Justice For Abby

by Cate Beauman

  Her eyes widened, staring into his as she recognized his nickname for Margret. “You bastard!” She rushed to her feet, shoving him back a step with the strength of her heartbreak and anger.

  His fist flew forward, connecting with her already sore jaw, knocking her to the floor with a thud. “Who do you think you are?” He crouched down, grabbing a handful of her hair, and jerked her face to his. “I should kill you right now the way I did her. She cried and begged as I punched her again and again. She bled well.” He smiled. “No matter how many times I told her to tell me where you were she wouldn’t.”

  She blinked in horror, realizing Margret died trying to protect her. They’d shared their hopes and dreams more than once while they hid themselves away in her tiny bedroom. Margret had known she would go to Los Angeles and work for Lily Brand. From the beginning Abby had tried to save her young friend, and Margret lost her life trying to do the same for her. Bursting into tears, Abby covered her tender face with her hands, her depths of sorrow more than she could bear.

  “Aw, she cries for the Little Mouse.” He gave her a shove. “So touching.”

  Someday I’m going to look him in the eye and spit in his face, Abby. I swear I’m going to do it. Margret’s bruised and battered face and fierce whisper raced through her mind. Abby looked up as Dimitri’s loomed close, and she let a wad of saliva fly.

  He grabbed her by the neck, squeezing as the amusement left his eyes, turning deadly as he wiped at his cheekbone. “You will die,” he said through clenched teeth, gripping her harder.

  She gasped, grabbing at his wrist, fighting for air.

  “I should break your neck.” He increased the pressure of his cruel grip.

  She closed her eyes, clawing, accepting that she would die.

  “But you will wait.” He let her go. “I will give you more time to think of your last breath.” He stood, glaring. “Bitch.” He wiped at his face for the second time.

  She sucked in deep breaths as the room spun from her lack of oxygen. Trembling, she listened as Dimitri shouted in Russian.

  Luka and the stranger who’d nearly killed her in the van hurried through the open doorway. Tension hung thick in the silence, and Abby scooted back, bracing herself, waiting for Dimitri to order her beaten or raped for his enjoyment.

  “Borris, Luka, I want to thank you for your part in bringing Little Bitch to me.”

  Luka and the stranger—Borris—nodded, their smiles disappearing when Dimtri pulled a gun from his pants. Two loud pops echoed through the room, and both men lost most of their faces.

  Abby screamed as she got to her feet and ran across the room in an attempt to escape the horror.

  Dimitri laughed, walking to the dead men. “Unfortunately your services are no longer needed.” He kicked them, turned, laughing harder as he looked at Abby. “Aleksey, bring her to me. It’s time for Little Bitch to die.”

  She backed into the corner as Aleksey walked toward her, realizing that this was it. He grabbed her, taking her back to the man who would end her. She stared into Dimitri’s evil brown eyes, understanding that he and The Mid-Atlantic Sex Ring had won. The prosecution’s lead witness would die, and Lorenzo Cruz would more than likely go free. She would never meet her nephew or say goodbye to Alexa. She and Jerrod wouldn’t get their chance to have everything they’d wanted with each other.

  Dimitri gripped her chin, holding the gun to her temple. “You will die with pain.”

  She closed her eyes and tears poured down her cheeks. She thought of Jerrod, shaking uncontrollably, waiting. Seconds passed, and she opened them.

  “A bullet is too quick. Your agony will be much worse, but not here.” Smiling, he cracked the pistol along the side of her face.

