"Me and my buddy here." Behind him, our other captor grinned. "So who are you?" Kevin pressed.
"No one," I said.
"Liar. Maybe you need an incentive?"
"Maybe I have nothing to say," I countered through gritted teeth.
"Then I guess we'll just have to help you remember." He raised the gun, pointing it at me, then at the last moment, he pointed it towards Roxanne and squeezed the trigger. I screamed and Roxanne went limp. After a moment, she opened one eye, then the other and looked at me, fear etched across every inch of her face. I scanned her for a wound, or blood, but saw nothing. In horror, I glanced down at myself. Surely I would have felt… Nope. Nothing. Whew!
"Next time, I won't miss," Kevin warned, waggling the gun at me. "Who the hell are you?"
"I told you," I yelled. "I'm Lexi Solomon." I didn't say anything about the snooping.
"I don't have time for your lies," he shouted, his face cracking into angry lines. "Tie her up, Ritchie."
His friend stepped forward, reaching for me and I scrabbled backwards. As he grabbed my sweater, Roxanne lunged at him, kicking wildly with her legs, the fight again alive in her eyes. It took one click of the gun to subdue her and me. The dark-haired man I now knew as Ritchie pulled a plastic tie from his pocket and folded my wrists, one over the other, before securing the tie around it, making sure it was tight enough to cut into my wrists. As he did so, I looked over his shoulder and got my second shakeup as I took in the blond man just outside the doorway. I knew I’d recognized the stance of the man I’d glimpsed. Sergeant Jack Hoag. What the hell was Mr. Clean Cut doing mixed up in all this? As if he saw me looking, he stepped back, into the shadows.
"Remember what I said about being good girls," Ritchie said as he made for the door. "In a few hours, all this will be over."
Well, whoopee-dee.
They left and I scrabbled closer to Roxanne. "We're going to die," she wailed.
I patted her shoulder awkwardly. "It's going to be okay," I assured her. "I'm going to get us out of here. I'm going to look around. Maybe there's some way out."
"There isn't. My dad used to bring me here when the factory was open. This room was the manager's office and it's sealed off. There's no exit except that one." She nodded to the door. “We’re on the first floor so we would have to make it through the whole floor to get to the exit doors."
Great. "The blond man here. I know him. His name is Hoag. He's dating Gretchen," I told her as I sat again.
Roxanne glanced at me in surprise. "Gretchen from Jillian's office?"
"Yep."
"That must be how they're getting the drugs from the plane and off the base. I thought if I could find the manifests on my sister’s computer, I could prove what they had been doing."
"The plane?"
"That's how it comes in. They got Jillian to help the first time. She had to sign off some packages, but she got suspicious when they didn't show up in the manifests. That’s when they started putting money into her account and made her come out here."
"It's on the plane with the incoming troops?" Of course it was. I’d pretty much already guessed that.
"Yeah. They buy it over there, or steal it, I don’t know, ship it on an inbound plane, surrounded by returning troops. No one even knows the heroin has been through Fort Charles. Then they sell it here."
"Is the whole unit in on it?" I asked.
Roxanne shook her head vehemently. "No. I think only one or two of them. Kevin, Captain Somper and that other guy. Ritchie, I think his name is. I don’t know him, just Kevin and Somper. I didn’t see Hoag before, but yeah, I guess, it’s possible. Somper said they risk their lives for peanuts, so this is payback."
"Some payback!"
"Was it true what they said about you not being who you said you are?" Roxanne asked. “Who are you?”
"It's better if you don't know,” I decided, resting my back against the pole Roxanne was bound to while I contemplated my next move. I thought about Solomon too. Solomon, who was probably back from his search of Somper’s office, and wondering where the hell I was with his vehicle. If I were lucky, Lucas would pick up my photo message in the morning and maybe then, someone would come looking for us. Only, by then, it might be too late.
It seemed like hours passed before I heard the sound of someone returning, though it couldn’t have been all that long in reality. The last of the light filtering through the grimy windows was gone, leaving the room in darkness.
