SOLD TO A KILLER

by Evelyn Glass

  Misty choked on a guffaw. “Yeah, maybe if you’re ninety, you might say that. But no, this wasn’t me.”

  “So, what was it?” Emma asked.

  “It almost seems like someone saw my attempt to bring down the firewall and dropped it themselves. So I could run the trace and figure out where they are.” She looked up, and Dean saw a wariness in her eyes that he could feel in his own mind. “But why would they do that?”

  “I can think of some reasons,” Dean started to say, and then Emma’s phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket, and her face went blank. “What is it?” he said as the phone went into its second ring.

  “Cassidy,” she replied. Her face had gone ashen, her eyes nervous.

  “Isn’t that—” and then he remembered who had been on the line, every time “Cassidy” had called or sent a text for the last few days. “Answer it,” he said, pushing a command into his voice that made him nervous, but that he couldn’t have left out if he tried. “Answer it now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Emma

  Emma stared at her phone for another long inhale before she tapped the button to answer the call. Before she completed the gesture, however, the call dropped. Her stomach plummeted, and her heart twisted in her chest. She looked up at Dean, expecting to see horror or anger on his face, but he was just still. Hurt, maybe, but she didn’t think it was directed at her. Just existing.

  Before she could get herself together enough to call the number back, her phone gave a quick vibration in her hand. She glanced at the screen and saw a text from “Cassidy.” All it said: Pay attention.

  “Pay attention to what?” she murmured. She didn’t see any other notifications on her phone, or around her. She looked up at Dean again — which is when the movement on the computer screen in front of her caught her attention. She let out a gasp and tried not to scream.

  Mia was curled up on a narrow pallet, appearing to be sound asleep. Emma could see the girl’s backpack next to her, her inhaler laid out in easy reach. The child was curled up in a tight little knot, but she’d probably been through a hell of an ordeal. Sleeping tightly curled up made plenty of sense.

  But as Emma studied the image, her eyes moved from the sleeping child to the movement on the far edge of the frame. As she looked in that direction, she saw the man who had kidnapped her once and drawn her into public where she could be kidnapped a second time. He was dressed as he had been in the car—when he gave her to the Scorpions like a piece of property. Dark jeans that could almost pass as business casual, depending on where he was, and a collared shirt. She couldn’t identify the color on the grainy black and white image.

  What was difficult to look away from, however, was that Soren Jay was standing next to Mia, holding a gun.

  He didn’t wave it around or point it at the girl, but of course, he didn’t need to. The threat was implicit and very, very effective. He stared up into the camera and waved with his free hand. His mouth was curved up into a small smile. He brandished the gun for just a moment, making sure that she saw it, and then holstered it in a shoulder rig. With both hands free, he pulled out a smartphone and tapped away at the screen for a few minutes.

  Her phone vibrated again. She didn’t look down until she’d already opened the message. I dropped my firewall, so you should have my address now. Come alone, just you and the girl’s father. If there is anyone else here, I will not release her. I will keep her safe, but I will take her far away from here. She is too important to be allowed to fall into their hands. You have an hour.

  Her stomach twisted, but she messaged back, I understand.

  “The hell you do,” Dean roared next to her, his voice and his demeanor enraged. “The hell you get to say things like that about my daughter without saying something to me. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His hand moved faster than she had thought possible, and her phone was in his hand so fast she was startled. Her hands flew wide, and she stumbled back, staring at him with a wide, angry expression.

  He was entirely gone, his pupils exploded with rage. He turned and threw the phone in a perfect major league pitch. It smashed against the cinder block wall and burst into its component parts, glittering down the wall in shards of metal and plastic. Part of her wanted to curl up and cry like she had when she was a little girl. Part of her wanted to run and hide like she’d never been able to do. She froze somewhere in the middle, her stomach twisted and a scream caught in her throat.

  It was Misty who reacted. She caught Dean’s wrist and yanked his hand back down to his side.

  “Hey!” she shouted, loud and sharp enough that it seemed to cut through the rage that had consumed him. “The hell are you thinking? No one here is responsible for what is going down with your kid. You don’t get to act that way, you get it?”

  Emma watched while Dean closed his eyes, obviously struggling to get control of himself. There was part of Emma that wanted to reach out and take his hand, reassure him that she was okay, not hurt, and that it wasn’t his fault what he’d just done. But it was. What was it her old therapist had said?

  “We are not in control of our feelings, only our actions,” she had said, all those years ago.

  She forced herself to hold still and wait while he heaved a few deep breaths, brought himself back under control, and then slowly turned to face her. He brought his hands up to his face, scrubbing for a moment at his eyes, which she imagined were tired beyond belief.

  “Okay,” he said. “What do we do now?”

