by Cora Kenborn
But four years ago, she had.
It was the fifth or sixth time I’d taken her this far into the woods. She’d balked at first, but I knew she’d give in. Star never fought me for long.
“You blindfolded me before prom, now this? I’m beginning to think you have a kink, Matty.”
I groaned. “No, smartass, but every time you’ve come out here it’s been with me. I just need to know if you’re ever in trouble and you need to run, you know where you’re going.”
Cocking her chin, she dangled the blindfold from her finger. “And this?”
“So you’ll trust your gut to lead you. When you’re scared, your eyes can play tricks on you, little lamb, but this...” Pulling her against me, I placed a hand on her stomach. “...this will always show you the way.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to call you?”
“What if you can’t get in touch with me?” Frustrated, I cupped her cheek. “Look, if you’re ever in trouble, come here, and I’ll find you.”
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hands, I took two more turns and stopped as a hacking cough broke through the sound of pouring rain. The smell of charcoal and burned hair singed my nose, and she didn’t move as I approached. She sat huddled against a large pine tree hugging her knees to her chest, her face and clothes covered in soot and ash. Even though there wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t drenched, she wasn’t shivering. I watched her, taken aback by her contradictory actions. It was like something in her had shut off.
“Leighton?”
Coughing again, she tilted her head back, gazing up at me through widened eyes. Part of her seemed shocked to see me while the rest of her silently asked what the hell took me so long. Again, the conflicting reactions concerned me.
Then I saw the blood.
Dropping to my knees, I held her face in my hands and inspected the dirty gash in her forehead. “You’re bleeding.”
Her wet hair stuck to her face as she pulled away. “It’s just a cut,” she wheezed. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“You’re my wife, Leighton. Don’t tell me not to worry.” The image of Brody holding her bloody necklace blazed through my mind. “Jesus, everyone thinks you’re dead.”
Something finally sparked to life in her bloodshot eyes, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “Emilio and Sarah are dead.”
“Sarah from Caliente?”
“Oh, so you didn’t know Hector sent her to steal from Emilio either? No wonder she was such a shitty bartender.” She broke into a combined fit of hacking coughs and hysterical laughter. “Although honestly, we weren’t that different,” she added, gasping for air. “I was doing the same thing she was—except the fucking Emilio part.”
I ignored that last part and gave her a knowing stare. I preferred to have this conversation somewhere dry, but fuck it.
“What about the third person?”
Shifting her eyes, she licked a raindrop off her lip. “What?”
“You talked about Emilio and Sarah, but three people were pulled out of that fire, Leighton.”
“Were there?”
“Cut the shit.” I’d had all I could handle for one day. “I saw Alex’s car a half a mile back. He wasn’t in it. What did you do?”
She drew in a noisy breath. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Leighton, look at where we are!” Climbing to my feet, I threw my arms out wide. “We’re in a forest at night in the rain. Does this seem normal to you? Does anything about what has happened today seem fucking normal to you?”
I saw it coming across her face like a slow-moving freight train, and when it finally hit, it took everything out in its path. “Stella’s missing!” she screamed, slipping on the soaked grass as she climbed to her feet. “Did you know that? My grandparents are dead. Your fucking cartel killed them and stole my baby. He knew it and was going to trade me for her to ease his conscience.”
“Leighton...”
“He knew they took her, Mateo,” she repeated, gritting her teeth. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
“How do you know he’s dead?” The masochistic side of me asked the question, although part of me already knew the answer.
A haunting smile curved her face. “Whose body do you think they pulled out of the safe house?”
Forty-Three
Leighton
Five Hours Earlier
“Sarah, wake up! We have to get out of here!”
My Grandpa Harcourt had served as a volunteer fireman for the better part of fifty years. If there was one thing he was adamant about, it was teaching Brody and me every minute detail of fire safety. Because of his stubbornness, I knew I had fifteen to seventeen minutes to make it out of here rather than the usual three to five.
Just by looking at it, I knew the house we were in was old. That worked in my favor. Solid wood walls burned slowly. Had Emilio taken me to a newer location, I would’ve already been dead.
Forcing myself to remain calm, I checked the clock. Two minutes. I struggled as flames licked the baseboards. Watching in horror, I froze as ash and smoke began to rise, filling my lungs.
I coughed while pressing my nose against the floor. “Sarah!”
Jerking on my restraints again only succeeded in shaving the skin off my wrists. The flames hadn’t touched me, but that didn’t stop the blistering heat. I started to panic, and then I heard my father’s voice, reminding me of the day he decided knowledge was more important than my innocence.
“Duct tape is a kidnapper’s favorite method of restraint because it’s quick and forces his victim into submission, Lil’ Bit. They eventually just give up. You’re not going to get out of it by fighting against it. Give me your wrists. I’m going to show you a trick not many people know.”
“Oh, my God. I forgot.”
Positioning my bound arms on the sharp edge of one of the chair legs, I furiously sawed my wrists up and down just like he’d taught me until the tape snapped, freeing my arms. Climbing to my knees, I shook the shit out of Sarah and glanced at the clock again.
“Get up!” I coughed while covering my mouth. “We have less than seven minutes!”
