by Tabatha Kiss
Snake Eyes.
I spin on my heels to run but they grab me before I even take a step.
“Help—”
A hand clamps down over my mouth. At least three take me down to the floor. They jerk my arms behind me, locking my wrists together with a zip-tie. I hear the sudden rip of duct tape as they tear off a piece and slap it over my mouth.
“Wait...” Lena says above me, her voice shaking. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her—”
Thwip. Thwip.
She falls silently to her knees and tumbles to the floor in front of me. Blood spills out of two wounds in her face. A bullet through each eye.
I scream as the black hood pushes over my head and tightens around my neck.
They raise me up and shove me forward. If it weren’t for one of either side me, tugging at my arms, I’d trip down to the floor. They hold me up until one of them grabs me tosses me over their shoulder like a doll.
Tears spill down my cheeks. I want to scream but I can’t. If I do, they might kill me, too.
I have to think fast. Dammit.
I have to fight back. I don’t stand a chance a Snake Eyes agent — let alone six — but I can at least buy some time for Fox to catch up and find me.
I twist in the man’s arm, rolling off his shoulder. The floor smacks hard and I grunt as pain fires through my elbow. Two hands grip me again but I squirm in his grasp, shrieking and fighting against the duct tape to break my lips free. The corner slips off and I open my jaw wide to rip the rest of it open.
“Help me!”
Fingers clench the bag, my hair along with it, and they tug upward. I scream in agony, putting the full force of my lungs into it. It echoes down the hallway. I scream again until something hard hits me in the back of my head.
Spots take over the darkness in the hood. Dizziness plagues my guts and for a second, I think I might be sick. Fuck, it hurts so bad. I may pass out, if only to make this pain go away...
They pick me up again. I can’t fight at all anymore.
A door opens. I feel a warm breeze along my arms and legs. We’re outside. Movement echoes around me. The parking garage, maybe?
They hold me tighter. Fingers dig in deep enough to leave bruises.
Fuck, this hurts. Everything hurts. I can’t see anything.
Fuck.
If Fox doesn’t find me now, he’ll be too late. They’ll shove me in a car and drive away. Dammit, Fox. Where are you? Why can’t I scream...
I slip from the agent’s grasp again. Gravity sucks me down to the ground and I slam onto my knees. I cry out in pain as another pair of hands try to pick me up again but they fall away just as quickly.
Knuckles hit skin. Feet shuffle around me. Bodies fall to the ground following loud grunts of pain.
I roll onto my backside and push backward until my head collides with a car door. Someone trips over my knees and they tumble over them. They don’t get back up. I kick the legs away as I breathe a sigh of relief.
Fox found me.
I stay back, curling into a ball to get out of the way, listening to the carnage of grunts and fists and splatters of blood.
Finally, the violence ends.
I whimper in the silence. “Fox?”
Boots tap along the concrete toward me. He kneels beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder to draw me forward. I lean to expose my tied wrists. He reaches behind me and cuts the zip-tie with a knife.
I rub my temples, soothing the pain for a moment, before pulling the hood off.
“Fox—”
I freeze. The man beside me isn’t Fox.
He’s a few years older than him. Thin, dark hair. Chiseled, handsome face. Dressed in black from head-to-toe. I look over his shoulder at the red-haired woman behind him, casually standing among the mountain of dead bodies with blood on her hands.
I fill my lungs to scream.
The man places his knife against his lips in warning and I bite down. “Yeah, please don’t do that,” he says, his voice calm and deep.
“Dani...” the woman says, glancing around. “Where is Fox?”
I shake in fear. “Who?”
She rolls her big eyes.
The man flips his knife closed and yanks the remaining duct tape hanging off the edge of my chin. I cringe at the flash of pain along my lips.
“Dani, they didn’t come alone,” he says, nodding his head toward the nearest body. “Help us help you. Where is Fox?”
These people... I don’t even know who they are. Questions fill my head. How do they know Fox? What do they want with him? How did they manage to kill this many Snake Eyes agents so quickly? They must be highly-trained. They might even be...
I stare into the man’s eyes. “What do you want with him?” I ask.
He stands up and extends his hand to me. “Let’s just say he owes me a drink.”
I look between him and the woman, making a split-second decision. I take his hand and he pulls me off the cold concrete floor. A few spare spots dance in my vision, so I lay a hand down on the car behind me to make sure I stay standing.
The woman steps forward, forcefully kicking a limp hand out of the way with her foot as she slides a little flip phone from her pocket.
“Call him,” the man says to me. “Fox had you memorize a number, right?”
I hesitate. Yes, he did. For emergencies, in case something happened and we got separated. In case of this exact situation… but how would they know that?
I still don’t know who these people are or what they really want with Fox. I could be a moment away from death right now. But if that’s true, then I want to hear his voice one more time.
I reach for the phone with a quivering hand. They wait, watching me closely with trained eyes. I blink to sharpen my vision as I dial the number in.
“Speakerphone,” he says. “Please.”
I do as he says and turn it on. The dull ringing echoes throughout the garage and I cringe with the throbbing pain still lingering between my eyes.
