So damn sweet. So damn beautiful. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this dark world of crime, and yet the selfish part of me is happy that she has been.
I know that makes me a monster and I can’t bring myself to care. I want to protect her and watch over her. A part of me wishes she were mine. And maybe she could be if I somehow manage to pull this off and in the process keep everyone alive.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SUMMER
Clocks are background instruments. Sometimes they’re pretty, and sometimes they’re ugly. Sometimes they blend in with the surroundings so well that the only time you notice them is when you’re actively looking for them.
The white clocks that adorn the hospital walls fall into the latter two categories. They’re basic white clocks with a thin black trim. They’re so small but yet somehow the ticking of said clocks manage to roar like thunder in the empty sound vacuum that is the hospital waiting room.
Taylor should be here.
Rick shouldn’t be here.
It’s all my fault and that weighs heavily on my soul.
Back in the garage, when this first began, I should have trusted my instincts that something was wrong earlier than I did. I should have forced her to go back inside to alert security personnel and then have them escort us to our car.
Just the same, I should have listened to Chase when he implored me not to call Rick. He told me this would happen and I stupidly ignored him because of my gut instinct.
So yeah, my gut is worthless to me now. What’s the point in listening to it when it’s only right half the time? Especially considering I only seem to listen to it when it’s wrong and ignore it when it’s right.
Chase’s hand is firm on my back as he sits next to me in the uncomfortable black chairs. He’s silent, hasn’t said so much as a word outside his condolences since we pulled into the hospital and passed Rick off to the doctors.
He could easily say that he was right, and then rub that in my face. He could beat my raw emotions with the truth but he’s not that kind of person. I don’t have the same character as him. I’m okay with beating myself over this because he would be right; this is all my fault. It falls on my shoulders alone.
When did I become this stubborn? How did I become this stubborn?
“I should have listened to you,” I whisper and choke on my own tears. “I’m so stupid.”
“You can’t do that.” He caresses my back with one firm hand. “You can’t beat yourself up over this.”
“Why not?” I cock my head to him, trying to get a good read on him. He either means what he says or he’s trying to comfort me, and I want to know which it is, not that it would change anything. “I think I deserve to be beat over the head with this. It was stupid.”
“It wasn’t stupid.” He sighs, bites his tongue. “You were listening to your heart and don’t ever let anyone fault you for that, including yourself.”
“Has your heart ever led you astray?” I tear into him with my eyes, needing him to be honest with me.
“All the damn time.”
“When?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into this,” he says lowly with his head bowed down sheepishly. I’m not used to seeing him like this—vulnerable and wounded.
“Please,” I beg of him from behind gritted teeth. “Help me not feel so alone.”
“It was back in the war. There was this kid that somehow found his way to our camp. He was selling pirated copies of DVD’s, which those things are commonplace overseas, anyways. And I trusted him even though some of my comrades were suspicious. It was war. Everyone was suspicious about everything and with good reason, but that kid had the most joyful smile. And he couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Did he? Was he? I mean…” I can’t force the question off the tip of my tongue. It’s almost too much to bear, the idea that the evil in this world can manifest itself in the form of children. They’re supposed to be off limits to the cruelness of this life.
“He was a good kid, and I was right, he couldn’t hurt a fly. I was all too eager to help this kid out and besides, I was really wanting to see the last Fast and Furious movie, so I bought a few movies from the kid and he went on his way.” He shrugs with apathy, but it’s clear by the tone of his voice that he’s carrying some heavy weight on his shoulders. “He came back two weeks later to sell more DVD’s, but he looked more rundown than the last time we had seen each other. I didn’t think anything of it back then, but once again I bought a few movies and then went back to my tent.” A sigh slips through trembling lips. “There was a loud explosion and then total chaos. My stomach was twisted in knots as I turned around, basically in slow motion. The kid was gone. He was detonated, but it wasn’t him who did it. Apparently he was carrying a remote-controlled bomb that someone detonated from a distance. To this day, I don’t believe for a second that that kid knew.” He turns back to me, looking me straight in the eye since he first began this tale. His eyes glisten, wetness pooling at the corners. “But you see, your heart is the most honest, most beautiful thing in this world. Listen to it. Even if everything goes to shit, then you can know that you tried, and that’s the biggest repellant to the soul-crushing feeling of regret.”
I swallow a long gulp and bat my tongue against my lip. “Then why did you try and stop me from calling Rick?”
“Because…” He forces a smile, like he’s afraid of being labeled weak or something. God forbid a big, strong military-type-guy shows emotional weakness. “I was afraid of everything going to shit.”
“You were right.”
“I wish I weren’t. I wish there was an easier way.”