Shattering glass pulled my attention away as a square piece of thick metal with a huge stick attached to it repeatedly slammed through the window. As soon as all the glass disappeared, a man tumbled onto the floor in a heap.
As fire raged around me, all I could think of to say was, “Was that a carjack?”
Groaning, Alex crawled over to me, “Where’s the kid?”
“She’s not here.” I coughed. “I thought you were dead?”
“So did they,” he growled. “Damn, I had a chance! If I knew they didn’t have the kid—”
“You wouldn’t have come back,” I finished for him.
Darkness consumed me, and in the midst of chaos, I fell into the abyss.
“Fuck this.” He covered his mouth and nose with the inside of his elbow. “You Harcourts have ruined my life. Burn in hell, bitch.”
I didn’t remember picking up the chair. However, when I swung it, the wood splintered, and Agent Alex Atwood hit the floor with a muffled grunt.
“You first,” I hissed.
Then I noticed something shiny beside his pocket. Dropping to my knees, I grabbed his keys off the floor and crawled toward the window.
Three minutes.
Forty-Four
Mateo
“Jesus, Leighton, what have you done?”
Leighton’s entire body coiled. “Don’t you dare judge me,” she wheezed, exhaustion pulling at the corners of her eyes. “He killed my father. He blackmailed me and kept my child from me. All he cared about was saving his own ass.” Finally, she shivered. “They’re all alike.”
That shiver gave her away. Slaying her dragon didn’t stop him from breathing fire. I couldn’t extinguish a flame that burned inside of her. There would always be another dragon. Another monster. Another Finn. Another Emilio. Another Alex.
In my understanding, I r
eached for her.
“Don’t,” she said, cringing and stepping back.
“You have blood on your hands, Leighton, and for what? Some fucked up revenge that won’t make you feel any better?”
“Won’t make me feel any better? Are you fucking kidding me? I feel like a cloud has been lifted.”
The way she talked sounded too familiar. Too brutal. Too cartel. “You’re in over your head. These people will chew you up and spit you out.”
She lifted her chin. “Not if I bite first.”
She had no clue what the hell she was talking about. Leighton was a tiny tiger fish swimming with a school of great white sharks. The high she rode right now wouldn’t last. As soon as reality set in, she’d crash and burn. Unfortunately, the blood she’d spilled would still be fresh, and the great whites would come calling.
Unless...
“Your mother thinks you’re dead,” I reminded her, the thought resurrecting itself in my mind. “I’ll say I did this.”
At the mention of her mother’s name, Leighton gave me a pensive stare. “I have to tell you something else.”
“If it’s about your call to Professor Bright, you can save your breath. He called me not long after you took off. I know everything.”
Leighton lifted her heavy lashes. “Then you’ll understand what I have to show you.” Holding onto the trees for support, she stumbled past me. “Let’s go back to the car.”
Thirty minutes later, we sat in the front seat of Atwood’s wrecked sedan. The car was fucked up. I had no clue how she managed to start the damn thing, much less drive it. But I didn’t care about that—not while staring at the small black wristband laying on the seat between us. At first glance it looked just like one of those Fitbit bracelets worn by obsessed exercise fanatics.
Leighton ran her finger along the sleek band and smiled. “My dad was a detective. He told me all about how his department used to bust drug dealers. They’d plead out as informants, so he’d wire them and send them back into the lion’s den to get a confession.”
“This is a recording device?” I asked.
She nodded, an almost proud look crossing her face.
“Where the hell did you get something like that?”
“How do you think politicians get shit done?” Anticipating my next question, she cut me off. “You should know better than anyone that elected officials in this town are figureheads, Mateo. It’s their aides who run the show.”
Only one woman had been by Lilith’s side long enough to garner that kind of power.
“Jackie?”
“Jackie,” she confirmed, seemingly pleased with herself. “And believe me, I didn’t have to twist her arm, either. Although after the way we left things, I don’t think we’ll be seeing her again.”
As the rain beat against what was left of the windshield, I remembered the message Leighton left her mother. “Is this what that phone call to your mother was all about?”
She wasn’t expecting that. I could tell because she pawed at her throat, grasping for a symbol of security that wasn’t there. “How do you know about that?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes. I called her, Emilio, and Alex.” As if needing a replacement for her missing pendant, she picked up the wristband and twirled it between her fingers. “There’s only sixteen hours of battery life on this thing, so I had to kill three birds with one stone.”
“Obviously, something happened.”
“Yeah, Alex happened. I walked right into their trap.” Holding up the wristband, she waved it between us. “You know, this thing started the ball rolling today, but after everything went wrong, I forgot I even had it on. Kind of crazy, huh?”
“Leighton, every minute of the last eleven days have been crazy. Care to elaborate?”
“My mother always liked to think everyone was beneath her, but when it came down to it, she and Emilio shared the same fatal flaw.”
“Which is?”
“Pathological narcissism.” Her response sounded so clinical that I raised an eyebrow which she answered with a snort. “Neither of them could kill me without bragging in detail about what they’d done. And this?” she said, tapping the band against her other palm. “This recorded it all. It’ll condemn her, but...”
