by Sam Cheever
Shaking his head, Osgood stood up from behind his desk and walked to the large window overlooking downtown Indianapolis. He shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered if he’d started something he wouldn’t be able to control.
“What do you want us to do?”
Osgood briefly considered telling the man to stand down. The last thing he wanted was to destroy the one thing that could change the world for the better, and make him an embarrassing amount of money in the process. There had to be a safer way to get hold of the girl. Though she’d proven to be rather elusive.
He stared down at the walkways far below. With a nasty storm brewing overhead and rain already speckling the sidewalks they were nearly empty. A single form walked resolutely down the street. It was a young woman, slim and sure, her stride eating up the blocks with purpose and energy. Watching her, he thought of Elena DeVitis and his stomach twisted with indecision. He really had no choice. If he didn’t get his hands on the girls soon...
Keeping his gaze on the walker far below, he finally responded. “I don’t care what it takes, kill Martin and bring her to me.”
Soft footsteps headed across the office and a moment later the door was pulled quietly open.
“Wait.” Osgood finally turned. He fixed the man at the door with an icy glare. “Another street teen has been killed.”
The man inclined his head. “I heard.”
“Do the police have any...suspects?”
“Not yet, no.”
Osgood moved to his desk, picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. A moment later, the man at the door said, “Sir?”
Osgood’s head whipped up, his gaze hard on the man. “If I find out you had anything to do with that...”
“I told you I was done with that kind of thing.” The man shrugged. “You’d do better to look at Gordon for those answers.”
Osgood grimaced with distaste. He had no trouble seeing Gordon DeVitis as the perpetrator of those killings. It would suit the man’s future plans perfectly. “Find out for sure if it’s him. If it is I’ll make sure the police learn the truth.”
The man at the door smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile. He inclined his head. “Of course.”
A moment later Osgood was alone with his thoughts. They were ugly and he’d have rather not been alone with them. Unfortunately events were speeding along like an out of control train and his best hope of getting what he wanted was to be the break in the track that would fling hundreds to their deaths. He hadn’t intended to do harm when he’d started along the path he currently walked. But there was only so much he could control. And those things he couldn’t...well...sometimes corrections were messy.
Sometimes they were heartbreaking.
CHAPTER NINE
The wind buffeted them, sending leaves from nearby trees skittering across the grassy strip of land stretched before them. Rain pinged against Nici’s skin and she was glad for the warm, if ugly pink, hoodie Franco had forced on her. She pulled the hood tighter and squinted up at the small plane coming toward them, its wings dipping and rising manically as the wind made the aircraft its bitch.
“Are you sure they’re safe?”
Unbelievably, Franco laughed. “Safe is not a word that guides Godric Honeybun when he’s in that plane. Some of the bravest people I know won’t fly with him.”
The plane dipped violently, its wings dancing on the erratic currents. “There’s no way he’s landing that without crashing.”
“He’s about to prove you wrong.” Franco grinned down at her. “And I can promise you he’s having the time of his life right now.”
All she could do was watch in horror as the plane danced toward the grassy landing strip. The rain started to fall harder, sending tiny bullets of moisture into her eyes and making it harder to keep her face turned upward. Nici shielded her eyes with her hand and watched with a horrified fascination as the plane approached the ground. Ten feet from touching down, its right wing dipped so steeply it sheared off the top of an errant dandelion plant and Nici yelped, sure she was about to watch the pilot die in a violent, fiery death.
But somehow Honeybun managed to straighten the wings and, against all odds, settled the small plane onto the runway and held it through several heart-stopping hops and skips along the slippery grass airstrip.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured as rain and wind buffeted her mercilessly.
Franco laughed. “I told you. The man’s an evil genius with a plane.”
She shook her head, grinning. “Just the same, I’d rather enjoy his genius from the ground.”
“Can’t say I disagree with you on that,” Franco said.
A moment later the plane slowed enough to turn and taxi in their direction. It stopped several feet away, in the center of the landing strip, and the door opened. A man wearing a starched white button down shirt and charcoal gray slacks squinted out at them and waved. “Come on, get inside.”
Franco started forward and stopped when he realized she wasn’t following. He offered her a hand. “We’re not going up with them. I promise.”
She twisted her fingers nervously for a beat and then reluctantly allowed him to propel her forward. The man in the doorway lowered a set of stairs and they quickly ascended into the plane.
The auburn haired man pulled Franco into a hug, giving him the requisite three slaps on the back, man style. “It’s good to see you again, Martin.”
“It’s been too long, Honeybun.”
The plane started to move and Nici felt her eyes go wide. “Um, why are we moving?”
The two men shared a grin. “Don’t worry, pretty lady, Godric’s just taxying us to the side. We need to clear the runway.”
“Yeah,” Franco laughed, “Because I’m sure there’s some other fool who’s just itchin’ to land in this soup.”
“Don’t be such a pansy, Martin,” a deep voice called from the front of the plane. Nici turned to see a handsome, red-haired man reaching out of the tiny cockpit to shake Franco’s hand.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Franco told the pilot.
