Snapped

by Laura Griffin

  “What was it called?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it. But I know my husband, all right? He was an adrenaline junkie. He worshipped all that covert operations stuff. When this guy contacted him, I could tell he was thinking about a change. He started talking about ‘contracting out,’ whatever that meant.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, that was about the same time he got drunk and yanked my arm out of the socket.” Her tone was brittle now. “I moved out with the girls the next weekend, while he was off on one of his binges. Stopped asking about his career plans at that point.”

  The rest was pretty well documented. She’d filed for a restraining order, then filed for a divorce. And as she’d said, over and over, she hadn’t seen him since then.

  She was looking down now, at her hands. Her shoulders were slumped forward.

  “I’m scared of these people,” she said quietly. “If I had a name, I’d give it to you.”

  Sean believed her. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. He’d gotten everything he was going to get tonight, and now it was time to go. He stood up, and she looked at him with somber brown eyes as he took a business card out of his pocket.

  “My number’s on the back. Home, cell, everything.”

  She stood up and turned the card over.

  “If you think of anything else, call me.”

  She nodded.

  “I also want you to call me if you feel threatened. If something feels off. If you feel like someone’s following you, or watching you, or if you’re worried about your kids.” He paused to let it sink in. He didn’t discount her fear. These people were dangerous. And they’d already killed a student, not to mention a pregnant woman and a grandfather. Why not a mom and kids?

  “Are they somewhere safe?”

  She nodded again.

  “Good. I’ll call you when we get this resolved. Until then, be careful.”

  “But … when will that be?”

  “I don’t know.” He moved for the door. “I hope soon.”

  “Jonah?”

  “Hmm?”

  A naked breast pressed against his side. “Are you hungry?”

  He opened his eyes and gazed at the woman lying next to him in the dark. The neon light from the parking lot seeped through the shade, giving her skin and everything else in the room a pale red hue.

  “Like, for food?”

  “Yes.” She popped up onto her knees and sat back, looking at him.

  Jonah’s brain and his body kicked into gear. He slid his hand up her thigh. “I could eat.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He tugged her down on top of him and nibbled her neck. “Me, too.”

  She sat back again, scooting out of reach. “Jonah, I’m famished. When was the last time you ate?”

  He sighed and took an inventory of his body. He felt worn out. He chalked it up to a combination of too much driving, not near enough sleep, and some of the most athletic sex he’d had in his life.

  Come to think of it, he was starving.

  Sophie hopped off the bed, and he watched her stumble around in the dark, picking up stuff off the floor.

  “Let’s go get dinner. It’s probably not too late yet.”

  Jonah grabbed his jeans off the floor and dug his cell phone out. It was 9:25. And he’d missed two calls.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. He was pretty much AWOL right now. He’d left Reynolds a vague “following up on a lead” message today, which had bothered him some on the way down here. He usually showed more professionalism than that.

  He glanced over at Sophie, who was shimmying her body into a pair of jeans. She grabbed a bra off the dresser and he watched, transfixed, as she scooped her breasts into it.

  Jonah decided he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Reynolds right now because this was where he needed to be. And—despite Sophie’s earlier protests—he fully intended to be back on the job tomorrow morning, with Sophie tucked safely away nearby.

  He heaved himself out of the sorry excuse for a bed and got dressed.

  “There’s this great shrimp place,” Sophie said. “I think they’re open until ten. Let’s hurry.”

  He grabbed his gun off the dresser and slid it into the back of his jeans, then left his shirt untucked over it.

  He picked up his keys. “My car or Scott’s?”

  She froze.

  “How did you …? Forget it. We can walk.”

  Damn right they’d walk. He wasn’t taking her out to dinner in some other man’s truck. He’d said that just to needle her.

  Jonah tugged her aside and stepped out of the room first, to check things out. He was reasonably sure they were safe down here. He doubted she’d been followed, and he knew for a fact that he hadn’t.

  “One block off the beach and three blocks that way,” she said.

  He fell into step beside her, taking in their surroundings. It was hot and humid. The air smelled briny, with a hint of car exhaust from the traffic cruising up and down the main drag. It was early still for a Friday night. Tourists filled the sidewalks, licking ice-cream cones and stopping to window-shop, just like Sophie had been doing when he’d spotted her earlier that afternoon.

  His gut tightened with anger. He’d worked some of it off in bed with her, but a lot of it was still there. He couldn’t believe she’d taken off like that. He couldn’t believe she’d run away from him. He’d known she was scared, but he’d also thought she trusted him.

  She shot him a sideways glance. “You realize what this is, don’t you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a coping mechanism.”

  “What is?”

  “Your coming all the way down here to have sex with me. It’s your response to trauma.” She caught his hand in hers and squeezed it. “You’re hardwired for it: Near-death experience, must nail someone.”

  He scowled. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “I’m just making an observation.”

  “It ever occur to you that I hauled my ass all the way down here to protect you?”

  “Hmm.” She seemed to consider it. “So, the jumping in bed part was just, what? A diversion?”

