by Jordan Dane
Mercer turned on the SUV engine and headed for the construction site front gate. He imagined Zoey seeing Kaity for the first time and he smiled.
With his hands on the wheel and the engine running, he stared at the road with a decision to make. Left, he’d see Zoey at the hospital. Right, he would go home. Zoey had never made anything easy on him. Why would tonight be any different?
Mercer made his turn—and his choice.
***
Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, West
2:45 a.m.
Zoey had ridden in the back of a windowless van, unable to see her departure from Mr. January’s fortress. The woman with no name had driven her. She’d smiled and seemed nice, but the woman didn’t speak during the trip, and she wouldn’t answer any of the thousand questions Zoey had racing through her mind.
But that didn’t matter.
Zoey would soon see Kaity. She cried every time she pictured her friend’s face. It made her sad to think she’d eventually have to apologize for what she had done, and confess everything, but for now she only wanted to hold her and take care of her—because that’s what sisters did.
When the van slowed, after a journey that seemed to last forever, Zoey thought she’d throw up. Every cell in her body splintered into countless nerve endings, all on fire. As the van door opened and the woman greeted her, she raised a hand to stop Zoey from bolting from the vehicle.
“You’re at Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, West. She’s in the ER, through these doors and to your right. When you see a familiar face, he’ll tell you where she is.”
Zoey jumped from the van and shot through the automated doors of the emergency room entrance. She looked for the face of Mr. January. He did exactly what he’d promised he would do—he found Kaity.
With her heart on full throttle and her lungs heaving, she saw him standing with his back to her in the corridor outside an intake room. His broad muscular shoulders looked good in his tactical gear. The kiss they shared flooded her mind and the warmth of his arms filled her. She didn’t slow down until she grabbed his sleeve and spun him around. She wanted to thank Mr. January.
“You did it. You found her. Where is she?” she asked. “Where’s Kaity?”
She felt dizzy from the blood rush, but the sight of him jarred her.
“You’re not Mr. January? Where is he? I expected to—”
The tall man dressed in black BDUs gave her a lazy smile. She’d seen him before.
“No, ma’am.” He drawled. “I’m not el jefe, but you have someone very special waiting to see you…right through that door.”
Shaking all over, Zoey reached for the door and pushed it open. The sight of Kaity shocked her. She looked so very small in the hospital bed. Her body had shrunk and she’d been beaten. Bruises covered her face and arms and her eyes didn’t have the same light behind them. When Zoey forced words from her mouth, she said the only thing that came to her.
“You’re beautiful. I love you so much.”
She slowly stepped toward the bed and cradled Kaity in her arms. She never wanted to let go.
Chapter 15
Laramie, Wyoming
A day later
Midnight
Keiko Kayakova had inherited her enduring patience and her steadfast discipline from her Japanese mother. Those qualities served her well over the years. She meditated daily and found reflective solace in the meticulous care of a Bonsai tree, one of her favorite pastimes.
She cared for a Japanese Shimpaku with its exquisitely textured bark and soft mounded juniper needles that she’d inherited upon her mother’s passing. Her mother had acquired the rare specimen from the Ishizuchi mountain range on Shikoku Island, an uncommon beauty indeed.
Keiko thought of her Bonsai as she pulled her Harley-Davidson Dyna Low Rider motorcycle into the Laramie View Inn off I-80. She found a discreet spot to park, turned off her engine, and took off her custom helmet with dark tinted face shield and left it hanging off a handlebar.
She hadn’t planned to stay long.
Keiko spied the vehicle she’d been following, parked in front of room 102 on the ground level. The seedy motel didn’t have many patrons, except for the few who rented rooms by the hour. She walked up to 102 and knocked twice. When a man opened the door—five-foot ten-inches, dark hair and eyes, a knife scar on his cheek, and a beer belly—he took his time ogling her body before he said anything.
“Do I know you?”
“No. Do you care if I have a name?” she asked and didn’t expect an answer. “The front desk thought you might want company.”
“Come on in.” The man shrugged and sneered. “Take off those leathers and I’ll give you something to ride, slant.”
She took her time and sauntered into the room with her leather chaps swishing. The only way out would be the way she’d come in.
“What are you lookin’ for, chink?”
“I’m not Chinese.”
“Do I look like I care? Pussy and ass push the same, darlin,’ but hey.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Where did you get those blue eyes, slut? Your whore momma spread ‘em for the white boys? Like momma, like baby girl.”
His insults rolled off her like water. She thought of her Bonsai tree and how a delicate stream of water sluiced off its branches to nourish the plant’s roots.
“Shed them clothes and get down on your knees, bitch. How much for a tune up?”
“Do I look like an a la carte menu?”
She gave him a price, knowing he couldn’t afford it, but he surprised her. It must’ve been payday.
“For that kind of money, you’re staying until I say I’m done.” He opened his wallet and put bills on a nightstand. “And you don’t say no to anything.”
“The same goes for you.”
He laughed until he noticed she wasn’t smiling.
“I said strip, bitch. Now.”
