by Isabel Wroth
Patti nodded quickly, a pinched, but determined look on her face. “I don't like involving the authorities unless the women here ask me to, but I get how serious this all is, so I'll take that number. Do what you need to do; I'm going to go upstairs and make sure everyone stays put.”
She left without another word, and when Dillon could no longer see her, they headed for the bathroom.
Nasa looked to her with a lift of his chin. “Where do you want to start?”
He could have completely taken charge and started to give her orders, telling Dillon where he thought she should look, but he respected this was her house. Dillon hadn't felt valued or respected much in her life, and to experience it regularly caused more than a fair amount of shock and awe.
“You check up under the sinks; I'll do the toilets.”
He nodded, reaching into his cut—with its many supply laden pockets—to hand her a pair of blue hospital gloves. “Put those on first.”
Dillon accepted them with a sage nod, biting into her cheek as she turned away to keep from laughing. All she could think about was the day she'd come back to Austin and how vehemently he'd spouted statistics on germs and public bathrooms.
He'd made her smile then too, even as scared as she'd been.
Now, as Dillon lifted the tanks off the toilets, searching for the magic key to unlock the mystery of why the Leviathans wanted her and Rachel so badly, she couldn't wait to get back home to the compound with Nasa.
A glance over her shoulder showed him crouched down with a small flashlight, carefully studying the underside of each sink before moving onto the next.
She hadn't actually said the words back to him, and even though they crowded on the tip of her tongue, she held back for some reason.
The bathroom wasn't exactly the place to declare her feelings and certainly not the place to physically express them.
Although, the idea of a hurried bout of sex flavored with the thrill of getting caught—surprisingly—got her hot and bothered.
Who knew she had an exhibitionist streak?
She had a job to do, and even as she got to it, Dillon thought about all the many ways they could utilize a public bathroom for their pleasure.
Nasa already proved to her several times over how creative he could get, and still, the vision of them getting it on while wearing hazmat suits danced across her thoughts.
Dillon didn't realize she'd laughed out loud until Nasa's gritty voice echoed from under the sinks.
“What's funny?”
She shook her head as she lifted the lid off the toilet tank, searching the watery depths for whatever it was they were here for. “I was thinking about public bathrooms and the convenience of hazmat suits.”
“I wouldn't call them convenient.” He grunted, boots squeaking on the tile. “They're baggy as fuck; the good ones are made of Teflon and PVC, so you’re sweating your balls off in there, and you're wearing an oxygen tank with a full face mask to be able to breathe.
“If you're really going to utilize a public toilet while wearing one, you'd have to unzip the suit, thereby breaking the sterile barrier.”
Not finding anything inside the toilet tank or taped to the non-visible areas, she moved onto the next stall. Her smile was so wide it actually hurt her face a little.
“It would probably make a lot of noise too, huh?”
“It would be impossible to sneak up on anyone while wearing one,” he told her seriously.
Good to know. “Do you think the Leviathans actually sent one of their women in here?”
Nasa shrugged, bending under the last sink. “Honestly? If I was an amoral piece of shit who wanted in here, it's what I would do. You finding anything?”
Dillon shook her head as she finished checking the fourth stall. She turned around to sit on the toilet, putting aside her desire for a quickie in the bathroom in favor of trying to imagine herself in Rachel's place.
The poor kid had three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder that had been reset, bone-deep bruises, both eyes nearly swollen shut, and a cast around her badly broken wrist.
Stashing something under the sinks would have required Rachel to kneel, which would have caused her problems when getting up, and anyone could have walked in on her. She'd have needed a screwdriver to get the floor vent off, and the grate was an antique lattice style, which wouldn't allow for anything wider than a pencil to fit through.
“What are you thinking?” Nasa asked, and Dillon blinked to find him leaning against the open stall door with a curious frown on his face.
She shook her head, sharing with him how limiting Rachel's injuries would have been.
“From the time stamp on the security feed, Rachel was in here for almost eight minutes, and at one point, Patti poked her head in, probably to ask if Rachel was okay.
“If she'd been bent over the vent or trying to hide something under a sink, Patti would have seen her. Rachel had to be in one of the stalls, and there wasn't anything on or in the toilet themselves.
"So, I'm sitting here trying to think about how I'd untie my shoe with three broken ribs and a broken wrist and where I'd put whatever it is I needed to hide.”
Nasa nodded in agreement, his gaze roaming around the cubicle. “If it was me, I'd use my foot to work off my shoe, then pick it up off the floor with my good hand.
"Putting it back on would be easier with the laces untied, and by then I'd probably be close to passing out from the pain, so I wouldn't bother to lace my boot back up.”
“Yeah,” Dillon agreed, glancing at the toilet paper holder. No place to stash in there. The bin for tampons and sanitary napkins got emptied out daily, so any item found would be thrown away immediately. Not an ideal spot.
The only other place to put something, was the metal dispenser where the toilet seat covers hung on the back of the wall.
Feeling a rush of excitement, Dillon stood up and turned to face it, noticing the dispenser was nearly empty. “The key to open these is in the supply closet. I'll get it.”