  It was way more than a diversion. It was a release of more than six months’ worth of stockpiled lust, and frustration, and—

  He realized what she was doing. She was downplaying everything so no one would have to admit it mattered—including her.

  She looked at him. “Well?”

  “Well, I just figured out your coping mechanism.”

  Her gaze narrowed and he could see her replaying the conversation, looking for what she’d revealed. It was like a game with her, this male-female banter she was so good at. And she always wanted the upper hand.

  “Whatever.” She shrugged, a little too casually. “And I appreciate the thought, but I didn’t actually need you to come here to take care of me.”

  He snorted.

  “did you forget I used to work for a private investigator?” she asked. “This is a woman who basically ran her own witness protection program. She made a living helping people in trouble disappear.”

  The smell of fried seafood told Jonah they were nearing their destination, and he glanced around. He spotted it on the next corner.

  Sophie was looking at him as if expecting him to say something.

  “So, that’s what this is?” he asked. “You’re trying to disappear? I thought you were here for some R and R.”

  “I am, but you underestimate the planning that went into this.”

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  She squeezed around a trio of teenage girls who were giggling and looked like they’d had too much to drink. She halted in front of a weathered wooden building: Tony’s Shrimp Shack. It was a walk-up place, with a cluster of umbrella tables out front where people were eating food out of cardboard baskets.

  “Let’s eat on the beach,” Sophie said.

  H
e slid his arm around her waist. “I watched you get dressed,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “And I happen to know what you’re not wearing under these jeans.” He tucked a finger in the waistband. “Let’s eat back in the room.”

  “Tempting.” She smiled. “But I’d hate to spill crumbs and create an attraction for the local rodent population.”

  A few minutes later, they were sitting on a sand dune, facing the moonlit surf. Sophie had kicked off her sandals and arranged their food baskets side by side.

  She chomped into her po’boy and made a moan of pleasure. She was right about the food, and it didn’t take him long to make a pretty good dent.

  “You were saying?” He finished off his fries. “About all the planning you put into this trip during your two-hour ER visit?”

  Sophie took a sip of the beer she’d smuggled out here in Styrofoam cups. He’d told her she was wasting her time—any cop on this beach could spot a disguised beverage a mile away—but the woman had a stubborn streak.

  “What I was saying,” she told him now, “is that I know how to cover my tracks. I know how to stay off the radar. And I know I’m much safer here than I would be at my apartment, or your house, or some deer lease, because I’m next to invisible.” She popped a fry into her mouth.

  “If you’re so invisible, how’d I find you?”

  “You knew something about me that I never told anyone else.”

  Now, that surprised him.

  “You never told anyone you like to come down here?”

  “I don’t.” She looked down and fidgeted with her cup. “I only came here that one time, last winter.”

  He frowned at her, not sure he believed her. “You didn’t tell anyone besides me?”

  “I needed to be alone.” She glanced up, and there was that sadness again. It was only a flicker, but he hated seeing it. “I kind of went to pieces, I guess you’d say. And then I pulled it together and got back to my life.”

  “Just like that, huh?”

  She looked at him.

  Maybe he shouldn’t press the point, but he happened to know that was bullshit. It hadn’t been “just like that.”

  “So, why’d you tell me?” he asked.

  “You were worried about me. I could tell.” She shrugged. “I wanted you to know I was taking care of myself. And I also knew you’d leave me alone and not crowd me. You’re good at leaving me alone.”

  She was dead wrong. He wasn’t good at leaving her alone. He was amazingly not good at it. He’d tried to do it for months, and he’d blown it, and now he doubted he’d be able to leave her alone for a very long time.

  She glanced up at him. “How’d you know about Scott’s truck?”

  “I’ve seen it before, in the lot at delphi. When I saw it here, I ran the plate.”

  “And what’s with the sedan?”

  “It’s a rental,” he said. “didn’t want you spotting me before I got a chance to spot you.”

  Sophie didn’t look at him, and Jonah knew that if she had spotted him first, she would have made a run for it.

  “He lend you a pistol, too?”

  She looked up, startled.

  “He’s a weapons guy. I know he at least offered.”

  She glanced at her tote bag, and Jonah dragged it across the sand. He poked through it and saw the Beretta.

  “Is it loaded?”

  “Yes.”

  Jonah looked out at the waves and tried to lose the jealousy. Was she involved with the guy? First Mark, now Scott. She seemed to be pretty friendly with the men at her job, and the knowledge didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t sure why he cared. It wasn’t as if he was looking for a big relationship or anything. At least he hadn’t been. He wasn’t sure what he wanted now, but he knew the thought of her with someone else made him crazy.

  Sophie dusted the sand off her knees, and he looked at her bare arms. He could still taste her skin. He could still feel the squeeze of her thighs. He wanted her all over again, right here on this beach.

  And she knew what she did to him, because she leaned against him and rested her hand on his knee. She looked at him with that slow burn in her eyes.

  “We done eating?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  They walked back to the motel, not touching or even talking. She seemed moody now. He wasn’t the greatest at reading women, but he could tell she had something on her mind.

