tracy would find her way home. She’d be pissed but she’d find her way home. And that home wouldn’t be a penitentiary which was where I was headed.

  If I was lucky.

  I got Tack’s voicemail, left a message that called him off, flipped my phone shut, got in my car and headed to 83 Bannock.

  * * * * *

  I sat in my car on Bannock two houses down from 83, staring at it and thinking it was a rather nice house and didn’t look like a safe house at all. Not, of course, that I knew what safe houses looked like but still.

  I flipped my phone open and I went to my texts.

  I typed in, Before I do this, I want proof Hawk’s all right. No pictures. I want to hear his voice.

  Then I hit send.

  I sat again in suspended time as I stared at my phone.

  It rang, unknown caller, I sucked in breath, flipped it open and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hello,” I whispered.

  “Baby, do not do this shit,” Hawk growled in my ear and my eyes filled with tears as they closed.

  “I’m doing it, Cabe,” I whispered, the tears sliding down my cheeks.

  “Do not do it, Gwen.”

  “I’m drowning,” I was still whispering.

  “Gwen –”

  “In you and I don’t want to come up for air.”

  “Fuck. Baby –”

  I heard the phone jostle then a man told me, “Do it. Text.”

  Then I got dead air.

  My head hit the steering wheel but I didn’t feel it or see it. My eyes were still closed and tears were streaming down my face.

  Baby.

  That was burned on my brain too.

  Baby.

  “Oh God,” I whispered, opened my eyes and stared at my thighs. “If I pull this off, Ginger, please, please forgive me.”

  My breath hitched and it did it painfully, burning my throat.

  Baby, do not do this shit.

  Another sob tore from my throat.

  Do not do it, Gwen.

  My hands went to the steering wheel and held on.

  Do not do it…

  My fingers were curled around the steering wheel but I didn’t feel the wheel, I felt fingers curled around mine, my hand was little and they engulfed mine. In my mind, I looked up and saw Meredith with her wedding veil over her face smiling down at me.

  Her fingers squeezed mine, warm and tight.

  I felt my tears wet on my jeans.

  Shit. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t turn over my sister, my Dad and Meredith’s daughter for my man. I couldn’t do it.

  I let the steering wheel go and covered my face with my hands as the sobs burned up my throat, so powerful, they shook my shoulders.

  “Baby,” I cried into my hands that picture in the Polaroid all I could see against my closed eyelids. “Oh God, baby,” I whispered as my shoulders heaved.

  The passenger door flew open, my back shot straight, my head turned and t
hrough my tears I stared in stunned shock as Ginger jumped into the passenger seat.

  “What the –?” I breathed.

  “Drive!” she shouted.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Drive, bitch, drive!” she screamed.

  I blinked then straightened, turned the key in the ignition and shot from the curb.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Commando Woman Lesson One

  “Not my gig, Gwennie, but those shoes are hot,” Ginger said through a mouth full of Mustard’s Last Stand, Vienna beef, Chicago style, chili-cheese hotdog.

  Mustard’s Last Stand had always been Ginger’s favorite and that was where she wanted to go after escaping her protective custody safe house when she saw my car on the street with me sitting in it having a mental collapse. So I headed to University Boulevard, bought her a chili-cheese dog and then we drove to the Target parking lot on Colorado Boulevard so she could eat it. The whole time to and from, Ginger checked for a tail and declared we didn’t have one.

  I figured she would know so at least that was a relief.

  She had her dog in one hand, the Polaroid of me and Hawk in the other one and she was studying it.

  “Ginger, we need a plan,” I told her. “And I think the best plan we have is taking you straight to the police station. You can say you got a craving for Mustard’s and I’ll say I was just in the neighborhood having my annual nervous breakdown.”

  Her eyes slid to me and, again with her mouth full, she asked, “Are you high?”

  Okay, clearly that wasn’t a choice.

  “How about I rent you a car, get you some money, we go to my house and get you some clothes and then you drive to Canada,” I suggested.

