by India Kells
As she ended her search, she saw Owen come in. When his dark-blue eyes found her, she saw his jaw locking up. Impossible to blame him, as she did exactly the same.
“Dylan.”
“Owen.”
She motioned him to sit, even though it was a moot point. As he settled, she put his wallet on the table and pushed it in his direction. She couldn’t interpret the look he gave her when he took it and put it back in his pocket.
Dee swayed by their table only a second later.
“My dear, what can I get you today?”
Owen’s face relaxed an inch and even offered Dee a warm smile. “A coffee, please. Black.”
“Right up.”
Dylan took her time to close her computer, put it back in her backpack, and check her phone one last time, before sliding it into her pocket and turning to Owen.
“Well, we meet again.”
He didn’t move, or acknowledge her remark until Dee came with his coffee and disappeared again.
“I don’t know where to start. Normally, I would present myself, telling you what I do for a living, maybe impress you with my bravery, if not seducing you, convincing you to trust me. But as I have the mighty Dogberry, who’s had unauthorized access to my wallet, I don’t know what else I can add to what you don’t already know.”
Dylan waited a beat, taking her mug into her hand, letting the warmth seep through her skin. “The truth would be nice. Coming from your lips. So why didn’t you try that when you found out who I was last night?”
Owen nodded, his hand around his mug in a gesture mirroring hers. “To be frank, I was only eighty percent sure you were Dogberry. There was that twenty percent still nagging at my mind.”
“Because I am a woman and you were expecting a man?”
“Because I saw the woman, and was attracted to her, before I saw the possible hacker behind the mask.”
The smile she gave him was far from friendly and hoped to make a point. “Well, now you have a very pissed hacker sitting in front of you. One that could make your life a misery if given the chance.”
Owen leaned forward, his face turning to stone. “I don’t know what you accessed, but this is classified information. If you ever leaked any of this, the men I worked with, good men, could be in danger.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You think I would use that type of information? You don’t know me at all. I know the sacrifices and dangers from doing what you do. I’ve worked with Beatrice, for Purgatory, for years now. Do you think I’m stupid enough to risk people’s lives on a whim? No. What I have in mind will attack you on a more personal level. I don’t make threats lightly. Remember that.”
The man relaxed some, leaning back on his seat, taking a first sip of coffee. “You want the truth? There isn’t much that I can say. Just as my brothers had, I enrolled in the Navy, and we all graduated to become Navy SEALs, one after the other.”
“Mmm … That’s one way of looking at it. And I would agree with you if you wouldn’t have crossed the path of Admiral Feander. All of you ceased to walk a straight line from that moment on.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. A wild ride for all of us. The Admiral is not a man easily impressed. But once you earn his respect, he trusts your judgment and your skills.”
Dylan nodded. She had met the Admiral only once, at his wedding with Beatrice, and that’s exactly how she understood the man.
“Beatrice Dante is cut from the same unmovable stone. Since my brother, Lance, started working from time to time for Purgatory, I’ve only heard rumors about her organization, and not good ones.”
“But nonetheless, here you are. Jumping at Beatrice’s command like a puppy.”
The smile vanished so quickly from his face, she wondered if it had ever been there.
“I’m not at her command. She asked for a favor.”
“But why? She could have sent Lance or your other brother, Wes, for that matter.”
“They’re known now for having ties with Purgatory. Are on the payroll, so to speak, and probably known from you. I’ve only been a shadow so far. A faint blip on anyone’s radar.”
“Because you’ve been a shadow operative, one working on unofficial, unauthorized missions?”
Owen nodded. “Oh, they’re authorized all right. But as we need to thread a very thin, very pale line to accomplish our goal, our involvement can never be confirmed.”
“I know; I’ve collaborated with many of you in the past. But still, you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t like puzzles, mysteries. And you’re one that nagged at me for years now.”
Dylan tensed a little, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.
Owen shook his head. “I said it all wrong, that’s not what I meant.” Rubbing his beard, he sighed. “My team and I were on a mission, in the deep shit of nowhere. At that time, the enemies were closing in fast. We had rescued hostages with us and two of us were in dire need of medical attention. They were stable, but we didn’t know for how long they would survive without help. And because of our situation, it was impossible to send us any sort of backup. That’s when the Admiral said that he might have a solution. Dogberry.”
The man before her was no longer in the little café; his eyes became lost, recalling long passed memories.
