FROST SECURITY: Richard

by Glenna Sinclair

Lacy shrank into the cushions as I turned my gaze back on her. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked, more quietly this time, “but I thought it was important. As soon as I noticed them following me, I called Frank and he told me to head here and Matt, Jake, and him would meet up with us.”

  I turned back to the window, peered out the blinds. “Goddammit, Lacy,” I muttered.

  “What did you want me to do, anyways?” she asked, her voice trembling like she was on the verge of tears. “Pull over on the side of the road? Drive to the next town so they could just get me there, furball? Frank told me who they were, the Skull and Bones guys. What did you want me to do? Just let them kidnap and rape me till I told them where you were? I didn’t know they tried to jump you earlier today. Nobody fucking tells me anything!”

  I dropped the blinds and looked back at her. I could smell the fear coming off her as it filled the room. Hell, even if I hadn’t been a shifter I could probably smell it clear as fresh grass on a summer day.

  She wiped the beginning of a tear from the corner of her, her lower lip with its silvered piercing quivering. “Look, I know I fucked up, okay? But I can’t take it back now, can I? Yelling at me about this shit isn’t going to fix the fucking problem, though, is it?”

  Dammit. I’d made her cry. I’m a hard ass when I need to be, but putting on the waterworks always tugs at my heart strings. I sighed and slowly shook my head, suddenly feeling bad that I’d gotten angry at her for putting us all in harm’s way. I mean, she deserved an ass chewing, that was for sure. But now wasn’t the time, or the place, for yelling. First, we needed to get out of this mess she’d brought down on our heads, and then I could yell at her with Peter. “You said the guys are headed up here, right?”

  “All except Peter,” she replied with a nod and a sniffle. “He’s still out of town.”

  I nodded, huffed through my nose. “How long ago did you talk to them?”

  “Just when I was leaving the Rock. They’re probably just a minute or two behind us.”

  “You drove slow, right? To give the guys time to catch up?” Lacy was a real speed demon, much to Grandma Gen’s dismay. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d heard her yelling at the girl for how fast she took these mountain turns. “Please tell me you at least took your fucking time getting here.”

  “Come on, Richard,” she said, her voice a little bit closer to normal. “I might be a fuck up, sometimes, but I’m not a huge one.”

  I snorted and turned back to the window. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?”

  She got up off the couch, shuffled her feet loudly on the rug. “I – I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Again.”

  I sighed, my eyes still fixated out the window. “Not now, okay? We’ll get through this apology shit later. Just, go and show Jessica that video. And then, I want you both to stay in her room and get low. This is about to get bad, I think.”

  “Bad?” she asked, gulping so loud even someone with normal hearing would have heard it from across the room.

  “Bad,” I repeated. “No matter what you hear, or see, I want you to keep Jessica away from the living room, away from the front of the house. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure, I can do that. I can keep her away”

  I turned back to her. “No, Lacy. I need you to promise me. Whatever happens, you have to keep her out of her. You got it? Nothing can happen to her.”

  She nodded fervently, a concerned look on her face. “Yeah, of course. I promise,” she said, her voice more serious than before. “Richard, you’re talking like things won’t . . .”

  “I don’t know,” I said, turning back to the window, gripping my shotgun tighter. “You remember how to handle a gun, right? Peter’s still been taking you to the shooting range?”

  “Yeah,” she croaked.

  “Take the pistol off the table, take it with you. If anything happens to me, I want you two to go out the back window and go out into the forest. The guys’ll find you when this is all over. Okay?”

  She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead she juts picked up the pistol, along with a spare clip, from off the table.

  “Go,” I growled. “And don’t come back out. Got it?”

  She shuffled back towards the bedroom.

  The approaching convoy of bikers was closer. Not much longer now, I figured. Just a few more minutes before we saw how the next leg of this sordid tale shook itself out.

  I wasn’t worried, though. Lacy might have screwed the pooch pretty royally this time around, but I knew she’d do what it took to finish the mission, to keep our client safe.