  The pain of the sharp blow barely registered as the black hole of unconsciousness reached up and swallowed her whole.

  ~~~~

  Jerrod moved back to the window, his gaze passing over the bastard who’d hit him across the temple while the ass leaned against the Lincoln, reading a newspaper. Clenching his jaw, Jerrod crept closer to the jagged shards of broken glass, looking in from a different angle, trying to see down the long hall which Dimitri and Victor, along with two other men, had disappeared. In the twenty minutes he, Stone, and Shane had been here, he’d counted five men altogether.

  He stepped back, crouching in his hiding spot, glancing at his watch, growing impatient as he waited for Shane and Stone to work their way back from their quick survey of the rest of the four-story building. They’d been gone mere minutes, but every second ticking by passed in what felt like centuries. Reconnaissance was a vital part of the extraction process, but this wasn’t happening fast enough.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck, huffing in utter frustration, trying to ignore the sick ache in his heart, understanding that the frantic desire to rush did no one any good. Every time he thought of the way Abby had screamed for him or the way her eyes had pleaded with his as they closed her into the van, he fought to turn it off. He needed to concentrate on the team’s goal: bringing Abby out safely and taking her home.

  He glanced toward the window again, knowing she waited somewhere among the dingy maze of rooms. But what shape was she in? What had they done to her, or what were they doing while he waited here helplessly, doing nothing?

  Rocks crunched against the cement behind him, and he whirled, gun pointed.

  “Easy, Quinn.” Stone stopped short, bringing his hands up to his chest.

  Jerrod dropped his weapon, catching sight of Shane hustling back from the opposite corner of the building. “What did you see?”

  “There are several points of possible exit along the east side of the building,” Shane said, still slightly breathless from his jog back. “Most windows are second story and up, so we don’t have to worry about that as an escape route, but the doors are an obvious problem.”

  “I didn’t notice any vehicles hanging around the area,” Stone added with his arms crossed at his chest. “I don’t think anyone else was invited to the party.”

  “If Dubov and Bobco are inside, we’ve got the last of the ring right here,” Shane added.

  “It’s them. I’m positive.” Jerrod had memorized Dimitri and Victor’s faces months ago, when Ethan handed him Abby’s case file and told him to board a plane to Maryland.

  “Then it looks like it’s time to finish this. We’ll be bringing them out in cuffs or body bags.” Stone shrugged. “Either way works for me.”

  Jerrod nodded, staring into Stone’s unwavering brown eyes. Those options worked for him as well. “Let’s do this.”

  “I’m ready,” Shane said.

  “Okay.” Jerrod nodded again, ready to end Abby’s nightmare. “We’ve got one man directly inside—armed. That leaves us with four more from what I’ve seen—whereabouts unknown. Our entry point,” he gestured to the door thirty yards away, “is locked. I think this will handle whatever they’re using to secure it.” He pointed to the rusty remains of a beam among the debris. “Stone, I’ll have you cover me and Shane. Shane, we’ll do this up the way we used to.” He and Shane had knocked down more than one door together in their years on Fugitive Task Force.

  Shane nodded.

  “We get in,” Jerrod continued, “then take down whoever this asshole is.” He glanced back in the window, catching sight of the man moving in the direction Dimitri and the others had gone. “Wait. He just left.” He focused on his team again. “At some point we’ll have to contend with him, maybe at the door when all is said and done but—”

  Two loud pops cut him off, and his gaze flew to the door, his heart stopping as he recognized the sound of gunfire. “Abigail,” he whispered, his voice thick with agony.

  “Let’s go,” Stone said with a jarring pound of his fist to Jerrod’s shoulder. “Let’s go now.”

  The jolting punch was just what he needed. “Come on.” He picked up the heavy beam with Shane, refusing to believe that the gunshots had been Abby’s end. They moved quickly, stru
ggling with the weight of their makeshift door rammer as Stone followed, pointing his weapon toward the warehouse, ready to fire on anyone who spotted them.

  “Now!” Jerrod shouted, using his anger and fear to slam the heavy piece against the thick metal, denting it with their first effort, busting it open with the second. Dropping the beam, he and Shane drew their weapons, entering the eerily quiet building, covering each other, moving in the formation they all knew well—Shane first, gun pointing forward, Jerrod watching left and right, Stone heading up the back, waiting for their man to reappear.

