by Logan Fox
Slender, Tender
Finn warily trailed his new client from the manor. Being around Swan reminded him of how it felt to move down an uncleared route in Iraq when he’d supplied cover to EOD forces. The knowledge that anywhere in a one-foot radius of where he stood, landmines could have been buried. That same anticipation of explosive violence wreathed Tony Swan. It became more apparent the deeper he’d entered Swan’s territory. It was in the way the resident guards stiffened when they caught sight of Swan. The way their eyes would follow him with barely a glance for Finn, as if they knew how to handle mercs, but not someone the likes of Tony Swan.
A pair of SUV’s waited in the drive. The elaborate fountain studding the center of the drive was on; tinkling water sounded through the rose-scented air.
As he came close, Swan held out a hand for him to stop. “Give us a moment, please.”
He dipped his chin, stepping back as Cora came past him. She threw him a glare over her shoulder, but it melted as soon as she turned to face her father. Finn turned around and studied the manor, itching to be away so he could get this gig over and done with. Something kept itching at his mind, and he knew it wouldn’t go away until this contract was finished.
He let out a low huff of a laugh.
No matter how much fucking gilt you slathered on it, it was impossible to disguise a cage. Even one as tasteful as Swan Manor.
The mansion was an architect’s wet dream. Or had been, before some security company had gotten a hold of it. The columns supporting the flowing roof had been carved with vines and roses. A woman’s face — surrounded with angel wings and a spread of flowers — crowned the manor’s double-story entrance. Immaculate gardens. Tinkling fountains. It even had the standard billionaire’s circular driveway with pure white gravel which some low-wage employee had to rake every morning.
But you couldn’t miss the three-foot electrical fence topping the manor’s perimeter walls. You didn’t have to be keenly observant to spot the cameras fitted to every eave or the electronic wall panels that only allowed cleared personnel to enter the building.
Governors, mayors, billionaires — he’d seen them all. Some with so much security, he’d wondered if he was just eye candy. None of them held a candle to Swan’s operation, though. This place was a fort. The fact he thought his daughter wasn’t safe here made Finn wonder what the hell the man would consider safe. A cement room in the middle of the desert, maybe? Swan seemed determined to keep her locked away in this ivory tower until she died of old age.
Damn it, why hadn’t Lars been the one to take this call? He and his business partner had started up Argos Protection Services all of five years ago, after both their stints in the military had ended in a spectacular fashion. But Lars was out on a gig, and Finn had been the one to take this call. So here he was, babysitting a girl who didn’t look old enough to buy a drink at the local watering hole.
After the call, he’d been expecting a thirteen-something-year-old. But Cora had curves in all the right places, despite how she tried to hide them in those unflattering clothes of hers. And her fierce bronze eyes belonged on a woman. Especially how they’d sparked when she’d glared at him just now.
He’d be pissed off too if someone gave him blue balls, and then shot his lover in front of him.
When he turned back, Cora and her father were still having a heated discussion. He couldn’t blame her for taking a lover; he’d have rebelled a long time ago, and more spectacularly than this, if he’d been cooped up in this prison all his life. Who knew — maybe it hadn’t always been like this.
At twenty-one-hundred hours on a Tuesday night, he was surprised she was still awake.
She’s so young. Slender, tender. A new shoot of grass, so easy to crush underfoot.
The serpentine thought slithered through his mind, leaving unease in its wake like slime. Finn drew out his pistol and checked the magazine was loaded before sliding it back into its holster.
The girl shouldn’t be out in the open. She should have been in the car already — but he’d sworn to Mr. Swan not to let her leave his sight.
Finn watched father and daughter.
Swan gave her a necklace. Spoke to her at length, leaning in. Eventually put the chain around her neck, kissed the top of her head. Swan got into the back of the second vehicle. His convoy peeled out in a spray of gravel a few seconds later.
Cora stared after her father, hand wrapped around the pendant, and turned to him when he came closer. There were tears trapped in her lashes; diamonds glittering against a honey-gold backdrop. He opened the black SUV’s back door for her. Caught her scent as she sidled past him and slid inside. Whatever perfume she wore, it was too complex for her. Something that smelled just of citrus would have suited her better. Not the mingled scent of lemons and oranges and lavender. Familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. With her skinny jeans, torn at the knees, and a pair of knee-length boots hugging her muscular calves, he couldn’t help but stare as she adjusted herself in the seat.
She scowled up at him. “Enjoying the view?”
Finn clenched his jaw. It was a fine-looking ass she had on her, but that wasn’t what he’d been staring at. He was wondering what the fuck this girl was doing with a Taurus nestled in the small of her back.
4
The Truth
It was too dark to see anything out the windows of the SUV. And as soon as they’d cleared Phoenix’s bright street lights, the world became black, with just the pool of their headlamps for light.
Her driver didn’t say a word as he steered the car around a gradual bend in the road. Their path began to incline. Were they headed into the mountains, or just cutting through them? She had no goddamn clue where in Texas they were headed, but she prayed it wasn’t some tiny farmhouse somewhere in the middle of nowhere. She’d had to stay in places like that before. The between safehouses safehouses.
