by Anna Lewis
“Give her a break, Spencer.”
“I’m saving her life. If anyone needs a break, it’s me.”
***
They hurried her through the house for the front door. Suddenly Spencer stopped and held up his hand for quiet.
“What?” the other twin asked.
“There’s someone under her car,” Spencer said.
“Under my car?”
“Shh,” both men said in unison.
They watched the man get up and start walking away from the car as if he hadn’t just rolled out from under it.
“Where are your keys?” Spencer asked quietly.
“Why are you still whispering?” she wondered, pointing at her purse.
“Because these men rarely come alone. The car is just insurance to make sure you don’t slip away when they come for you.”
“I can’t do this,” she said, feeling lightheaded as the bile rose in her throat. “Why is this happening?”
“Haven’t you heard?” the other twin asked.
“Trevor, not now.”
“Maybe, if you told her, maybe she would come willingly and this would be a little easier.”
Trevor ignored Spencer and looked to Lara.
“You’re the only juror left that hasn’t been murdered. Well, you and one other guy, but we’re not sure about him.”
“Not sure how?” she asked Trevor.
“One of the jurors was a mole for the mob, and I think that the last guy is probably the holdout that hung the jury. He’s been a little harder to find, but we’re working on it.”
“We need to go,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice deathly quiet.
Trevor looked up and out the window.
“That’s not good,” he said.
Lara looked in the direction they were looking, heart in her throat. There were men in the shadows not far from her house, eyes locked on her house. The soft light of a streetlamp illuminated the guns in the hands.
Trevor rushed over to where her purse was, digging through it and pulling her key fob out triumphantly. He pointed it at the window, pushing the button to unlock the door.
The door unlocked and with a quiet beep. Trevor looked at the fob, his face lighting up as he went for another button.
“Duck,” Spencer said, pushing her down to the ground.
“But w-”
The explosion cut her off, the force of it rocking her little house and blowing her front window inward. Glass showered over them, falling to the ground in tiny little twinkling showers.
“That’s why,” Trevor said. “Thank goodness for remote start. Let’s go.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the ground. Glass fell off her backpack as they ran out the door, taking a hard left to go behind the house instead of toward the sidewalk. Spencer was behind them, moving slower, but not far behind. They were headed across her huge backyard, straight for the six-foot privacy fence that separated her acre from the neighbor’s.
“There’s a dog on the other side of that fence,” she called out to Trevor, slowing down a bit to turn now that they were halfway across the yard.
“He won’t get us,” Trevor said.
She started to argue, but then caught a glimpse of what Trevor was looking at. The sight of it shocked her and caused her to trip over. She went down hard, shrieking at what she saw running behind them, rolling in the damp grass, then getting up and trying to outrun the monster.
“Relax,” Trevor said, grabbing her around the waist as she ran past him and stopping her. “It’s Spencer.”
“It’s a dragon,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “I’m dreaming. This has to be a dream.”
“It’s no dream,” Trevor said, holding her where she stood.
She watched in horror as the last of Spencer’s humanness melted into the face of a dragon, green scales so dark that they were almost black in the moonlight. The dragon stepped forward and leaned down, and Spencer started running toward it with Lara in his arms, her backpack squished between them.
“No!” she shouted when she realized that Trevor meant to put her on the dragon. “No, please.”
“The car won’t distract them long,” he said, his voice still lighthearted despite the danger they were facing. “Trust us. We’re the only ones here that don’t want to kill you.”
He tossed her onto the dragon's back, just behind the wings, then climbed up and situated himself behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him. He was hot from running. His strong arms were like steel around her.
She heard shouting behind them and looked over to see two men picking themselves up from the ground where the explosion had knocked them down.
“Let’s go!” Trevor said loudly. Then leaning over so that she could hear him clearly, he said, “If you’re afraid of heights, you might want to close your eyes.”
“Let them kill me. I can’t do this,” she said, though she didn’t mean it.
“No,” he said into her ear. “It’s my job to keep you safe and I take that job very seriously.”
***
The dragon on whose back she sat shot into the sky, massive wings outstretched and flapping in the balmy air. Lara felt weak, looking down at the ground as they soared straight up, the fiery remains of her car lighting up the night.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Trevor said, holding her closer so that she was cradled against him. “I won’t let you fall.”
Fall? She hadn’t even considered falling. Her hands reached down before she could stop herself, gripping his forearms and holding on tight.
“Relax,” he said. “Spencer isn’t going to do barrel rolls with us on him. That’s more my style.”
“Good to know,” she said, her voice sounding odd and far away. “Where are we going?”
“Safe house. Specifically, our house. It’s like a fortress, and so far, the mob has managed to get to four jurors in witness protection.”
“Why were they in witness protection?”
