“Stop it! You’re just lying again!” I tell him. “All that time you had me believing that he was the hit man! It was you!”
“Kat,” he says again, softer, pleading. My name sounds like a lie from his lips and I take another step away.
“You were going to kill me,” I cry, my hands trembling as I clasp them together. I take one last look at him. He stands alone, breathless and waiting. I’m not sure how I feel, but I know what to do. I turn my back and join Boots.
He grins in Steel’s direction. It’s a sign of victory and I hate it. The place is so quiet that all I hear are our soft footsteps in the grass. We take a few steps before I hear Steel again.
“Samuel!” he shouts. This time his voice is clear. It seems to float on the wind and filter through the trees. Every other sound falls away and all I hear is his voice. I turn to see him standing near Mimi’s headstone, his gun lowered and chest heaving. He looks absolutely vulnerable.
“What?” I ask. My eyes squint to make out his shape against the water.
“My name,” he says, his voice strains from the confession. “My name is Samuel. I was born and raised in Las Vegas. I’ve never been in love and I fucking hate eighties music. I am not a monster, but I have been a hired thug since I was seventeen. This was going to be the biggest job of my career. I just had to bring you to San Antonio to finish the job, then I was going to retire to Mexico. But I couldn’t do it, Kat. I can’t hurt you. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve ever said, please believe that.”
My body responds to his declaration before I can make sense of it. My feet move in his direction as if he’s finally given me what I need. Samuel’s eyes stay trained on mine, pulling me in with their complete honesty.
“Stop!” Boots yells. His deep voice booms around us. I obey without thought. I spin and see that he now has a gun pointed at me. Samuel raises his weapon again and I’m caught between them.
“Come on, Kat. He won’t shoot you. He needs you alive.”
“I guarantee that’s not true,” Boots says. “Maybe she had a weapon. She is a dangerous, wanted killer after all. It would be self-defense.” His hard stare slides over me and I don’t doubt his threat. “Whether willingly or in a body bag, you’re coming with me, Katherine.”
I look to Samuel, but his gaze moves past me to Boots. I turn back to Boots just in time to watch him lower his aim to my chest. I lose my breath, squeeze my eyes closed, and wait for the pain. A single shot is fired, but nothing hits me. I scream and drop to the ground, covering my head with my hands. I open my eyes just in time to watch Boots’ body hit the grass with a soft thud.
Samuel runs to me and pulls my fingers from my face. His eyes meet mine and I see so many things there—things that I want to shake free from. I jerk my hand from his grip and slap him across the face. His head turns from the force and the sting burns my hand. I get no relief from the hit, so I try it again. This time he catches my hand.
“I’m sorry. I know I deserve it, but there’s no time,” he says. He pulls me to my feet and turns to Boots. “We’ve got to go.”
“Samuel,” I say, testing out his name. It’s satisfying, like honey on my tongue. I want to say it again. “Samuel.”
He spins to face me. It’s as if the sound of his name has transformed him into something else, something softer. He pulls me to his body and plants his lips on mine. The kiss leaves me breathless and desperate for more. The force behind that kiss, the sheer joy and pain of it surrounds us and binds us to each other.
When he releases me, I stumble back, fighting to catch my breath. I press my fingers to my lips, still tingling with his taste. Samuel steps to Boots’ body, takes his gun, and tucks it into his waistband. He digs his wallet and keys out and takes those, too.
“You killed him,” I say.
“It was him or you, Kat,” he says holding his hand out for me.
I take it without thinking and climb into the van as Samuel slides into the driver’s seat. He starts it and we’re off, speeding through the cemetery and exiting onto the street.
“What now?” I ask.
“They’re expecting us tomorrow evening, so that’s a small window of time to get ahead.”
15. HIM
As I tear through the streets of Avondale, I pick up my phone and dial the only person that can help. It doesn’t even ring once before he picks up.
“Hello, you absentee mother fucker.”
