by Wylder Stone
“I forgot how amazing your view is.” Trista was a damn liar. She remembered. It was her favorite spot, and it held smoldering memories.
“Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”
“You guess?” She laughed.
Owen took a long pull from his beer and shrugged. “I don’t spend a lot of time out here. Not the same alone.”
“Oh,” Trista said in a voice that was lacking confidence. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I told you I wasn’t letting anything happen to you and that I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“Well…”
Owen turned his body toward her and leaned in, so she had no choice but to hear him and see him when he spoke his truth. “Tris, I want you here, need you here, so I know you’re safe.”
“Like a cozy little family?” Her snark was unwarranted, but she used it as a guard anyhow.
“I could certainly get used to this – fast. It feels good. It feels right. But right now, everything is about keeping you and Mason safe while we hunt a predator.”
His boldness wasn’t surprising. Owen was a man of few words and didn’t waste them on insignificant points of life. He was direct, to the point, and she appreciated that. Even if that kind of honesty made her uncomfortable. “Uh-huh, until another loose end comes…loose.”
“You’ll believe me one day. You will. You and Mason, that’s all I care about right now. When this is over and I’m still at your side, you’ll have no choice but to believe me.”
Struggling to maintain her steely guard, Trista could feel it trying to fall out from under her. Owen said all of the right things, and he probably meant them, but she was afraid to let him in. With danger all around them and an imminent threat, she chose to let that conversation go. There were other things to focus on, like staying alive. Unsure what to say next, she veered the conversation elsewhere to lighten the heavy emotion it was generating.
“And Killer?” Trista asked,
“Even Killer. The best decision I made all week was getting Killer. I think Mason would agree.” It was quite apparent what she was doing, so Own obliged her unspoken request and steered the conversation in a new direction as well. It wasn’t safe to beg or plead over emotional ties and relationships anyway. Not when the stakes were high and an impending threat growing by the day. Focusing on anything but that would be self-sabotaging and too distracting. It was a risk he had to manage very carefully.
“Yeah, it was.” She admitted
With the thorny conversation about feelings and commitments behind them, they moved on. They sat and talked about everything and nothing for more than an hour – no fugitives, no past guilt, just enjoying each other’s company.
A loud rumbling of Trista’s stomach cued Owen to excuse himself while he went for takeout. The entire first level of the Elite building was retail space, so he didn’t need to go far. You didn’t need to go far for anything really.
His favorite was a place called Indulge. It took up one of the street-level retail spots right outside the door to Elite. Its name said it all. It was comfort foods, the kind you love to indulge in – mac-n-cheese, potatoes and gravy, casseroles, soups, salads, and the desserts that were equally satisfying like apple or berry crisp, pies, tiramisu, and crème brulee. It was a place of the anti-diet where only the richest and most satisfying foods were served. Which one would think contradicted the Los Angeles area way of life, but the place was always busy and served as everyone’s cheat meal.
Mason was awake and sitting with his mom on the couch, Killer next to him, when Owen returned home with several bags full of a little bit of everything.
Trista smiled over her shoulder at him, impressed with the amount of bags hanging from his arms. “Sorry, the dog won’t get down and apparently still only listens to you. He isn’t even listening to Mason and insists on laying his head in his lap.”
“Down, Killer.” He said, but the dog didn’t budge.
Noticing Mason was less than his usual energetic self, he asked, “What’s wrong with Mason?”
“Not feeling well,” she mouthed as it was apparently a sore subject for the kiddo.
It didn’t go unnoticed, and Mason chimed right in, “I’m just sleepy and have a headache.”
“Ah, a headache. Well, you had a busy day. How about we eat and see if it helps? I even grabbed some ice cream for you. Gotta eat the food first, though.”
Dinner didn’t do the trick. Mason barely ate, turned down ice cream, and just wanted to sit with his buddy on the couch and watch a movie. Owen was happy to oblige. It was a nice change of pace. The dog, of course, was on the couch right next to them.
Trista cleaned up the kitchen, putting dinner away while watching the three relax together and thinking about what Owen had said about retiring and slowing down. It should be the last thing on her mind, given the circumstances, but seeing them like this was like a glimpse into what was possible for them. For all of them. Trista wanted to believe that once they captured Mark, everything would be over, and there was a chance to live a normal life, maybe even with him in it. But her guard remained up despite her wandering thoughts.
It would be so easy to just let go, let fate intervene, but there was still that ounce of hesitation that made her stall. It was easy to be led by fear. The desire for safety and comfort could disguise itself as something more. That was all this was – her desire to stay safe, for her son to be safe. She didn’t need to confuse that with past feelings.
The giggles and snickers had faded, and the movie credits were rolling, yet nobody was moving. They had fallen asleep.
Larger than life Owen with a small child in his lap was a sight. There was something to be said about big tough men with a kid and dog that caught attention. Trista chuckled to herself and leaned in to check Mason’s temperature. His rosy cheeks suggested a fever, and sure enough, he was hot.