She was feeling scared again. It was something she avoided at all costs — anger, sadness, fear; all those negative emotions seemed to take control of her body and play her like a marionette. Optimism was the only thing she had, and she made sure to keep vast supplies of the stuff around.
Cora gripped the pendant around her neck, thinking of the tiny thumb-drive inside.
What the hell was so important her father wouldn’t dare cross the border with it?
For a moment, her fear lifted, and something warm replaced it. Pride. He’d asked her to keep it safe. Not made-of-carbon-fiber Finn.
Her.
Cora.
He trusted her.
A tiny smile found its way onto her mouth. And then it faded again. Of course he didn’t trust her. The fact that he hadn’t even listened to her about Bailey—
She squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she wanted to process what the hell had happened back there in the stables, she knew tears would work their way past her defenses. And the last thing she wanted was the murderer sitting in the front seat of this truck to catch her sniffling like a three-year-old.
She glanced at Finn from under her lashes. Ambient light from the SUV’s headlamps lit his face. It picked out a deep scar across his throat.
Was that why his voice was so rough?
If he felt her staring at him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t show anything. If she thought she was good at keeping emotions at bay — he was a damn master.
Cora squirmed, making her Taurus dig into the small of her back. It gave her some comfort, her pistol so snug against her. But she didn’t trust guns. They had no sense of right or wrong. They didn’t care if you were good or bad. They killed indiscriminately and had no regrets. The person wielding them had to suffer through all of that.
Except for Finn. He hadn’t even broken a sweat about killing Bailey.
Shit. She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was Bailey’s face. His gray eyes, crinkled at the corner, that day she’d been baking a cake for her father’s birthday. She’d turned the mixer on, but the setting had been too high. Flour had puffed out
and covered her face and hair. He’d been laughing as he used a dish towel to get the worst of it off her face.
And now he was dead. And the man whose job it was to take her to Uncle Javier had killed him.
How could her father expect her to trust him?
She touched her Taurus, but then jerked her hand away.
If she were going to shoot him, she’d have to know she could go through with it. And she wasn’t sure of anything right now. Anger welled up inside her at the thought that she was too scared to even confront this man about what had happened. The fact that he’d killed the only person she’d ever loved.
She blinked back tears and bit the inside of her lip as she stared out the window. If she tried to shoot him, they’d have an accident. But then she’d be free if she survived. Free…and alone.
Was that so bad?
5
Tió
A pair of armed guards waved their SUV out with assault rifles held at the ready. Close by, dogs barked furiously before fading away as they started down the long path leading away from the manor. The road hummed under the truck’s tires. He could see Cora in the rearview mirror, squirming and writhing like she had fucking ants in her pants. Trying — but failing — to glance circumspectly at him.
Probably wondering if she could trust him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t — she probably thought he’d killed her boyfriend. But there’d been something in Bailey’s expression. The way he’d held his body. He hadn’t been blameless in all of this, but those last words had rung true.
Don’t trust anyone. Especially her uncle.
Whoever the fuck that was.
“You killed him,” came Cora’s voice from the backseat. It was soft, not an accusation but a statement. “You don’t even know him and you just—”
“It’s my job,” Finn cut in.
She turned dull eyes to him. “To kill people?”
“To protect the assets I’m hired to protect.”
Her mouth went tight, and she blinked furiously as if she was trying to keep back tears. “He loved me. I love—” She cut off, pressing her knuckles against her mouth as she glared out of the window. “You didn’t even know him.”
Finn drew a deep breath. Might as well come clean with the girl. Give her a sliver of hope to hold onto. “I didn’t—”
“He would never betray me. Never. He’s been with me since I was eight.”
Finn closed his mouth again. “What?” He couldn’t help himself; what a fucking pedophile. Now he was regretting not having shot that fucker through the heart. And then the balls, in case he miraculously survived and tried to procreate.
“He’s been there every minute, of every second...” her voice warbled away to nothing as she traced a knuckle under one eye, still staring out the window and refusing to make eye contact. “You had no right—”
“Your father seems convinced that someone betrayed you. If it wasn’t him, then who?”
“I don’t know!” she yelled hoarsely. A tear coursed down her cheek, but she ignored it. At least there was a glimmer of life in those golden eyes of hers; even if that life was bright, furious anger. “But it wasn’t him. He taught me how to shoot. He taught me how to defend myself.” She shrugged then, eyes dropping to her lap. “Until Papá stopped him.” Her eyes flickered up. “But he would never have betrayed me.”
Finn shifted in his seat. “Sometimes, you’re too close to see the whole picture.”
“Fuck you,” she whispered, and her hand slid behind her back again.
Don’t do it.
Finn sighed. “Fine. He didn’t betray you. Bailey’s a stand-up guy.” He shrugged. “But someone found you, despite how hard your father tried to hide you guys. And now we’re tracking across the country so you can be safe. So less whining, and more—”
“I don’t even know where Tío lives,” Cora muttered.
The pronunciation on the word Tío made Finn’s ears prick up. “Tío,” he repeated slowly. “My Spanish is a little rusty.”