  “Gwen, your clothes…” she trailed off and shook her head.

  “Okay, then we’ll go to the nearest biker babe and stripper shops and we’ll stock you up.”

  She glared at me then she stated, “It’s cold in Canada.”

  “It’s cold here,” I reminded her.

  “Yes, for a few months, it’s cold there all the time.”

  “It is not.”

  “It is too.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’m not going to Canada,” she snapped, took another bite and shoved the photo in my purse.

  “Don’t hurt my Polaroid!” I cried, my hand darting out to it to make sure she didn’t bend or scratch it. I pulled it out and inspected it, taking in a huge breath through my nostrils when I saw it was fine and then taking in another one when I saw the picture of Hawk laughing.

  Fuck.

  “Gwennie,” Ginger whispered and I carefully slid the picture safe into my purse and looked at her.

  “How about we go to Dad? Dad’ll have an idea.”

  “I can’t go to Mom and Dad. I shouldn’t be here with you and they’ve got your old man. This shit needs contained. It isn’t spreading any further.”

  Wow. It seemed like Ginger had spent her time in protective custody reflecting.

  Interesting.

  “We’re going to Tack,” she announced and I stared at her.

  “Ginger, honey, I hate to remind you of this but you owe the Chaos MC over two million dollars.”

  “Yeah, well, my partners on that job were Fresh and Skeet and they got their stupid jackasses caught kidnapping you before they were able to move that shit. It was hot. Tack and his boys were all over it. We couldn’t move it until it got cold, not custom built cars and a bike, no way and none of his shit either. That stuff surfaced, it would lead back to them, no one knew they were in on it and they’d be fucked. Fresh and Skeet share a brain cell so neither of them could open a safe even though they told me they could. I don’t know how to do that shit so all of it is sittin’ in one of Skeet’s sister’s storage units on Evans.”

  This was good news.

  “This is good news,” I told her.

  She shoved in the last bite of dog and then crumpled the messy wrapper and napkin, speaking again with mouth full. “I give you the location, you call it in to Tack, he sends boys out, they find that shit, I’m cool with Tack. Then we meet with him and you text Roarke. You tell them Tack is makin’ the switch.” I sucked in breath as she swallowed but before I could say anything, she kept talking. “If he can take my back after the switch is made, good. If he can’t…” she trailed off and shrugged.

  I stared at her.

  Then I asked, “Are you nuts?”

  “No, Gwen, I’m not nuts. You aren’t gettin’ anywhere near Roarke.”

  “Neither are you!” I fired back and her body jerked toward me.

  “Call Tack, set up the deal,” she ordered.

  “No, Ginger, I like the Canada plan,” I returned. “If you won’t do the police station plan, we should explore the Canada plan.”

  “Bitch, they got your old man,” she reminded me and my throat started burning again as tears stung my eyes.

  “I know,” I whispered, “and they’re not going to get you.”

  “They got your old man,” she repeated.

  “Stop it, Ginger, I know, okay? And they are not going to get you.”

  She slipped her hand in my purse and then the Polaroid was in my face. “Gwen, for fuck’s sake, they’ve got –”

  I snatched the picture from her and screamed, “I know!”

  Then I closed my eyes tight and looked away.

  Ginger was silent as I struggled with tears.

  Then I heard her whisper, “Gwennie, call Tack.”

  “No,” I whispered back.

  Then she did something she hadn’t done in years. So long, I forgot she used to do it but she did it all the time when we were young. She just added a new, sweet, sister nuance.

  I felt her hand curl around my neck and then I felt her forehead against the side of my hair as she sang a silly, nonsensical song she made up when she was three, “Gwennie, Gwennie, hennie, fennie, Gwennie, Gwennie, lennie, bennie, love my sissy… Gwennie.”

  A sob tore up my throat.

  I felt the Polaroid move gently in my hand before Ginger whispered, “You aren’t losin’ that because of me.”

