I spun, practically knocking into Tucker. “Whoa,” he said, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Who was that?”
Was there anyone Max trusted—really trusted—that he might give it to for safekeeping? Tucker’s question bounced around in my swirling mind.
I did know someone Max trusted.
Me.
My eyes collided with Tucker’s. “I know where the flash drive is.”
25
Tucker
“You really think it’s in there?” I asked, standing in front of a UPS office, staring in the wide glass window at all the boxes and shipping supplies.
“If it isn’t, then I’m out of ideas on where to look,” Charlotte replied, rummaging around in her purse in search of some note the UPS left on the door of the apartment about a package just a few days ago.
I prayed to God it was in that package and that it had all the evidence the Feds would need to put away Wallace Jr. and Sr. and whoever else was guilty of corporate espionage and killing my brother.
“Got it!” she exclaimed, holding up a crumpled piece of paper.
We went inside and I practically paced the room while waiting for them to retrieve her package out of the back and hand it over. It was a small manila envelope addressed to Charlotte in neat handwriting. We both stared down at it like it held a ticking bomb.
After she signed for it, I wrapped an arm around her elbow and guided her over to the corner of the store, near a large counter where people could pack boxes. “Open it.”
“Here?”
Hell yes, here. I couldn’t wait another minute to see if it was what we’d been searching for. “Here’s as good a place as any.”
Charlotte tore the top off the envelope and turned it upside down. A small box and a folded piece of paper fell out onto the counter. I couldn’t help but notice the way Charlie’s hand trembled when she reached for the box. It was about the size of a jewelry box, a small rectangle. She lifted the lid and then overturned it in her palm. When she drew the bottom of the box away, I stared down…
At the black flash drive.
I felt a sadistic grin curve my mouth. Got you, motherfuckers.
Pride swelled within me when I thought of Max and his smart actions. The safest place for that drive was exactly where he put it. No one would think to look in the mail for it, as not many people mailed stuff to their own house.
Even if they had stormed this place, they likely wouldn’t have found it because the delivery guy would have it on his truck every day for attempted delivery. Requiring Charlotte’s signature was a stroke of genius because it guaranteed the package had to be placed directly in her hands.
You did good, brother. You did good.
“Oh, Max,” Charlotte said, drawing me out of my thoughts. We were standing close, the side of her shoulder practically brushing against my chest. She tipped her head back and looked up at me, cradling the drive in her hand between us. “This seems like such an insignificant thing to die for.”
Sorrow filled her hazel eyes and her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. I covered her hand with mine. “We’ll make sure his death wasn’t insignificant.” I promised.
She sniffled and nodded. “What now?”
“Now I call the Feds and set up a meeting with them to hand over the drive. Hopefully whatever is on it will be enough to get warrants and make arrests. And then it will all be over.”
I paused, using my fingers to deftly release her hair from the frigid style. It untwisted quickly, falling down her back. I tucked one of the waves behind her ear. “You’ll be safe.”
“And you’ll go to North Carolina,” she added softly. Was that some regret I heard in her tone?
“We should go,” I said, picking up the empty envelope and turning to throw it in the trash just a couple feet away.
When I turned back, Charlotte was standing rigidly, with both the drive and the piece of paper that was with it clutched in her hands. Her gaze was locked on something outside the glass windows.
“Charlie?” I asked, going to her side, noting the way all the blood drained from her face, leaving her looking ashen and white. “Hey.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into my chest.
“It’s him,” she whispered.
“Who?” Alert caused my blood to surge, and for the first time I looked up to see what caused her to be rooted into place.
She wasn’t staring at something, but someone.
“Garlic Breath,” she whispered as a little tremble shook her body.
Not really understanding who this man was, but knowing it wasn’t good, I looked back at the man Charlie referred to as Garlic Breath. His eyes were locked on her and his stare was cold and calculated.
He moved, causing his coat to shift, and I caught the unmistakable outline of a gun at his waist. “Is that the man who tried to kidnap you?” I whispered, noting he wasn’t alone. Several of his “friends” were climbing out of a car parked at the curb.
She nodded.
I didn’t really need her confirmation though because the second the words left my lips, the man boldly pulled out his gun and aimed it right at us. I knew the look of a man intent on hitting his mark. I knew the look of a man who wasn’t afraid to shoot.
He had that look.
“Go!” I yelled, turning my body so it created a shield in front of Charlie as I pushed off the tile floor to sprint away from the window.
Behind us, the sharp sound of shattering glass penetrated the air. Thousands of jagged shards rained into the store as the bullet cut through the window like a hot knife through ice cream cake.
I shoved Charlie hard, pushing her onto the floor and covering her body with mine. Another bullet cut through the air as people screamed, horns honked, and chaos reigned. Little cuts stung my skin, but I forced the pain away, focusing instead on surviving.
Flashbacks from the war, flashbacks of the sound of my brothers screaming in death, and the sound of roaring flames took over my brain.