“No need,” Nasa told her, offering her a multi-tool with a smile.
Dillon took it with a shake of her head, turning around to face the wall. It was a calculated move on her part to stay where she was with her feet on either side of the toilet, hips tilted to press back into his groin as she leaned forward.
“You're the tallest, sexiest boy scout I've ever met.”
His hands were on her waist in an instant, holding her steady against the hard bar of his cock. “As soon as we're home, expect to replay this moment in our bathroom.”
The seductive promise in his voice made her hand shake a little as she set the pronged tool to the keyhole and opened the first dispenser.
“Looking forward to it.”
In the fourth dispenser, hanging in the handicap stall, Dillon found a flash drive. With a yip of excitement, she turned around and triumphantly held it up to show Nasa. He pressed a quick, hard kiss on her and pulled a tablet from one of his many pockets.
“Yes!” he hissed, and plugged it in. A window popped up to show the download process, and Dillon found herself holding her breath as the green bar got closer to the finish line.
At ninety-two percent, Elka gave a low woof that made the hair on Dillon's arms stand up. Patti would have announced herself, called out at the very least.
When she met Nasa's gaze, her stomach gave a hard twist. She saw certainty there, a hard, glittering coldness that should have made the air fog in front of her face.
“You can come out. I know you found it,” a familiar voice said, echoing like the whisper of Death on the tiled walls. “And by the way, I didn't put tranq darts in my gun this morning, so if I have to shoot your dog, Duchess, I'm aiming to kill.”
Panic rushed over her skin like the kiss of liquid nitrogen. Dillon struggled for a full breath, trying to hold on and stay present.
It barely registered that the download had finished, but after Nasa pocketed the flash drive and the tablet both, he palmed the
back of her head. He pressed his lips to her ear, his voice barely loud enough to understand.
“Stay with me, Tiger Lily. We'll get out of this together if you stay with me.” Dillon nodded, clinging to the sound of his voice, trying hard to absorb the calm and control he projected. He kissed her cheek and gave her a hard squeeze.
“Good girl. You stay behind me, no matter what. Trust me.”
Mouth dry, Dillon let him step out of the stall first. He held his hands up, and Dillon followed him out when he waved his fingers at her.
“You piece of shit, how the hell did you get in here?” Nasa demanded immediately, seemingly completely unconcerned by the dark-haired man facing them down with a sinister black pistol aimed squarely at Nasa's chest.
It took all the courage Dillon had to look at him directly. At Ghost.
In every way, he was unremarkable. About six feet tall, of average build and weight, muscular but not overly so.
His black tee matched his black cargo pants; his belt, gloves, and boots all a matte black leather. His skin tone was a deep golden brown with faint tan lines on his face from where he'd been wearing sunglasses.
His face looked nothing like Dillon remembered it, and while Nasa told her Andrew Stanfield's eyes were a unique greenish blue, the man before them had brown eyes. Brown, and every bit as lifeless as they'd been the day he sat down beside Dillon in the hospital.
Ghost extended his thumb and index finger to point up at the ceiling. “There's a pipe strong enough for a hard point on the roof. I rappelled down late last night and got in through the window in the third-floor supply closet. Hello, Duchess.”
That voice, it echoed across her memories and made her stomach churn as she fought back the fear. Dillon dragged in an unsteady breath, the scent of Nasa's soap filled her lungs, steadying her every bit as much as the feel of his belt where it bit into her hand.
“Hi, John,” she managed to force from between her clumsy feeling lips.
The smile Ghost gave in answer was hideous, like some caricature or a monster out of a movie. Slap some white paint on his face, smear some blood-red lipstick from one ear to the other, and he could audition for the scariest clown in cinema history.
“Do I remind you of someone, Dillon?”
“Do not speak to her,” Nasa bit out viciously. “Don't even fucking look at her. After what you did, I should—”
Ghost cut Nasa off with a hard glare. “What I did was save her life and send her to you. You're welcome. Now, I'm going to need that flash drive, Nasa, and don't play games with me. Not today.”
“What, you got a date?” Nasa snarled.
“Sure. We can call it that. The USB, now, or I'll shoot you both and take it off your corpse. Which would be a shame considering all the effort I've put into keeping you alive.”
Dillon sucked in a shallow breath, struggling to stop trembling like a freaking leaf. She had a gun, and she had a dog waiting for one word to burst into action. She could do something to stop this.
He’s just a man, and men can die, Dillon repeated the mantra over and over in her head, letting it settle over her and bring her calm. Today was not the day she died, and Nasa wasn't going down either.
“You go right ahead and shoot me, fucker,” Nasa challenged coldly. “The sound of the shot will echo twice as loud inside this tiled bathroom, the shelter manager upstairs will hit the panic button, and the entire building will go into lockdown. You can try for that window again, but every door in this place is set in a magnetized steel frame.
“Soon as that panic button gets hit, the doors close, and you'll be trapped in here with us until the calvary arrives.
"Shoot, and let's see you try to talk your way out of jail again when the cops hand over the security footage to the FBI.”
Ghost's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, annoyance briefly flashing across his face. “I'd call you a liar, but considering the lengths the Duchess went to in order to fortify her home, I believe you.”
