On the Way Home

by Skye Warren

  “I knew it! Goddamn it. They lost her tail.”

  I gave her a look that told her exactly how impressed I was with the FBI right now. “I can give you the coordinates and some background info I found about the owners, tracing back to Ozerov. That gonna be enough?”

  “Unfortunately no.” She took a deep breath. “I’d get in trouble for disclosing this, but I’m going to hold up my end of the bargain. The truth is, we can probably bust Dmitri right now if we wanted to. Nothing major but it would be enough to put him behind bars for five years, and my supervisors would take that much to get him off the streets.”

  “But?” I prompted.

  “But they need a bigger fish. Ozerov thinks he’s hot shit but the truth is he’s always been small time. Never made much of a mark on the global stage until recently. Something changed. We think he got an accomplice.”

  “It’s not Della,” I said flatly. No goddamn way.

  “We don’t think that,” she said quickly. “But we need to find out who it is, and she’s our best in.”

  “She’s not your in,” I said, all my bitterness pouring out of me. Della’s secrets. This woman’s cool deception. “You’re not going to use her for this.”

  From a distance, I heard the screen door slam. I stiffened, and so did Agent Porter. I managed to tuck my gun in the back of my jeans. A few seconds later, Della rounded the corner looking drowsy and gorgeous.

  Confusion flickered on her face before she smiled. “Hey, guys. I see you two met.”

  “Yeah, uh, I was just out here and—”

  Agent Porter cut me off. “It’s my fault. I must not have been counting my steps right, because I was standing here trying to get into your garage and he came to see if I was okay.”

  I glanced at her curiously and saw her eyes staring off into space. Aw fuck, that was low. Pretending to be blind? Very low. She had the sympathy angle. Plus Della wouldn’t even know she was being spied on.

  Della was gracious about the supposed mistake and even offered to help escort “Katie” back to her porch. I managed not to roll my eyes until they were out of sight. The whole incident had been hugely illuminating, not only because of what Agent Porter had divulged.

  Also because I could see Della as the sweet, easy mark that she was.

  She had a lot of world-wise vibes she put out, warning people away, almost threatening with that smile sharp as a knife. But she was too trusting to really play the game—and with a sinking feeling, I realized I was too. We wanted to think the best of everyone instead of assuming they’d fuck us over if they could. Della had made that mistake with her neighbor. And I had made that mistake with the pretty stewardess who offered me a ride home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Della

  It was almost a relief seeing Clint’s face dark and untrusting. Even the hint of hurt I saw in his eyes, as if I’d wounded him, felt right. Like a punch to my gut—losing my breath and knowing I deserved it.

  Now he’d demand answers, and I felt almost at peace. He’d know. He’d hate me, but he was already figuring it out without my help. He was putting the puzzle together, when I hadn’t even known he had any pieces.

  After helping Katie into her house, I returned to mine. Walked right past him despite the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen. I sat down on my couch, the one I’d been so excited to find at a resale shop with plush rose-gold cushions and maple-wood inlays, and felt out of place in my own house. Felt out of place in Dmitri’s gleaming mansion too. I travelled the whole world feeling out of place, because where I really belonged was back in the seedy strip club downtown. Or huddling in the room I shared with Caro while my sister got shot in the living room.

  Stealing from her boss, they said. Me and Caro would go work for them, make things right.

  Little girls in a strip club. That wasn’t right.

  When Clint came back inside, he was holding something. My cream-colored teacup and matching plate with its gold trim. Steam rose from the top of the cup. He set it down in front of me, and I stared at it. Just stared. It looked like a puzzle. My teacup, my tea. Put right in front of me.

  “No one’s ever made me tea before,” I said, my voice hoarse.

  He looked at me strangely—torn. Torn between anger and pity. My stomach turned over. I felt sick, and I took a sip of the tea he’d made to calm myself. Stronger than I usually made it, and had he added honey? So strange to think of someone else’s hands preparing a drink for me, to comfort me.

