by Nico Rosso
“No doubt.” Why the hell did she have to be part of this bastard gang?
“No doubt.” Her smile grew, then disappeared completely.
The voices from the kitchen migrated back to the other living room, where the video game resumed. Marcos had been running with this crew a couple months before they turned on him. There was a possibility he’d been in this house, playing these games. Arash could tell her, right now, about what had happened to his friend. That could change how she feels about Olesk and the STR. She could get out of here before it’s too late. Or maybe she already knew. He didn’t want to believe Stephanie wouldn’t care that these people she now drove with were murderers. But he couldn’t count on the glimmers of her ethic pushing her loyalty completely to him.
Arash and Stephanie ate without talking. The frozen meal lost all flavor after the first few bites, but he continued on. When they finished, he took the plates to the overfilled trash in the kitchen before rummaging in the cupboards. Stephanie came in and he slid a package of cookies across the island toward her. “Dessert,” he said, wanting her more than the cookies.
She took one and he looked away before he had to watch her take a bite. But he turned his gaze back to her, defying himself and testing his temptation. Her mouth would be sweet with the sugar. She had a little smile. It flickered when she saw him assessing her. She stared back. He pulled a handful of cookies from the package and stepped to her. “The next time you want to kiss me, do it,” he said. Yes, the attraction with Stephanie was twisting things way more complicated than he could unknot. But he couldn’t ignore it. “And make sure you don’t have any plans for the next few hours.”
She stared back at him, the heat of desire shimmering behind her cool exterior. Neither moved any closer. She nodded slowly, hands resting on the island. Those fingers would feel so good along his neck and through his hair. He could take her in his arms, lift her up and hold her against him.
He nodded back and left the kitchen. The games continued in the living room as he passed it. No one fired any comments his way. He mounted the stairs and walked to his room alone.
Behind the closed door, he listened to the rush of blood in his ears. The fight with Thom wasn’t enough. Olesk flashing his pistol definitely changed the game. Arash would have to take that into account and any other unseen variables when he finally made his move.
The most deadly variable, the one that could wreck him as he hurdled toward revenge, was Stephanie.
Chapter Eight
Stephanie had prepared herself for sleeping under the same roof as criminals. She had her pistol and her knife, and knew how to jam her door using the buckle from her bag’s strap. It was part of the mission, a means to ending the Seventh Syndicate’s human trafficking. But she hadn’t prepared herself for sleeping under the same roof as a man she’d kissed. A man whose heat still resonated where he’d touched her and left her wanting and hungry in the places he hadn’t.
Olesk had said they could settle into this area for a while, but she packed her bag anyway, ready to move, before heading downstairs the next morning. It took a few steps for her to coordinate her body. She’d had enough sleep on the mattress on the floor in order to operate, but she didn’t feel rested. Any small noise had woken her during the night. And every few minutes, fevered thoughts of Arash sleeping just down the hall would rush through her with cold fire. In a much better world, she would’ve exchanged the pistol in her bed for another companion.
She was the first one in the kitchen. Empty bottles and the demolished package of cookies from the night before were still on the island. She cleared enough space to prepare her breakfast but stopped before collecting any food. The new sun hadn’t broken through the pewter clouds outside the window. It seemed as if a metal lid had been slammed down on top of the world. No escape.
Muted footsteps on the carpeted stairs pushed her into motion. From what she could find, the only available breakfast was cold cereal and drip coffee. She prepped the coffee maker, not bothering to wash the pot, just rinsing out the stale, tinny dregs from the day before. Arash eased into the kitchen, hair down, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
The same cold fire that had woken her through the night flashed again. It intensified as he neared. His face was surly, but a softness remained in his eyes as he looked at her. A wry smile curled. “Next time,” he said, “I’m joining a gang of interior decorators and chefs.”
She pulled two clean cereal bowls from a cupboard and slid them onto the island. “A mattress on the floor is very avant-garde.” The refrigerator had several cartons of soy and almond milk. She cracked open a fresh one.
“It’s a damn pain.” He flexed his back and gave her an all-too-good view of the expanse of his chest and shoulders. “Thanks for getting the coffee going.” He put two mugs on the counter.
“Don’t thank me and don’t blame me.” She looked over the selection of cereals and picked the one with the least amount of sugar. The coffee dripped and smelled good enough to tempt her to filling a cup.
“You stayed up?” Arash topped off a bowl with cereal and stood by the coffee maker as it sputtered.
Watching him ascend the stairs last night had been a particular kind of torture. His gravity had pulled at her, as if it would’ve been easier to rise with him into a private space where they could explore more than just the one kiss. Her body tried to convince her it was the right thing to do, but she knew it would only make things far more complicated. She’d rooted her feet to the ground and locked her muscles. “Had to stay and watch those asses lose to Ellie a while longer.”
“I’ll be sure not to play against her.”
“You’re smarter than I thought.” Ellie walked into the kitchen wearing a concert T-shirt from a punk band, her hair and makeup already on point.
Arash poured his coffee. “Most ladies think I’m all wrench and no brains.” He swaggered to the table by the window with his food. Stephanie remained on the other side of the kitchen. Even when she turned her back to prepare her coffee, the pull to him remained.