  The easiest thing would’ve been to just let him continue, take the calmer tone and the effort at control as an apology, but the thing was, Emma wasn’t interested in making it that easy. On her own, by herself, maybe she would’ve let it slide, talked about it later, but with Misty there, watching, it pushed her towards a different response.

  “First,” she said, her hands shaking but her voice steady, “you could say that you’re sorry about what you just did. We don’t know why Jay has been contacting me through that phone, but we know he has. You might’ve just hurt your chances of getting your daughter back.”

  His eyes were thunder and lightning. He gave her a curt nod, then seemed to realize that what he was doing wasn’t going to help. He closed his eyes, took another one of those long, deep breaths, and said, “I know you’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s go get the girl. Okay?”

  He held out his hand, and she took it in hers, letting his fingers twist around hers. “All right,” she said. She turned her gaze towards Misty, who was watching them with a small smile on her face. “Did you get the address? Do you know where we need to go?”

  “Yes.” Misty rattled off an address back in the middle of the city. Emma wasn’t familiar with the street, but Dean was nodding.

  “Does what he said match up? About taking down the firewall so that you’d be able to track him?” she asked.

  Misty bit her lip, then nodded. “I hate to say it, but yeah, it does. My skills are great, but his encryption was going to keep me out for a lot longer, and then it just opened up. I could’ve believed I’d gotten lucky, but it did feel off. It makes sense that he let me through if his goal was to get you to Mia.”

  Emma turned towards Dean, waiting for him to meet her eyes. It only took a moment for him to do so, but it was a moment longer than she liked. “Are we ready to do this?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Are we really going alone?”

  It was nice that he asked. “I believe him when he says he’ll take her farther away, Dean. He truly believes he’s keeping her safe by doing this, and we know he went and got her inhaler to make sure she was okay. I don’t think he’ll hurt her, but I also think he’s unwell.”

  “True,” he said. “He worked for a wetwork agency, contracted to deal with troublesome people. We’ve never used them, of course, but they have a reputation. And when I asked them about Jay… it seems Jay has a reputation within the group. They are very concerned about his actions, was the way they phrased thin
gs, and it doesn’t sound like Jay is going to have much use to them after what he’s pulled here.”

  “Do you think they’ll intervene and try to take Mia for their own purposes?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Dean said. “But I do think they’ll be trying to take Jay out, and not too worried about who gets caught in the crossfire if it accomplishes their goals.”

  Something cold settled in the pit of Emma’s stomach. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m going to have Connell and the rest of the Titans follow us back into the city. Let the Scorpions decide what happens to those shitheads in the other room.” His mouth spread into an angry smile. “They’ve got plenty of vengeance to sort out for Fred Killian. Let’s let them take care of it. I want to go get our girl.”

  She took his hand and followed him through the warehouse, her head full of happy fuzz as he stopped to speak quietly with Connell, who nodded, and then had a brief, whispered conversation with Marv. She let that phrase, “our girl,” buoy her as Connell let out a shrill whistle, and the members of the Titans who were present looked up, left their tasks, and formed up behind them. She focused on the feeling of Dean’s hand in hers.

  This was finally going to be over. Mia was going to be safe. She didn’t know exactly what would happen after that, but she believed in her heart that it would involve this man, together with her. It was going to feel good, and it was going to be good. And that little girl, who she already loved, was going to be safe in her own bed tonight.

  And, if necessary, she would put her own life down in order to make it happen.

  ###

  She didn’t start getting nervous until she and Dean hit the point where Dean and Connell had agreed that the Titans would fall back and wait for some kind of signal that it was either clear to enter, or that the pair needed backup. After that, Emma found herself wondering exactly what she and Dean would be walking in to. In the face of everything she’d dealt with in the past few days, it was easy to look at Jay as the civilized criminal. But he’d kidnapped her, tricked her, turned her over to masterminds who had gotten another young woman killed, and hidden a child from her parents to “protect” her instead of going to the police. It was far too easy to believe that this was some kind of trap, which would end up with a “News At Eleven” headline and her face splashed across TV screens.

  They had tried so many things and wandered through down many paths. The truth was that this man had been leading them every step of the way. If he wanted to give Mia back to them, she believed they would get Mia back. But if he didn’t… shit. She couldn’t let herself think about it too hard because she didn’t believe that they would be able to outsmart or outthink Jay in any way. If he decided not to give Mia back, she didn’t think they’d be able to find him. And she didn’t have any clear idea of what would happen next. It didn’t seem logical that he would’ve spent all of this time and energy protecting the child just to — to hurt her.

  She had to trust him because she didn’t have another alternative. She just hoped Dean felt the same way.

  He parked the bike in the dust for what had to be the thousandth time in this horrible stretch of days. She slipped off the bike first, took off her helmet, and waited for him. He followed her, taking her hand and squeezing it tight for just a moment before releasing it and started towards yet another abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. She followed him, not close enough to trip him enough, but ready to act if necessary. She had to laugh at herself. As if she could do anything to help him get through this, other than be emotional support. This was his play, and she probably should’ve stayed out of it. All she was going to do was get him killed.

