Rage tickles at me. Caleb with a gun to her head has never been my favorite sight in the world but I have to keep my cool. I look at her and she gives me the most subtle of nods. “All right.” I gesture for Lilah to follow me. “Let’s go get Fox.”
I head towards the stairwell, training my ears to pinpoint Archer’s location. Any creak in the floorboards would be great right now but this house is way too perfect for any flaw. Even the stairs make no noise as Lilah and I walk up them. She pokes her gun into my side, just to remind me it’s there.
“Hey, Fox!” I announce as we reach the landing. I realize how unfamiliar I am with the layout of the place. I could go left or right but each direction gives me about a half dozen options for doors.
Lilah digs her gun in a little deeper, forcing me to choose left.
“Fox?” I ask again.
We keep walking and I push open the first door to peek inside.
As we pass, I feel a shadow brush through the open doorway.
“Hey, buddy.”
I bite my lip to keep from grinning at Archer’s horribly disguised voice and turn around to see a shotgun nestled against Lilah’s red head.
“Is that the best American accent you can do?” I ask.
Archer shrugs. “Sounded good in my head, mate.” He looks at Lilah. “Hands up.”
She slowly raises her hands, presenting her palms forward with a look of inconvenience crossing her face. “Who the hell are you?”
“Archer Allen,” he grins with pride.
She scoffs. “What kind of name is that?”
His lips fall. “Give Sparky your gun.”
“Sparky?”
I hold out my hand. “Just do it.”
She exhales hard and drops it into my open palm as Archer clicks a handcuff onto her wrist. He attaches the other cuff to himself, latching the two of them together. She eyes him for a moment before rolling them into the back of her skull. “Oh, you’re that Archer Allen…”
He tilts his head. “You’ve heard of me, love?”
“Don’t get cocky,” she quips. “Your record is far from impressive.”
“It’s about to get a whole lot better.”
Her lips curl. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
She lashes out, striking his jaw with a hard punch while simultaneously kicking my shin, bringing me down to my knees. Another quick jut of her heel knocks the gun from my grasp and she twirls around Archer, gaining enough momentum to strike him with a hard backhand.
Archer drops his shotgun to block the blow, grabbing her fist in his palm just inches away from his face. Lilah punches with her free hand but he snatches that as well. He draws her closer, so close her face is only an inch from his. “Now, that’s enough, love—”
Lilah head butts him and she slides free of him long enough to boost off the wall and slam her fist against his face. He tumbles to his knees and Lilah uses the moment to reach into her pocket.
I see the bobby pin in her hand. “Archer, the cuffs!”
She moves with trained, expert precision and slips her hand free of the picked cuff before I can even reach the gun and point it at her again.
I lunge forward to stop her but she swings around, connecting her hard elbow against my nose. A haze of white light strikes my vision, blinding me while Lilah trips me down to the floor.
Then I feel the hard metal ring clack around my wrist.
I try to tug away but I pause, realizing she’s just bound Archer and me together in cuffs.
Archer sits up with wide eyes and watches as she looks back over her shoulder and flashes him a wink before bolting back down the stairs.
“My god…” he whispers. “She’s amazing.”
I try to slip my wrist free in a blind panic. “Keys, Archer!”
He jolts back and fishes into his pockets. “Right—”
I leap onto my feet and grab the two guns off the floor as we go. We race for the stairs together while Archer tries to unlock us. My heart pounds in my chest, aching from failure as I try not to imagine what they’re doing to Caleb right now.
We reach the bottom and the cuff slides free of my wrist.
“Boxcar—”
Caleb’s voice brings me to a standstill. She’s still on the couch. Her chest rises up and down, steady but nervous. Elijah points his gun forward at us and Lilah stands behind Caleb with a long pocket knife against her throat.
I pass Archer’s shotgun back to him, along with Lilah’s handgun. “Don’t you dare hurt her,” I warn.
“Not bad, Sparky,” Lilah says, “but your plan was a little sloppy.”
“Where is Fox really?” Elijah asks.
“He’s not here right now,” I answer.
“Obviously,” Lilah growls, digging the knife deeper against Caleb’s neck.
I shudder. “You don’t want to do that.”
“I kind of do actually. I really don’t like people wasting my time…”
Archer takes a short step closer and pumps his shotgun. “Neither do I,” he says. He gestures between them. “So, how about you drop the knife — you drop the gun — and the two of you come with me.”
Elijah furrows his brow. “Who the hell is this?”
“Bounty hunter,” Lilah mutters under her breath.
He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Oh.”
Archer steps forward again. “Oh?”
Elijah lays his finger over his trigger. “That’s close enough,” he says.
I reach out and lay my hand on Archer’s arm but my eyes never leave Caleb’s. She looks so confident, even now; even with a knife to her throat and a gun inches away from her head.
My warrior woman.
Her eyes twitch towards the couch, silently signaling at me to take cover as she pulls her hand free and the revolver flashes in the light.
Caleb pulls the trigger, firing one shot at random to take the twins by surprise. Lilah ducks behind the sofa, withdrawing her knife and Caleb rolls forward onto the floor.