  Maybe it was the promise he’d made her—that he didn’t intend to go back without her. Or maybe she was having second thoughts about sleeping with him.

  When they got back to the room it was cool and dark, the A/C still rattling away in the corner. Jonah tossed the key card on the dresser and pulled her against him. He tucked his hands inside the back of her jeans and felt the warm skin he’d been craving for an hour.

  “You’re not a diversion,” he said.

  “I’m not?” Her hands slid up, over his chest, to link behind his neck. “And here I thought I was pretty diverting.” She settled her breasts against him, and he knew she was doing it again—making it all about sex—but at the moment he didn’t care, because all he could think about was taking her to bed.

  “I’m still hungry,” she whispered.

  Jonah laid his Glock on the dresser. And then he pulled her down with him onto the squeaky bed.

  “It’s Sharpe.”

  Silence. “Is this a secure line?”

  “What do you think?”

  “You said yesterday. I wanted a status report yesterday.”

  The man dropped the cigarette on the asphalt and let it smolder. He glanced at the fireworks stand across the street. Twenty Thunder Snaps for a dollar. It was a business model he hadn’t figured out. They operated only a few days a year and practically gave the shit away.

  “What the hell’s going on? You said you’d be finished.”

  “I will be.” He ground the cigarette with the heel of his boot. “Everything’s on schedule.”

  More silence. He could picture this guy at his fancy, glass-topped desk, getting red in the face.

  “There was an article today in the newspaper. A car crash out near the lab, then an explosion. Was that you?”

  The man clenched his teeth.

  “No fatalities. That’s what it said in the paper. So if it was you, you may want to rethink your battle plan.”

  Rethink your battle plan. When had this fucker ever seen a battle plan? He didn’t know the meaning of battle or combat or country, for that matter.

  “Fear and intimidation,” he answered calmly. “That’s what this is. I’ve got her attention now. She’ll think before she opens her mouth again.”

  Two kids left the stand with an armload of Roman candles. He and his dad used to make their own and set them off down by the river. He’d learned to shoot down on that river. Learned to build bombs. Thirty years later, he was doing the same shit, only now he’d elevated it to an art form.

  “So, if she’s intimidated … maybe we don’t need to kill her after all?”

  Squeamish bastard.

  “We need to.”

  “Are you sure? We’re already at three. Maybe it’s better to scare her enough to guarantee her silence. I mean, she might not even know anything. Maybe she was just running her mouth off to that reporter.”

  The man pictured her behind the wheel of that black Tahoe. He could still see the blond hair, the stylish black sunglasses. If he’d gotten that good a look at her, she’d definitely seen something.

  “She dies,” he said. “That’s your guarantee.”

  Pop.

  Sophie bolted upright, looking around frantically. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she nudged Jonah, a giant dark lump in the bed beside her.

  “Did you hear that?” she hissed.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  She started to lunge for her purse, but he caught her arm.

  “Firecrackers.”

  She stopped to listen. It was silent now,
but she replayed the sound in her head. She shook off Jonah’s grip and went to the window. She parted the curtains and peered out at the parking lot.

  A long whistle. Pop!

  “See?” Jonah sat up in bed. “Bottle rockets.”

  Sophie took a deep breath. She couldn’t see them, but she recognized the sound. She checked the lock on the door. Then she took her bag off the dresser and dropped it beside the bed.

  “Come here.” His voice was rough from sleep. She slid into bed beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him.

  She tugged the sheet up and rested her head on his chest. She listened to his heart. It was a steady thump-bump. Pause. Thump-bump. Hers was racing. Her breath felt shallow. She could feel her chest tightening, like it did sometimes. She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t have a panic attack.

  “You okay?” His breath was warm against the top of her head.

  “I’m fine.”

  His hand stroked slowly up her arm, then down again, and she took a deep breath. She nestled against him and breathed in his scent. She felt her chest loosen. And her pulse slow. Seconds ticked by. Minutes.

  He reached under the covers and found her knee, then pulled it up so her thigh rested across his stomach.

  “Better?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  He stroked his hand lazily over her leg, her hip, then back to her knee. She heard the low hum of the air conditioner across the room. She heard the fireworks, too, but they didn’t bother her now.

  Her head felt good against his chest. Too good. His arms were strong and warm around her. The solidness of him put an ache inside her.

  “Better now?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, felt her stomach flutter. “Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.”

  “You told me.”

  “I did?” She looked up at him.

  “At breakfast that time.”

  “Oh.” She laid her head back down and closed her eyes.

  “You ever seen a doctor or anyone?”

  “You mean a shrink?”

  He didn’t answer, but she knew that’s what he meant. “My mom tried to get me to see a therapist, but I don’t know. I don’t know what good it would do.”

  Nothing would erase it. No matter what she did, she’d always remember coming to in that cold, dark space and realizing she was trapped in the trunk. She remembered the metal vibrating under her body. She remembered her aching wrists, which had been bound so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingertips. She remembered the icy grip of panic as understanding dawned and she realized she couldn’t scream and she couldn’t move and she couldn’t do anything but listen to the tires spinning over miles and miles of highway.