  He let me drink half the cup before he spoke.

  “I know about Ozerov,” he said, and my hand started to shake so badly that the cup rattled against the saucer. I set it down on the table, pushed it away.

  “How’d you find out?” I asked. That seemed like the easiest question. Better than how soon are you going to leave and never come back? Or are you going to call the police? I had to convince him not to. Dmitri would lose his shit if the police came sniffing around. I’d seen him dump ten thousand dollars’ worth of drugs in the river when he got questioned once. Another time, the police had dragged him down to the station for questioning. The girl in the makeup vanity next to me disappeared the next day. Didn’t matter if she’d really ratted him out. Didn’t matter if my sister had really stolen from him. Another girl ended up dead, and nobody cared. But I care. And I wouldn’t let that happen to Caro.

  “Followed you,” Clint said. “Hopped in the back of your truck when you went upstairs and followed you into that place.”

  Holy shit. My first thought was that he was pretty damned stealthy. That must come in handy for his military stuff. My second thought was to wonder why he’d cared enough to see. Was he just bored? Or one of those controlling type of guys who thought I was going to cheat when I tried to buy tampons from the corner store?

  “Must have been exciting,” I said in a dull voice.

  His gaze sharpened. “Exciting? No. The ball game would have been exciting. That was something else.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you went there like that. Talk about a fucking lion’s den.”

  I jerked back, stung. “You don’t know the situation. And you don’t know me.”

  “So tell me. That’s what we’re gonna do now. A little getting-to-know-you session.”

  I hated the hint of mocking in his words. I’d done this. Turned him from a sweet, caring guy into this one, who cursed and intimidated me. He looked about two seconds from walking out that door, and I almost didn’t care. Except that my heart would break.

  Except that you still need to do what Dmitri told you to.

  Sometimes you had to make a choice. My sister’s life or Clint’s. For once I didn’t know which one I’d pick, but I opened my mouth and told him everything. Even if he’d die, at least he’d die knowing. It was the least I could do.

  “Dmitri owned the strip club where I worked. Where I was—” I choked on the words a little. I’d barely admitted it to myself, much less to another person. “Where I was forced to work. First in the back rooms. Then when I looked old enough, I moved to the front.”

  “How old?” he asked sharply.

  “Sixteen when I started dancing. With makeup and stilettos you can’t hardly tell the difference.”

  “And the back rooms?”

  I pressed my lips together, unable to say much. Not because I didn’t want to cooperate or because he didn’t deserve the whole truth. Just because I was held together by a thread here, and his derision would feel razor sharp.

  “Ten,” I said, looking away. “I was ten when I first went to stay there.”

  “Jesus, Della.”

  “And the plants died. That’s what I thought about at the beginning. I had three plants, and all of them must have died without anyone to water them. I had worried over having to pick one to live and one to die, but in the end, they all died.”

  He stared at me like he had no fucking clue what I was talking about, but that was all right. None of this really mattered. This wasn’t why I’d followed him
off the plane.

  “Grew up,” I said, forcing myself to continue. “Got my GED by mail. Left Dmitri. I told him I was never coming back to him. I thought he might put up a fight, but he didn’t really.”

  “You and Dmitri, were you ever…” He didn’t finish. The distasteful expression on his face told me what he thought of the idea.

  I feel the same way.

  “For a little while. First he was with Caro. She’s older than me. She filled out faster. Then, I don’t know. I guess he got bored or just wanted to start trouble. He came to me and…” I laughed, the sound hollow. My insides were all hollow. Numbness had spread from the inside out, leaving only a shell, the story of my life like the faint ocean sounds you hear inside. “He said I was saving her.”

  “What the hell’s that mean?”