Ellie worked around her, collecting a bowl and a mug. “We have a toaster, I’ll see about some bread and butter today.”
“Sounds civilized.” Stephanie toasted Ellie with her mug of coffee.
“Only the finest, love.” Ellie dived into her bowl of cereal. Stephanie ate next to her. The clouds outside remained solid gray. Beneath them, Arash hunched over his breakfast. He faced the main path into the kitchen and paused to stare at Hector and Thom as they entered. Neither man acknowledged him and he resumed eating as soon as they went about their breakfast business. Ellie spoke to the room. “I’m walking you through the next stage of the van projects today.”
“Engine or body mods?” Stephanie asked.
“Today’s body,” Ellie answered. “But you’re on another detail.” She glanced up to where Olesk walked into the kitchen. “Right? Stephanie’s behind the wheel?”
Stephanie’s gut clenched with the unexpected news, but she kept her exterior smooth. “What’s the detail?”
Olesk poured his coffee. Arash didn’t move and watched intently. After stirring his coffee and tossing the plastic spoon in the trash, Olesk turned to Stephanie. “We have a client who needs a driver. In town only. I’m taking you in to pick up the car after breakfast.”
She’d heard the STR did this kind of work and was prepared. But the idea of leaving Arash alone on the compound was unexpectedly distressing. He hadn’t backed down from any conflicts with Thom, and things could escalate quickly. It also meant she’d be heading into the unknown without the only ally she had in this mess. “Are we pulling a job? Do I need to plan escape routes and contingencies?”
“Nah.” Olesk waved off the idea. “There was no mention of it and the contract price doesn’t cover it. If he escalates to that, feel free to negotiate a new rate.”
“Sounds good.” At least her jo
b of gaining their trust was going well.
“Sweet. Five minutes.” Olesk took his coffee out of the kitchen, and Ellie followed him.
Hector asked Thom as they collected their breakfasts, “How much do you love body work?”
“More than I love your mother,” Thom grumbled.
“Nobody gets to say anything about mi madre.” Hector cocked his head with a casual smile.
Thom screwed up his face, disbelieving. “It was a joke.”
“I hate clowns.” Hector carried his food toward the table where Arash sat. Arash got up before he arrived and passed both men on the way to the sink.
When he was next to her, Arash spoke under his breath, “Careful out there.”
She nodded. The pistol was already holstered and hidden by her jacket. “Careful in here,” she whispered.
He turned and locked eyes with her. This was trouble. The same electricity between them that had preceded the kiss. Like lightning before the tornado. It would take less than a step to close the distance. Just one touch to reassure he was looking out for her, and for her to tell him she didn’t want him hurt. Neither moved. Arash winked at her and smiled with wicked confidence.
Their gazes broke when he spun and walked toward the mudroom. “We doing this or what?” He rallied the house. Hector kept eating and Thom flipped him off. Arash didn’t break stride and disappeared behind the mudroom door.
A moment later, she saw him walking outside the house. He clutched his collar tight as what looked like a cold wind pushed his hair back. Hector spotted him, too, and waved with ironic exaggerated joy. Thom just sneered. Arash gave them the finger and proceeded toward the two white passenger vans parked near the barn where they had torn down the car yesterday.
Ellie breezed through the kitchen. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get to the engines.” That energized Hector and Thom to leave their dirty bowls on the table and follow her into the mudroom.
Olesk stood on the other side of the kitchen, keys jingling in his hand. “Ready?”
She had to be ready. No matter what was coming, it was taking her one step closer to her goal. “Let’s go.”
The wind outside was as cold as it had looked. The clouds continued to clamp down on the sunlight, diffusing the shadows and softening the landscape. Olesk wove through the selection of cars at the front of the house until he reached a bland four-door sedan. He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine before she was fully into the passenger seat. “Twenty minutes,” he said, checking his watch.
She heard the rolling door of the cargo truck open behind the house, then closed her own door as Olesk stood on the gas. Dirt and gravel sprayed out behind the car as it jumped forward. She shouldn’t have been surprised his ordinary car hid a supercharged engine. They sped down the driveway toward the road. She might never make it back to this compound. Or if she did, she might never see Arash again. That was the kind of people she was dealing with. Death came faster than the firing of a spark plug.
Olesk turned onto the road with deliberate movements. He operated with almost mechanical precision, a contrast to his usual casual attitude. Within the car, he was in constant motion: checking the mirrors, steering, double-checking the shifter knob, even though it was an automatic. His face was motionless, as if he didn’t need it for human interaction now that he was driving.
“Music?” She reached for the radio as a test.
“No.” He held up his finger in a warning, then adjusted the rearview mirror. An important tell. He loved control, and that could be his weakness. If she ever had to take him on, the best thing she could do to frustrate him was something unexpected and illogical.
“Can I get the setup on who I’m driving, or is this another surprise?” The worst surprise would be her father, but she knew he had his own drivers and wouldn’t mess with an outside gang like the STR.
