Mr. January: Mercer's War Book 1

by Jordan Dane

  She knelt by him and ran her fingers through his hair, taking in the handsome face of a stranger—a man who might know something about her friend. She pictured Kaity scared, alone and in danger and she fought the burn of tears.

  You have to help me. Please.

  Time stopped while she cared for him and she felt too wired to close her eyes and rest. After his fever had gone down and he slept, she wandered to the window and sat on the sill. She stared into the night sky and her thoughts turned to her friend. Cruz had said Kaity wasn’t one of the bodies in the morgue, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Zoey’s belly tightened whenever she thought of the horrors happening to Kaity.

  In the quiet of the cold warehouse, taking care of a dangerous stranger, she never felt so alone. I’ll find you, Kates. I will. I have to.

  When a car alarm sounded in the night, it jolted her back to her senses. The jarring noise echoed off the brick walls in the canyon of warehouses below. When she realized the alarm had to be her Subaru, she rushed to her feet, grabbed her car keys, and her cell phone.

  No. You can’t call 9-1-1. No GPS, remember?

  She stuffed her phone back into her jeans and after she checked on Mr. January one last time, she slipped out of the window and headed down the fire escape.

  What are you gonna do when you get there, big shot?

  She thought she was alone until she heard the familiar clicking of her big black shadow. Mr. January’s dog had come with her.

  “Good boy. Thank you.”

  She ran through the alley, remembering the turns she had made earlier. When she got to her Subaru, two men had jimmied the locks and were sitting in her car. Improvising, she grabbed her phone and put it to her ear.

  “Yes, two men are breaking into my car. You want their descriptions?” She held her phone toward the man in her car. “I can take a picture. Smile guys. Ever hear of facial recognition?”

  When the black dog growled and crept toward the men with his head hanging low and threatening, the two thieves yelled something in Spanish and ran. They never looked back.

  “They must be photo shy.” Zoey knelt down and ruffled the fur on the dog’s neck. “Thank you, big guy. You saved my bacon. You feel like taking a ride?”

  She couldn’t leave her car where it was. With her companion in the passenger seat, she drove to On the Corner on Broadway, the diner where she’d first seen Mr. January the other night. The restaurant was opening for its early breakfast patrons. Another waitress helped her find a secure spot to park her vehicle and took her order-to-go for breakfast.

  As she walked back to the warehouse, with Mr. January’s dog, she turned on her phone and called Detective Cruz.

  “Cruz.” His stern voice made her cringe.

  “It’s Zoey. Did you get an ID on those prints I left for you?”

  “Where did you get them, Ms. Meager?”

  “Answer me first, or I hang up.”

  Silence. Zoey smiled at him calling her Ms. Meager. She had him over a barrel, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  “However you acquired these prints, you’re dealing with a dangerous man, Ms. Meager. I can’t even give you his name. He’s a ghost. His file is blocked, but it has a warning on it. The Feds are on their way here to give me a pee pee sanding. They’ll want to know where he is. For the hassle factor alone, you owe me.”

  “I don’t know you well enough to do guilt, Detective. I only do that with people I love. Nice try.”

  “Wait. Don’t hang up. There’s something else you should know. You’re not going to like it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The dead women in the warehouse, they were bound with a distinctive ligature, barbed wire. And as you guessed, the fire had been deliberately set. It was arson. That’s the MO of the killers behind a human trafficking ring in Colorado. Whenever they are done with their victims, they get rid of the evidence with a fire. Mr. No Name could be connected to these traffickers.”

  He softened his voice and said her first name.

  “Zoey. I’m not saying this to scare you, but you need to appreciate the risky situation you’re in. If your friend Kaity has been taken by these men, she could already be dead. You could be putting yourself in danger for no reason.”

  “I’ve got a good reason, Detective. I do.”

  She ended the call and turned off her phone. If the police didn’t know more than she did about where Kaity was, she couldn’t leave her friend in their hands. She had to believe that the sick man, with an infection from a bullet wound, had been in the burning warehouse for a purpose.

  She had to get him to let down his guard.

  ***

  10:40 am

  When she stroked his forehead, Mr. January was cool to the touch. His fever had broken while she’d been gone. She smiled and let out the breath she held whenever she laid a hand on his body.

  Before she ate, Zoey dampened a cloth and ran the rag over his bare chest and down his stomach and arms. She dabbed his face as she watched him sleep. He had a healthier color and he didn’t strain to breathe. She would change his dressing after he woke up. Zoey wanted a reason to stay, an argument she could use if he tried to kick her out.

  He has to help me. I won’t give him a choice.

  Zoey fed his dog and made sure the animal had fresh water. After she ate her takeout from the diner—two egg and bacon breakfast tacos with salsa—she set aside the broth soup she had bought for Mr. January. She hoped he’d be hungry when he opened his eyes.

  “What the hell?” His deep voice raised the hair on her neck when he broke the silence in the old warehouse.

  Zoey turned to see him reach under his pillow, looking for his weapon.

  “I put your gun somewhere safe.”