“Jack, I’m sending you a photo. I need a new identity. Social, passport, everything. Code ADAM for both of us.”
“Good to hear from you, too. Yeah, we’re doing great, thanks for asking. The kids are growing like weeds.”
“You don’t even have kids. No time for this, Jack.”
“So, this isn’t a social call. Alright, man. You know I got you,” he says. “Where should I send it?”
“I need it tonight,” I say and wait for his protest.
“What? Are you crazy? There’s a Ninja Turtle marathon on Cartoon Network.”
I roll my eyes and huff into the phone. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Guess you’re in the area? I’ll get it done, but you owe me big for this one,” Jack says.
“I don’t owe you shit. Two words: Spearmint Rhino.”
“Touché, asshole. Will you be staying?”
“Just for the night. We’re headed to Mexico. I don’t think I’m coming back this time.”
There’s a beat of silence between us. He knows I’m serious.
“Damn, you must be in some major shit. Kelli will be trés disappointed. I’m assuming you need to be off the grid so I’ll leave the garage open. Park in there.”
I hang up, send Jack the photo of Kat from my phone, and hop onto I-10, heading south toward Tucson.
I send a text to my employer.
Have to detour, other interested parties in pursuit.
A few minutes later, my phone beeps with a reply.
Let me know the new plan ASAP.
Kat peeks at me sideways. I keep my eyes on the road and avoid the conversation that waits on the tips of our tongues.
“Are we really doing this?” Kat asks while pulling her knees up and staring out of the window.
“Do you want to go to prison?”
“God, no,” she answers, shaking her head in slow motion.
“Then, yes, we’re going to try. I did a job for a guy who works at Border Patrol in Nogales. If we cross there, he may be able to help.”
I keep my eyes on the dark highway ahead and wonder how I got here. Why am I giving up my career and my life to save this girl? The answer is simple and suddenly clear. Katherine Percle, a force so strong and sweet, hasn’t changed who I am, but who I want to be.
The tension between us is palpable and it draws a solid line down the middle of the van. I sit quietly for a while, streetlights tick by like seconds. I want to tell her so many things, but I can’t man up enough to say any of them. We ride in silence for an hour before Kat finally breaks.
“Who hired you, Samuel?”
I take a deep breath and let it slowly leave my lungs to clear my head. The sound of my name from her lips is enough to break me.
“Callista Brady.”
“What?” Kat yells. “You’re lying!”
“I’m not, Kat. Never again,” I promise.
“I … I just…” Kat stutters before dropping her chin to her chest in disbelief.
“I don’t know how she found me. I got a call to meet her at the San Antonio Lake Marina on a boat called Persephone. She hired me to find you before the authorities did. Said you had stolen something of hers, but wouldn’t tell me what it was. I was supposed to bring you back to San Antonio, and once she had it, I was to get rid of you. She wanted to be there when it was done,” I say, pushing those last words out like the hardest confession.
My heavy footsteps echoed on the wood as I made my way down the floating dock. I checked each boat as I passed, looking for the
Persephone. Through the grayness of twilight, I spotted a woman standing at the last boat. She wore a white pantsuit, impeccable and tailored to fit her tall, slim body. The chipped polish on her fingernails stood out against her otherwise flawless appearance. She hid behind large sunglasses, which at this time of day made her look more conspicuous. The woman looked like money and immediately I was sure this would be a big payoff. She kept her head down, her arms crossed, and tapped the toe of her designer shoe impatiently.
“Callista?” I asked.
“Yes. Come with me,” she answered.
I followed her onto the boat. It was a thirty-foot center-cockpit sailboat with great lines. Solid wood teak floorboards, a real beauty. We went below to the main salon which was just as stunning as the rest of the boat with at least six feet of standing headroom throughout.
Callista was jumpy and fidgety, although nervousness was not uncommon during these meetings. I took a seat on a bench near the door as she removed her sunglasses and poured herself a drink from a nearly empty bottle of Scotch. Without the glasses on, I could see she was older than I originally assumed. There were wrinkles in the corners of each eye and frown lines around her mouth. I could barely make out the tiny bit of gray hair growth at the roots of her dye job.
