Man Down: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by BJ Bentley

  I walked her to the door, kissed her on the cheek, and promised to bring Poppy to Sunday dinner next week. Then I went in search of my girlfriend, a bit of pep in my step at the term. She was probably full up on French toast, but I had something else I desperately wanted her to taste.

  25

  Poppy

  The last two weeks had been a hell of a ride. First, the shooting, then meeting Vance’s mom. We’d finally gotten a chance to visit Micah at home, though we were delayed when Vance insisted on showing me all the ways I could bring him pleasure with just my mouth.

  That was an eye opening experience, and one I wished I’d discovered sooner. As it was, he’d created a monster. Every chance I got, I tried to get my mouth on him, and every chance he got, he returned the favor.

  We were insatiable.

  It was blissful.

  I couldn’t wait to get home, but right now we were camped out outside the boutique where Clay Granger took his girlfriend shopping, and I was bored out of my mind.

  “Do you think Carmella Stevens is in love with Granger?” I asked, more out of boredom than actually caring about the answer. Carmella was the woman of Granger’s that we met leaving his apartment the day of our first stakeout. The one with the killer shoes. My hunch that day had been spot on. Granger apparently had a reputation for playing the field, but in all our surveillance, Carmella was the only woman we saw come and go at his apartment. And though she’d been seen by patrol going into Baubles Boutique more than once, Granger had yet to be spotted. Though, considering it couldn’t be lost on him that the whole of Aspen Falls PD was on the lookout for him since he was highly suspected of shooting one of our own, well, laying low would have been the smart move.

  “Don’t know,” Vance said, bringing me back to my original question. “Does it matter?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I guess not.” But if she was innocent, could we extricate her before she got caught in the crossfire? I didn’t want to see another innocent person get hurt.

  In the past week, we’d been able to determine that Kayla Santulli hadn’t been involved in her husband’s extracurricular activities, and knowing she was innocent of any wrongdoing, other than staying married to that abusive butthole, made her death all the more tragic. I may have (sort of) dealt with the implications of the shooting, but I’d been resolutely ignoring the fact that Kayla Santulli had been my case, and she’d been murdered. That helpless feeling flooded me every time I thought about it, so I was choosing not to. My head was messed up enough, thank you.

  “I think I should go in.”

  Vance tipped his head down, his sunglasses and ball cap shielding his face from view of most passers by. “Don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said to the water bottle in his hand. “You’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

  I frowned, looking down at my attire. I was wearing leggings, an oversized t-shirt, an extra large lightweight zip-up hoodie, and a ball cap of my own because our cover was that of a sporty couple enjoying a rest after some athletic activity or another. He was right; I couldn’t waltz into Baubles Boutique without drawing attention to myself. Baubles was the kind of place you went to drop a serious bit of cash and look good doing it.

  I reached my right arm around my middle and pretended to scratch an itch while I discreetly readjusted my holster where it sat around my waist. The leather of Vance’s holster was supple with several years worth of wear. Mine was still new, stiff, and uncomfortable against my body. I wanted to trade.

  “Fine,” I acquiesced. “I’m just getting tired of sitting here,” I grumped.

  Vance smirked. “Get used to it, rookie. This is the job.”

  “Well, how long do you think a sporty couple can sit in one place before they start to look suspicious?”

  Vance glanced across the street and gave a subtle nod to one of the plain clothed patrolmen planted at the corner before standing and extending his hand for me to take.

  I’d momentarily forgotten we were on comms. Funny, considering I’d spent the first fifteen minutes of our stakeout griping about how the darn thing made my ear sore. My face heated with the realization that half the department had heard me complaining. Not very Leighton-like of me.

  I stood, taking Vance’s hand, and we walked down the street, in the opposite direction of the officer taking our place on the bench in the shade of an old aspen. His cover was that of a college student, his giant backpack stuffed with textbooks and extra magazines for his service weapon.

  We walked hand in hand on the sidewalk, occasionally stopping to feign admiration at a few of the window displays.

  The first distraction came when a woman walking her dog lost her grip on its leash, and it charged me. I braced as best I could, but my core strength was no match for that of an exuberant two hundred pound English Mastiff.

  My tailbone may never forgive me.

  “Baby, you alright?” I heard Vance ask, his voice nearly drowned out by the heavy breaths of the dog panting in my face and his owner’s profuse apologies.

  I laughed, twisting my head from side to side trying to avoid getting French kissed by the huge animal licking my face. “I’m good,” I choked, trying to keep my lips pressed together.

  The dog’s owner finally managed to drag him off me and Vance pulled me to my feet.

  The woman apologized again.

  “It’s no problem,” I assured her. “He’s lucky he’s so handsome.”

  “If only he were as well-behaved,” she lamented with a small grin.

  The second distraction came when I realized I’d lost my earpiece in the canine assault. “Shit,” I hissed. “Tell me that’s not coming out of my pay.”

  “Careful where you step,” Vance warned, scanning the ground for the small bud.