  “In case you missed it, I never invited you here.”

  “Are you always this grumpy with people who save your life?” She crossed her arms.

  Mr. January looked at the clean bandage on his arm and saw the meds and a damp cloth next to his mattress.

  “My name’s Zoey Meager. And you are?”

  “I’m…” When the man raised his bed sheet and looked underneath, he glared at her with fierce skepticism. “I’m naked.”

  “I had nothing to do…” She waggled a finger at him. “…with that.”

  “And yet you are fully aware.”

  Zoey’s cheeks burned. Busted.

  “Okay. Yeah, I may have…” She shrugged. “…been aware. But I’m a nurse. I’ve seen plenty of—”

  Zoey scrunched her face.

  “That didn’t come out right.”

  When Mr. January tried to get out of bed, he didn’t make it very far. He looked queasy and pale. She jumped at the chance to change the subject.

  “Are you hungry? I brought you soup. Nothing fancy, just chicken and noodle from On the Corner on Broadway.”

  When she deliberately mentioned the diner, he scowled at her, but he didn’t confirm or deny he knew the restaurant.

  “I appreciate your help, but I didn’t ask for it,” he said.

  “I’m not helping you without getting something in return.”

  “Oh? You don’t exactly have the high ground in this negotiation.”

  “Just hear me out,” she said. “You owe me that much.”

  He glared at her, but he didn’t argue.

  “My friend Kaity Boyer is missing. I think she’s been abducted by traffickers. People I trust have told me so.” She stepped closer to his bed and knelt on a corner of his mattress. From the annoyed look on his face, he didn’t appreciate her invasion of his space.

  “I must’ve passed out, the night of the fire,” she said. “But I thought you were going to kill me.”

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Well, apparently you were wrong. You’re still breathing.”

  His gall at her accusation made her think twice about what she would say next. Zoey played a hunch and took a risk. She didn’t remember everything from the fire.
Her memory had gaps where she’d lost consciousness, but if he’d been there, he would know what happened.

  “You were the one who dragged me out of the warehouse when I passed out. You saved my life. You could’ve let me die in the fire, like the three women they found.”

  “There were others?” He shut his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Mr. January looked sick. “I didn’t know.”

  “Who shot you? I didn’t see anyone else.” She regretted asking that question the minute the words left her lips.

  Silence.

  “You said you want something from me in return. What is it?” he asked. “I don’t exactly feel long on conversation.”

  “I need your help to find Kaity. If you helped me get out of the warehouse alive, you must not be part of the traffickers who took her. Please nod if I’m right.”

  “What answer will get you to leave?”

  “This isn’t funny. Not to me.”

  His expression softened and his eyes warmed with sympathy.

  “Tell me about Kaity,” he said. “What happened to her?”

  Zoey forced a smile when he opened a door for her to tell her friend’s story. She shared everything she had told the police—even adding how she’d phoned detectives like a stalker and camped out in their waiting area until she knew they had nothing to help her—but when she was done with her story, he shrugged.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

  He rattled every fiber of her being. When she heard that question coming from a wary man who would know if she lied, Zoey couldn’t breathe. The police didn’t question anything. They took her statement, filled out a missing person report, and dropped it onto a pile of filing. What more did he want to know?

  You want my darkest secret. You need me to bleed for you.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve told you everything I said to the cops.”

  “You told me the facts, the easy stuff. What have you left out? What didn’t you tell the cops?”

  He narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t say another word. He stared into her soul as if he had every right to invade her heart. Zoey swallowed, hard. She tried gazing back with the same conviction, but her eyes welled with tears until gravity won and exposed her shame. The weight of her burden had become too much to bear. She pressed a hand to her lips and shut her eyes.

  “I was supposed to go with her that night. She shouldn’t have been alone. If we were together, maybe—” She fought the tremble in her lips whenever she thought about what she could’ve done to save Kaity.

  The intensity of Mr. January’s eyes faded, but he didn’t bail her out. She’d braced for him to stop her, but he did the one thing she hadn’t been prepared for—he listened.

  “Kaity doesn’t have family. She never knew her parents. We’re kindred spirits who happened to find each other in the foster care system. She’s my family, the only one who loves me, but I should’ve been a better person.”

  Zoey clutched her arms around her as a shiver of guilt tingled down her spine.

  “I told her to go on, that I’d meet her at the bar. I said I had things to do.” She wiped her face. “But that wasn’t exactly true. I lied.”

  Zoey had never said the words aloud. She knew how petty she would sound to this man—how utterly shallow and childish—but if she wanted him to trust her, she had to tell him the ugly truth. Her insecurities were real. The fact that Kaity had been abducted, because of her inadequacies, made her feel worse. She hated herself for what happened.

  If Kaity died, Zoey didn’t deserve to be happy, ever.

  “I know this will sound silly, but it’s the raw, honest truth. I’m insecure about the way I look. I always have been. Before my mother drank herself to death, she took out her anger on me. She called me terrible names that a kid shouldn’t have to hear. That’s no excuse for how I turned out. It’s just part of the baggage I live with.”