“Would you like one?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She emptied the bottle into a second glass and brought it over. Sitting across from me, she swallowed down her entire glass. Her right leg bounced in place and she remained quiet for a few minutes. I sipped my drink and waited for her request. Callista shifted in her seat and recrossed her legs in the opposite direction. She combed her sleek black hair behind her ear before bringing her thumb to her mouth and chewing on the jagged fingernail. Frowning, she let out a low sigh and folded her hands on her lap. Callista’s gaze appraised me unashamedly, darting from my shoes to my hands and up to my shoulders, but she never met my waiting eyes.
“You want me to find someone?” I coaxed.
“Yes.”
I sighed when she didn’t continue. “I’ll need some information.”
“Of course, I’m sorry,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her empty glass.
She stood and retrieved a photo from her bag and brought it back to me. I looked down to find a young girl smiling with her glass of wine. She was beautiful, but as with every other job, I felt no connection to her as a person. She was a target and a paycheck, nothing more.
“What do I need to know?” I asked.
“Her name is Katherine Percle. She’s wanted. I need you to find her before the authorities do. She stole something from me.”
“Stole what?” I asked.
Callista shrugged and placed her hands on the table between us. “What it is, is not important. But I know she’ll have it on her.”
“So, she’s already on the run?”
“Yes. She skipped bail two days ago. Bail that I paid, the ungrateful brat!”
The woman’s voice grew louder, her flattened palms balling into fists.
“Okay. I’ll need you to send any information you have on her to this email address.” I handed her my card with contact information on it. “Is that all you need? For me to find her and whatever she stole?”
“No,” she said. She stood and went back to the empty Scotch bottle and tipped it over, coaxing the last few drops into her glass. Callista finally met my eyes, her cold stare resolute and unwavering. “I want her dead.”
I looked back at the photo. I tried to imagine what this girl could have done to bring such wrath. I’d never done a hit before, but saw an opportunity for a big payout, one that could let me escape this life.
“Well, that would cost a lot more than a standard find and fetch.”
“I’ll pay,” she said as she poured the tiny bit of alcohol into her mouth.
“Five hundred thousand dollars. Half when I find her, the other half when she’s dead.”
The woman slammed her glass onto the counter and stepped over to me.
“Deal,” she said as we shook hands.
“My assistant will be in touch.”
Tears slip from Kat’s eyes and she wipes them away quickly. Her arms lay folded on each other hugging her knees. I can tell that she’s fighting a complete breakdown.
“Callista is my mom,” Kat answers, her voice cracking. “That was Dennis’s boat you met her at.”
She pulls on the chain and the key slips into her palm. She turns it over a few times, as if inspecting it for the first time.
“My own fucking mother paid someone to kill me! Not just someone. You. She paid you to kill me. All for this stupid key.”
“Kat.” She doesn’t look at me, but keeps her eyes focused on the key. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make you forgive me, but I need you to trust me. We’re about to get into some crazy shit and for it to work, you’ll have to trust me.”
“I … I don’t know,” she whispers.
“At least trust that I need to do this. I need to make this right. I’ll get you into Mexico and then you’ll be rid of me. You don’t ever have to see me again.” She nods and twists her lips sideways. “We’ll be in Tucson soon. My friends, Jack and Kelli, live just south of there. He’ll provide us with a new identity and transportation. I’ll call my contact at the border and see if he can offer any help.”
“Okay,” she says, reaching over and turning up the radio, ending our conversation.
My phone rings twice before we reach Jack’s house. Once from Callista and the last time from Natasha. I don’t know who knows about Boots or if word has gotten out that we’re running, but I can’t deal with any of it right now.