“Dani?” Fox’s voice comes through almost instantly. “Where are you?”
I stay silent and look up at them for instruction. The man glances back at the woman behind him and they both nod.
“Hey, Fox,” he says. “It’s been a long time.”
There’s a short pause. “Dante?” Fox asks.
I blink. Dante Hart. Big brother of Elijah and Lilah Hart, the twins who attacked Caleb and Boxcar and shot up our house.
Oh, crap.
A fresh fear chills my bones.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Dante says, staring down at me. “We need to talk.”
Four
Boxcar
I hate suits.
Give me a pair of jeans and t-shirt any day of the week. Sneakers. A nice, warm jacket. That’s home for me. Most days, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a damn three-piece but when my wife puts her foot down, I more or less have to obey.
Pretty sure she could kill me with a spoon. Just sayin’.
I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s just this one night, thankfully. I doubt Fox and Dani are going to get engaged twice. I guess I’ll have to suit-up again for their wedding but I have plenty of time to mentally-prepare myself for that.
“Hey, Caleb...” I fidget in front of the mirror in the corner.
“What?” she calls out from the bathroom.
“Can you tie this thing for me?”
“Tie what?”
“The, uh... the tie.”
“Yeah. Just…” Her voice falls. “Just give me a minute.”
I leave it draped along the back of my neck and wander away from the bed toward the kitchen. It didn’t take long until Caleb’s loft apartment above her shop felt a little too small. It’s the two of us up here and while I respect her bohemian tendencies, I’m accustomed to a lifestyle a little more... suave.
I slide onto the stool by the counter to sit in front of my laptop. The web browser is already open to my search of apartment rentals and condominiums in t
he area. I can’t say Los Angeles is my dream location but Caleb seems to like it. What the wife wants, the wife gets.
And yes, just deliberately thinking that in my head weirds me out but here I am.
A notification pops up at the bottom of the screen. This isn’t unusual. The motion detector goes off every time a damn mouse scurries along the old walls but I still check every time it goes off anyway. I flick the keys to bring up the live camera display of the hallway, expecting to see absolutely nothing.
A man stands outside in a leather jacket and jeans. Tall, blond, and British.
I hop off the stool, moving quietly to keep Caleb from hearing me open the door.
Archer Allen flinches once before smiling down at me beneath a crown of thick hair with that damn fairytale prince smile.
“Hey, Sparky,” he greets. “You’re looking well. How’s the shoulder?”
I lean forward. “Barely feel it anymore. What are you doing here?” I whisper.
He matches my volume. “I need your help,” he says.
“Help with what?”
He glances over my head. “Is your wife here?”
“Yes, my wife is here...”
“Boxcar?”
I flinch at the sound of her voice and look over my shoulder toward the bathroom. “Yeah, honey?” I call out.
“Could you come here for a minute?” she asks.
“Uh, yeah. Just a second.” I twist back to Archer. “You need to leave.”
“Right.” He nods. “With you, preferably.”
“I can’t leave,” I say. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Caleb’s been planning this engagement party dinner thing for Fox and Dani for days and if I skip it, she’ll fuck me up.”
“Box, where are you going?”
I bounce back into the apartment to find Caleb staring at me from the bathroom doorway. My eyes fall down and I gawk at her dress. Tight and black. Come to think of it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen my wife in a dress before.
Goddamn, she’s gorgeous.
“Hello?” she asks, slinking backward self-consciously.
I blink out of it and think quickly for a lie. “Oh, I was just going down to the market across the street to grab another bottle of champagne.”
“We don’t need another bottle, Box.”
I scoff, ignoring Archer as he taps his nonexistent wristwatch in my peripheral vision. “I beg to differ. I’ve seen you chug down half a bottle all by yourself. I’ll just be a few minutes—”
“Yeah... I won’t be drinking that much tonight,” she says.
I laugh. “Sure, okay.”
“I’m pregnant, Boxcar.”
I freeze in the door frame and Archer’s jaw drops. I hop backward, slamming the door closed in his face as I swing back into the room, instantly seeing the small, plastic stick in her hand. A pregnancy test.
“Pregnant?” I force out.
Her eyes shift from me to the door. “Who’s out there?”
I step forward. “Nobody. You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
Her nose turns up. “Are you really going to make me explain it?”
“Well, I...” I breathe out. “I know how, I just...”
She walks into the room, heading straight toward me and the door. “Who is in the hallway?” she asks again.
“There’s no one out there—”
Caleb passes me and I groan in defeat.
She pulls the door open and looks out at Archer’s forced grin. “Archer?” she asks.
“Caleb!” He happily throws up his hands. “Hello! You... you look ravishing.”
I poke my head around the door with a furrowed brow. “Really, man? That’s the word you choose?”
Caleb squints at him. “What are you doing here?”
Archer hesitates. “I heard the good news!” he says, pointing at the stick in her hand. “Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you. Mozel tov.”
“You’re Jewish?” I ask.
“No,” he answers. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Caleb taps her heel on the floor. “Archer.”
“Okay.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I just need to borrow your husband for a few... hours.”
“Hours?” she repeats.