  Hell, I didn’t even need to tell her that the woman she was guarding was the most important person in my life.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Jessica

  “Mind if I come in?” Lacy asked after she rapped on the bedroom door.

  “It’s open,” I said a little bit more breathlessly than I’d intended.

  My heart was racing, my stomach churning from the adrenaline. I hadn’t heard all of their conversation out in the living room, but I’d certainly heard enough to know things weren’t playing out in our favor. Far from it, in fact.

  “I’m sorry,” Lacy said as she came into the room, shut the door quietly behind her.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For bringing the bikers here,” she said. “It’s my fault this is all happening.”

  I pursed my lips together, my eyes settling on her. I didn’t know how to react. I mean, had I been in her shoes, I probably would have screwed up even worse. And, besides, she was just a kid. She probably didn’t think about what could go wrong. Still, though, it was my life she’d put in jeopardy, along with her own.

  “I just,” she said quickly, “I got some security video of the person, the woman actually, who sent that last fax to you. And I wanted you to look it over so we could get it to Sheriff Peak as fast as possible.” As she pulled her phone from her back pocket, I noticed what she had in her other hand. A big semi-automatic pistol.

  Richard had armed the kid. My face blanched as the enormity of what was happening settled on me. Things must have been dire if he was giving Lacy a gun.

  “I didn’t think anyone would be watching me, so I could just slip up here tonight and get the video. I thought I could, you know, break the case!” Her eyes lit up with excitement as she unlocked the phone with her thumb and handed it over to me.

  “Lacy,” I said, taking the handset from her and looking down at the screen, “I’m not mad, necessarily. I know you didn’t mean to screw up. But, well, you did. And now there are gun-toting nut jobs coming.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to my freshly packed bag, exhausted from the nerves and worry. I’d barely slept at all, as it was, and all this was happening now. What was going to happen next? The Mexican Mafia show up and kidnap us?

  Lacy frowned, looked down at her feet. “I know. But, I think this might help. Okay? Just watch it real quick, let me know.”

  I sighed, turned my attention back to the phone in my hand. Displayed on the screen was a black and white digital video, the copy place’s front lobby area where they kept their fax machines, printers, and Xerox machines. A woman was at the fax machine, a giant curly head of hair shielding her face from the camera and preventing me from getting a good look at her. She was dressed in designer jeans, expensive hiking boots, and a pretty blouse. Honestly, though, I’d pretty much described the attire of half the women in town. Standing next to her was a cute, kind of geeky guy in his late-teens, early twenties.

  “Andy said he thought she was wearing a wig,” Lacy added helpfully, hopefully . “Only reason he remembered her was because she seemed like she’d never used a fax machine in her life and needed his help. And, of course, what she was faxing.”

  I didn’t recognize the woman in the video. I pursed my lips together, shook my head, handed the phone back to her. “Just some woman?” I asked. “Sorry.”

  She nodded. “No clue who
she is, though?”

  “Don’t recognize her,” I admitted with a shrug. “How’d you get the video anyways?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Promised the kid at the copy shop, Andy, another date if I could have the footage from the camera.” She didn’t look too happy at the fact she’d had to make that promise.

  The sound of rumbling engines began to fill the house. I’d heard enough of the conversation between Lacy and Richard to know the Skull and Bones had just arrived.

  I shrugged again, hung my head a little. “Well, you’re in luck, kid. We might all be dead before you have to deliver on that promise.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Richard

  The vehicles began to pull up from the drive, forming a semi-circle in front of the cabin, cutting off my view of both Lacy’s car and my Wrangler. Two big Suburbans, black, with brush grills on the front. Their headlights shone through the riled up dust, giving the impression of drifting smoke in a forest fire. The trucks were loaded to the brim, and their hoots and hollers filled the air before they even came to a halt and began to pile out of their vehicles into the cool night air. At least a dozen men climbed from the SUVs, all of them armed, all clad in their patched vests and biker jackets, kerchiefs and bandannas covering their heads like modern day gypsies. They were all grizzled, hardened looking men. Rough and tumble and vicious.