I pull into Jack and Kelli’s garage and kill the lights. We sit in the van not talking, the only sound is the ticking of the cooling engine. Kat’s eyes hold mine without faltering and she looks terrified. I don’t know if she’s afraid of our journey or of me. Maybe I don’t want to know.
“Ready?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders and exits the van. Freshly showered, Jack steps into the garage wearing a T-shirt and SpongeBob pajama pants, greeting us with a hero’s smile.
“Oz!” he shouts, shaking my hand and pulling me in for a one-armed hug. “Been too long, man!”
“Sexy pants, fucker. This is Kat,” I say, motioning behind us.
“Kat, lovely to meet you.”
“Where’s your better half?”
“Cooking dinner. Come in.”
Jack hits a button on the wall, closing the garage door and sealing us inside. We follow him through the dark house into the kitchen, where Kelli is busy cooking at the stove. Her black hair is curly and pinned up into a messy knot. She wears a pink apron with ruffles over a black skirt and white shirt, very June Cleaver. Her skirt is twisted, the zipper halfway between her back and hip. The wrinkled bottom of her shirt hangs out. The mail, which usually sits on the kitchen counter is on the tiled floor like litter.
“Oz?” Kat asks.
“My last name is Ozley. Everyone calls me Oz.”
“Sammy!” Kelli yells, running and throwing herself at me. I grunt when her legs wrap around my sore ribs as she jumps into my arms and kisses both cheeks.
“Everyone except Kelli,” I say to Kat. She finally lets go and slides down my body, landing on her high heels.
“Damn, baby, I never get that kind of greeting,” Jack protests.
“Well, I see you every day,” Kelli answers.
“I’m sure your greeting was just fine,” I say. “I hope you bleached the counter after you had sex on it.” Kelli blushes and Jack laughs, placing his hand over his heart.
Kat’s wide eyes go from Kelli to Jack and then to me. I shrug and give her a half smile.
Kelli notices Kat and smiles brightly at her. “And who is this?”
“Kat,” she answers before I can introduce them and gives a small wave.
“Nice to meet you, Kat. What on earth are you wearing?” Kelli points to Kat’s oversized
shirt from the homeless kid.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Kat retorts, crossing her arms.
“Oh, I like her, Sammy,” Kelli says, squeezing my shoulder and returning her attention to the stove. “You guys make yourselves at home. Jack didn’t mention that you’d be here so soon.”
“I didn’t know, babe,” he protests.
Kat and I take a seat at the counter, while Jack fetches a beer for everyone. I take a long pull from mine and watch as Kat does the same.
“You guys look beat to shit. What happened?” Jack asks.
Kat’s hand flies to her cheek and I rub at my jaw. I’m grateful they can’t see the blue and purple bruises beneath my shirt.
“We’ve had a rough few days,” I answer cryptically.
“You hungry?” Kelli asks. We both nod. “The chicken will be done in a few minutes and then we can eat.”
“Chicken?” I ask. “The last time you cooked chicken I almost died.”
Kelli marches over and slaps my shoulder with her wooden spoon before pointing it at my face. “That was not my cooking, Sam. That was because you and Beavis drank an entire bottle of tequila,” she says before turning back to the stove.
“Felt like salmonella poisoning to me.”
She gives me a lethal glare, then turns to Kat and points over her shoulder.
“Don’t listen to him,” Kelli says. “He rarely tells the truth.”
“That much, I know,” Kat answers while picking at her bottle label.
It’s a jab she deserves, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I avoid her eyes and finish my beer. Jack darts around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and throwing them in a big bowl of salad. The couple works side by side in the kitchen, always instinctually aware of the other.
I hear Kat humph and look over.
“What?” I ask.
“This is just all so domestic. Not what I pictured.”
I lean closer, my lips next to her ear.
“You figured friends of mine had to be dark and twisted individuals who keep children chained up in the basement and torture small animals?” Kat shakes her head nervously. I lean back and hold her gaze.
“Jack, you got the papers done?” I ask.
Held Against You Page 15