  We tiptoed around each other looking for the tiny listening device to no avail. I was just about to tell Vance that I’d given up and Griffin could dock my pay if he had to when I sensed a large presence behind me. Before I could turn, a large hand covered my mouth at the same time an arm clamped around my waist. I was dragged backward toward the mouth of the alley, no more than five feet from me, but at least fifteen feet from Vance, whose back was turned.

  I never even got the chance to yell.

  I was dragged into the alley and toward a large, black SUV. When the shock wore off, my fight or flight response kicked in. It was like a switch had been flipped, and I went wild at first, but years of training worked like muscle memory. I broke his hold and elbowed my attacker in the nose with a satisfying crunch.

  “You bitch!” he hissed at the same time I opened my mouth to scream.

  “Vance!” I managed to get out just as he came bounding around the corner.

  But he was too far away.

  The big lug still had a mean grip on my upper arm, and though I’d caught him by surprise with my elbow, he was far bigger and far stronger than me. I was shoved head first into the backseat of the SUV before Vance had cleared the mouth of the alley.

  “Poppy!” Vance’s shout was drowned out by the sound of squealing tires but was followed by gunshots. He got off two rounds before the SUV barreled down the alley and out into the streets of downtown Aspen Falls, destination unknown.

  I lifted my head and peered out the window catching sight of Vance in pursuit, but he was on foot. There was no way he’d catch up. I heaved a sigh of relief that he was okay and turned my head to take in my abductors, of which there were three. The lug who’d grabbed me was in the front passenger seat. There was a smaller, lankier man in the driver seat. I caught a glimpse of his face in the rear view mirror and mild recognition washed over me. I’d seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t place him. Another big lug occupied the seat next to me.

  I sat upright and scooted my butt back until I was up against the door. I pulled my knees up and hugged them to my chest.

  My movement reminded me of the holster I was wearing.

  The holster that housed my weapon. They hadn’t patte
d me down, so they were either incredibly stupid or they didn’t know they’d nabbed a cop in the middle of an undercover operation.

  Could I draw my weapon in such cramped quarters? Probably not a good idea. Plus, there were three of them and only one of me. And they were bigger and better armed judging by the bulges under the material of their cheap suit jackets.

  No, I had to bide my time. Let them believe I wasn’t a threat. Wait for the right opportunity to teach them a lesson about putting their hands on a woman.

  First, I had to sell the part.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked, adding a bit of quiver to my voice.

  “Shut your mouth,” barked the one who’d grabbed me. “Bitch broke my nose,” he grumbled to the driver.

  The goon in the seat next to me was watching me with a curious gleam. I tried not to squirm.

  I dipped my chin and hunched my shoulders, assuming a timid pose. We drove for roughly ten minutes, taking roads through town that I knew, passing landmarks I was familiar with, until we reached the two-lane highway that stretched from Aspen Falls to the coast. I took in the scenery, making sure to keep BeBop and Rocksteady in my periphery at all times. I didn’t consider the driver much of a threat. He was smaller than the other two, and at the moment, he was occupied with driving. No, if I was going to suffer, it’d be at the hands of the other two. Belatedly, it occurred to me that they hadn’t blindfolded me.

  I’d seen their faces.

  And I was cataloging the route we were taking.

  They were either supremely confident in my apparent fear or they had no intention of letting me live. I nearly scoffed at the former and felt a chill chase down my spine at the latter.

  Eventually, we pulled up to a cabin set back deep in the woods. The driveway was so long and winding, I’d initially mistaken it for a road. We came to a stop at the top of the circular drive, and I deeply wished I had not let my abductors get me to a secondary location. Wasn’t that How to Avoid Being Murdered 101?

  I took a deep breath, trying not to let the adrenaline get the best of me. I had to stay calm. One of the things we covered in my self-defense classes was how often people forgot all their training as soon as they found themselves in a dangerous situation. Survival mode kicked in and people reacted instead of planning for the right move at the right moment.

  And I needed to execute the right move at the right moment, or I was probably going to end up dead.

  I couldn’t do that to Vance.

  Vance, my heart echoed. Where was he? Was he losing his mind right now?

  Stay in the moment, Poppy. Your life depends on it.

  The three goons exited the SUV. The goon that had been sitting next to me latched onto my arm, yanking me from the vehicle. “Let’s go.”

  I tried to ignore the blatantly evil and vengeful gaze of the lug with the broken nose or I was going to panic. If he got the opportunity for revenge, he’d take it, and I’d suffer something unimaginable before the sweet mercy of death. I couldn’t let that happen.

  The cabin was modest but well cared for. The acreage surrounding it looked professionally landscaped, and the wooden steps leading up to the porch looked new, the wood lighter and less worn than the surrounding architecture.

  I tried to drag my feet on the walk of doom, but the goon who was pulling me along didn’t seem to notice. He just plowed ahead like he had places to be, his bruising grip on my arm ensuring wherever he was going, so was I.

  The inside of the cabin matched the outside. That is, it was an older building that had sustained some recent updates. It was tidy and cared for but not extravagant. It gave the impression that whoever lived there had the place looked after, but they didn’t spend a lot of time there themselves. It was comfortable but impersonal.

  “Ahh, good, you’re here.”