I grab Archer and pull him down with me to safety as Elijah fires several rounds in our direction before pointing the gun down towards the floor, directly at my wife.
“Caleb!” I cry, watching in slow motion as she raises her revolver and fires a shot at Elijah first.
He backs away in time and the bullet strikes the wall behind his head as he takes cover with Lilah.
Caleb can just barely push herself up but she manages to roll over onto her stomach and slide her revolver across the wood floor towards me. It scratches to a halt a few feet away.
“Cover me!” I tell Archer.
He nods and peeks out around his chair, pointing his gun at the twin’s hiding place as I roll out and rush towards the gun. Bullets pop loudly from Archer’s gun and the twins keep their head down to avoid it as I grab the revolver off the floor.
Adrenaline pounds away in my ears, fueling a bravery I’ve never felt before in my life. The twins could easily get one shot off and I’d be done for. Any moment now could be my last but I won’t let that be true for Caleb Fawn.
I kneel down beside her and she latches onto me as I pull her off the floor.
Archer stops to reload and we all pause as the police sirens grow loud outside. Red and blue lights blink, shining through the pale, white curtains.
A smile curls my lips. “About time…” I point the revolver towards the chairs and I hold Caleb in my other arm. “By the way… I lied. The door does have an alarm for multiple failures. Usually, it’s more than three in a row but I reprogrammed it so the police were alerted silently after the first failure, so technically you called the cops on yourselves. Kid stuff, really.” Lilah pokes her head out, staring daggers at me while Elijah does the same. Her eyes flick between my gun and Archer’s. “I’d say you have another minute tops before they come bursting in here, so you have two options. You can get arrested and spend your night trying to explain the cobra tattoos to the L.A.P.D. or you can go with Archer.”
Lilah stan
ds up, refusing to back down. “And how do you expect to get out of this without them shooting you?”
I shrug. “I’m Fox Fitzpatrick’s best friend. My presence here will get cleared up in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’m his best friend,” Caleb argues in my ear.
“Not the time, honey.” I hold her closer and steady my grip on the gun. “Now, what’s it gonna be?”
Lilah seethes, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths while Elijah slinks a little further away from Archer’s shotgun.
“Remember before when you asked me why him?” Caleb quips, drawing Lilah’s eyes. “This is why.”
I smile as the sirens blare from the driveway.
The twins stand and Elijah drops his gun on the couch. “Fine,” he says, shifting his eyes towards Archer. “Lead the way.”
Archer grins and gestures them to start walking towards the hallway.
Then Lilah jerks back, reaching around Elijah to grab the shotgun’s barrel. Elijah bends over, allowing for Lilah to roll over his back and attack Archer, landing her knee in his groin. He keels over and the shotgun slips from his grasp and into Lilah’s.
She points it at us and I twist around to shield Caleb from the inevitable blast as we tumble to the floor.
It’s so loud, my ears ring. Feet pound on the floor, passing over us as Lilah and Elijah bolt for the back of the house.
“Goddammit—!” Archer pulls himself off the floor and follows them, keeping his head down in case another shotgun blast comes hurtling towards him.
“Caleb—!” I look down, seeing red blood splattered on her jacket beneath me. “Oh, no…”
She looks at me with wide eyes. “Boxcar, it’s not me…”
I look at my shoulder as the pain reaches my brain. “Oh, wow… that really hurts.” I balance on my other arm as Caleb tries to push my jacket aside to get a better look.
“Bloody bastards…” Archer mutters as he pounds back into the room. “They’re gone — out the back.”
“He’s been hit,” Caleb says, her voice dripping with fear. She tries to push off the floor but even every bit of her strength can’t get her up.
Archer steps forward but I wave my unwounded arm to stop him. “Go,” I say. “You can’t be here. Run.”
He pauses, his eyes falling from me to the blood and back again with hesitation.
“Go,” I repeat, gritting my teeth as another bolt of pain strikes my chest.
Archer spins around with the shotgun in hand and runs for the back exit as the front door bursts open.
Caleb cradles my face, tears shining in her deep, green eyes. I smile through the pain, knowing that she’ll be okay. I saved her.
Part of me goes numb and I settle a little harder against the floor.
“Boxcar… stay with me.”
I feel her warm touch on my skin; those hands that somehow manage to rough and comforting at the same time. Her voice echoes in my head as black uniforms circle around us.
“Boxcar!”
Chapter 20
Caleb
Las Vegas
Two Years Ago
‘Til death do us part.
What the hell was I thinking?
I stare out the hotel window from a large armchair, scanning the brightly-lit horizon. It’s nothing but colorful lights for miles but I know come morning, the Las Vegas strip will lose most of its magic. Nothing ever looks as enchanting during the day than it does at night.
My husband stirs in the bed, drawing my eyes away from the dancing lights outside. My husband. Never has a word frightened me as much as that one. He doesn’t wake up. He just slides around beneath the covers for a moment before settling onto his side, lightly gripping the pillow under his head.
Husband. Wife. They never meant anything to me before; just titles people threw around because partner sounds so dull and boring. Husband and wife carry a far heavier weight to them, like life or death.
