The Red Ledger, Book 4

by Meredith Wild

  TRISTAN

  Isabel wants to leave as soon as possible, but something has me tethered here. Uncertainty about Crow’s plan. Uncertainty about Jay and the job. I’ve been watching the scales tip back and forth in my head, trying to figure out what and whose interests have the most weight.

  Is the job a ploy to take another shot at me? Devon Aguilera could be a decoy for all I know. Who knows how badly Jay wants to reel me in—to kill me or teach me a memorable lesson so I never stray from the Company again. I have no idea. The job could be perfectly legitimate too. My gut tells me it is. The only way I can game-plan is to know more, and it’s up to Crow to set it all in motion.

  Until he does, Isabel and I can’t take off in any direction.

  I look at the time on my phone. I was supposed to meet Jay outside Philadelphia at an inconspicuous but well-frequented diner hours ago. Unbeknownst to Isabel, when I accepted the Aguilera job, I did it on the condition that I get a meeting first. To clear the air and reestablish trust that had been broken—as if trust could ever exist between us. Regardless of whether she bought it or not, if Jay wanted to snag me, now would have been her chance, except I’ll never show. How Crow planned to intercept her, I’m not sure. I just hope he did it right.

  I should wait for an update, but I’m sick of the waiting game. Plus, Isabel will be back soon, and I have no idea how I’m going to explain all this to her, if I do at all. So I call him. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Hey,” he answers brusquely.

  “How’s it going?”

  “I have her.”

  I enjoy the briefest hit of relief. It’s quickly diminished because Crow doesn’t sound like his usual jovial self.

  “And?”

  “She’s not talking. And trust me, I know how to get people to talk.”

  I curl my hand over the edge of the counter. “Are you sure she knows—”

  “She fucking knows! Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  The rough sounds of footsteps. A woman’s anguished cry.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I don’t know why I care. I don’t care. Crow should kill her and be done with it. Do what I couldn’t do. Cut the most critical tie that’s bound me to this sick life for too long.

  “Why don’t you tell Red what you told me? You want to tell him how you don’t know anything? You think he’ll buy it?”

  “Tristan.” Her voice is garbled and distant.

  The voice in my head is screaming at me not to feel the things I do. Everything inside me wants to hang up and forget this happened. But he has her now. He’s set things in motion.

  There’s commotion on the other end of the phone. Crow’s voice, low and angry but indistinguishable. A punctuated shriek. Then a moment later, a slammed door and Crow’s labored breathing.

  “Crow. What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

  He cusses under his breath. I can hear other voices in the background. Laughing and hollering. No doubt others in his crew who don’t understand the danger everyone’s in.

  “Crow,” I press.

  “You fuck her or something?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know what she just said to me? Said she’ll talk to you. No one else.” He lets out a caustic laugh. “I’m just surprised because I’m not exactly making her comfortable right now. You must have really made an impression on her.”

  I should leave this on his lap. Let him test Jay’s resolve until she gives in. But this is my mess as much as it’s his now. I gave him the go-ahead, and his best efforts aren’t getting the job done. He can’t see it through. Deep down, I know he can’t. Not without my help.

  “Fine. Send me the location.”

  “Come alone,” he says.

  “Obviously.” I hang up and wait a few seconds for the next text to come through. A pin about thirty miles southeast of Philadelphia city limits. I zoom in and see nothing but empty fields around the pin.

  The door squeaks open and Isabel comes in, interrupting my cycling thoughts. She’s dressed in her workout clothes, but something about her countenance seems off. Serious, even.

  “Everything okay? You were gone a while.”

  She drops her wallet onto the counter. “I ran into someone.”

  My heart stops. “Who?”

  “My grandfather, Gabriel. He came to DC for the funeral and decided to come up to see me.”

  I pause. “How did he find you?”

  “My mom gave me a phone before I left DC. I guess you’re both on the same plan with keeping tabs on me.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Wasting no time, I move to the bedroom and riffle through her things until I find the device. I rip the battery out and smash it on the bureau.

  When I turn, she’s there.

  She crosses her arms. “Was that really necessary?”

  “Anyone knowing exactly where we are is a potential problem. You could have told me about that, you know.”

  “Sorry. It wasn’t top of mind with everything we’ve been dealing with. It’s not like my mother’s trying to kill me.”

  I ignore her comment and grab my bag. I put it on the bed and toss out the Glock and a couple of magazines for Isabel to keep. The rest will come with me.

  “What’s that for?”

  Her earlier sarcasm has melted away, replaced by fear I wish I never had to witness in her again.

  “I have to run an errand,” I say, knowing it won’t satisfy her.

  “An errand? What kind of errand?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t ask me questions.”

  Her fear morphs into indignation, her eyes wide with it. “Don’t ask you questions? What about being honest with each other? Being on the same team?”

  She’ll never accept evasion, so I come out with it. I straighten and level my gaze to hers.

  “Crow kidnapped Jay. He’s holding her at some remote hideout outside Philadelphia. She won’t talk to him, and he’s not exactly going easy on her. It’s time for me to step in.”

  Her jaw falls. “Oh.”