  They cleared four rooms, stopping at the next open door. “Hold up,” Shane whispered, pointing to the bodies lying on the floor in pools of blood. One was the guard from out front.

  “Two down,” Stone muttered.

  Two gunshots, two bodies. Jerrod prayed this meant Abby was still alive.

  They moved from the space, pausing, pointing their guns down the shadowy east hall, when a clatter from above caught their attention. Jerrod glanced at both of his men, nodding. They kept going, moving faster, skirting the filthy debris silently as they climbed the flight of stairs and continued down another long hall. They stopped when they came to an intersection.

  “There,” Shane whispered.

  Jerrod caught the same movement out the corner of his eye, his relief huge when he spotted Abby’s dangling sneakers, her hair streaming down the side of Dimitri’s arm as Dimitri carried her down the darkened hall toward another stairwell.

  “We must hurry before we are found,” Dimitri’s voice echoed in a hissing whisper as he spoke to Victor and the other man who had been in the van, turning his body in a quick circle as he looked behind him.

  Jerrod’s momentary relief vanished as Abby lay limp, her eyes closed, her head bleeding, her left jaw and cheekbone swollen with bruises. His finger danced on the trigger as a red haze filled his vision with a primal fury he’d never felt before.

  “Keep it cool, Quinn,” Shane muttered. “No mistakes.”

  He fought to pull himself together, taking several steadying breaths, knowing Shane was absolutely right.

  “Someone is here. Let’s go,” Dimitri said, moving closer to the stairs, awkwardly tossing his weapon to Victor. “Aleksey, get the car. We’ll meet you out front.”

  Stone gestured toward the grouping of old offices with inner connecting doors, signaling that he would head that way.

  Jerrod and Shane nodded.

  Stone wasted no time, disappearing around the corner. Moments later there was a clatter from the direction he headed, and Victor and the man named Aleksey stopped on the top step, pointing their guns.

  “Who’s there?” Victor shouted.

  “Keep going, Dimitri. Take her out. We will see to this,” Aleksey whispered.

  “Help!” Abby opened her eyes, calling groggily. “Help—”

  “Shut up!” Dimitri slapped at her, his big hand assaulting her bruised skin.

  Jerrod steamed a breath out his nose, struggling to stay put when she cringed, whimpering. Dimitri would not hit her again, so help him.

  The clatter of footsteps came again from further away.

  Aleksey started forward. “I’ll go see—”

  A shot rang out from Stone’s position, and blood bloomed along Aleksey’s lower pant leg as he screamed, losing his balance, falling down the first few steps of the stairwell before he caught himself.

  Within seconds all hell broke loose as Victor and the injured man started firing toward Stone.

  Shane took off in Stone’s direction, and Dimitri ran Jerrod’s way with Abby while she covered her head and slammed her eyes shut.

  Jerrod pressed his back to the wall, waiting for Dimitri to turn the corner. He pointed his gun as Dimitri came into view. “Freeze!” Jerrod yelled, his eyes locking with Abby’s.

  Dimtri stopped dead and took a step back.

  “I said don’t move.”

  “Jerrod,” Abby whispered from trembling lips among the madness of gunfire.

  Jerrod looked at Dimitri as she struggled not to cry, needing to keep his concentration. “Let her go.”

  Dimitri shook his head, smiling, backing closer to the huge grouping of windows behind him. “She will die first.”

  “The only one who’s going to die is you, fucker. Now put her down.”

  Dimtri dropped Abby to her feet, dragging her within inches of the broken glass, and grabbed for her chin.

  Jerrod aimed, firing, skimming Dimitri’s right hip, full well knowing the bastard was planning to snap her neck.

  Dimitri hollered, releasing Abby as he stumbled back.

  Abby screamed, taking two steps before Dimitri grabbed her arm, pulling her body to his chest, using her as a shield.

  “Now we will both die!” He yanked her off her feet, ready to dive out the second story window.

  “Let me go!” Abby sent her elbow back, connecting with Dimitri’s face.

  Dimtri’s grip loosened as he hollered, and blood fountained from his nose.

  “Run, Abigail!” Jerrod shouted, knowing if Dimitri grabbed hold this time she would end up on the pavement far below.