“Do you think they believed us?” I question, referring to the interrogation we were subjected to by the police. They’re now out looking for Taylor, but not for the same reason as us. They believe she’s a potential suspect. I thought about telling them the truth, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Do you think they know we’re lying?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s a good idea in the meantime to take you back to the compound. They might be following us or something, and the last thing Dom needs is the authorities poking around that place.”
I lean back in the uncomfortable chair and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired and I can’t sleep in this waiting room.”
“I’ll take you back to my place?” It comes off more as a question than a statement, but when he says the word place, it reminds me that I no longer have a home. It was blown to bits and I still don’t know why.
“What if they follow us there?”
“I have nothing to hide there,” he chuckles nervously and shifts his arm behind my back, running along the back of my chair.
“What if the other people follow us?” I turn to him with sunken eyes and a frown.
“Let’s just hope that they’re not that stupid.”
“Miss Smart?” the doctor calls from behind me.
I jump to my feet, Chase joining at my side as the doctor approaches. He’s older, probably close to retiring, if the harsh wrinkles around his eyes and the silver hair are any indication.
“How is he doing?” I question, and then mentally prepare myself for the fact that it might not be good news.
“He’s stable, though he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
“When do you think we’ll be able to see him?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I doubt he’ll be waking up tonight.” He glances over to Chase. “You should go home and get some rest.”
“I don’t think I should leave him here alone.”
“What are you worried about?” The doctor reaches forth and drops a palm on my right shoulder, comforting me. “If you’re worried that something is going to happen to him, just know that there will be guards posted by his door twenty-four-seven.” He points back to the double doors he came out of just previously. “Go home and get some rest. Come back in the morning.”
I lunge forward and eng
ulf his body with a tight bear hug. He’s hesitant to embrace me back but finally does so with a light pat against my back. “Thank you for saving his life.”
“It’s my job.”
“I’m still allowed to thank you.” I break free from him and take a measured step back.
“Yes, that’s true.” He nods. “Goodnight, again.”
# # #
I’m instantly taken aback when we step outside and it’s dark out. It’s funny how seconds can feel like hours until enough time has passed that you just sort of lose track. We’ve just spent the entire day in the hospital and it had felt like merely a few hours had passed.
The air is chilly, especially for it being in the middle of the summer on the outskirts of the valley. My hair blows in the soft currents of the wind and my arms are ignited with tiny little goose bumps as we make our way towards the parking garage—kill me now.
We’re silent, both too exhausted to say much of anything, though there’s a lot on my mind, and I’d wager there’s just as much on his. I haven’t heard from the men who took my sister all day, but I’ve been trying to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. Because when I do think about Taylor, I think about everything at once. I think about the men who shot up and blew up my house earlier, and what that means about Taylor’s current whereabouts. I think about the idea that she might not be alive.
I’m the one supposed to be handing them a half million dollars, and since they tried to kill the three of us in the house earlier…
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
I stop in place and throw one arm outward to alert Chase as I dig into my pocket and retrieve my phone. On it, a text from an unknown number,
We know you’re involved with the Ford security team. At your own peril, you have chosen to disregard our warnings. In the interest of the deal not falling through, we have decided to spare your sister’s life. You have one last chance to comply with our demands, but trust that there will be consequences for your actions. Do not respond this message.
My mouth hangs wide open, trying to process what this could mean. My gut tells me that I should trust that she’s still alive, but why? Is it because I want to believe it? The only thing that matters right now is that I do believe them, and in the interest of saving my sister’s life, I’m going to comply with their demands.
They know about Ford Security though, which means they know about Chase. How? I’m torn between two extremes; the thought that Chase might be lying to me and the thought that my enemies are the ones telling the truth right now.
I pass the phone into his hand. “How do you know these men?”
His eyes pass over the screen, reading it quickly. He stares me down, his throat tensing. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh my god,” I stammer. “You’ve been keeping this from me?”
“I wasn’t sure,” he protests, gesturing with his hands outwards.
I rip the phone out of his hands. “How convenient!”
“It’s not that I wanted to lie to you, but it didn’t matter until I knew one way or the other.”
“I guess we both know now,” I scowl and begin to race towards the parking garage. Gone are my feelings of being afraid of those dark, dingy places. It’s been replaced with anger and the sting of betrayal. I’ve felt for a while now that something’s been off about this entire thing. I never quite expected that the thing that was off was because of him.
He darts in front of me, walking backwards. “Let’s just get back to my place and I’ll explain everything.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Don’t do that.” He comes to an abrupt stop, and I run right into his chest.
“Don’t do what?” I scowl and take a step back, throwing my arms out to the side. “Be smart about this? I’m sorry but how am I supposed to believe anything that comes out of your mouth now?”
“That’s your prerogative.”
“Damn right.” I lock eyes with him as I storm past him in a furious huff. And then stop myself and twist back to him with a sigh. “I want to trust you, I want to believe you.”