Not again.
A bullet tore into the tile, right beside us, far too close to home, and caused the floor to crack and explode, raining even more blunt objects our way.
I jumped up, practically picking Charlie up by the back of her shirt and shoving her roughly toward the back of the store. “Run!” I roared. “Get the hell out of here!”
She didn’t have to be told twice and ran behind the counter, skidding across the rubble from the broken glass and catching herself before nearly wiping out. I wasn’t far behind her, knowing that the men who were willing to cause such a scene in public weren’t going to stop until we were dead and the drive was theirs.
The sound of a shotgun being cocked had me pausing. I turned as the man who had been working behind the counter drew himself up to his full height and took aim at the men attempting to kill us.
From this close, I could see the sweat beading his forehead and I knew he never thought he would have to use that gun. No one ever thinks they’re going to have to use one.
He hesitated to pull the trigger.
Garlic Breath did not.
His bullet was true to its mark and within seconds embedded itself right in the center of the man’s head. Blood splattered across the counter and sprayed the wall.
Charlotte screamed.
The shotgun fell from the man’s grip as he crumpled to the floor.
I shoved Charlotte again, reminding her to move, and yanked the shotgun out of the dead man’s hands. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.
I fired off a shot as I worked my way into the back, unable to aim as we scrambled back but able to hold off our pursuers to buy us a much needed few seconds.
The sound of falling boxes caused me to turn in time to see Charlotte trip over a stack of mail and fall onto the floor.
“Get up,” I ordered. “Find the backdoor!”
I heard her scramble up as the man who killed the mail guy came bursting around the corner after us.
I aimed and fired.
He gave a shout of pain and then like an injured animal, he began to struggle to get back to his feet.
A couple more men came around the corner, their attention diverted to their bleeding friend, and I took aim again.
“Tucker! Let’s go!” Charlotte yelled, and I felt the stirring of cold air at my back. She must have found the door. The sound of guns being cocked told me that more than one man had us in his sights.
I kept the shotgun aimed and steady as I backed toward the cold air. When I got close enough, I felt Charlotte’s hand on my shoulder as she yanked me through the exit and slammed the door.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and glanced at her.
There was blood on her face.
I grabbed her chin, pulling her around so I could ascertain how injured she was. Flashbacks of Connors lying in the sand, bleeding out and moaning filled my mind.
I shook my head. I didn’t have time for that right now. Charlotte needed me.
“Where are you hurt?” I demanded, squeezing her chin.
“It’s not my blood,” she replied, her voice flat.
We were standing very close to the man who was gunned down right in front of us. I probably had some of his matter on my face as well.
A bang on the door behind us caused my body to tense, and I glanced up the alley, noting the traffic whizzing by at the end. “Let’s go.”
We took off running. The sound of our feet pounding against the pavement seemed far away compared to the thumping of blood in my ears.
The door to the UPS store banged against the brick when the men barreled through, giving a shout as they saw us running, and gave chase. A bullet hit the side of a building beside us and Charlotte screamed, reaching up to cover her head with her arms. I kept running, scooping her up as we went, and dragged her the rest of the way down the alley.
Another shot rang out and I practically threw Charlotte away from me and out onto a busy sidewalk.
I turned back and fired off another round, the shotgun casing making a hollow ping when it hit the ground. One of the men went down and I smiled.
But the smile was short lived.
Because Charlotte screamed.
Forgetting all about the men chasing us, I barreled out onto the sidewalk, looking wildly around. She wasn’t hard to find.
Because she was the only one on the street with a gun to her head.
I stepped forward, holding my hands up in surrender. I wasn’t quite ready to put down my gun because if I had an opportunity to shoot, I damn well would.
The man holding Charlotte was who she referred to as Garlic Breath. He was sweating profusely, pale, and bleeding openly from the hole I put in his shoulder.
Frankly, I was impressed he was still standing.
He pressed a black pistol right up against Charlotte’s temple, and she was trying to shy away, but his other hand was gripping the back of her neck, pinning her in place. Some people gathered around, watching the unfolding horror. Other people were scurrying away. I kept my eyes directly on Charlotte and that gun as someone behind me whispered into their cell phone to who I hoped was the police.
I tried not to be distracted by Charlotte’s terror-filled eyes. I tried not to be distracted by the way her skin was completely colorless. Her hands were wrapped around her middle and she clutched the drive and piece of paper against her.
“Let her go,” I said, once again showing him I would surrender.
“Drop the gun,” he ordered.
I hesitated. He yanked Charlotte’s hair, making her cry out.
Slowly, I lowered the gun to the ground and laid it by my feet.
“Kick it away.”
Gritting my teeth, I did as he asked, pissed that this was happening. I could barely think because fear coated my insides, slowly spreading like some kind of contagious disease. I’d seen men killed right in front of me. Men I considered my friends. It haunted me to this day, but I survived.
Something told me if I watched Charlotte die before me, I wouldn’t survive it.