“Have you been living under a rock? After the second juror was killed, the rest were rounded up and put into witness protection. Well, everyone except for you and the last guy. He didn’t write his home address down when he signed his jury card, and the notification was sent to his post office box. We don’t have a physical address for him and one other guy.”
“Can’t you just do a process of elimination and figure out who is dead, then look up his name or something?”
“We could, but the other guy is burned so badly that we’ll have to do a DNA test to find out who he is. DNA takes time and we have no one to compare it to.”
“That’s awful.”
“I can’t believe that you didn’t hear about this.”
“I turned the news off and use a CD in the car. The day after the trial, the coverage was everywhere. I couldn’t relive that case over and over every day, so I shut it off.”
“That nearly cost you your life,” he said softly. “We put out a PSA to everyone associated with the case to call a number for assistance. It took a little doing, but we eventually found your address.”
“I don’t know why it was so hard,” she said.
“Your name was misspelled and the computer didn’t make the leap.”
She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. She should have known.
“So, the person who signed me in as a juror typed in ‘Laura’?”
“Laura Fax, to be exact.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I usually am kidding, but not this time. She completely butchered your name and you also have your registration under a PO box. It made it harder than we would have liked it, but I love a challenge, personally.”
“What about Spencer?”
“Spencer likes things to go right the first time. He’s a bit serious.”
She laughed.
“I did notice that. Are you guys really twins, or do you just look alike?”
“Tw
ins. Identical.”
“I figured as much. I thought Spencer had run around the house, from the front porch to the back door and beat me there.”
“I kicked down the door,” Trevor corrected.
“Did you?”
“I guess you’ll never know,” he teased.
“I think I like the serious twin better.”
This time, Trevor laughed, throwing his head back and letting loose as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “We’re too high. I can’t tell where we are.”
“We’re going to Dallas. Specifically Ferris, south of Dallas.”
“What’s there?”
“Our house and not much else. Our place is over fifteen hundred acres.”
“That’s a lot of land.”
“We like our space. It’s easier to get away with flying when your neighbors are over a mile away.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, feeling uneasy. “Wouldn’t that also make it hard to get help if we needed it.”
“You won’t need help; Spencer and I will be there.”
“What if something happens to you?”
“If something happens to us, then you’re probably already a goner. Spencer and I don’t lose people under our watch. We would die first, and if that happened, you'd be on your own.”
“That’s comforting,” she said sarcastically.
“You have nothing to worry about. There are two of us and we’re dragon shifters. You’re getting the best of the best, of the best. If we can’t keep you alive, no one can.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It should.”
“I don’t know you two. Staying on fifteen hundred acres alone with you doesn’t sound like a good idea. What if you’re with the mob?”
“Why would we save you if we were with the mob?”
“Maybe, if you thought I might hurt you if you tried to kill me, making it easier to take me in and pretend to be saving me.”
“Are you joking? You’re like a puppy.”
“A rabid puppy.”
Trevor laughed and pulled her closer. His scent enveloped her and her body responded. Somehow, despite her fear, her traitorous body wasn’t above noticing how good he smelled, or how strong his arms felt around her.
“You’re hardly a rabid mouse. We were easy on you. Trust me, you were not going to get away from us.” He paused for a moment. “I was really amused that you managed to scratch Spencer like that, though. I think you’re the first witness to injure him in, well, ever.”
“That makes me feel better.”
The dragon tensed beneath them, and Spencer turned his green head, green eyes looking at her disapprovingly for a moment before his attention returned to the sky in front of them.
“I guess he can hear us,” she said.
“He can.”
Lara shifted in Trevor’s arms, trying to get comfortable. Her stomach was clenched and every time he laughed, her body sent shudders through her, her reaction to his closeness strong.
It’s his touch, she tried to convince herself. Who wouldn’t want someone so gorgeous holding her like he is?
“How long until we’re there?” she wondered.
“About an hour. We’re at extreme opposites of the Metroplex. It takes almost two hours by car to get to your house, and only one flying.”
“Did you fly to my house?”
“No, we took the undercover SUV.”
“Is it still at my house?”
“It is, but it’s not going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was parked next to your car.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s better that it goes up in smoke than the possibility that the mob could salvage it and use it against us.”
“True.”
“Listen, just relax and try to relax. When we get to Ferris, I’ll let you know. Until then, close your eyes and try to get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You’re not,” said Trevor. “ You look exhausted. I won’t let you go, you can count on me.”
“The only person I can count on is myself,” said Lara.
“Well that, dear Lara, is where you are completely wrong.”
***
The Cleaver stood in the street, watching the dragon sail off into the night with his hit. His fists clenched and he struggled to stay calm. She had been right there, and they had missed her. One less traffic light, one less delay since they had left mid-cities would have meant that the dragons would find her dead and gone instead of alive and well. The Don was going to be furious, and if the Cleaver didn’t find a way to make it right, it would be his own head on the chopping block.