Death. Best case scenario, he lives long enough to watch me die. Or I live long enough to watch him die but the former is far more likely. In a perfect world, that’s the only way out of marriage.
He’s already been through enough of that. I’ve already seen my fair share of it. To imagine spending my life with someone only to have them torn away from me as if they never existed — this is what people strive for? This is what poets and novelist spend their days spewing out over and over again like it’s some goddamn beautiful achievement?
Boxcar turns onto his other side and his arm stretches out, searching for a warm body that isn’t there. It breaks my heart. I could easily walk over there right now, slide back into the bed, and he’ll feel me. He’ll pull me closer and he’ll smile in his sleep and everything will go on the way it should be — but that won’t always be the case.
Someday — next year or next week or even tomorrow — he’ll reach out and I won’t be there. He’ll wake out of it, sit up, and realize that I’ll never slide back into his bed ever again. I’ll be gone from this world but he’ll still be here, cursed to forever wake up alone as if I never existed at all. Just another casualty in life’s war. It happened to my father. It happened to Fox and the rest of our unit. It’ll happen to me, too.
That’s not fair. Boxcar doesn’t deserve that.
“Caleb.”
I look over at him. He’s propped up on one arm, staring over at me in the dark with that adorable, boyish smirk and my heart breaks a little more.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading me like a damn book.
The city lights pull me back one more time. The sky bleeds a lighter shade of blue. Dawn must be breaking. I wonder if Fox saw the sunrise one last time before he died. I hope he did.
“Caleb?”
I glance up. Boxcar stands over me now, shirtless in slacks, with heavy, tired eyes full of love and longing for me and only me. Three blissful, never-ending days in a bed together and he still looks at me like he’s never seen me before.
But someday…
Chapter 21
Boxcar
Las Vegas
Two Years Ago
Well, that was unexpected.
Who am I kidding? This is Caleb Fawn. This wasn’t unexpected at all. It was downright inevitable. I’m not sure why I thought exchanging vows would somehow mean she was ready for commitment. It’s more surprising that it lasted a whole three days before she booted me out of our hotel room.
But we’re married now, so I’m gone but not out. If she needs some time to vent and think, then I’ll give her that time. I don’t mind that at all but eventually, she’ll open her door to me and things will go back to normal until her next attack of conscience. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, these bursts of frustration will happen less and less until they disappear completely.
I’ll keep my patience until then. She’s worth it.
Until then, I’ll hang out in this hotel room a floor down from hers and wait it out. She’ll come down here, knock on the door, and she’ll smile. I’ll kiss her, she’ll kiss me back, and I’ll carry her to the bed for a bit of tender punishment. If there’s one thing I know better than myself in this world, it’s Caleb Fawn.
A knock strikes the door and a grin spreads over my face.
See? I told you.
I open the door and pause, looking into the eyes of a pudgy, middle-aged man in a suit.
“Bartholomew Carson?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
He holds out a brown envelope. “You’ve been served.”
I let him drop it into my hand and a cold shiver races down my back. Just as quickly as he arrived, he spins around and bolts down the hall towards the elevator without even a glance back over his shoulder. A straight-up fucking hit and run.
I close the door and stare at the envelope for a full minute before opening it and sliding the pages out.
PETITION FOR DIVORCE.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
She did it. She actually freakin’ did it. When she
told me she never wanted to see my face again, she meant it in every possible way.
This is a joke. It has to be a sick prank. Ha-ha, Caleb. Very funny…
I scan the pages one-by-one, feeling even more nauseous the more I read. She’s signed them already. Her name in black ink right here. Caleb Fawn. All they need now is my signature and the best thing that ever happened to me will be like it never happened at all.
Fuck that shit.
I slide the papers back into the envelope and grab my messenger bag off the floor. If she wants to split up for a while — fine — but I won’t give her the satisfaction of filing these forms and dropping me for good. She can’t do that if I never send them back to her and she can’t force me to give them to her if she doesn’t know where I am.
You don’t want to see my face ever again? I’ll make that easy for you, Caleb Fawn.
I open the back pocket of my bag and I slide the envelope inside, zipping it tightly closed to hold them there.
Sorry, honey. No divorce today. Looks like you’re stuck with me.
My finger slides over a notepad inside the bag and I pause before pulling it out. I sketched it from memory the best I could; that black cobra I saw inked into the chests of those men. The same snake I saw dangling from that pendant around Marilyn Black’s neck. Her mysterious family. Their nonexistent land in Paris. Even the military and this fucking Paxton guy. There’s a bigger picture here but I don’t have enough pieces to put the puzzle together or make any sense out of it.
My curiosity grows.
I put my jacket on and throw my bag over my shoulder as I leave Las Vegas for good.
Chapter 22
Boxcar
Los Angeles
Present Day
Did Robin Hood ever take an arrow for Maid Marian? I honestly can’t remember.
One thing’s for sure, though; being a hero isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Everyone knows getting shot hurts so I knew what to expect but what I never expected was for there to be so much pain from such a tiny graze.
Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance Page 16