  My neck twisted and our eyes, an inch apart, locked.

  “I love you, baby,” I whispered.

  “I know you do,” she whispered back. “Call Tack.”

  I sucked in breath. Then I asked, “You have to do this, don’t you?”

  “I’m not supposed to look out the windows, Gwen, they’ve been watchin’ me like…” she closed her eyes then opened them but didn’t finish what she was going to say, “The shift was about to change, they got a guy, he gets sloppy around shift change so I looked. I been lookin’ awhile to find my shot and I couldn’t believe I saw you. So I took it. And I took it because they can’t…” she shook her head. “They’ll get me, Gwen. Eventually, they’ll get me. They can’t keep me safe because, obviously, they can’t keep you safe. I started this and it’s gotta be me who ends it.”

  I stared at her. She was right.

  Shit.

  “I’ll call –” I started but both Ginger and my doors were yanked open.

  We separated and my head shot around to see a very good-looking Native American man lean in front of me and nab the keys out of the ignition. He had long hair pulled back into a ponytail and I knew exactly who he was. Vance Crowe, one of Lee Nightingale’s men.

  Shit!

  He pulled back but his eyes came to me as I heard Ginger cry out and felt her presence leave the car.

  “Lee wants a word,” Crowe stated. “You come or I drag you.”

  “Okey dokey,” I whispered, slid the picture in my purse, grabbed the strap and when his body pulled out of the frame, I exited the car.

  * * * * *

  Ginger and I, escorted by Vance Crowe and Luke Stark, entered the Nightingale Investigations offices.

  They were posh, all gleaming wood and bronze statues.

  Nice.

  “I can’t believe you ditched me!” Tracy screeched after I got
two feet in the door. I turned to look at her and she was advancing on me then she skidded to a halt when she saw Ginger. “Holy crap! You busted her out!” she yelled.

  “I didn’t bust her out. She escaped,” I replied.

  “Shee-it,” an African American woman with a very large afro and stunning tawny brown eyes was sitting behind the reception desk and staring at Ginger. “Little thing like you caused all this ruckus? Feds, cops, badasses, commandos all in a tizzy. Denver’s underground and overground spinnin’ like tops.” She smiled huge and nodded once before she finished with, “you go, girl.”

  Ginger grinned at her.

  I looked toward an inside door that had opened and Lee Nightingale and Jorge were coming out of it.

  “Smoke,” I whispered.

  “Thinkin’ we should count ourselves lucky you don’t clue in that Hawk still watches your every move, babe,” Jorge said to me. “And that means your every move. He’s got a tracking device on your car.”

  Shit.

  “And in your phone,” Jorge went on.

  Shit!

  “And we monitor your calls and texts,” he finished.

  Shit!

  “Okay,” I replied. “So if you monitor my texts, does this mean you’ve been looking for him since this morning?”

  “Lookin’ and findin’, Gwen,” Jorge returned. “Mighta went faster we didn’t have to keep your shit covered, you runnin’ around Denver, findin’ trouble.”

  My relief was so extreme, I felt lightheaded.

  “You found him?” I breathed.

  “Rescue mission is imminent and would be under way, we didn’t have to lock you and your sister down in Lee’s safe room to keep your shit out of trouble.”

  My relief fled as my eyes narrowed. “What did you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know, hit base and tell us Hawk was compromised?” Jorge shot back.

  Sarcasm.

  “I didn’t want you to go all commando and get him killed!” I yelled.

  “Part of Hawk’s business is K and R, babe,” Jorge informed me.

  “I don’t even know what that means,” I informed him back.

  “Kidnap and ransom, or, for Hawk, the R stands for rescue,” Jorge enlightened me.

  Wow. That was cool.

  “Really?” I whispered.

  “Jesus,” Luke Stark muttered.

  “Shirleen, make our guests comfortable,” Lee, clearly done with Jorge and my exchange, moved toward the outer door.