“I thought at first that it was a silly code name for a weapon. And then, suddenly, every one of our computers and devices started to shut down. The Admiral told my team to trust him, and to stay put. Those were his last words before the line went dead. It took one minute before all the power from the entire neighborhood went out. Then we heard phones ringing and shouting. We could see an entire building glow in the darkness. A fire started on the top floor. There were screams. And in no time, the police surrounded the area. All they had to do was pluck the terrorists up as they escaped the building. The hostages were saved. My team unharmed.”
Dylan didn’t say a word, not even nodding, even if she did remember the mission well. It was some time ago, and she had been cockier at that time. Showing off, especially in front of sailors and soldiers, was her secret pleasure … one that Beatrice made her regret, though. She couldn’t hear the end of it. It was a small bit of fun. Something that made her grin when the nights were bleak and solitude felt like a ton of bricks.
“It wasn’t the only time that I heard your name. It was whispered in closed circles, cursed in others. And when I was asked to help my brother, Lance, during a mission in collaboration with Purgatory, and I learned that you worked with them, it all made sense. I tried to get more information about you, but you’re surrounded by muted tombstones. Nobody knew who you really were.”
Dylan nodded. “It’s because nobody really knows who Dogberry is. Apart from Beatrice and the Admiral, I worked with everybody, but nobody knows me. I’m more like an app you click when you’re stuck, or a phone number to dial when you’re in trouble. Dogberry doesn’t exist, it only acts. No flesh, and blood.”
“Not anymore.” His lips twitched, and she frowned.
“Not ever. There are good reasons why my identity must remain a secret, why I must stay away and hidden. You, of all people, must know that sometimes, it’s preferable to keep a secret, to never speak of it ever again. And I hope that’s exactly what you’ll do. I promised Beatrice I would let you be by my side for now and she assured me that I could trust you. But this is a temporary situation.”
“I have one last question. It may sound silly, but I must ask it. Why Dogberry? Why did you choose that code name?”
Dylan angled her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I thought Navy SEALs were supposed to be more intelligent and cultured than other men.”
His eyebrow shot up. “If you’re trying to insult me, it’ll take more than that. And let me remind you that I have two older brothers. I’m iron clad against teasing.”
“Shakespeare. It comes from my favorite play Much Ado About Nothing. I was alone all the time growing up, and became an avid
reader. In that play, there is a character, a silly policeman called Dogberry. At first, he seems like a total idiot, but at the end, he saves the day.”
“Like he’s using a mask to hide his true self, same as you.”
“Sometimes, keeping secrets is the most important part of a mission. You should know that.”
Owen scowled. “We can return to the whole secret thing later. What I want to know is why I’m here. Why was Beatrice Dante so adamant for me to find you and protect you, especially now?”
Dylan worked hard to school her features, to force her breath to remain deep and steady. “I’m not sure why yet. Maybe Beatrice is overreacting.”
As his only answer, Owen’s eyebrows shot up and she shrugged. Temper was flaring up in his eyes. “How can I protect you when I don’t know where the threat is coming from?”
Dylan leaned on the table, lowering her voice. “You’re here, so I have Beatrice off my back. I don’t need a keeper; I don’t need a bodyguard. So, there is no need for you to watch my back. Only keep your own self safe and alive. I wouldn’t have survived … I wouldn’t have lived this life for so long, if I was unable to care for myself. Are we clear, Sorenson?”
Owen uncrossed his arms, leaning his elbow on the table as to mirror her posture. “I’m not here for decoration. You’re my mission. I don’t want us to butt heads over your protection.”
“I told you, I don’t need protection.”
“Beatrice thinks otherwise.”
“Beatrice is a worrywart; she had been since … forever.”
The man’s glittering eyes turned to slits. “No, she’s not. She has never been. Beatrice Dante tends to throw her own agents to the wolf and hope for the best. Why would she be worried about you?”
Dylan sat back, and decided that between two evils, Beatrice was the easiest to deal with. She could evade the woman if needed. Owen Sorenson would stick like glue and slow her down, making her life more difficult and complicated than it already was. She was about to tell him to get lost when her eyes turned to noises coming from the front of the café. There was a line of impatient customers at the counter. Where’s Dee? It wasn’t like her to even take a five-minute break on her nightly shift.
Dismissing Owen, she grabbed her pack and walked to the front. Dee wasn’t in the restaurant, so where was she? The woman was never sick, never late, never missing. She had the incredible capacity to juggle customers single-handedly without a glitch. Something was off. Something was wrong.
Owen tried to grab her elbow and Dylan growled, pulling herself out of his grip. “Wait, what’s going on, Dylan?”
If Dee wasn’t at the counter, she was in the kitchen. She must be.