“Why, because you feel something for me?” He gulps and then steps forward, his shoulders a pace ahead of the rest of his body.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just don’t want you being blinded because you think you have feelings for me.” He’s towering over me now, his eyes boring right through me, right into my soul. It’s like he’s reaching with his fingers and tugging away at my heart. “I never should have gotten involved in this.”
“A little too late to go back now, right?”
“I wouldn’t change a thing. I would have done everything the same except I would have been honest with you.” He shakes his head, caresses the curve of my chin with his palm. “These aren’t petty thieves. They’re so much worse than that and like they said, there will be consequences. We have to fight to get the upper hand somehow or it’s not going to matter if you meet their demands or not.”
“Fine, take me home.” I scratch at my face and swallow my pride, swallow my fears. It’s time to face the music, whatever that means. “But we’re going to have a long chat in the car.”
“Give me your phone,” he says and reaches his hand outwards.
“Why?” I question, but I don’t hesitate passing the phone to him.
“I’m going to send this phone number to Marcus.” He glances down at the phone and retrieves his phone from his own pocket. He keys the number into a message and hits the send button, then looks back up to me as he passes my phone back to me. “It’s probably a burner number, but it’s still worth a shot.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’m not getting my hopes up.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHASE
With one hand on the wheel, my eyes are focused on the road ahead. Streetlights cast pools of light on the night highway while the city lights fill the rest of the sky with dim lights. Clouds hang high in the sky, blocking out any view of the stars, like it’d ever be possible to see them in this city anyway.
Silence. Always silence between the both of us. So much on my mind, so much on hers. It’s easier right now to not talk, I suppose. Though she said that we were going to have a serious talk in the car, it hasn’t yet begun. Perhaps she’s waiting for me to start the conversation, but I don’t exactly know how.
She deserves the truth though, deserves so much more than this.
I draw my thumb to my mouth and chew on the fingernail nervously before saying lowly, “His name is Mason Cartwright.”
“Who?”
“Not the men in the garage. Those are mere henchmen or cronies.” I clear my throat and exhale. “Mason is the guy at the top.”
“What did he do to you?”
Her eyes peel sideways, her head fixed against the strong glass window of the stolen SUV.
“To me? Nothing.” I shrug, not because I don’t care but because, well just because. “To others? A lot.” I nod and run a coarse, cracked hand through my hair. “He’s power-hungry and driven by money and nothing else. Most people in this world are good. They have a heart and a soul, but his heart is as hard as a diamond.”
She clutches the pendant hanging from around her neck.
“Back when the other boys and I had just gotten out of the service, back when Ford Security didn’t yet exist, we were just a ragtag band of friends with an eye on helping people. We didn’t quite know what we were doing, or what would end up becoming of us, but there was this woman—young, jaded, and married to the wrong man.” I catch a quick glimpse of her, listening with full attention though her eyes are fixated on the floor. “She was his second wife and she had no idea of what he did behind closed doors. When she found out, she tried to escape. He wouldn’t let her go, so she came to us battered and bruised and we managed to save her from him just in the nick of time. He had lawyers out the ass and nothing ever stuck. She was terrified of him to the point she faked her own death, and w
e helped her do it.”
She’s back to looking at me, and in the darkness of the front seat, I can’t discern what kind of look she’s giving me.
“Mason pointed the finger of blame at us, said we had instigated things that ultimately led to her death. For what it was worth, I think he loved her. But that’s the thing—Mason Cartwright doesn’t understand love. He has a dark soul and he always said he’d make us pay for what we had done to him.” I pull the wheel to the right, crossing over two lanes to hit an exit ramp. “Over the years, I kind of just forgot about him. His primary income was driven by the theft of high-valued items such as diamonds. I still thought nothing of it until the car exploded in the parking garage.”
“What about that made you remember?” she questions dryly, and in the lights casted by the red streetlight at the end of the ramp, I can see something in her eyes. Something scary. Something curious.
“That was how his wife died.” I meet her gaze directly. I want to watch her watching me. I want to know what she’s feeling when I’m telling her about this terrible thing we did. I shouldn’t feel guilty. We saved that woman from her husband, but on some level it’s always felt wrong, like we stole something from Mason. That’s the difference between good people and bad people, I suppose. Good people are able to feel remorse even when it’s not earned. Bad people only care about their own selfish needs.
“We rigged her car to blow in a parking garage just a few blocks away from the one we were in earlier. She was so desperate to escape him that she provided us two teeth to place in the explosion along with a corpse we stole from the morgue.” The light turns green, I let off the brake and we take a left onto my street. “When that car exploded, my mind instantly went back and I feared the worst: that he was finally coming for us for what we did to him.”
Ford Security Page 11
