And he didn’t like the feeling one bit. Because wanting anything for the rest of his life implied he planned to have one after he ended Mendenhall. Which he didn’t. All he wanted was for it to be over already—the nightmares, the flashbacks, the persistent heaviness weighing down his chest. He wanted it all gone, and already had one foot in the grave as far as he was concerned. If he wanted the other one to join the first, he had to keep away from Natalie Taggart. He’d already let her too close, already cared too much about her when he hadn’t cared about any-damn-thing in a long time, and feared he might have inadvertently given her the power to pull him back from the edge.
He didn’t want to be pulled back.
Did he?
He reached the parking lot and wind sliced through the thin material of his T-shirt. Winter wasn’t ready to give up the city just yet, despite the bright morning sunshine’s best efforts at springtime. He’d have to break down and do some shopping today, get a few essentials. A jacket, some quick food, a sleeping bag—no furniture because that would be nothing but a waste.
No, he decided, he absolutely didn’t want to be pulled back.
His brothers didn’t need him anymore, and he couldn’t shake the memory of Syria or the profound sense of relief he’d experienced in those seconds before the mortar exploded, when he thought he was dead. He wanted—needed—that relief again. He just had to do this one last thing for his family.
He had to find Mendenhall and end it.
But first, he needed wheels.
He grabbed his phone out of the side pocket in his bag and dialed. When Bruce Chambers answered, he said without preamble, “I need my bike.”
A pause, some shuffling. A door closed in the background before Bruce responded, “I’ll meet you with it, but I’ll need a couple hours.”
“All right. Two hours. My usual spot.” He hung up and started toward the nearest bus stop. It was two hours more than he wanted, but he’d use the extra time to get those essentials.
He also had to come up with a plan of attack. He’d drive by the flophouse where Mendenhall had been staying, but he doubted the guy was still there, and he had no idea where to start looking.
Except…
The kid. The one who had run away during the mugging. He’d gotten a good look at his face, would recognize him if he saw him again. Find that kid, and he had no doubt he’d have a direct line to Mendenhall.
Chapter Ten
This was probably a very bad idea.
Oh, God. Scratch that. It was definitely a bad idea. Being here, she was just asking for more trouble with Greer…but it was the only idea she had at this point.
Greer’s brothers knew how to find people, and she needed Andy found. Just call her desperate.
Natalie drew a breath and pushed through the glass-fronted door marked Wilde Security in black lettering. A small bell overhead chimed with her entrance. The office was a long rectangle with several nice wood desks on one end and a comfortable seating area under the window on the other. On the back wall were two doors, a small fridge and countertop between them. The smell of coffee was strong in here, but the pot on the counter was empty and didn’t look as if it had been used in a while. A handful of photos decorated the wall behind one of the desks, and someone had written “Wall of Internet Shame” on a sheet of paper and taped it in the center of all the photos. Other than that, there wasn’t much in the way of decoration.
The man seated at one of the desks gazed up at the sound of the bell and scowled. She hadn’t met this particular brother yet, but he resembled Greer even more than Reece. Similar square face shape, same nose, same eyes—except his eye color was a stormy blue-gray rather than the deep brown of his older brother’s. He wore his dark hair long and wavy and had it pulled back in a little stub of a tail.
He pushed out of his seat. “Where’s my brother?”
Okay, she didn’t know him, but he apparently knew her. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she had to swallow it down before she could speak again. “I-I don’t know where Greer is.”
“You’re lying.”
No, actually it was the truth. She really didn’t know where he’d gone after she ordered him out of her apartment this morning. Which was troubling and part of the reason she was here now.
She straightened her shoulders. “I am not.”
The door opened behind Natalie, and a brunette with the kind of body that belonged on the cover of a magazine came through. “Vaughn, stop it.” She carried two steaming coffee mugs and started to hand one to Vaughn, but she snatched it away before he took it. “Only if you play nice.”
He snaked an arm around her and drew her into his side, planting a hard kiss on her lips. “I never play nice, vixen.”
“I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.” The woman returned his kiss, then extracted herself from his arms and shoved the mug of coffee into his hand. “But scaring away new clients is bad for business.”
“She’s not a new client,” he muttered into his mug before taking a sip. “That’s Greer’s neighbor.”
“Oh,” the woman said and smiled. “We haven’t met yet.” She set her coffee down and held out her hand. “I’m Lark Wilde. Vaughn’s wife.”