Godric Honeybun laughed. “I have mad skills. What can I say?”
“And raging humility,” the other man said with a roll of his eyes.
Franco touched her arm. “Nicola Roche, this is my friend Alfric Honeybun. Alf, this is Nic, Elena’s sister.”
Alfric took her hand in a firm, warm grip, his eyes widening. “Oh my god! I thought this was Elena.”
“No. Elena’s still missing. And we’re worried about her.”
Alfric frowned, motioning for Nici to sit down. “What can we do to help?”
“If Brita could put out some feelers I’d be grateful.”
“Of course. I’ll do the same.”
“Who’s Brita?” Nici asked.”
“Brita Muldane is the sister of my heart.” When Nici gave him a confused frown, Alf smiled. “She’s our oldest brother’s honey but she’s been around so long she feels like part of the family.”
“Brita’s a cop,” Franco added.
“Ah,” Nici responded, nodding.
The plane rocked to a stop and, after punching some buttons and pulling some switches, the man Nici assumed was Godric climbed out of his seat and came to join them. He shook Nici’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Roche.”
Nici nodded, speechless. Seeing the brothers standing side by side was nearly enough to make a lesser woman swoon. She was glad to be sitting down. They were big men, built strong but not bulky. Both had dark red hair but Alf’s was cut businessman short and Godric’s was longer, curling just over the tops of his ears. Alf had a sensual blue gaze and Godric’s eyes were gray, deep set and sexy as hell.
“Tell us what’s going on, Franco.”
Her bodynapper shook his head. “I wish I knew, Alf. The Foundation seems to be on a new tear. Something must have broken in their research. Something big. I’m guessing they’re more desperate than ever to force Gordon’s hand.”
; “And you think they have Elena?”
Franco scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I hope not. But it’s been days now since anybody in the family laid eyes on her.”
Alf nodded. “And now they’re going after Nicola?”
“Nici, please?” She gave the big red-head a shy smile when he glanced her way. “I’ve never gone by Nicola.”
“Nici it is.” His smile set off a physical reaction in her body that brought a flush to her cheeks.
“Either that or they think she’s Elena,” Franco said, giving her a speculative stare.
Alf thought about Franco’s statement for a moment. “I have someone inside The Foundation. She’s only been there about a year so she’s not privy to anything important yet, but I’ll have her do some careful research, see if there’s any sign that Elena might be there.”
“That would be great.”
“Glad to help. Is there anything I can do for you two?” Alf asked.
“We need to go dark for a while.”
“You need a safe house?” Alf asked.
“Yes. As far off the books as possible.”
Alf narrowed his gaze on Franco. “Does this mean you don’t trust Gordon? From what I understand he’s got safe spots around the world.”
“I trust Gordon.” Though he didn’t elaborate, Nici got the impression he’d left a lot unsaid.
Alf nodded. “You have a gun?”
“I dumped everything. Somebody’s been able to find us a couple of times so I wasn’t taking any chances. I’ll find a guy who can sell me something under the counter.”
Alf reached around and pulled a gun from the small of his back, handing it to Franco.
“Thanks, man.”
“About that safe house,” Godric said, “What about Sugarbear? That’s about as far off the books as you can get.”
When Franco frowned a question, Alf explained. “It’s a cabin down South. We had kind of an adventure there once...”
Godric shook his head. “My advice is to never take part in a reenactment in the boonies.”
“Or traipse around in a loin cloth,” Alf added on a laugh. “Although I understand the ladies loved it.”
His brother glared at him. “There were supposed to be pants under that loin cloth. Dolfe stole them.”
“As wild and crazy as that sounds...” Franco said, his gaze sparking with humor.
“Right. This cabin was a rental and, after our adventure, Godric bought it.”
Godric shrugged. “Sentimental value.”
Nodding, Alf went on. “He paid cash so there’s no paper trail. We figured it might come in handy someday.”
“With you guys, that’s a pretty safe bet,” Franco agreed.
Godric slapped him on the arm. “And yet, look who’s using it first.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“While I’ve got you here,” Alf said with a frown. “Brita’s on the task force to find this serial killer.”
Franco nodded. “The street kids, yeah. Horrible.”
“With the disease connection, she was wondering if Gordon might be able to help.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to. Unfortunately, he’s pretty twisted up about Elena having gone missing and now...” He glanced at Nici and let his words trail off.
“It’s not a good time, I know. But six kids have been killed. If he could help in any way Brita would be grateful.”
“She’s tried to contact him?”
“She has. But you know the army of people between Gordon and the public. She’s five layers in and she’s still only talking to his assistant’s assistant’s assistant.”
“I’ll talk to him. And as soon as things settle down I’d be happy to help, in a consulting role.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”
Franco crossed his arms over his chest. “You know Pam Waters thinks Gordon’s the one killing them?”
“Yeah,” Alf sighed. “I think she’s way off base. But I can see why they’d have to do the work. They need to scratch him off the suspect list.”
Godric handed Franco a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it. “This is the cabin. You’ll need to stock up with food and stuff. I’m afraid it might be a little rough. We haven’t been up there for a few months. You’ll need to put that code into the keypad inside the door.”