Olesk’s head twitched to the side, as if he was annoyed by anything other than driving. He checked his watch and answered, “Grant Hemmings.” She knew the name. It iced her spine. “He’s part of a very important client group of ours, the Seventh Syndicate.”
“I’ve heard of them.” And she was more than ready to cut right into their heart. “But I’ve never worked for them.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Olesk scoffed. “I would’ve heard of you before this. You’re in a whole other league now.”
“I hope you know I appreciate this.” She cringed internally for having to play nice, then prepared herself for much more of the same.
“I know you do.” He tried a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “The people who don’t appreciate what we do don’t last as long as you already have.” Menace shook in his voice and he blinked rapidly. She’d heard plenty of rumors about how good the STR were at theft, modding cars and getaway driving, but never anything about them rubbing someone out. The constant cold trickle of fear for Arash at the compound turned to a steady rain.
Olesk clammed up and drove, leaving no more openings for conversation. She wasn’t going to press him anyway. Any information would need to be taken out surgically, between the nerves so no one knew. Outright curiosity would get her killed.
The rural road led them back into the suburbs, then the city. Nearly twenty minutes to the button after Olesk had called it, he pulled them into a three-story parking structure next to a small office building. On the second floor, he brought the car to a stop next to another four-door sedan, this one with dark tinted windows. As soon as they came to a stop, a white man in his fifties got out of the sedan. He was dressed casually in jeans and a puffy winter jacket, though from the slick cut of his black hair and his shaved face, he looked like he lived most of his life in a tailored suit.
Olesk bounced out of the driver’s seat with his hand extended. “Grant.”
“Ronald.” Grant Hemmings shook hands with businesslike efficiency. The man’s eyes slid over to her. “This is my driver?”
Olesk nodded graciously. “Stephanie. Not Steph. Stephanie.”
Grant didn’t approach her and she didn’t hold out her hand. The Syndicate man looked her up and down slowly, like he was used to taking whatever he wanted and peeling it apart at his leisure. She gazed back at him defiantly. Playing nice didn’t include demeaning herself. Grant kept his look on her as he spoke to Olesk. “You didn’t tell me she was armed.”
“She isn’t.” Olesk balked.
Grant turned to him with a placating smile. “Sure she isn’t.” The Syndicate man put his hand on Olesk’s shoulder and started to walk him to a high corner of the parking level. Grant paused and told Stephanie, “Why don’t you stand watch. Pretend like you’re on the phone or something.”
She tipped her head in understanding and pulled out her phone before walking in the opposite direction. Grant resumed his move with Olesk and they were soon out of earshot. She took up a position, with a pillar acting as a windbreak from the chill. Fiddling with her phone, she surreptitiously took several photos of Grant and Olesk’s conversation.
Their posture was casual enough; there was no trouble. But there was business. Grant motioned to his watch and counted out numbers in his palm. This was the big gig. This was the human trafficking that Stephanie had to stop. Olesk was getting some of his marching orders. She could finally start planning how her operation might play out.
But she couldn’t send the photos or any of what she knew to the rest of Frontier Justice. There was still too much scrutiny and there could be no record of outgoing numbers on her phone. For now, she was still completely isolated, and that kept a constant tight knot at the base of her skull.
Grant gave Olesk a thump on the arm and the two of them walked back toward the cars. Stephanie joined them and saw Olesk deep in thoughts and calculations. He surfaced enough to tell her, “I’ll pick you up at the end of your day. No need to get in touch.” With that, he was in his car and
driving away without any more goodbyes or acknowledgments.
“That guy plans a perfect job.” Grant chuckled and walked to the rear passenger side of his sedan. “And runs it like an atomic clock.” He got in and she slid behind the wheel, adjusting the seat for the perfect position. Grant kicked back in the rear seat. “Never seen a better driver, but he doesn’t know it all, you know what I mean?”
“I think I do.” She’d gone the entire time with no one in the STR knowing she was armed, but Grant had been immediately aware.
He leaned forward, arm on the back of her chair and face so close she could smell his aftershave. “What about you? Do you just drive?” His voice was a little too sticky, and she would’ve liked to throw her elbow back into his smarmy grin.
“That’s what I’m getting paid for.” She held him off with a firm tone. “Just driving.”
“Good to know.” He leaned back, voice neutral, but the grin was still on his face. “Today, I’ve got work and I’ve got play.” He took out his phone and read an address. She plugged it into the navigation app on her phone. “We start with work.”
Stephanie turned the engine over and brought all her mental facilities in line. Every detail she could pick up during this day would help her mission. And any slipups could kill her. For the next unknown span of time, she had to ride with one of the monsters she was dedicated to taking down.
Chapter Nine
The clouds pressed closer over Arash. Suffocating. The sun never broke through and there was no relief from the dread surrounding him. He worked as efficiently as he could while watching his back and hating that he had no idea where Stephanie was or what she was doing.
The first job of the day was drilling out the floor panels of the two vans so they could attach four rows of seats in each. He now knew that whatever the coming gig was, they would be moving people. And these people either weren’t supposed to be seen, or were to be kept from knowing their location. Or both. There were no windows in the vans except at the front. From the exterior, they were all white sheet metal and looked like something for a utility worker or tradesman.