“But what?” I asked, noticing the pained expression in her eyes.
“Mateo, what if Stella’s hurt? What if—”
“Stop!” I yelled, maybe a bit too loud because she jumped, but I wouldn’t let her say the word, let alone think it. “We’ll find our little star, Leighton.”
Even as I heard myself make the promise, I wasn’t sure I believed it. I’d seen the sickness humans were capable of when it came to children firsthand.
My stomach churned with images as Leighton gasped, jumping and hitting the steering wheel with both hands. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“Little star!” she screamed, her voice echoing inside the car.
Still lost in my own mind, I shook my head. “It’s just a nickname, it’s nothing—”
“No,” she interrupted, grabbing my arm in a fierce hold. “The rhyme, twinkle, twinkle, little star. Oh my God, Sarah said that. I thought she was just hysterical, but Stella and I sing that rhyme all the time.”
“I don’t get it. What does it mean?”
“Right before she passed out, Sarah said, ‘the circle of life.’”
“Like the song?”
“Exactly.” Letting go of my shirt, she flung her car door open. “I know where she is.”
A plain white sign was taped to the back door of Caliente, matching the one taped to the front. Leighton and I saw it as we circled the parking lot in my Tahoe, choosing to park in back for obvious reasons. It was scribbled in a female’s handwriting.
CLOSED INDEFINITELY DUE TO DEATH OF OWNER
Good news traveled fast.
By simple deduction, I figured they’d been posted by either Emilio’s wife or Amanda, and my money was on the wife. She wasn’t a stupid woman, and she sure as hell wasn’t blind to his years of infidelity.
Still, it was only eleven o’clock at night. The authorities must have worked fast on this one. Then again, Mayor Donovan was involved, so everything had probably been expedited at warp speed.
After ordering a few trusted soldiers to drive out to the train tracks and get rid of Atwood’s car, I tucked my phone in my back pocket and pulled my switchblade out of the other. As I went to work on the lock, Leighton paced behind me.
I cursed as the tip of my knife missed the angle I needed to pop the spring. Leighton’s pacing was getting out of control, so I got her talking to keep her focused.
“Tell me again why you think Stella is in here.”
“Sarah said, ‘the circle of life,’” she said, rubbing her chilled skin. “I thought she was hallucinating, but when you called Stella little star, I put it together with the rhyme, and it all made sense. Emilio said Sarah followed him and tried to stop him from taking her. I didn’t think about it at the time, but if she followed him, she knew where he took her.”
I stopped twisting the knife and glanced over my shoulder. “You figured all that out from a song title?”
She sighed. “Don’t you remember the night I got shitfaced?”
“Yeah, you kept calling Sarah, Simba and quoting The Lion King. I was told you even sang a really bad karaoke version of...”
“‘The Circle of Life,’” she said, her hands slamming onto her hips in satisfaction. “Stella is in there. You just have to get me in, and I’ll find her.”
“Well, you won’t have to wait long.” Holding the doorknob, I gave a sharp flick of my wrist and it clicked. “We’re in.”
Leighton tore past me in a blur of drenched denim and a lingering smell of charcoal, and I followed behind her. Even though her theory sounded plausible, I had my doubts. Emilio was an asshole, but he hadn’t lasted as long as he had in the cartel by being transparent. Hiding Stella inside Cali
ente would be too simple. If a man wanted something bad enough to kill for it, he wouldn’t turn around and just ...
Hide it in plain sight.
Just like Hector did.
Leighton almost ripped the stock room door off its hinges. “Stella? Stella, it’s Mommy. Are you here?”
After tearing the entire bar apart, we came up with nothing.
Leighton collapsed against the wall with her head in her hands. “I don’t get it. I know she’s in here.”
Or out.
“Maybe not.” Grabbing her hand, I dragged her outside where Emilio kept a locked storage shed tucked away near the back of the property.
Leighton pressed her face against the rusted metal door. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star...”
Neither of us breathed as a voice so faint I thought I imagined it floated by.
“How I wondow what you awe.”
Leighton’s knees buckled. “That’s her!” Tears rolled down her face, and she barreled into me. “Stella? Up above the world so high.”
The faint voice answered. “Wike a diamond in da sky.”
“Stand back,” I instructed, pulling my gun out.
She grabbed my arm. “No! You’ll hurt her.”
“I’m not going to shoot inside, Leighton. Just the lock. I’m done with this.”
“No guns.” Pulling my knife out of my back pocket, Leighton snapped it open and within a couple turns of her wrist, popped the lock. I didn’t have time to be impressed. Once she pushed the door open and flipped on the light, my world came crashing down around me.
A little girl in jeans and a pink shirt sat huddled near the back, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her body looked just like Leighton’s did when I found her in the woods, but her face was like looking in a mirror.
Recognition registered in her beautiful brown eyes, and she scrambled to her feet. “Mommy!”
Leighton fell to her knees, scooping the little girl into her arms. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what Leighton would say. It hardly seemed like the time or place for a family reunion. As much as I wanted to claim my child, I didn’t want Stella’s first memory of meeting her father to be in a dirty shed after being kidnapped.