Keiko unzipped her black leather jacket and opened her arms wide—an invitation.
“I heard you like it rough,” she taunted. “Come make me.”
The man stepped close enough for her to smell the stench of his breath. He expected her to back into a corner, but Keiko had other plans.
She reached for the Japanese fighting knife she had sewn into the sleeve lining of her jacket—the blade had been a gift from her Russian father. Before the man blinked, she had sliced two large gashes across his chest. His skin splayed open and blood gushed from the wounds. When she twisted her wrist, she came down and across with the blade. She cut through his belly, deep enough to see his intestines spill into his hands.
“For the boy you raped yesterday.”
The man stared down at his mortal wounds in shock, flapping his lips for air like a dying fish.
“What did you—?”
He dropped to his knees, crying like the kid he’d violated.
Keiko didn’t say a word. She went to his bathroom and grabbed the plastic liner from his ice bucket. When she returned to the man, she held the bag under his belly and let his blood fill it as if she were milking a cow.
“W-What are you d-doing?” He slurred his words and his eyes drooped as he held his guts in.
“Your death will serve a vital purpose. You will nourish my Bonsai.”
The blood of Keiko’s enemies kept her venerated mother’s Bonsai strong.
As the man died, writhing on a bloody carpet in a cheap motel room, Keiko cleaned off her jacket and chaps and straightened her hair in the bathroom mirror. Leaving the money on the nightstand, she stepped over his body and carried the bag of blood to her motorcycle.
She loved a night ride.
***
Laramie Mountains
North of Cheyenne, Wyoming
Two days later - morning
The confiscated thumb drive, SIM card, and other evidence of criminal activity that Karl had found at the construction site had set Mercer on a different path to hunt the Hive. New associations were charted and the next level of the organization
would soon shed light on how the network operated and bartered in human flesh on the dark web.
Nilah made sure to secure back door access to the online network before the organization became aware of the construction office break in. As predicted, the Hive had shut down its old portals and logins, but not before Nilah had slipped her hand into their cookie jar for future access.
Today Mercer worked alongside Nilah in the bunker command post. They hunkered down at the conference table and poured over the downloaded data displayed on the holographic panel. Nilah had peeled back the layers Mercer would need to attack the Hive where it would hurt the enemy the most. He and Nilah were establishing their next strategy and finalizing a game plan to be shared with the team within the next few days.
Despite their last successful raid, his computer expert had been disappointed—in him.
“You should have been at the hospital,” Nilah said. “I could tell Zoey was upset you weren’t there.”
“I bet she’s already over it.” He kept his eyes down as he wrote something down on a notepad. “She doesn’t need a guy like me.”
Nilah reached for his hand to stop him from writing and squeezed his fingers.
“A guy like you? Any woman would love a man like you. Don’t give me that bullshit.” She stared into his eyes and didn’t flinch. “The only reason I’m bringing this up now is because Zoey is taking Kaity home tomorrow. If you leave now, you’d have time to talk to her in Cheyenne before she goes back to Denver.”
Mercer cocked his head.
“How would you know this?” he asked. “Did you bribe someone at the hospital to spy on Zoey?
“Gah, you pay me to know stuff. Pffft.” Her lips made an obscene noise and she shrugged before her expression grew more somber. “I just wish you’d take care of yourself the way you do other people.”
Mercer forced a smile and thought about Zoey. He did want to see her again—his way.
***
Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, West
Noon
Zoey combed Kaity’s wet hair to keep it from tangling. She’d washed it for her and bought her new pajamas to wear. She wanted to distance Kaity from what happened to her, but only time and the patience of love would help her friend get through the long journey toward any semblance of recovery.
It broke her heart to see her friend in the throes of her torment.
Zoey had slept on a cot in her hospital room. When she couldn’t sleep, she watched over her friend and caught her crying. Or Kaity would wake in the middle of the night, screaming. The nurses would sedate her, but her dearest friend needed someone with a lot of staying power to take care of her.
“I want you to stay with me until you’re ready,” Zoey said. “I’m not just talking about you getting back on your feet, physically. It’s not easy living alone, but after what happened, I want to be there for you. We’re family.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You won’t be. After what happened, I could use the company. I was so scared. I thought I’d never see you again.” She hugged Kaity and kissed her cheek. “You’d be doing it for me, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you.” Her friend tried to smile, but her swollen lip hurt. “Hey, whatever happened to that nice cop, the one who saved my life and told me about you searching for me? What he said made me think he knew you well, like you were…friends.”
Zoey’s eyes misted, but she shrugged off the emotion she still felt for Mr. January. She knew the man had many secrets, the first being his identity. Not even Detective Cruz could break through his sealed records and the cop had raised the hackles of the Feds for merely querying his fingerprints. It didn’t feel right to keep what she knew about Mr. January from Kaity, but for his sake, it felt like the right thing to do.
“I talked to a lot of cops trying to search for you. Maybe he wanted you to feel safe and he used my name. You know, something familiar to help you—”
Before she could finish, Zoey’s phone rang. Detective Estefan Cruz’s name appeared on the display and she freaked.