  That was one choice in my life that had been easy. Her or me. “I knew he hit her sometimes. Hurt her. He said if I let him touch me, he’d leave her alone. I thought it would make her life easier.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed, and in the slits, I saw fires burning. Rage directed at Dmitri, and those flames were enough to warm me. Even if I’d probably get consumed by them in the end.

  “But she didn’t see it that way. She thought I wanted Dmitri to pay attention to me because he’d give me money and jewelry. I didn’t want his money.” It suddenly seemed important that Clint understand that. That he believe me about this. “I never wanted him.”

  “Okay,” he said softly.

  All the indignation drained out of me, about as quickly as it had come. “All I’ve ever wanted is to get away from him. Caro too.”

  “But you left without her,” he said, almost proudly, like he was happy I’d gotten myself out at any cost. Even sacrificing my sister. I didn’t want to make that choice a second time.

  “I couldn’t make her go. I thought it would be okay, maybe. Since he let me leave. Figured he might hit her one too many times and she’d get fed up and leave too. I even got this house as soon as I could afford to, so there’d be room enough for both of us.”

  “She never came.” He stated it as a fact.

  “No. Not even when Dmitri left town to do his business shit. She found some other guy to live with. Other parties and drugs and whatever else. I don’t even know. I barely saw her anymore. I tried to tell myself she was happy that way.”

  “And now Dmitri is back.” Another fact.

  “He called me up. I didn’t even know he was living here again or that Caro had hooked up with him.” I shook my head, embarrassed to admit I hadn’t talked to Caro. Hadn’t wanted to hear her coked out or drunk off her ass.

  Clint’s gaze locked on mine. “What did Dmitri ask you to do?”

  Fucking tell him the truth. He deserved to know. “He wants me to get him something. Some…drugs. Like a shipment thing at the airport.”

  Sometimes you had to make a choice, and you picked the cowardly one.

  “Why didn’t you want to?” Clint asked.

  “Because it’s illegal. And it’s wrong. Really, really wrong, okay?”

  “So you offered to give him eight thousand dollars instead?”

  I made a face at Clint just so he’d know I wasn’t thrilled about the whole hiding-in-my-truck thing. So that was who Katie had seen. But I couldn’t exactly claim any moral high ground here, so I moved on. “He didn’t take it. It was a long shot, but…I don’t know what else to do.”

  In all honesty, I was hoping Clint would have some kind of magic solution. That was a long shot too, like the eight thousand dollars.

  “Have you tried talking to the police?” he asked, and that was when I knew that no magic solution would be happening. The police was dead last on my list of things to try. I’d be dead before I got that far down the list. Caro would be dead.

  “No, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell them,” I said stiffly. “Dmitri won’t react well to that, and he has my sister. He’ll kill her.”

  A little groove appeared between Clint’s eyebrows, and I knew he was thinking hard about how to say what he wanted to say. He leaned forward. “I don’t deny that he’s a dangerous person, but you said your sister was with him for a while. He hurt her, but he didn’t kill her then. What makes you think he’s going to do it now?”

  I stood up and found my phone in my purse. Pulled up the first text message and set the phone on the coffee table in front of him. On the screen was a picture of my sister, eyes swollen. Her skin wasn’t skin colored anymore. It was black and blue and purple and red. She barely even looked human.

  He picked it up and swore softly. “He did this?”

  I shrugged. “Who else? Dmitri has never had a problem getting his hands dirty.”

  Clint’s gaze sharpened. “He did that to you?”

  “Not like that. Not on my face. He knew our bodies would heal and you would barely be able to tell anything had ever happened. But faces, they never heal right with something like that. He wouldn’t have beaten me like that and lost whatever money I could make on the pole.”

  “Fuck.” He stared at the photograph. “This is unbelievable.”

  “I figured you would have seen worse things where you went. War zones and all that.”

  “Not much worse than a woman’s face bashed in. But yeah, I’ve seen some bad shit, but I thought it was mostly over there. We have domestic abuse and crimes in the US, I know that. But what you’re talking… that’s slavery. That’s human trafficking. That is the kind of shit that happens over there every fucking day. And here too, I guess.”