After managing to get my hands in front of me, though still tied together, and with a thorough search in the dwindling light, I confirmed what Roxanne told me. The only exit led straight into the warehouse where we could hear the men moving about, but every window was nailed shut. The time it would take us to break a hole large enough to climb through would be enough to have them come running. Even if one of us could get out, the other wouldn't stand a chance. Even the one that escaped would likely be caught quickly in this isolated area.
I picked up the length of wood I’d found during my search and sat next to her again as the tinny sound of a cell phone ringing suddenly blasted into the quiet. Footsteps started towards us.
"You should go," said Roxanne. "Anyway you can. I can't. I'm handcuffed to this stupid pole."
A thought dawned on me, a thought that would have occurred earlier if my head hadn’t only just ceased throbbing. "No, you're not!" Scrabbling in my pockets, I found the key Solomon insisted everyone carry. I had no idea why until now. "This is a universal handcuff key," I said, pressing it into Roxanne's hand. "If anything happens to me, you can get yourself free." I pushed the wooden baton behind her.
Both men entered the room. "Get her," Kevin said, waving the gun at me with scant disregard for gun safety. "We're going outside for a chat."
"What if I don't want to?"
"What if I shoot you?" Ritchie countered.
"Very persuasive." I got to my feet awkwardly. Ritchie, tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and grabbed me by the arm, tugging me outside. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything about the fact that my arms had moved from being behind me to being in front. With a backwards glance at Roxanne, tears in her eyes again as hope ebbed away, the three of us left the room.
We moved a few paces from the door when Ritchie gave me a hard shove in the back. I lost my footing, sprawling on the floor. Skin scraped off the palms of my hands and I felt the sting of blood. It wasn’t much of a silver lining when I thought I didn’t have to worry about stinging them with antiseptic. I’d be dead before then.
Cheery.
Just the kind of thought I needed.
"Remember me?" Somper stepped out from the shadows as I maneuvered to a kneeling position. "Who the hell are you and that Solomon guy?”
“No one, really.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Um, Captain McAuley?” My voice pitched upwards.
“Who do you really work for?”
“No one!”
“My friends call me Somper the Stomper. Do you want to know why?" He came to a stop in front of me, his huge feet spanning the width of his hips, as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Um, no?" Like, why would I? It wasn’t like it made him sound like a cuddly bear.
"Free her hands."
Ritchie knelt next to me and pulled out a blade. He tucked the tip under the plastic tie and with a quick upcut, the binding snapped in two. I shook my hands and flexed my fingers as the blood returned.
"Hold her down."
"What the hell?" I screamed and flailed against Ritchie. Kevin joined in, twisting my arm backwards. I kneed him somewhere soft and fleshy, and he responded with a thump to my jaw that made my head ring as they pinned me down. With fear ricocheting through me, I wondered if Hoag was going to join the world’s worst party. I lay, dazed, on the floor and cautiously worked my jaw, barely noticing Somper move closer. That is, until I saw him raise his boot… and stomp down. On my arm.
I heard the bone crack a moment befor
e pain exploded through every inch of me. I vaguely registered a scream that echoed through the warehouse. I wondered who the hell was screaming, and if Roxanne had seen. Then, as bile rose in my throat, I realized the scream came from me and still echoed through the space. I dimly heard a flutter of wings as birds launched from the rafters, the caws of their disturbance drowning me out.
"That's why," he said, turning away, scanning the warehouse as if he heard or saw something that eluded me. "Go check," he said softly to Ritchie and the man melted into the darkness, his gun drawn. "Now, I'm going to ask you to think on those questions again, Lexi Solomon. Does anyone know you're here?"
"Yes, everyone," I murmured.
"Funny, I checked your messages. Didn't think to tell your husband where you actually were, did you? I don't think he knows at all." He laughed and held up my cell phone. I decided to get pin protection in the future. "Maybe I'll send him a message saying you met someone else. That you're leaving him. By the time he bothers to look for you, there won't be much of you left to find."