“Give it to me, bitch,” the man growled in her ear.
She recoiled. “No.”
He smacked her with the end of the gun, rocking her head on her shoulders. I leapt forward, and the gun turned on me.
I saw his finger on the trigger twitch.
“Here!” Charlotte cried, holding up the small black drive. “Take it!”
The distant sounds of sirens reached my ears. It was about damn time.
Garlic Breath ripped the drive out of her hand and then shoved her roughly to the ground. She fell on hands and knees, gasping for breath.
He leveled the gun at her back, a sadistic grin on his pallid face.
“No!” I roared as the bullet discharged, and I threw myself at her.
I plowed into her and the bullet plowed into me. Razor-sharp pain ricocheted through my entire body and I felt like someone had lit me on fire. With a deep grunt, I landed on top of her, crushing her against the pavement, wrapping my arms over her head to protect her further.
I felt blood begin to ooze out of my body, but I couldn’t tell where I’d been hit. I hurt everywhere.
“Tucker!” Charlotte yelled, trying to wiggle out from beneath me, but I wouldn’t let her.
“Hold still,” I ordered as I reached for the shotgun lying just a few feet away. At the curb, a dark-colored sedan came to a screeching halt and the door opened. I saw one extremely polished black dress shoe step out onto the street.
The shotgun disappeared.
Hands reached for me, yanking me off Charlotte. She began to yell and I began to fight. Adrenaline helped me move; fear for Charlotte kept me upright.
I landed a couple punches to the men who were trying to pull Charlotte and me apart, and then someone pinned me from behind, holding my arms, twisting them behind my back. Another man, one of the men from the alley, approached holding a small device.
A taser.
I started to struggle anew, but it was no use.
He hit me in the center of my chest, sending sparks of hot electricity jolting through my body and making me twitch. I spun, falling toward the ground, but hands caught me.
The last thing I saw was Charlotte being forced into the back of the car, and the last thing I heard was her screaming my name.
26
Charlotte
They were just letting him bleed.
The red soaked his shirt, saturating the fabric of the white button-up he was wearing. His skin, which usually held a golden tone, was now pasty, and every time I looked at him, the stain was wider than before. It was an all too grim reminder that time wasn’t on our side. If we didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to die.
I can’t lose them both.
The thought had me sitting up a little straighter. Max was gone, his life cut entirely too short. But Tucker was still here and he had come to mean a lot to me in such a short amount of time. I knew that we likely would go our separate ways and that was fine, but the thought of him not being out there at all… it hurt me.
“You got what you wanted. Please just let us go,” I begged for like the fiftieth time since the men who took us hauled us into this abandoned building and tied our bodies to chairs.
I glanced at Tucker again, noting the way his chin lolled against his chest and how his breathing grew shallow. The way they harshly tied his hands behind his back only exaggerated the bleeding in his side, and I couldn’t stop picturing the way the wound was being pulled farther open by his forced position.
“So you can run right to the cops? Ain’t gonna happen,” one of the men said from across the room.
There were four of them. They were all sitting around a table with a laptop in the center. I could see the flash drive I surrendered to keep Tu
cker from being shot lying beside it (Fat lot of good that did me). Also sitting on the table were various paper sacks of fast food. The greasy, heavy smell literally made me want to gag. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could eat at a time like this.
I guess kidnapping and attempted murder was a real appetite stimulant for those guys.
I couldn’t help but think of all the charges that could be brought against these men when they got caught. Harassment. Stalking. Destruction of property, kidnapping, attempted murder, and those were just for starters. Oh, how I would love to get them in court and nail their French-fry-eating, bad-breath, Tucker-shooting asses to the wall.
But in order to do that, we had to get out of here. Giving up on the idea these men were just going to cut the ropes that bound my wrists, I began to study our surroundings. I looked for all the exits and for anything that could be used as a potential weapon.
Unfortunately, my choices were limited.
This was some sort of abandoned building and it was fairly empty, aside from trash littering the ground here and there.
“Is it what the boss needs?” one of the thugs who kidnapped us said, drawing my attention. He was standing behind the man at the laptop, eating some kind of giant burger, and as I stared at him, a big glob of ketchup fell out of the sandwich and onto his chest.
Wasn’t he a real picture of manners? I bet girls lined up around the block to take him home to Momma.
Not.
“It’s still pulling up!” the guy behind the computer said.
I wondered what kind of evidence was on that drive. I wondered if it was the only copy Max had. My guess was yes. It was our one shot at getting justice.
I also wondered what they were going to do with us once they realized they had the evidence and we were no longer necessary.
From somewhere in the building, I heard a man scream a string of profanities. I recognized his voice as Garlic Breath, the man who broke into my apartment, the man who Tucker shot, and the man reciprocated and shot Tucker.
It sounded like he was in a lot of pain and whatever kind of first aid his ghetto friends were administering wasn’t helping.
Tricks Page 16