  All my attention honed in on the man who seemed to enter the room from thin air. Suddenly, the biggest threat in the room was no longer the three beefy amigos flanking me. It was the man whose casual wardrobe of jeans and a lightweight cream-colored sweater that probably cost more than my monthly salary. Hell, probably more than Vance’s monthly salary, and he carried himself like he knew that.

  And his smug face was one I recognized. “And where is here, exactly?”

  A lecherous grin spread across his face, one that was not ugly, but not particularly attractive either. In fact, he was a rather average looking bad guy. “Well,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t exactly call it my home, but it serves its purpose for the time being.” He shrugged before taking a few steps, closing in on me. “And I’m so glad you could make it, Poppy.”

  I tried to stay loose, fighting the tension that wanted to string my body tight at his familiarity, and feigned ignorance. “Well, you seem to know me, but I don’t know you. Where are your manners?”

  His laughter filled the tense space, and I curled my lip, his amusement leaving me feeling unsettled.

  When he stopped laughing he pinned me with a malicious stare. “I’m Clay Granger.”

  26

  Vance

  “Calm down before I lock you down,” Captain Griffin ordered. “So help me, Brody, you keep your shit tight or—“

  “Or what?” I shouted. “You’ll suspend me? Fire me? Poppy is out there somewhere, and if we’re lucky, she’s still breathing!”

  “And we will find her,” Griffin bit out.

  “You’re fucking right we will,” Heath added before taking command of the bullpen despite the captain’s presence. “Rogers! I want a deep dive into Granger! Get me everything you can find on any property he owns, any assets he has.”

  “Leighton,” Griffin warned. “We don’t have a warrant yet.”

  Rogers was the resident hacker, someone whose introduction to law enforcement wasn’t so different from mine. That is, he might have been busted for hacking once or twice before seeing the error of his ways and deciding to work on the right side of the law, so if Heath was ordering him to find information on Granger, it was a good bet that he was doing it in less than legal ways.

  Still, the man liked his job, so he hesitated when Griffin looked like he might have an aneurysm right then and there.

  “Do it,” I barked, backing Heath’s play. “I want everything.”

  Rogers looked between me and Heath and Griffin.

  Griffin sighed, shaking his head. “I was not here, and I did not know about any of whatever it is you’re about to do.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Got it,” Heath said at the same time.

  It fucking infuriated me that I was even at the precinct in the first place. I needed to be out there looking for Poppy, but the captain had insisted we regroup and come up with a plan. The only reason I’d gone along with his order was because I had no fucking clue where to go.

  But that was where Rogers came in. Gossip was that the CIA had tried to recruit him at one point, and for whatever reason, he’d turned them down. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my brain around why that might be, but right now I was grateful as fuck because I needed him here doing his thing.

  I spent the next thirty minutes breathing down Rogers’s neck. “C’mon, man, give me something. Anything.”

  “I’d tell you to back off, man, but I can see you wouldn’t react too kindly to that,” he muttered, his fingers flying over the keys at warp speed.

  “Ya fuckin’ think?”

  “You don’t get us something soon, Rogers, and Brody won’t be the one you have to worry about,” Heath snapped, cracking a knuckle.

  Rogers huffed out a breath, his fingers never breaking their pace until he hit one last key and slumped back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Got him.”

  “What?”

  “Where?”

  I was already making my way toward the door when he said, “Old cabin outside of town. Family place, used to belong to his grandparents.”

  “How do we know it’s the right place?” Heath asked, ejecting the magazine from his gun, inspec
ting it and shoving it back in.

  “Grandparents are both dead, have been for years. But the property is still in their name. And the utilities were just turned on last week.”

  “Text me the address!” I yelled over my shoulder, kicking my legs into a jog.

  Heath caught up to me in the parking lot. “Brody!” His hand clamped on my shoulder, and I fought off an overwhelming urge to cut it from his body. “We go in smart, not half-cocked.”

  I blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit right now? I do not need a lecture on how not to go rogue, Leighton.”

  Heath narrowed his eyes. “I know how you feel about her. And she’s my sister, so take into consideration how I feel about her.”

  I glared at him, but I couldn’t deny the look in his eye. He loved Poppy, and he was just as determined to find her as I was. “I’m good,” I assured him. “Let’s go.”

  I tore out of the parking lot first, but Heath was right behind me.

  Poppy

  “I’m Clay Granger.”

  I knew that already, of course, but the way he said it, so arrogant, I itched to take him down a notch. “Who?”

  His lips thinned. “Come now, Officer Leighton, you’re smarter than that.”

  I shrugged, managing to yank my arm free of the goon’s hold.

  “Trent, why don’t you move the SUV around back?” Granger said to the guy who’d driven us there, and the name triggered a memory.

  Now that I got a good look at his face, I realized that Trent was Trent Stone. These goons were the same ones that shot my tire out and drove me into a ditch! I wonder if one of them also ran Heath off the road. My fingers itched to grab my gun, but Granger’s henchmen were standing too close for me to have any real freedom of movement. I needed to get some space.

  “So, Granger. You gonna give me the speech?”

  “Speech?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.