“No worries. I’m really grateful for the place.” Franco pulled Alf into another man-hug and Nici said her goodbyes.
As they were descending the stairs to a much more intense rain, Alf stopped them. “How can I reach you if we learn something about Elena?”
Franco pulled out his burner phone and read off the number to his friend. “Thanks again, Honeybun. I owe ya one.”
Alf snorted out a laugh. “Bro, I got into a plane with this maniac on a stormy day. You owe me a lot more than one! Talk to you soon.”
###
Franco left Nici sleeping in the car while he checked out the cabin. He grabbed the Glock Alf had given him and held it as he located the key, hidden in a fake rock under a bush, and let himself quietly into the place. It smelled musty and the air inside was cold despite the warmth of recent weather, but there were no signs that anybody had used the place to squat and no vandalism he could see. He quickly punched the alarm code in and went back outside.
Nici was out of the car stretching and blinking sleepily.
He pressed the button to open the trunk of the nondescript gray four door sedan he’d rented and grabbed the grocery bags.
“Here, let me help,” she told him, yawning behind her hand.
Franco handed her several plastic bags and then grabbed the Goodwill bags and closed the trunk. She shivered as she entered the cabin and Franco decided the first order of business was a fire. “I’ll build the fire if you can put the groceries away.”
“Sure. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”
“Sounds great.” He grabbed the log carrier and stood, turning toward the back door. His gaze caught on her, stretching to put a box of cereal into a high cabinet. The hoodie fell open and he caught a glimpse of sweet flesh rounding out from the armhole of the thin tank she wore. Just like that desire flared, hitting him hard. The sudden need sapped air from his lungs and twisted a coil deep in his gut. When she shoved a dark ribbon of hair out of her face, the coil tightened even more, and he had a sudden memory of how sweet her hair smelled, and the soft scent of roses rising from the velvet of her skin.
She closed the cabinet door and stilled as if she felt him watching. Franco forced himself to turn away. “I’m going to find some firewood.” He walked over and placed the Glock on the counter. “You hold onto this. Just in case.”
She met his gaze and he saw awareness swirling in her eyes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from her nap and there was an adorable wrinkle on one cheek from where she’d rested it against the edge of her hood as she slept. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and reached for another bag. “I’ll be right here when you come back.”
Something in the way she said it made him hesitate. “You sure about that?”
She nodded. “I won’t lie. I considered taking off at the earliest opportunity. But since I have no flippin’ idea where we are, I might need to give that a day or two.” Her lush lips turned upward in a cocky smile and he found himself chuckling. “Honesty. I like it.”
She shrugged. “If you and I are going to work together, trust is the first thing we’ll need to build.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be back.” As Franco slipped through the back door, he couldn’t help thinking that trust might be the second thing they built. Because he was already building some real heat for her. And he wasn’t at all sure how he was going to deal with it. Nothing had changed. His boss’s daughter was off limits. And he didn’t think she would welcome his feelings anyway.
He expelled a frustrated breath and took off across the yard. The night was noisier than he’d expected. Crickets and bullfrogs sang a lusty tune as he prowled the area, lookin
g for a stack of cut wood they could burn. The yard stretched back a ways from the house, ringed by dense woods, and a pond glistened softly under the light of the moon. He walked out onto a short dock and stood looking at the water, enjoying the way the wind whipped the surface in gentle whorls.
In the morning he’d look for fishing gear. Some fresh fish for dinner would be just the thing. Franco smiled, enjoying the thought despite the danger lurking around them. He reluctantly turned away from the water and returned to the yard. He’d just spotted the tall, easily-recognizable form of a wood rack at the edge of the trees when Nic’s scream sliced through the air. His head jerked around at the terrified sound and he saw the muffled bloom of gunfire through the glass in the back door. He took off running, his heart pounding with fear.
He hit the door so hard it creaked on its hinges and threw himself into the cabin, keeping low until he knew where the danger would originate.
He was panting, his gaze flying around the space, when he found Nicola, her eyes wide and the Glock still clutched in her hand. She appeared to be alone. He slowly straightened, his heart beating fast and hard. “Did you shoot somebody?”
She pressed her lips together and for a moment he thought she was going to cry. But then she barked out a laugh. “You should have seen yourself. You went all MMA with nobody to tackle.”
He frowned. “Please tell me you didn’t just stage that to punk me?”
She was laughing so hard he was starting to worry about the gun in her hand. “You might want to put that down now.”
She reached out and dropped it on the counter, stumbling backward and holding her belly.
He glared. “It isn’t funny. You scared ten years off my life.”
She swiped her hands under her eyes to dry the tears. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t punking you, really.”
He moved closer, his pulse still pounding through his body and adrenalin making him jumpy. “Then what the hell was all that?”
She pointed to the floor near the sink, the smile finally replaced by a grimace. A long form lay twisted and torn on the tile. A snake. A damn big one too. “Holy crap. Where did that come from?”
She shook her head. “I put the milk in the fridge and closed the door, that’s when I heard the rattle.”