"Sure," I said, the pain overwhelming, my voice coming out garbled. I couldn’t seem to move from the floor. Even Kevin appeared to realize that, his grip softening slightly as he rocked back on his heels. "Text him. He loves getting messages. Remember to add kisses."
"Maybe it will be more fun to leave him wondering." Somper dropped my cell phone on the floor and stomped on it. It crunched under his heavy boot and a slivery shard of silver shot past me.
Something else flashed into my mind. Something silvery and sharp. The pain seemed to have heightened everything. I could smell oil and sawdust, and hear soft footfalls in the dark. Behind Somper, I could see the office door start to open, just a few inches. Somper seemed oblivious as he dropped to one knee next to me. He poked my shattered arm and I cried out.
As he smiled down at me, his mouth stretched into a sick grin. With my free, uninjured hand, I drew open the zip of my pants pocket and reached inside, grabbing the Swiss Army knife, my fingers easing the knife into my palm. "I've killed a lot of people," said Somper, a flash of black in his hand. A gun.
"Not me," I whispered. With a grunt, I lurched at him, swinging my knife to connect with the thick flesh of his leg. His scream pierced the air as I dug it in, twisted, then ripped it wildly back, a spray of blood shooting out when I swung my arm away. I kept the backwards momentum and my knife landed in Kevin, not caring which bit of him I slashed as he fell backwards.
"My leg!" Somper screamed, the noise and his dismay strangely satisfying. Lurching to his full height and hopping on one foot, Somper reeled backwards. Through the haze of pain, I saw blood spurting from between his fingers, like little pops from a squeezy ketchup bottle. "I think you cut my fucking artery, you fucking bitch!" His face paled.
Behind him, Kevin howled in pain.
"Good," I mumbled weakly, an agonized whimper escaping me as I cradled my broken arm to my body, scooting backwards on the seat of my pants through the decades old dirt. It might not have been very charitable of me, but I hoped he would die. In the small world of him versus me, I rooted for me. Every. Single. Time.
I continued to scoot until I hit a wall. Looking up, my eyes rolling from the effort, I realized it wasn't a wall, but a man clad in black, his face covered, but the eyes... those dark brown eyes I knew. He moved into a crouch in front of me, protecting me with his body, as a team streaked past. I saw Somper grunt and go down, with barely any effort from the two men crowding him. Shots were fired. And returned.
"Hurt?" Solomon asked, brushing his hand over my hair as he shielded me, worry staining his eyes.
"Broken arm. Few bruises." I would have shrugged, but I probably would have passed out. "Roxanne?" I murmured, looking around for her. “She was back there. She was alive. I think she got out.”
For a few sick seconds, I panicked that they’d arrived too late. That Kevin, or Ritchie, or Hoag had gotten to her already.
"We got her."
"Good." My eyes flickered. I wasn’t sure I could stay conscious for much longer, but I didn’t dare black out.
"Time to go." Solomon holstered the twin guns he carried. Scooping me into his arms, my uninjured side resting against his chest, he barked an order. Someone replied. Another gunshot sounded.
"Don't wanna stay and shoot the bad guys?" I asked.
"I think the Army has it covered," he replied, whipping around. With me in his arms, he raced towards the door as more people crowded past us, weapons drawn, shouting, radios blaring. I curled my fingers into his collar and hung on as the scene and sounds blended into one.
I swam in and out of consciousness while we blasted through the doors into the cool night. My mind jerked awake, registering the moment I was eased from Solomon's arms into a waiting stretcher... Someone pried my fingers from his collar... His eyes locked on mine... The lights flashing... Roxanne crying... A man asking about me... A curt answer... Blackness again, then silvery moonlight.
"Solomon." I struggled to make my voice heard over the cacophony.
"Here."
"The drugs are coming in. It's going to be on the return flight. The one bringing the troops home," I told him, my head lolling backwards. I wanted to escape the pain, the noise. I desperately didn't want to throw up on Solomon's boots. That was something a girl tried not to do until the relationship was solid, after all. "It'll be gone by tomorrow. And someone needs to get Gretchen. I think she's been helping Hoag. He’s in on this."
"We'll pick her up."