“How did you get into my house?” Dillon asked, unable to suffer the curiosity any longer.
Ghost turned his dead eyes back to her and smirked. It wasn't even a real smile, just a mockery his face made in order to appear human. “I deployed a quick EMP charge and used a big magnet to unlock the deadbolts.”
An electromagnetic pulse would have been enough to temporarily short out her system, and it wouldn't have registered as a power outage since the house used only solar.
For some reason, Dillon found herself staring at the gun Ghost held, and it wasn't long before she noticed it looked familiar.
“Is that my Firestar?”
Ghost tipped the barrel down just slightly to glance at it and shrugged. “I figured if I had to shoot anyone to get back what's mine, all the better if the cops were looking at your stolen—unreported—registered weapon.”
Son of a diabolical bitch!
“You prick,” Nasa hissed furiously. “Tell me you're on assignment, working for some arm of the government, and you're taking down the Leviathans from the inside. Tell me you killed Andrew Stanfield to take his place after Stanfield raped Susan and ripped her apart while Pike watched.
“Tell me why you didn't go through with killing all of the people who called you their brother and that you've got Wren stashed somewhere safe until you're done with this case.
“Tell me all that, tell me the truth, and not only will I give you what I found, you can walk out of here with no resistance from me, and I won't continue to fuck around with the Leviathans or continue my mission to hunt you down and rip your fucking head off.”
Dillon waited, watching Ghost tilt his head to the side and give another one of his incredibly creepy smiles.
“Would you believe me if I did? And put your hands down already. Even if you go for your piece, you won't get a shot off in time.”
Nasa dropped his hands and planted them on his hips. “Considering I've got evidence to back up what I'm asking, yeah. I'll believe you.”
Ghost blinked. Just one sharp snap of his eyelids, but the energy in the room changed. Intensified, practically crackling with static. “I gather you've shared all this evidence with the family?” She heard Nasa inhale to answer, but Ghost clicked his tongue and dismissively waved his gun at them. “Dumb question. Of course, you have.”
The monster who starred in so many of her nightmares heaved a frustrated sigh, never taking his eyes off them. She needed one opportunity, one split second to draw and fire under Nasa's arm.
“I see you back there scheming, Duchess. One wrong move from you, and I'll drop your dog and your boyfriend before you can finish making it.”
She wanted to kick herself, realizing that asshole could see all of her reflected in the bathroom mirrors.
“In fact, why don't you reach around my good buddy here and lace your fingers together over his belly, hmm?”
Grinding her teeth, Dillon obeyed, not realizing how shallow her breaths had been until she put her arms around Nasa's waist, and he reached down to cover her hands with one of his.
For a brief moment, she turned her face away from the mirrors so Ghost couldn't see, resting her cheek on Nasa's shoulder to focus on filling her lungs with enough air to keep her from passing out.
“Good. Now then, I've got a counteroffer for you. One of my girls is upstairs with the rest of the women, and she very convincingly blends in, thanks to the overzealousness of my men.
"She was instructed to find my thumb drive for me but assured me she'd looked everywhere she could possibly get to without getting kicked out.
“However, she did a thorough canvas and made me a detailed map of the building, and helpfully opened that window for me.
"In exchange, I gave her a backpack full of C-4 with a very simple push-button detonator because I like to be prepared.
“I really was shocked to hear your voice today, Nasa, but it makes me feel so much better to know all I have to do is send her a text, and the whole building will blow.”
Imagining all the innocent people upstairs being blown to bits over a flash drive, it took her seconds to go from being terrified and struggling to not hyperventilate, to stone cold rage.
Ghost made a careless sound. “I am aware. So, here's the one and only deal: You asked me quite a few questions, Nasa, and I'm feeling generous. You're only going to get three truthful answers out of me. Pick wisely.
“When we're done with our Q & A, the Duchess will reach into whatever pocket you've got my thumb drive stashed in, toss it to me, and empty the rest of your pockets into one of the sinks along with whatever weapons you both have.
“Then, you're going to walk me to the door while Dillon stays up here with her dog. I'll leave and text my girl upstairs.
"She'll happily give you the backpack, and we'll all walk away and call it a day. None of the kids or their mommies ever need know this was all going down inside a place they're supposed to feel safe in.”
Nasa didn't immediately respond, but when he squeezed her elbows, Dillon nodded. If there was even a remote possibility Ghost was telling the truth, they didn't have a choice.
“Fine,” Nasa bit out coldly. “Where's Wren?”
“I knew you'd go for that one first.” Ghost chuckled, the sound as hollow and unsettling as tree branches knocking against the window on a dark, stormy night.
“Wren is alive and well, and I have no plans to harm a single hair on her head. One down.”
“Did you kill Stanfield and take his place before or after he killed Susan and Pike?”
“After,” Ghost stated without any further elaboration. “Two.”
Dillon counted five thundering beats of her heart before Nasa spoke again, “You could have killed Dillon when you busted into her place. Why send her to me instead?”
Ghost didn't immediately answer the question, and truth be told, she was surprised—out of everything Nasa could have asked—that question was his last.