  The barbarians were at the gates, it seemed. I stood there at my spot just to the side of the blinds, shotgun in hand, rifle at my feet. Waiting. Lacy had said the rest of my pack would be showing up soon, and all I could do with this many guys was hope for a decent outcome.

  After all, worse came to worst, I could run. Lacy, Jessica, and I could disappear into the woods, make our way out the rear bedroom window and away from the cabin. And, if the bikers came after us, I could shift into my wolf form and pick them off one by one as soon as the women were clear. There wasn’t much they could do to a shifter unless they had silver bullets. Of course, that helped me. But not Lacy or Jessica.

  I didn’t see Wyatt Axelrod among their numbers, but I did see Big Bear and his four buddies from earlier. Big Bear was hobbling a little, but didn’t look too much worse for the confrontation we’d had.

  That was a shame. Had I known he’d be showing up here, I’d have done more damage to the piece of shit when I had the chance.

  Behind them a little Lexus sedan, silver in the moonlight, pulled up, parked out of view behind the Suburban on the right. Out of sight, the doors open and closed, and two sets of feet hit the rocks and gravel, began to approach the crowd of bikers from the opposite side.

  And then there he was, the MC president himself, Wyatt Axelrod. No surprise, to be honest. What was a surprise, though, was the young, petite, attractive woman he pushed ahead of him through the crowd of groping, crowing men. Short brown hair, big eyes, terrified so badly her knees were visibly shaking from almost thirty feet away. Sheila Pearson, Lacy’s friend who’d been working on the accounting for the gallery. She wasn’t bound, but she was clearly paralyzed by fear, cowering from all the men around her.

  What the hell was she doing here? How had she gotten wrapped up in this?

  Big chrome revolver held in one hand at shoulder level, Wyatt shoved Sheila ahead of him with the other, driving her through the whooping crowd like a heifer through a herd of bulls, their hands snaking over her body, grabbing her butt, stroking her breasts through the front of her shirt. If what I’d smelled on Lacy before was simple fear, what was coming off her might as well have been abject horror.

  My skin crawled as I saw the look in their eyes, as I thought about whether or not she’d been hurt at all by these pieces of shit. I shook my head, sucked a breath through my teeth. I couldn’t risk firing into the crowd with her there. And Wyatt knew it.

  “Mister Richard Murdoch!” he called as he shoved Sheila Pearson forward onto her knees, the dust and rocks flying up around her as she struck the ground and fell onto her hands with a grunt. The crowd behind him fell silent, their jaws set, their eyes squinting against the night with the headlights from their car and the cabin their only illumination.

  Suddenly, I felt like I was in a western. One lone gunman, facing off against the bandit gang, waiting for the cavalry to arrive. If only it were true, then I might have a chance. In the old movies, John Wayne always got away. Hell, even Clint did in the old spaghetti westerns. Might not get the money, but at least he got his life. I had a feeling though, that this was going to be more of a Sam Peckinpah film, where the heroes get their brains blown out like everyone else. Good thing I was a shifter. What would be the point of living, though? Might as well just invest in a silver bullet to get the job done with if anything happened to Jessica.

  “Jessica! Lacy!” I called back into the house.

  “Yeah?” Lacy called back, her voice warbling, frightened but calm. She was scared.

  “We’re still here!” Jessica called. “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” I replied. “You need to get down, down as low as you can, okay? And, Lacy, if things get real bad, you take her out the back like Peter and I showered you, alright? You take off into the mountains and you wait for the guys to find you.”

  “Okay!” Lacy called back.

  “One last thing,” I said. “Jessica. They’ve got Sheila with them. I think she’s their hostage or something. I’m going to try and get her free, Jess, but I need you to stay back there and listen to Lacy. She’ll get you out of here if something goes wrong.”

  “Sheila?” Jessica called, and there was a thump like a woman being pulled back down to the floor.