  “I’m sorry you had to—”

  “I didn’t tell you about her to get sympathy. If I could turn back the clock and wish my mother away, I’m not sure I would. I’d be a different person and I’m just getting to know who I am, but Kaity didn’t deserve the trouble she’s in because of my problems.”

  “What happened? Tell me.”

  “You have to understand, Kaity is prettier than I am, inside and out. Men love her. Women want to be her. Most days I can deal with her being perfect and I’m happy for her, but that night, I—”

  The expression on his face changed. It had been so subtle that she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching him.

  “What?” She pointed at his face. “You did an eyebrow thing and you smirked.”

  “I can assure you. I do not smirk. I’m incapable.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking…about you.” He cocked his head. “Go on.”

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Had he paid her a compliment?

  “I didn’t think she’d miss me if I didn’t show to her happy hour party. I thought she’d have other friends there, but I found out she wanted to surprise me. It was meant to be only the two of us. We used to do this thing, celebrating the day we became best friends. She hadn’t remembered our little ritual over the last few years, but I guess she wanted to make it up to me.”

  “If you didn’t meet her, how do you know what she had planned?”

  He’d been listening. He figured it out.

  “She left me two messages on my cell. The first one she told me about her surprise. She sounded hurt that I didn’t show, but the second one is the message I can’t stop listening to.”

  Zoey inched closer to him until she shared one of his pillows at her back and nestled against his shoulder. Her brain told her to keep her guard up, but she was about to open a vein and bleed for him. She couldn’t let anything stand in the way of helping Kaity, not even her good sense. She forced her fingers to work as she replayed the voice mail from Kaity. She turned up the volume, knowing it would echo and sound worse in the deserted warehouse.

  ‘Zoey, I’m in trouble.’

  Kaity’s urgent, terrified whisper gave Zoey the chills. The fear in her voice reached out to her, making her sick with a haunting agony.

  ‘They’re coming for me. If you get this message, call the police. Have them trace my phone. I’ll keep it on if—’

  A bone-chilling scream made Zoey jump. Tears ran down her face as she heard Kaity being terrorized. Men laughed in the background as her scared friend begged for her life. She must’ve dropped her phone, because someone else picked it up.

  Zoey braced for the man’s cruel voice that she’d heard replayed countless times.

  ‘Don’t come looking for your friend. She’s mine now.’

  Kaity’s phone went dead and the cops had nothing to trace. When the recording ended, Zoey shook with sobs that shuddered through her body. Numb with fear, she didn’t realize he had put an arm around her.

  “She left messages for me and I didn’t even check my phone until the next morning. By that time it was too late.” She cried. “She needed me and I did nothing.”

  She collapsed into his arms and let go. Zoey didn’t hold back. If she let her mind take over, she would’ve pulled away from him, knowing she didn’t deserve to be consoled. What happened to Kaity had been her punishment.

  But nestled into the warmth of his chest, she felt safe for the first time in her life. He stroked her hair and rocked her in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Zoey dared to meet his gaze. She found something distant and forsaken in his somber face. Mr. January stared into the murky emptiness of his isolation. She felt a connection to him, even though he hadn’t shared anything about his life—not even his name. He had an intimate way of listening. His eyes conveyed more than words ever could.

  “Guilt can be gut wrenching.” She sobbed. “Especially when I deserve to feel bad.”

&nbs
p; “We all have demons,” he said. “There aren’t enough lifetimes to escape the mistakes I made.”

  She sensed he drifted into a past only he held a passport to enter. He held his pain close to his heart. Whatever had happened to him, it must’ve been bad.

  “I knew you’d understand,” she said. “You want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head and stared at his dog, petting the animal on the head.

  “No. Some mistakes are beyond fixing.”

  “But not for Kaity, not if she’s still alive.” She touched his bare chest with her hand. “I need your help to find her. She’s all I have. If you know something about her, or the people who took her, I’m begging you to help. You wouldn’t have been in that warehouse if you didn’t know something. We crossed paths for a reason. Even if I don’t deserve it, say ‘yes’ to Kaity. Please.”

  This time it was Mr. January who couldn’t look Zoey in the eye.

  “How sure are you that she was trafficked? You said people you trusted told you, but—”

  “What are you saying?”

  He clenched his jaw.

  “Look, you need to hear this. You’re risking your life when she might already be dead. Her body could be in a shallow grave and you might not ever find her.”

  “No. That’s not true. I’d know it if she were dead.”

  “This isn’t the movies, Zoey. You don’t always get a happy ending because you want one. Lousy endings are my specialty.” He glared at her. “Go home. People who cross my path turn up dead.”

  “No. I don’t believe that. You can help. I know you can.”

  His eyes flashed with anger.

  “Get out while you’re still breathing. Now!”

  His dog growled, low and menacing, reminding her that the animal had only one master. She gathered her things—leaving the pills and medical supplies behind—and crawled out the window and down the fire escape. She didn’t want to cry when she thought about how she’d failed Kaity again, but her tears were terrible listeners.