As she pushed the door to the small kitchen, the only thing Dylan saw was the open back door. Owen in tow, she started running. The alley was dark, but she saw them. A dark figure, hauling an unconscious Dee into a black car before closing the trunk over her. At that moment, Dylan would have sold her soul for a gun. Unarmed, she took off. She may not have a weapon apart from her baton, but she could take down this son of a bitch, any time of day. Unfortunately, this time she wasn’t fast enough and knew it. As she approached, the dark figure turned to her for an instant, before hopping behind the wheel and driving away.
Heart pounding in her ears, Dylan stopped when the car turned and disappeared behind another building. Jogging her memory, she noted the plate number. Owen was behind her, his gun out, and she was about to turn to him when something caught her nose. A smell. One that took her off guard. A mix of lavender and citrus, so unique, she had only smelled it in one other occasion in her life. The memory flooded her mind, and before she could process it, her body reacted. Moving near the trash cans, she started retching, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Owen was hovering behind her. He was talking to her, but the buzzing in her head was so intense, it was impossible to make out the words. She took a deep breath, grateful for the stink of rotten garbage that erased everything else.
When she got her panic under minimal control, Dylan pushed herself up and tentatively took another breath. The smell was gone, dissipated into the air. The alley swayed a little but she stayed upright. Small blessings.
Owen was silent, his gun lowered, observing the area.
Her voice sounded raw when she stated, “You need to call the police.”
For a long moment, his eyes roamed her face. “We will call them.”
“No, you have to do it. I need to go back to my place. I got the plate number, I’ll start the search now.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I’m not the one who has been abducted.” She had to go back to her place, quick. Not only did she have to begin the search, but she needed to call Beatrice.
Owen seemed to debate the idea for a moment.
“Listen, I’m a ghost with a forged identity. Plus, it will take some time to sort everything out with the police. Time we don’t have. I’m not in danger, not now, and I can start the search right away, giving us a head start, a chance to find Adelia.”
He took a step in her direction and she lifted a hand, warding him off. Dylan couldn’t control her reaction and recoiled from his touch. He hesitated and frowned before resuming his gesture and gently pushing her hair away from her face. She had to give him bonus points for not asking any questions at this moment.
“I will call the cops, report the kidnapping. But I want you to go to your apartment directly and stay there until I come back. Do you hear me?”
She nodded. She may have won this time, but it was easy to see that Owen would require more answers. And soon.
Before he returned to the café, he took her hand and squeezed. “We will find her, Dylan.”
It was impossible to even nod as he released her hand and walked back to the café. Oh, how she wished for some of his faith. But she knew better … unless miracles existed, Dee was dead.
Chapter 6
Dylan was trying hard to convince herself to call Beatrice. But call her for what exactly? To tell her that a woman had been kidnapped? That a random smell in a back alley may link the incident to something that happened years ago?
Now, she was pacing her apartment as her equipment hummed and music blasted in the background; her only solace for fighting her tottering heart and tremors racking her body without taking any of the dreaded pills. Damn panic, she didn’t need to deal with that, not now! What if the kidnapping was related to the recent attack at Purgatory? And what if it wasn’t? The monster haunting her nightmares was dead, dead and burning in Hell. It couldn’t be related. It was impossible. Beatrice had killed him. She had seen his body, bloody and lifeless and she didn’t believe in resurrection, not one bit.
Nothing had come up from the license plate, apart from the fact the car had been reported stolen two days ago. No camera feed inside the café or in the alley, and she only could follow the runaway car using the city’s traffic feed until it took a small street. Then, it was gone.
Mechanically, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed, before hanging up again.
Shit. And what was she going to tell her? Other than she was losing her head, quickly.
Her thoughts were taking yet another detour when she heard booming knocks at the door over the music. She didn’t have the chance to ask who was there before she heard Owen’s voice yelling at her to open the door.
She lowered the volume and unlocked the door to let him in. As he entered carting two coffees and a bag with him, he looked around, taking her small apartment in, before setting his eyes on her. “How are you feeling?”
She dismissed his question. “How did it go with the police?”
“I reported Adelia’s abduction, gave a statement. They’re working on it, but it looked like they’re way over their heads with this one. No obvious lead either. Have you found anything?”
Dylan shook her head. “Nothing. Only dead ends.”
He handed her a coffee, the cup warming her cold fingers, but h
er stomach recoiled at the idea of even taking a sip.
“And did you call Beatrice?”
“Call her? To tell her what? She didn’t know about Dee.”
“Call her to tell that something more than just the kidnapping happened back there, Dylan.”
She looked at Owen and was about to retort it was a moot point when something beeped on her main computer. As she sat back at her station, she saw that Bear’s autopsy report had been uploaded onto the city’s police mainframe.