“Well, days,” he says.
She crosses her arms. “Days?”
“Okay, weeks. A few weeks. Tops.”
I feel her red-hot gaze on me. I keep my eyes forward at Archer instead. “What’s going on?” I ask him.
“Doesn’t matter,” Caleb says before he can answer. “I’m sorry, Archer, but Box is a little busy to come out and play tonight. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Archer blocks the door with his foot. “This really can’t wait,” he says, his face turning serious. “They’ve probably already made contact with Fox and if I’m tardy because of traffic I’ll never hear the bloody end of it.”
Caleb shifts forward. “Who made contact with Fox?”
His lips twitch. “I’d really rather discuss this with Boxcar...”
“Archer,” I say, “who?”
He swallows. “Dante and Lilah Hart.”
I look at Caleb as her face turns white. She spins on her heel and grabs her keys off the wall. “Box, find out where he is. I’ll put some pants on and get my gun.”
“See, now...” Archer steps inside and closes the door behind him. “That’s why I wanted to talk to him first. No offense, Caleb, but a fighter’s instinct isn’t what we need at the moment.”
“What we need?” I repeat. “You... and them?”
“Yes,” he says with a nod.
“You and the Harts?”
He cringes. “Yeah, I kind of started dating Lilah.”
I raise a brow. “Seriously?”
“It’s a long story, mate.”
“It’s been like a month!”
He gestures behind me. “Could you maybe talk her down, please?”
I turn around and see Caleb standing there in jeans and a shirt with a white-knuckle grip on her revolver. “Cal...” I say. “Hang on...”
“Where are they?” she asks him.
“They didn’t come to hurt him or you or anyone,” Archer says. “They’ve come to ask for his help.”
“Bullshit,” she says. “They wanted to kill him before. What changed?”
His eyes soften. “A lot has changed. Enough for them to put aside the petty shit and call a truce. You should, too.”
I shake my head. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll just forget all about how they poisoned my wife and shot me in the back. Bygones away.”
“Well...” He shrugs. “I didn’t say it would be easy, mate…”
Caleb makes eye contact with me. Without a word, I know we’re both on the same page. Fox needs help. The Harts can’t be trusted. Archer, whom I would otherwise have no issue trusting, is now in the gray column and — holy shit — I’m going to be a father.
“They’re probably with Fox now,” he says, pulling me out of that thought. “I’m supposed to pick up Boxcar and meet them. We should go now before Myra picks up our scent.”
A chill fires down my back. “Myra?” I repeat.
Archer studies my reaction. “You know her?”
“Yeah.” I ignore the heavy rock in my stomach. “We’ve met.”
Caleb frowns. “Who’s Myra?”
“The Boss’ mouthpiece,” Archer says. “She found Fox, sent a team to kill him. They’re on their way to LA, assuming they aren’t already here.”
She turns to me. “How do you know the Boss’ mouthpiece?”
Archer presses his lips together, looking just as curious as she is.
I exhale and scratch the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. “So, honey... you remember that two-year hiatus we took?” I ask slowly.
“Yeah...”
“I might have met her during that time.”
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, really?”
“In Paris.”
/>
“What were you doing in Paris with some girl named Myra?”
Archer clears his throat. “Should I wait outside for this?”
“No,” I answer. I turn to Caleb. “I’ll tell you everything but... not now. All right?”
She swallows her questions. “What do they want Boxcar for?” she asks Archer.
His eyes shift. “His hacking and tracking skills will come in handy. I’m quite adept at tooting my own horn but even I know when I’m out of my depth. Also, we’re hoping he can map out a family tree for us,” he says. “Myra Black, sister. Mercer Black, brother.”
Fuck.
“Marilyn Black,” I say. “Mother.”
Archer pauses in surprise.
“Wait, wait.” Caleb looks at me. “The woman who sent you to Afghanistan?”
I nod. “Yeah, she’s...” I sigh. “She’s the Boss. She runs Snake Eyes.”
She blinks. “How do you know that, Boxcar?”
I glance between them, feeling their hard stares boring down on me, and let out a light chuckle.
“Guess I’m telling that Paris story a little earlier than I thought...”
Five
Dante
Fox Fitzpatrick.
It’s been a long time.
He hasn’t changed much. He’s let his dark hair grow out a little. He always kept it buzzed before, no doubt a habit from his Army days. The scar along his cheek stands out as we ride beneath the streetlights. Each time the lights flash on his face, I can’t help but glance back at him in the rearview mirror. His eyes are still dark and distant but he keeps them wide-open, focused mostly on Lilah in the front seat beside me.
I look at the gun in her lap. She’s still got that wide-knuckle grip on it as if Fox will lash out at any moment. Honestly, he could, and we probably wouldn’t see it coming. If his girl weren’t in the car with us, I’d be nervous about it, too, but he’s not going to inspire a crash on the 405 with her in the backseat.
He looks at Dani and I witness a hidden gaze between them. She’s an actress but even she can’t hide that she’s terrified. But not him. Not Fox Fitzpatrick. He’s been through more stressful things than this and I know that because I was right beside him when they happened.