What now? I definitely don’t need this.
“I have to take it. I’ll be right back.”
She stepped into the hallway and headed for an empty waiting room down the corridor.
“Detective Cruz. I was going to call you when I got back to Denver. I’m still in Wyoming, at the hospital with my friend.”
“Yes, I heard. Cheyenne PD contacted me after you suggested they make the call. They told me you found your friend, Kaity Boyer. In Wyoming?”
Zoey did ask that Cruz be notified. She didn’t want the three women who died in the warehouse fire to not find justice. With the cases connected, the police could coordinate their investigations to link the murders and abductions to the trafficking ring Mr. January and his team had found.
“I still can’t believe it. Kaity would’ve died if—” Zoey couldn’t finish. With her eyes shut tight, she held the cell phone to her ear and thought of the many ways her search for Kaity could’ve ended if she hadn’t crossed paths with Mr. January.
Zoey plopped down on a waiting room sofa and sighed while she listened to the detective. The guy didn’t know when to quit. He reminded her…of her.
“CPD was sketchy on the details,” he said. “How exactly did you find her?”
“That wasn’t me. I actually don’t know how it happened. You’ll have to ask the Cheyenne police. It looked like their SWAT team brought Kaity to the hospital. There were other victims, too. The police must’ve gotten a tip.”
“But how did you know to be in Wyoming? And where were you staying when you heard?”
“Those are all…very good questions. You must be good at your job.”
“Did your mystery man have anything to do with this?”
“I have no idea. Like you told me before, the guy has no name. If you couldn’t find out anything about him, how do you expect a civilian to get the jump on you? What did the Feds tell you? They talked to you about him, right?”
“I can’t say.”
“I guess that makes two of us.” Zoey needed a diversion to change the subject from Mr. January. “Were you able to link the murders of those three women in the burned warehouse to the trafficking ring they discovered in Wyoming? I heard the police found gasoline doused over the hostages. One of the bastards was about to torch the place. It’s a good thing the police stopped him in time.”
“I’m working with the Cheyenne authorities. We’re sorting things out, but it’ll take time. If I have any questions, I’ll call you.”
“I’m not sure what I can contribute, detective, but if it makes you feel good, knock yourself out. I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
When she ended the call, a shadow eclipsed the doorway and she looked up to see Mr. January staring at her. Zoey forgot to breathe. She wished she had a button to stop time, just to feast her eyes on him and have time for second helpings. He wore faded jeans, a blue chambray shirt unbuttoned to show his broad chest, and a leather jacket and boots, but it hadn’t been difficult to imagine him without a stitch on. If she could choose a waking dream, he would be it, especially if he had ice cream with him and two spoons. With his intense eyes fixed on her, she forced herself to breathe again.
Zoey couldn’t help it. She grinned until her cheeks hurt.
“Your conversation with the detective would’ve gone a lot smoother if you told him about me.” He smiled. “But I appreciate your discretion.”
“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“I wasn’t sure about that myself.” He stepped into the waiting room and sat on the sofa next to her, close enough for her to feel the warmth off his body. “But I wanted to thank you.”
“Me? For what?”
“For reminding me what real love is…and how good it feels.” He touched her cheek to brush back a strand of her hair. “The way you love Kaity, it took guts to risk everything for her. Y
ou’re an amazing woman and I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss…our kiss.”
“Me too.”
“I need you to understand, I’m not exactly free,” he said. “I’ve got baggage that hasn’t been easy, but you opened my eyes to…how my life could be again. I don’t have to accept things the way they are. I can change what matters, if…”
“Are you…married? Are you involved with someone?”
“No, but it’s not that simple. My heart isn’t mine to give. Not yet. There’s something I need to do first.” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “I don’t want secrets between us.”
“But from what I understand from Detective Cruz, you’re a ghost. Your background is ‘need to know,’ which means that what you do is classified.” She snuggled closer to him and touched his chest. “I saw those victims you helped. Whatever you’re doing, it’s important. I can understand your need for secrecy.”
“That can be hard on a relationship. We’d have to take it slow.”
“Then I propose we take a very important first step,” she said.
“What’s that?”
She held out her hand.
“Hi, my name is Zoey Meager.”
A slow smile spread across his face when he realized what she wanted from him and he reached for her hand.
“Hi, Zoey. My name is Mercer. Mercer Broderick.”
Mercer pulled her into his arms and kissed her with such tenderness that she cried. His lips nuzzled her neck and gave her goose bumps. She crawled onto his lap and ran her fingers through his hair, claiming him as hers.
The words of warning from Charlotte swept through her mind, the waitress who had named him Mr. January, when she said ‘Sometimes wild things need to stay untamed, honey. That one’s a loner, certified. He has a razor sharp edge to him.’
Maybe Charlotte had him pegged—as a wildling and a loner with a dangerous edge to his nature. Zoey heard the truth in those words, especially knowing how he unselfishly risked his life for others. What he’d chosen to do with his life meant she had to accept him for the man he’d become—and be willing to lose him and risk her heart for the same reason.