“Uncle,” Cora said. She swiped her hands over her face and tugged her ponytail loose, retying her long black hair with a vengeance. “Uncle Javier.”
Finn’s skin prickled a second before his fingertips went numb. He tapped the base of his thumb against the steering wheel, glancing from the road to the rearview mirror. “Uncle Javier?”
Cora didn’t say anything, but she swiped her fingertips under one eye as if to make sure there weren’t still some tears clinging to her skin.
“Did you say Uncle—”
“I’m going to sleep,” she muttered, throwing him a disgusted look. “Wake me up when we get there.”
“Ms. Swan—” but she disappeared from view.
Finn slid a hand into his jacket and drew out his phone. Tony Swan had given him a number to call if he ran into any problems en route to Texas. Did suddenly suspecting his business partner and family friend, Javier, of being nefarious classify as a problem? There was no answer.
Fuck.
He blinked, and hurriedly tapped the brakes. The car in front of him had slowed down, but why? He strained to see anything past the car’s headlamps, but the road ahead looked clear. Until he saw four pinpricks of light further up ahead. Oncoming traffic; two vehicles almost side by side as they approached.
“How well do you know your Uncle?” he asked, indicating to change lanes, so he didn’t have to sit behind this idiot going twenty miles an hour on the interstate.
No reply.
His brain scrambled frantically. But he didn’t have enough information. Tony wouldn’t have sent his daughter straight into danger...unless he was none the wiser. Maybe he’d presumed Bailey was a traitor, but what if Bailey had nothing to do with this? What if his only role had been to protect Cora — and fuck her, apparently — and Finn had just shot an innocent — if slightly pedophilic — man?
His contract was explicit; take Cora to safety. What if he was taking her right into danger instead?
He changed lanes. The car flew back, becoming just another pair of anonymous headlamps in the dark as he picked up speed again. Finn’s eyes flickered to the oncoming lane; those two lights hadn’t moved. Because they were stationary? What the hell were two cars doing parked—
“Fuck!” Finn banged his palm against the steering wheel.
It was a setup. It had to be. Someone had known they would take this road, would be on the lookout for them. Cora’s Uncle?
Finn slammed on the brakes. He threw the car into a full arc and raced back the way he’d come. If her uncle was in on this, then he was headed in the wrong direction. He had to find a safehouse until he could make contact with Swan.
“What’s wrong?” Cora asked, her face appearing between the two seats, a shade paler now.
“Seatbelt,” he snapped, flicking a hand to the back of the car.
“But what—”
“What does your father do? Who is Javier?”
Cora’s eyes went round and wide. “What—”
“Answer me!” Finn glared at her in the rearview mirror. She looked shell-shocked as she slowly drew her seatbelt over her chest.
“M-my father’s a b-businessman,” she stuttered.
“The truth, Ms. Swan.”
She blinked rapidly at him, licked her lips. “W-why does that—?”
Her hand was moving to the small of her back.
Shit — he’d put her back up asking questions like that. Fucking idiot. He held up a hand. “Relax. I’m just trying to figure something out over here.”
She nodded, but her eyes were too wide for trust.
“I think you’ve been set up. You and your father both.” Finn’s eyes scanned the rearview mirror. Those two lights hadn’t moved. Why weren’t they giving chase? Was his paranoia getting the better of him?
“Set up?” came Cora’s shaky voice.
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on the truck’s door handle; one hand beh
ind her back, the other on her seatbelt’s catch. “Ms. Swan.” She didn’t look at him. He twisted in his seat, reaching for her leg. “Ms. Swan, don’t—”
When he brushed her jeans with his fingertips, she spun to him. Those golden eyes shone, and her lips trembled, but there was a steely determination on her face that he could have recognized anywhere. She unclipped her seatbelt, drew her Taurus, and gasped.
The sound coursed through him like an electric current. It set every nerve ending in his body on fire. Bright, white light painted her face the shade of a ghost.
“Look out!” she screamed.
Finn turned, slow like he’d been dunked in molasses. He fought the urge to use his hands to protect his face, clutching the steering wheel with a death grip instead.
The minivan he’d passed not five minutes ago slammed into Finn’s SUV with such force the steering wheel ripped from his hand. The airbag exploded into his face like a fist punch. Metal screamed against metal. Finn lost control, his SUV going into a spin. He grunted hard when crashed into the barrier. The impact slammed his head into the window.
With a tortured banshee-shriek, the barrier gave way. Cora screamed, but the sound cut off abruptly when the SUV spilled over the side of the road and took its first roll into the shallow canyon beyond. Finn wanted to yell, wanted to fucking scream, but gritted his teeth instead.
Hot copper flooded his mouth.
The airbag held him trapped while, around him, glass and stones and dust flew around the truck’s interior.
The SUV coasted a few feet in the air and crashed into the bottom of the canyon, coming to a reluctant halt on the driver’s side door.
After the roar of the impact and the screech of brakes and tires and distorting metal, the silence that followed gonged in Finn’s ears like funereal church bells.
Hot, thick pain pumped into his head. When he tried to open his eyes, his vision blurred.
The interior light was on. Something had fallen on him. A smudge of beige. Cora’s backpack. Dark where blood smeared it.