Owen had been burning the candle at both ends, keeping odd hours to maintain their safety. For him to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon spoke volumes. There was a small store on the corner building just across the street. Trista remembered it from the last time she was at Elite and saw it was still there on their way in.
She knew the codes to get in and out, and Owen said it himself – they were safe here. No one knew they were in town, and it was literally right outside the door on the corner. She quickly slipped on her shoes and jacket and left for the elevator. Before punching in the code in the lobby to let herself out of the building, Trista stopped and looked around, taking in her surroundings. Though it had been a few years since her training with Owen, the instincts his teaching built were still there.
She watched as a few couples went in and out of the stores, and people came and went from the bar & grill across the way. Not one single person was lurking or looked out of place. She would be gone for less than five minutes. So Trista stepped outside.
Owen woke to the dreadful sound of the dog snoring. The TV was off, the apartment quiet. No sign of Trista. Careful not to wake him, Owen moved Mason back to the boy’s bed, noting his obvious fever. Poor kid had sweat all over Owen’s shirt. He didn’t mind, though.
A quick search of the apartment confirmed she wasn’t there. He was a bit unnerved that Trista didn’t leave a note but knew she was safe anywhere inside the Elite building. Bored and likely frustrated, he thought maybe she went down a few floors to the gym. Dialing her cell phone was pointless – Owen followed it to the kitchen counter where she’d left it.
Something felt off. Wrong even. He didn’t have time to search every floor. It would be faster to call James and have him find her on the cameras and by tracing her code in the building. The longer it took James, the more his worry escalated. After lacing up his shoes, Owen grabbed his gun from a wall safe by the front door, where he’d stashed it upon their initial arrival.
Tired of waiting, Owen had James send down Genevieve, their one and only on-site and around-the-clock employee, to sit with Mason while he went and searched. Somethi
ng was wrong. Owen could feel it in his bones.
“Shit,” James said through the phone. “I have her keying out just a few minutes ago. First elevator.”
“Okay, then?” Preparing himself for the inevitable blow he knew was coming, Owen waited for his brother to drop the bomb.
“Then the lobby. She left the building, Owen. Why would she…shit! I’m pulling up outside views now. Winding back feed to find her.”
Getting to the lobby never took so long – the elevator ride was painful and keeping him from getting to her. Finally bolting into the lobby from the elevator, Owen didn’t know where to go next. His patience was wearing thin.
“Okay, Trista went right, but that’s as far as I can see from our cams. I have her as far as the corner. I’m pulling up city cameras now, but it will take me a couple of minutes.”
Owen’s heart was pounding right out of his chest as he quickly made his way to the corner, waiting for his brother to give further directions. All he knew was she was out of the building, but it felt like much more. Trista was missing, and it left this odd void he’d never felt before. This was the kind of moment Mark or anyone working with him would wait for. One with her alone and vulnerable.
“Got her. Someone is trailing her, wearing all black! Cross the street, Owen. I’m changing views right now.”
“Where’d she pick them up?” Owen asked, running across the street and pausing at the opposite corner. He scanned the area around him, looking for a clue.
James paused. “Guessing the park on the south side, we’ll figure that out later. Still trying to get on the city link on the north side. Shit. Their system is slow. Hang on, it’s loading.”
Owen stood on the corner, hand on his weapon as he turned every direction looking as far as he could see every which way. The beach was busy, despite the cooler weather and there were a lot of people wearing black hoodies.
“He has her, Owen. Follow the building east to the alley. I’ve got you on here now too – keep heading that way. He just ducked in the alley with her, next block, between the parking garage and store. Derek is right behind you to back you up. Move, brother.”
Dropping his phone into his pocket after switching to the speaker, he yelled her name, if for no other reason than to let whoever had her know he was coming, and her captor was about to face him. It was getting dark and breezy, and the streetlights were leading the way.
With the alleyway in view, Owen stopped at the corner, knowing better than to run in guns blazing. He could hear James yelling through the phone, “She’s down! She’s down! He’s on the run,” while giving Derek directions. Sure enough, as he peered around the corner, Owen saw Trista lying on the ground, moving as if she was trying to get her balance and sit up.
The alley was clear, and she was alone, so he holstered his weapon as he quickly cleared the space between them and fell to the ground next to her. “Tris? Tris, talk to me.”
Sitting her up, Owen steadied her while he looked her over. He didn’t see anything but a cut on her head. Thank God.
“Owen. Oh, my God.” She began to sob. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be okay. I was just going to the corner store to get Mason something for a fever.”
“It’s okay,” Owen said, pulling her into him, his hand holding her head against his chest while he rocked her. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Where are you hurt? Anywhere?”
Derek appeared behind him with his weapon drawn and aimed at the ground. “She good?”
Owen quickly nodded. “I think we’re good.”
“You got this?” Derek questioned while he crept away slowly, scanning the alley and exposed areas of the parking garage.
“Yeah, go. Go, Derek. Dammit, get him!” Without hesitation, Derek took off in a sprint, talking and taking direction from James, who was coming through his earpiece.
“I didn’t pack any Tylenol. I looked like you taught me. I watched everyone and knew where they all were, just like you said. I knew where everyone was at all times, but him.”