  The front door was hanging loose on its hinges in front of them. Dean turned toward her, his eyes flaring with heat and want. He took her hand again, but instead of a gentle, familiar squeeze, he tugged her close. She stumbled into his arms, and he wrapped her up tight against him.

  “We’re going to get through this,” he said, and she was quite sure that he was reassuring himself. “We can do this.”

  She nodded against his chest, trying to be strong and reassuring instead of fearful and nauseated. “Should we split up inside? You go left, and I go right, that kind of thing?”

  He shook his head. “We’re stronger together. If we stick together, we can take him down.” She felt the grin that spread across his face, and when it faded. “Besides. I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to focus at all if you’re not right there where I can see you.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Emma. I can’t lose you either. Do you understand me?”

  “I love you, too,” she said, pressing her lips against his shirt. She left a small lipstick print there, and it made her smile. She liked seeing her man marked for her. “Let’s get this done.”

  His lips pressed against the crown of her head for a moment, and then he was pressing the door open with a bit of a heave. It didn’t squeal of rusty metal or kick up as much dust as she thought it should, but that was all the time she had to notice what was happening before the crackle of gunfire shattered the air.

  Things started happening very quickly. Dean pulled her down, all but dragging her into the shelter of a fabric and pressboard cubicle which was still coated in dust and grime. He pushed her into the corner, his entire face gone stone cold and battle ready. She hated that look on him, wanted to reach out and soothe it away, but the shots were still firing, and her stomach had gone completely cold. She suddenly knew how people ended up peeing themselves in fear. Her bladder didn’t release, and she was glad of it, but the way the fear completely overwhelmed her, shut off the higher functions of her brain — it felt like a panic attack. She forced herself into the same strategies. Five things to hear, four things to see, three things to touch, two things to taste, one thing to… whatever the last one was, she never remembered. And half of the things she could sense had to do with gunfire.

  Panic attack strategies didn’t work when the panic was genuine. Okay. Fair.

  Dean was saying something to her, but her ears were aching from the sound of the gunfire, which was a lot larger than it was in the movies, more all-encompassing. She pushed herself to focus, to hear him, and saw him telling her to stay here, he was going to find the shooter. He pulled a gun out of—God, somewhere, she didn’t know where he’d kept it—and ducked out of the cubicle.

  The fear rolled over her again, and she had to fight hard not to just curl up in a ball and scream. It wouldn’t help, it would keep either her or Dean safe, and it wouldn’t help Mia. She had to stay strong and stay quiet. All the fear about the life she’d meant to choose versus the one she was currently in and the man who showed no signs of wanting to leave tried to bubble up again. But if she let that fear have space to breathe, if she gave way to it, then there’d be nothing left but the fear, and she believed with all of her heart that a little girl who trusted her would die here today.

  She forced herself to take enough deep breaths to make her head spin and then looked up.

  She’d lost track of Dean, but she could see the man with the gun. He was holding some kind of rifle, she didn’t know enough to identify the model, but it looked like something out of a war film, something that would spray death at a hero in a slow-motion collage of death. He had his back to her now, but he was moving slowly down the row that would lead to him finding her in just a few moments.

  Dean had told her to stay put, but that man was going to find her, and she doubted he would hesitate, monologue, or take her to see his leader once he did. She was quite sure he’d kill her, with no fanfare.

  Her legs were weak and afraid. She knew she was moving away from the spot Dean had left her, the place he’d told her she would be safe. She knew that she didn’t have her phone or any easy way for him to contact her once he realized she wasn’t where she’d been left. If something went wrong, it was possible he’d be trading one hostage for another.

  She crept out of the cubicle, as quiet as she could, and started sneaking towa
rds a stairway she could see in the far corner. She had no idea where to find Jay and Mia, but she knew how to be methodical. She knew how to make her way through a building. And she was going to do everything in her power to help. To not be a burden. Even if it terrified her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Dean

  Dean made his way through the creepy, dusty old warehouse, trying to see within the industrial litter and shattered mess where his daughter was hidden. The shooter had completely disappeared. He thought for a second about going back to get Emma but dismissed the thought. She would stay put and be safe back there. He could focus all of his energy on finding Mia.

  He was no expert tracker, but he’d spent a few odd moments of his life trying to find people who didn’t want to be found, and he saw no sign that this building was anything other than what it looked from the outside: an abandoned building. It had probably been used by junkies, transients, and frightened kids to get away from the parents who did nothing to live up to the name and responsibility they’d been given. He didn’t believe that anyone could’ve gotten into the building, not with a child in tow. That meant Jay had to have another entrance to the building.