  “Assholes everywhere,” I said, like I was some kind of criminal-world Buddha.

  He quirked his lips. “Yeah. Assholes everywhere.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll really kill her,” I said honestly. “But I know that if he doesn’t, it’s not out of kindness. He’s not that kind. It’s just because he wants to keep her around, or maybe he’s too cheap to pay off the cops again. I don’t know, but I can’t take the chance.”

  Clint nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “So what’s your plan? You gonna give him what he wants?”

  Maybe. Are you willing to die for me? “I don’t know yet. Just stalling, I guess.”

  Sometimes you had to make a choice, but I would put this one off for as long as I could.

  * * *

  We made it through the rest of the afternoon as if nothing horrible had happened. Clint even flirted with me with a tenderness I was shocked to see. He kissed me on the tip of my nose, and tears welled in my eyes. I looked away so he wouldn’t see them. How could he even look at me after what he knew?

  Because you didn’t tell him the whole truth, coward.

  Yeah, but I’d told him a lot of bad shit in my past and he hadn’t run screaming. Wouldn’t have blamed him if he had, but he didn’t. Went out for drinks with his friend James, but left his stuff here. He was coming back, he assured me. He also asked to make sure I’d be okay.

  “Stay inside the house,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Don’t go back to Dmitri’s house, he meant.

  “I’ll stay here,” I promised, pretending like everything was fine even though it wasn’t. A current of expectation ran through the air. By tonight, Dmitri had said. I had to deliver him by tonight. Which meant I would have to decide soon.

  The rap on the door made me jump. I peered out the kitchen window in time to see a van head down the street. It didn’t have its lights on, but I could make out the shape of it—large, looming—and wondered if this was how Katie felt.

  As the van passed, a car parked on the street pulled away from the curb and followed. The car had its lights off too. Strange. Strange enough to make this feel dreamlike, unreal. I imagined all the cars on the roads with their lights off, gliding through the pitch-black night like fish in the sea. No lights flashing or blinking. Peaceful.

  I opened the front door to see, half expecting a pipe bomb to go off in my face. As long as Clint wasn’t here to get caught in the bl
ast, I didn’t even care.

  Instead there was a box.

  Not a velvet box like Clint’s had been. This one was a similar size but wrapped in brown paper. I knew better than to expect anything good inside, but I felt curiously numb as I carried it to my dining room. The thick brown paper tore to reveal a brown cardboard box, like the kind used for moving, but tiny. I opened it and stared inside.

  Horror planted itself in my gut and grew a thick base all the way up to my throat. It branched into cold tendrils that wrapped around my arms and held me in place. It rooted me to the spot, and all I could do was stare inside at the ten fingernails, painted purple. Glittery purple the way Caro had done sometimes.

  Oh God. Caro.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed. I thought I might have blacked out for a few minutes. Or a few hours. When I came to again, my mouth tasted of vomit.

  They weren’t even that bloody. That was what I thought about. There was some blood, on the ones that had flipped over. And some black stuff that I thought might be flesh. But not puddles of blood like I would have thought.

  Calmly, my hands steady, I closed the box and threw it in the trash. Then I took the trash out to the big trash container in the garage. Then I went back inside my house and threw up again.

  I heard gravel crunch as a car pulled into the driveway. Another van? Another package?

  Then the door slammed and I heard Clint’s voice call my name. Relief filled me, because he’d come back. He’d come back, and now I could save my sister.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clint

  James and I actually went to a bar, the way I told Della we would. But instead of drinking beer and playing darts, we went over the intel James had gathered. The information about Dmitri might help me protect Della. Or I could use it as leverage with the FBI agent. I’d have to play it by ear.

  Everything he’d found backed up what Della had told me. Which was good, except that I got the feeling she was hiding something from me. Something important.