  “I can be there in a couple hours. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get information on Aguilera while I’m there.”

  “No. You’re taking me with you.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Isabel. Please. Let’s not do this.”

  She doesn’t answer. Only starts moving around the room and packing her things.

  “I’m not bringing you into this,” I say firmly.

  She doesn’t slow down. “You already have.”

  “Not like this. Crow is…” Dangerous. Ruthless. Not that different from me. “I’m not introducing you to him and his goons, okay? I know you think you’re tough now, but—”

  “Go to hell, Tristan.” She shoots me a narrow-eyed look.

  “I’m confident that’s where I’m headed if it makes you feel any better.”

  She flies around the apartment like a woman on a mission, my panic at her determination climbing with every passing second. I catch her coming back from the living room with some clothes and haul her against me. Her breath rushes out, and I don’t give her any room to budge.

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  She sets her jaw, determination gleaming in her eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who’s not listening.”

  “I’m not going to bring you into a dangerous situation for no other reason than to keep us together. I’ll be back—”

  “I’m not letting you leave me behind. You don’t want to take me right into the thick of it, okay. I get it. I’m scared too. But I can be close. Maybe you can drop me at a hotel nearby or something. Talk to Jay, and when you’re done, we’ll be that much closer to our next stop.”

  Some of the demand has slipped from her tone. She’s trying to be reasonable, and I’m having a hard time holding my ground. Especially when she’s this close. Because like every other time we’ve had to go our separate ways, by circumstance or one of us deciding to go it alone, I’ve hated every minute of it. Deep
down I knew it was wrong even if my sense of logic argued it was right.

  I consider her proposal and decide it’s reasonable enough. Even if it weren’t, we don’t have time to argue. The clock is ticking. If Crow can’t get what he wants, all we’ve done is make targets of both of us. The whole Company will be looking for us. And Isabel.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Isabel

  The Mullica Hill Inn just over the New Jersey border is a sobering reminder that this new life—on the run and on the road—is not always destined to be comfortable. I insisted we stay here since the next closest hotel to the pin Crow sent Tristan was another twenty miles down the highway, and I’m in a panic about any unnecessary distance between us right now.

  The parking lot is largely empty. The staff are wholly uninterested in who we are past the sixty-one dollars plus tax we owe them for the room. Once inside, the salmon walls and garish magenta and navy-blue comforters on the two double beds welcome us. A thick red drape hangs over the window, giving the room privacy. Tristan hasn’t followed me in, though. He hesitates in the doorway, his lips thin. His posture is stiff, as if he’s coiled tight and ready to strike at whatever dangers are ahead.

  “Is there anything I can do? I feel useless here,” I say.

  “Why don’t you map the rest of the trip? Figure out some good places to stop.”

  “Really?” I slant my head because I know he’s placating me. The trip from New Orleans was anything but leisurely, and I’m certain getting to his next assignment will be no less urgent.

  He smirks a little. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Watch a movie or something. For what we paid for the room, I think we can afford it.”

  As if a movie could take my mind off whatever is going to go down tonight. I step toward him and curl my fingers into his shirt, my anxiety ratcheting up as the seconds slip by. I think back to Mateus’s house in Petrópolis and how Tristan insisted on staying back to face off with a Hummer full of mercenaries. He was up against Crow then too. Tristan found his way back to me all the same. I lean my forehead against his chest. Focus on his even breath. The strength of his arms folding around me. Faith that feels easier to reach for when life gets this desperate.

  “Every minute you’re gone, I’ll think the worst,” I whisper. “I’m going to be a mess. I can’t help it.”

  “You don’t ever need to worry about me. This is what I do, remember?”

  I look up at him, hoping to find some magic in his eyes that will make me believe it. “This may be what you do, but the game has changed and you know it.”

  He’s quiet. So quiet that I know I’m right. Our enemies have multiplied. Tables have turned. Alliances have formed and broken.

  He touches my cheek. “It has changed, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  I exhale the breath I’ve been holding, willing myself to believe it. He’ll be okay. He’ll come back.

  Still, I can’t let go. My fingers won’t unclench. My feet won’t take me a few steps away to signal that he’s okay to leave. Because every other second is the devastating realization that he might not come back. That someone will be more ready than he is and take his life.

  “Isabel, I have to do this.” His voice is determined but laced with understanding.

  I shake my head, unready.

  He cups my cheeks and tilts my face up. His gaze is so intent I’m convinced he can see past my skin, right down to my aching heart.

  “Isabel. Listen to me. I love you, and I’m coming back to you.”

  My breath rushes out. My heart surges in my chest. I’m ready to say it back to him a thousand times, but he slants his mouth over mine before I can. He silences the reciprocation and an ounce of my worry with a kiss that means even more than the echo of his words.

  And then he’s pulling away. Leaving me. The thud of his boots fades down the concrete path to the car. The engine hums to life before he drives away. The red glow of his tail lights trails toward the highway on-ramp until he’s completely out of sight and I’m alone.

  I don’t know how long I stand there until the sound of car doors slamming jars me. Two young men get out of a two-door sedan with faded red paint and head toward the front desk. I duck back into the room and shut the door soundlessly.