  “Stay back there!” I called.

  “Mister Murdoch!” Wyatt called again. “You in there? Or am I gonna have to knock on this little girl out here till you answer?”

  “Don’t listen to him, Jessica!” Sheila, still on her hands and knees in front of Wyatt, screamed. “You guys run!”

  Wyatt stepped forward, put a well-placed boot to her ass, sending her sprawling. “Shut up, bitch! Women ain’t got no voice in this club, and you fucking know it!”

  I tightened my hands on the shotgun’s grip, turned back to the front of the house with determination. I slammed the barrel through the window, broke the glass and cleared it away from the pane. No sense in worrying about shattered glass now, right? Especially not with a small army of bikers all pointing guns at the cabin. “What do you want, Wyatt?” I yelled through the window. “You ain’t getting Jessica, so don’t even try it!”

  “Jessica? The bitch at the art gallery? I don’t want her, you motherfucker!” The vein on Wyatt’s forehead stuck out from his skin, pulsing with the lifeblood and adrenaline that was roaring through his body. “Nah, Richard, I’ve come to finish what we started! I want to finish our fight!”

  On cue, his men began to fan out to either side of him in an arch, five on one side and seven on the other. They held rifles, shotguns, pistols. One guy even had a freaking Uzi, if I wasn’t mistaken. Where in the hell he got a firearm like that, I had no idea. But, they were gun runners, after all. The men all raised their guns to their shoulders, leveled them at the cabin. Wyatt Axelrod, the big boss, joined them, pointed the barrel of his big chrome revolver right at the front door.

  “Let ‘em have it, boys,” Wyatt screamed. “Light ‘em up so he knows we mean business!”

  The world roared like a battlefield as the bikers all opened fire at the same time. The lighter crack of pistols, the thundering booms of shotguns, the crackling pop-pop-pop of submachine guns. And, joining in with it all, the splintering of wood and the tinkling of shattered glass as lead and metal-jacketed rounds came barreling through the front of the house.

  I was on my belly before my mind even registered what was going on. I just hoped Jessica and Lacy had listened to me, and had dropped to the floor. Because, if they hadn’t, there was nothing I could do about it now.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Jessica

  My heart hammered in my chest
hard enough that I couldn’t even get air. It was like I was having a heart attack as Lacy and I cowered beneath the bed, the world exploding in gunfire and splinters as bullets shredded the cabin and thudded into the mattress over our heads. Lacy and I screamed, tears flowing down our cheeks as we clung to one another like lost orphans.

  We’d hit the floor as soon as Richard ordered us, and begun to crawl beneath the bed. Never in a million year had I ever imagined that my life would end this way, or this would be what those phone calls came to. If I had, maybe I would have hired Richard earlier.

  I prayed to God I’d make it out alright, that Richard would make it out alright, that Lacy and Sheila would be fine. But, still, the young girl beside me and I embraced one another as death filled the room, the bullets pinging as they ricocheted and whizzed overhead.

  I learned something in those few short minutes that seemed to stretch to long, meandering hours. Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes in situations like this. You don’t think of much at all. Except, maybe, getting out alive, of how screwed you really are, how this is it, this is the end. But your life flashing in front of your face, all the wasted time and misspent potential? It didn’t happen. Not for me, at least.

  But, like they say, your mileage may vary.

  Just as suddenly as the bullets began, they came to an end. The calamitous gunfire sputtered to an end, punctuated by one little pop of a pistol a few seconds after the rest had tapered off.

  “You okay?” Lacy whispered to me, her voice nasally from all the tears she’d shed. “Are you shot?”

  “N-n-n-no,” I whimpered back with a snuffle from my own bawling, “I’m fine. Are you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, sniffling again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Jessica. I’m so sorry I brought these men here.”

  I had no idea why they had Sheila. Had she done something stupid and gotten herself caught? Had she gone to see them when I told her to keep her nose out of this? Knowing her, she had. Dammit, girl!