The Cleaver was beyond upset at this unfortunate turn of events, but there was no one to blame besides the man that was already lying dead on the ground next to Lara’s car. When the alarm had disarmed, he’d been the only one not to take cover in time. They couldn’t have known that Lara’s car had remote start, but it was a safe bet with a car as new as hers, especially in Texas. With the heat being so stifling, The Cleaver knew more than a few people who left the air conditioning cranked up in their car when they parked so it would come on when the car was turned on. They would start their car from the house, leaving it to cool down for five minutes or more before they left the cool air of their houses.
They should have known, but they didn’t. The Cleaver looked down at the dead man, outwardly stoic and cold, but a hint of sadness touched his heart. This man was the reason they were late, driving slow, missing lights and even getting turned around once and taking a right when he should have gone left. Because of him, a woman that the Cleaver hadn’t wanted to kill to begin with was alive and safe. Now, instead of going after her once and having to deal with the growing knot in the pit of his stomach that showed up with each hit, the Cleaver had to go through this all over again, and tell the new widow that her husband had died because he was a fool. If Lara hadn’t blown him up with her car, the Cleaver would have charged the man with righting the situation, and he would have been on the hook for killing Lara. Now the Cleaver was the one left making sure that nothing incriminating was on the man’s body that would lead back to them.
Then he had to make sure that Lara was silenced once and for all.
He rifled through the man’s pockets, pulling out his wallet and putting it in his own coat pocket. The man hadn’t brought anything else, and the Cleaver wasn’t concerned that any solid evidence would come back on him. The man had been such an average, boring man that The Cleaver hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. It was for the best because it was a lot of work to remember the name of an imbecile who couldn’t get their work done.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said when he was sure that he’d gotten everything they needed. “We’ll find them, but at least we know that she’s with the Hart twins.”
“Are we sure, Boss?” one of the other men asked.
“I’m always sure,” the Cleaver snapped, his anxiety getting the best of him for a moment. “We need to leave or we’ll end up in the slammer like Jimmy.”
They hurried then, the three remaining men jumping into the car, this time with The Cleaver driving. The first responders would be all over this in a few minutes. He couldn’t risk letting someone incompetent drive, possibly getting them caught. He wasn’t in the mood to call for bail. He needed time to think, and figure a way out of this. More and more, he’d been passing hits off to other mobsters, trying to stay as far away from wet work as possible. But the Don had his favorites, and in the Cleaver’s world, being a favorite meant that he got to do most of the Don’s pet projects. Whether he wanted to or not.
If he ended up in jail for attempted murder, the Don would know about his failure before he got a chance to clean up the mess that had been made of a very simple operation. He would have to explain to the Don why he had opted fo
r a car bomb instead of just shooting the woman, and the Cleaver would be forced to explain that he just didn’t want to kill anyone anymore. Things had changed, his life had changed, and he wasn’t the person that the Don had personally recruited years ago.
The Cleaver shuddered, wishing he hadn’t even thought of the noises in the holding cells. He was driving, and he could see the fire trucks in the distance. They would be long gone before the firetrucks got to them, so there was no reason borrowing trouble. They were in the clear and despite the fiasco, The Cleaver had managed to get what was left of his team out and on the road.
“What are we going to do about the girl, Boss?”
“Nothing, at the moment. I know who has her, and that’s enough for now. They won’t let her go until there’s another hearing for Jimmy and it’s over. By now, everyone in the potential juror pool knows that a guilty verdict is a death sentence. With or without the girl, we have nothing to worry about.”
“So, you’re just going to let her go?”
“No,” he said brusquely, though the thought was tempting. “I’m going to take care of her. I don’t leave loose ends. That’s why Jimmy is in this mess, but I’m not Jimmy. I’ll take care of her, just like the rest. But I don’t have to hurry. She's with those dragons, and they won’t let her out of their sight for a while. I need a plan and I need to regroup after this disaster of a job.”
“Sorry, Boss,” one of the men said from the dark backseat.
The apology irked him and made his hair stand on end in anger.
“If you do your damn job, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shot back.
They murmured their agreement, then fell silent in the backseat, not even speaking amongst themselves.
The Cleaver took deep, cleansing breaths, trying to get himself under control. He needed to remain calm and think. He couldn’t blow up and have news of that get back to the Don. The Cleaver had a reputation of being calm, cool, and collected. If the Don suspected that the Cleaver was losing his touch, he wouldn’t live long enough to make tonight’s failure right.
He pushed the accelerator down and headed down the nearly empty highway thirty-five. He needed to go home, rest and regroup. If he didn’t come up with something to please the Don, he knew he would be next on the hit list.