“Shhh, it’s okay. He’s gone now. We think he was waiting for you. Did you see who it was?” Owen asked, hopeful for an ID.
Leaning away from her, Owen brushed the dirt from her face and her hair out of her eyes. He ripped a piece of his shirt to apply pressure to her head wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
“I. I didn’t. It happened so fast. I was about to walk into the store when he grabbed my arm.”
“He?”
“Yeah, it was a man. He told me to walk. I could feel a gun or knife in my back, not sure which. Then he shoved me against the wall and stood behind me. I felt his body against me.” Trista sobbed, the terror of reliving what had just happened nearly too much to handle. “I tried to fight, but his weight, he was stronger. I stomped his foot, but he didn’t budge. Then I heard you calling me. He said, ‘It’s not over.’ That’s when he slammed my head against the wall and left. I didn’t even see which way he went. Then you were here. You came for me.”
“I’ll always come for you. Always.”
10
Owen carried Trista back to the Elite building while she cried on his shoulder. Soon to follow was Derek. Mason was still asleep, bringing Trista much relief. She was badly shaken, perhaps in shock, and full of torturous fear – she didn’t want him to see her like that.
Genevieve met them at the door, holding it open so they could pass through quickly and easily. “How is she?”
“Roughed up a little,” Owen said, referring to the visual wounds. The rest was yet to be determined.
“I’ll grab the first-aid kit,” Genevieve said, rushing to the bathroom.
“Why isn’t James up here yet?” Derek said, full of frustration. “I lost him. He had a good head start and disappeared into the crowd on the boardwalk. Some festival shit going on down there.”
Trista jumped at the sound of someone letting themselves in through the front door. A quick calm settled over her when she saw James, which reminded her that nobody could get in unless they were supposed to.
“Damn city cameras have too much of a delay,” James vented. “I lost him once he got her to the alley, then they froze.”
“Interference?” Derek asked, “Someone made the cameras go out?”
“No, I did a search. We’re clean there,” James replied, a step ahead of his brother. “The city just has shit equipment. Starting to think we need to change out their shit for them and not even mention it.”
“Coming from the south, I lost him in Oceanfront Park somewhere around the boardwalk. He was headed north still then,” Derek said.
“I’ll go back and see if I can tap anyone else’s network along there, get a better look,” James said. “It’s gotta be Mark, right?”
Genevieve walked back into the room and sat on the coffee table in front of the couch where Trista was sitting. James didn’t take his eyes off her.
Owen broke James’s staring with work. “I can’t imagine it being anyone else. We were only here for a few hours. He told her, ‘It isn’t over.’”
“Damn,” Derek fitted, angry he lost the bastard.
“He came from the south side of the building. I’m guessing the little sculpture park between us and the next building,” Owen shared. “Plenty of trees, which was probably why she didn’t see him.”
“We have a blind spot then,” Derek added. “I’m on it. We’ll get cameras up by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright, sweets, you’ll feel a lot better after you take a shower, but you’re cleaned up for now,” Genevieve said to Trista, trying to draw her attention away from the men’s conversation. “Just a tiny nick, right in your hairline. You don’t even need a stitch.”
A forced smile was all Trista could muster, though she really was grateful for the help. “Thank you.”
Genevieve patted Trista on the knee as she stood, at which point, Trista squirmed in pain. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry! Those are probably sore.”
“It’s okay,” Trista said, trying t
o maintain that smile.
“By the way, I’m Genevieve, but you can call me Vivi. I keep these guys in line,” the cute blonde said.
Trista tilted her head. “Vivi? It suits you.”
“Well, everyone calls me Vivi but James, but that’s because he has a stick up his ass.” Vivi straightened her dark-framed glasses and tossed her shoulders back in confidence, clearly trying to cause a stir in James.
“Seriously? A stick now?” James asked, clearly agitated. “Is your name Genevieve?”
She nodded.
“Then?” James shrugged.
“Well, I’ll just let myself out. Call if you need me. Mason is just fine, sleeping away in there, and I think his fever broke,” Vivi said. “I’ll check in with you in the morning.”
The brothers followed, each having their own tasks to accomplish that would likely keep them busy well into the night.
With everyone gone and her adrenaline fading to exhaustion, Owen held out a hand to Trista. “Let’s get you to bed.”
She attempted to stand, but her sore knees protested after hitting the ground with such force in the alley. Owen swept her up, once again, and carried her to his room, gently sitting her on his bed.
He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
He turned to walk away, but she grabbed his arm. “Will you stay with me? At least for a little while. I can’t seem to stop the shaking, and it isn’t helping my anxiety right now.”
“Of course, I will.” Owen had hoped she would ask him to stay because he didn’t want to leave her. “Do you want to change first?”
“No, it’s just leggings and a sweatshirt. I’m okay. I’ll just wear this. I have this sudden overwhelming need to sleep, but…”
“You’re afraid,” he finished for her, to which she nodded.
Lying on the bed next to her, he pulled her close and held her tight. They both needed the closeness after the day’s events.