"She's stupid," I told him weakly as a burst of pain shot through my arm. "Not bad."
There was a shout, and Solomon was shoved aside by two paramedics.
"Solomon!" It came out like a whimper, all my strength having left me. An oxygen mask went over my face. Something pricked my good arm and then there was, blessedly, nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty
I woke, warm but not particularly clean, in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic hanging in the air. The journey there was a vague memory interrupted by dreams, concerned voices and flashes of brightness as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The flashing lights, the speed of the ambulance, doctors peering at me, apparently not too concerned, seeing as I wasn't at death's door, all tripped into one long nightmare.
Sometime after my arrival, I'd been sent down to surgery and my arm set in plaster. Now it lay heavily at my side on top of serviceable, stiff white sheets. I blinked at the pale green robe someone dressed me in. Yuck. I ran my tongue over my teeth. Double yuck. And blinked again when a friendly face came into view. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I were dreaming again.
"Hey. You're awake. How do you feel?" Maddox leaned forward. His suit was rumpled and a flak jacket lay discarded over my feet. He looked like he'd slept in the chair. He’d definitely slept in his clothes. His hands wrapped around the coffee cup he held, his knuckles white.
"My arm throbs. My head hurts."
"You took a beating."
"What happened?" I shook my head. "Not that. I remember that... How did you guys get there so fast?"
"Your guy at the agency raised the alert."
I yawned, the expression morphing into a frown. I probably looked like I was trying to eat my own head. "Lucas? I thought he went home?"
"He said he was working on something when he received your photo message. After he got to running the plates, he contacted Solomon, and Solomon called me. That was when one of your guys tailing Somper followed him to the yard and saw Solomon’s vehicle. You were lucky, Lexi. Really lucky." He stopped, his voice throaty.
"Oh. There seemed a lot of you." I remembered lots of people. Uniforms, shouting. Lots and lots of shouting.
"MPD, a unit from Fort Charles and your colleagues,” said Maddox, his voice oddly proud. “How Solomon got the Army mobilized, I'm not so sure, but I'll have the details soon."
Personally, I thought it was pretty cool that Solomon could get the Army to save me. Not that I'd be writing a Facebook post about it
, of course. Well, come to think of it, with the drug bust and Roxanne, I was probably fairly low down the list for rescue, but it was cool all the same. Maybe I would write a really cryptic post.
"Roxanne?" I asked.
"She's fine. A few cuts and bruises. Dehydration. Other than that, she'll be fine. She's been sent home already."
"Good." I hated to ask. "The guy I stabbed? Captain Somper?"
"You got his artery. And you got Kevin Zabriskie in the stomach. Jesus, there was so much blood, I wasn't sure if you'd been stabbed too. It looked like someone went crazy in a ketchup factory. One of my guys fainted."
I grinned. "Awesome."
"Anyway, Somper went into surgery and now he's under a guard. We got the whole gang, thanks to you. Somper and three other guys, Ritchie, Hoag and Zabriskie, plus a woman from the office you temped in and four more guys from their unit. Not only that, but we were ready when the plane landed and got five million bucks worth of heroin. They were all ready to get it off base. It had been turned into liquid, then soaked into blankets, and they were going to take it to the warehouse to dry out until ready for sale. If we were even thirty minutes later, it would have been gone. They’d have sent it somewhere else."
"Hold up. I'm still processing one of your guys fainting at the blood." Although that did explain the portable heater Somper and Ritchie were purchasing at Home and Tool.
"You would have, too!"
"Would not. I was there. Didn't faint." No, I passed out properly.
Maddox laughed and sat back, stretching his long legs in front of him. "Want to know what's been going on at the station?"
That grabbed my attention. "Always!"
"Ritchie and Hoag squealed before we could even start talking plea bargains. Zabriskie was too late to plea bargain, once his friends opened up. They all implicated Somper, then each other, and Somper turned real chatty, once he woke up. Talk about command decision. It's more like command indecision with that bunch." Maddox grinned again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Fortunately, it does mean we have enough to implicate almost all of them."
Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 23