  Out of nowhere Stone appeared in the silence Jerrod hadn’t noticed until now, sprinting forward, yanking Abby out of the way as Dimitri attempted to take hold of her for the second time. Stone pressed Abby into the wall with his body, shielding her as Jerrod opened fire. Shane’s shot followed almost simultaneously, the shocking jolts sending Dimitri crashing back through the window.

  Abby’s ragged breathing filled the room as she broke out of Stone’s arms and rushed forward. “Jerrod. Oh god, Jerrod.”

  He wrapped her up, holding her tight, breathing in shampoo and soot from her filthy clothing as she clung to him, shaking, sobbing. “It’s okay, Abby. It’s okay. They’re dead.” He looked from Stone to Shane as he slid down the wall on weak legs, pulling her into his lap.

  They nodded their confirmation.

  “You found me,” she muffled against his chest.

  “I wasn’t leaving without you.” He murmured next to her ear and eased her back, needing to look at her, assessing her battered, tear-streaked face, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, running trembling fingers over dark purple bruising. “It’s over,” he said as much to her as himself.

  “You found me,” she said again, kissing him, pulling herself close, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Come on.” He stood minutes later when he was certain his legs would hold him, picking her up, holding her tight, sure he might never let her go. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She looked toward the window. “He’s dead?”

  He nodded, catching sight of Victor and Aleksey sprawled on the stairs and in the hall.

  “I want to go home.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “Let’s go home, Jerrod.”

  He pressed his cheek to her hair. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Abby checked her makeup in the mirror, scrutinizing her jaw and cheek, satisfied that the remains of her purplish-yellow bruising were well hidden. She touched the healing gash on her temple, examining the line of ugly scabs left from the butt of Dimitri’s gun. Unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do about that. Shrugging, she combed trembling fingers through the loose curls she’d twisted into the ends of her hair, trying her best to ignore the clutch of nerves sickening her stomach.

  She glanced at the breakfast Jackson’s mother brought up to the guestroom, shuddering at the idea of eating the homemade cinnamon roll—her and Lex’s favorite, but not today. She didn’t have an appetite for cinnamony dough and warm gooey glaze, no matter how sweet the gesture. Carol had attempted to feed her from the moment they walked through the Matthews’ front door, but Abby’s appetite had been on the fritz since they boarded the plane from LA three days ago, heading back to Maryland.

  Thank God they were staying on Kent Island surrounded by the gorgeous Chesapeake Bay and warm, friendly extended family. Be
ing here with Jackson’s parents instead of in some sterile hotel had gone a long way to making her more at ease, but nothing could make today better. This was it. In less than two hours she would walk into Federal Court and face Lorenzo Cruz.

  Jerrod knocked on the doorframe.

  She gave his reflection a small smile. “Hey.”

  He smiled back, walking into the bedroom. “Ready to go?”

  Turning, she faced him, letting loose a shuddering breath as she smoothed down her fitted white blouse and tailored above-the-knee navy blue skirt. “As I’ll ever be.”

  He stopped in front of her, resting his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, locking his arms around her waist. “You’re going to do great.” He kissed her lips.

  “I hope so.” She adjusted his charcoal gray tie and fiddled with the collar of his button-down shirt. “There’s so much on the line. I need to get this right for Margret. Today is for her.”

  “And for you.” He tapped his finger to her nose.

  “And me and the others, even Shelby, but mostly for Margret. She should be here.” She looked down, still trying to cope with Margret’s sacrifice.

  “Hey.” He lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. “She loved you too.”

  She nodded, overwhelmed by the guilt that had only compounded after Dimitri’s gloating rant. “And paid for it.”

  “You would have done the same for her.”

  A tear fell down her cheek. “Yes, but—”

  “He never planned to let her walk away alive, Abigail.” He dried her cheek with his thumb.

  Somewhere deep down she knew that. Jerrod had reminded her of the fact several times over the last week and a half, but her sorrow was no less. “I promised to save her. I didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “This—today—is the only way I can make that even a little bit right.

  He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  She held on. “Me too.”

  “Shane and Stone are ready whenever we are.”