  I let go of a heavy sigh. I’m wary to sit anywhere but decide the vinyl leather chairs around the tiny table in the corner are likely safe. I send up a silent prayer that Tristan’s business is swift so we don’t need to spend the night here.

  I think about pulling up Tristan’s location on my phone but decide to wait until he gets there, and even then, I’m not sure I should.

  TRISTAN

  I drop my speed as I pass the sign for Fawn Hollow Farms and the few short buildings behind it. Glancing down at the GPS on my phone, I cut my headlights and pull off onto a dirt road a few yards ahead that will take me just a little closer. I can see some lights in the distance, then the faintest outline of a barn-shaped building against the darkened sky. That has to be where Crow’s keeping her.

  I park on the side and kill the engine. Roll down the windows. Listen. There’s laughter coming from the barn. The lazy whine of a windmill rolling through the light breeze. Nothing from the house or the farm buildings I’d passed. The road is quiet too.

  My phone buzzes, and a text from Isabel lights up the darkness.

  Please be careful. I love you.

  I know she’s a wreck already. Very likely pacing a hole in the carpet of that roach motel room. That godawful place will probably be singed into my memory for all eternity now, since ten minutes ago, out of nowhere, I decided to tell her I loved her on one of its fine thresholds.

  Something I didn’t think I’d ever do. Something that’s going to make it a lot harder to let her go if I ever need to. Because now I can’t deny it, and nothing but death can make me forget the look on her face when I said it. Pure emotion. A crashing wave of joy as if she’d been waiting on a precipice, praying and hoping to hear only those words for the past six years. Perhaps that’s exactly what it was.

  A woman’s shriek cuts through the night. Jay.

  I get out of the car, shut the door quietly, and make my way through the field. Gun in hand, I approach. A black SUV is parked along the building, but no one seems to be on the lookout. They probably figure it’s too remote to need to.

  A man’s voice inside floats through the air. “You used to be such a pretty girl. Now look at ya.” Metal on metal. A muffled squeal. “How about we cut the rest of these clothes off and make some designs. How about that? Should we do that, or you wanna talk and I can put the knife away?”

  I’ve never been into torture. I’ve had to get creative in the past. Sometimes taking someone out wasn’t as straightforward as putting a bullet in their brain, but I’ve always tried to make it quick. I may be a killer, but I’ve got limits. I don’t get off on this kind of shit.

  I nudge the barn door open with my foot. The huge structure is bathed in a dull golden glow coming off a few lights hung from the rafters. Bales of hay and rusty tools line the walls.

  I can only make out Jay’s legs and bare feet on the dirt floor several feet away, because the round silhouette of the man speaking to her completely blocks the view.

  “Hey!”

  In my periphery there are two other men about my age standing several feet away. I keep my gun low and obscured behind my leg.

  “I’m Red. Where’s Crow?”

  “He’s good, guys. Crow said he was coming,” the big guy says, turning away from Jay and coming my way. He walks with swagger, mostly due to his size, I suppose, a long hay knife dangling from one hand and a shorter, undoubtedly sharper hunting knife in the other. “You wanna talk to her?” He smirks and gestures over his shoulder with the shorter knife, finally out of the way enough that I can see her.

  I swallow over the disgust spidering through me like a disease and mask any signs of it in the calm expression I return. I even manage to match his shitty smile with one
of my own, like we’re definitely on the same page. “That’s the plan,” I say.

  “Good luck, brother. She ain’t talking to us, and as far as I can tell, there ain’t much left to do but be done with her.”

  “Give me ten minutes. Do you mind?”

  “Nah. Come on, guys. Let’s give the man some space to work.”

  He waves the others out of the barn. Then we’re alone save their mindless chatter that gets farther away with every passing second. I walk toward Jay, my jaw so tight I feel like I might crack a molar.

  I stop in front of her, drenched in self-loathing. The only thing that possibly can make it worse is the fact that I can’t let on to any of it. If I’m going to save her… If she’s going to feel mercy ever again…she has to believe that I truly don’t give a shit that her face is so bloody and bruised that I might not recognize her if I hadn’t seen her so recently.

  “I’m sorry,” she says over a sob.

  “Don’t cry. You’re swollen enough. It’ll make everything worse.”

  She bobs her head a little. “You’re right.”

  “How’d they find you?”

  “State trooper pulled me over on the way to the diner. Said the rental was reported stolen. He cuffed me and brought me here. Probably on Crow’s family’s payroll.”

  “You didn’t have protection?”

  “They were staked out near the diner, waiting.”

  “That was a mistake,” I say.

  She nods again. “Lots of mistakes,” she mutters.

  Mistakes that I wouldn’t have made if the tables were turned and the people who came for me had a chance to get what they wanted. The irony isn’t lost on me that I could be the one bound and bloody if things had gone differently.

  “Why won’t you talk to Crow?”

  “Because he’s going to kill me as soon as I give him what he wants. It would almost be worth it now. I can’t…” She swallows and winces like she’s fighting the tears again. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, Tristan. Then please just be done with it. I can’t give them the satisfaction. I’d rather be dead.”