“Natalie.” She accepted the handshake. Lark was far more approachable than her husband. Plus, she didn’t feel like the other woman could see right through her like Vaughn could. “I was looking for Reece.”
“Do you have news about Greer?”
Yes, so much. And if she were smart, she’d come clean. She shook her head. Well, she’d never claimed to be smart. But there were just too many unknowns right now, and until she could guarantee her nephew’s safety, she was keeping her lips sealed. “No. I’m sorry.”
“She’s lying,” Vaughn said matter-of-factly. Lark elbowed him in the ribs, but it didn’t deter him from boring holes into her with his eyes.
“Ignore him.” Lark sighed. “He was born without manners. It’s an unfortunate genetic defect with no known cure.”
Yes, Natalie decided, she liked this woman. “Is Reece around? I’d hoped to talk to him. Not about Greer,” she added quickly. “This is…something else.”
“Yeah, he’s here, but he’s helping out at the coffee shop next door.”
Ah. So that explained the strong smell of coffee.
“His wife, Shelby, owns the place,” Lark explained before Natalie could ask. “A barista went home sick, so he’s filling in until the replacement arrives. Shouldn’t be too much longer if you want to wait for him.”
Wife? Huh. In all the months she’d known Reece, she hadn’t known he was married. Although he was a handsome man, he’d never sparked her interest like Greer, so she hadn’t paid any attention to whether or not he wore a ring. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
“Or,” Vaughn said and pointed at her with the hand still holding his coffee. “You could tell me where my brother is.”
Lark huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Vaughn. Enough.”
He shook his head, his features softening the tiniest bit when he looked at his wife. “You won’t get me to back off this, vixen. I know she’s lying. Reece knows she’s lying. There’s something about Greer she’s not telling us.”
Lark’s pretty blue eyes, narrowed with suspicion, turned in her direction. “Why would you lie?”
“I’m not.” The words came out strangled. Reece knew she was lying? How was that possible? She straightened her spine, forcing all uncertainty from her posture and voice. “I’m not.”
“Then why are you here?”
Yes. Subject change. She breathed a soft sigh of relief and strode forward, digging in her purse for her phone. “I want to hire your husband and his brothers to find my nephew.” She held out the phone, showing them the most recent photo she had of Andy, snapped during his birthday party two months ago. “That’s Andy. Andrew Taggart. He’s sixteen.”
Lark took the phone and studied it, a crease forming between her perfectly manicured b
rows. She passed the phone to Vaughn. “How long has he been missing?”
Now for the tap dance. She had to give them enough information to find Andy, but not enough to implicate him in any wrongdoing or expose Greer. “I last saw him Friday morning. He showed up at my place after staying out all night and wanted to hide from my parents—they’re his legal guardians, and he was afraid they’d ground him for breaking curfew.”
“If they are his legal guardians, why haven’t they reported him missing?” Vaughn’s tone still dripped with suspicion, but there was definitely something different in his demeanor as he sat down behind his desk. Was that a hint of concern she sensed under the suspicion? Oh, she hoped so. She did desperately need Wilde Security’s help.
“My parents don’t know yet. I told them he’s been with me all weekend.” She bit her lower lip. She so hated lying to them, but they had been through enough distress while raising her brother, and if there was a chance she could spare them that this time around, she would. “I’d hoped to find him before worrying them.”
“So he’s a runaway?” Vaughn asked. “You don’t suspect foul play?”
“No, he’s definitely—” When he plugged her phone into his computer, her heart hit her stomach with a cannon ball splash. She hurried around the desk to see his screen. “What are you doing?”
God, was there anything incriminating on the phone? She didn’t think so—she didn’t have Greer’s cell number, so there was no evidence of communication between them—but she really didn’t want to take any chances. Vaughn was suspicious enough to look and it appeared he had the skills to do it.
He lifted a brow at her, then went back to keying in commands. “I’m downloading your nephew’s photo and phone info. If he has it on him and it’s active, I can ping it and find out his location.”
She stared as he pulled up a map on screen. “Just like that?”
“Yup. Just like that.” Lark perched a hip on the edge of the desk and watched him work. She smiled in a conspiratorial way. “He’s the absolute best at finding people.”
“You would know, huh, vixen?” Vaughn spared her a quick roguish grin, then went back to his work. “But if Andy’s battery is dead, I won’t be able to find him. It’s a starting point, though.”
Yes, this was a bad idea. If he was the best at finding people, she had no doubt he was also scouring every data byte on her phone for information about Greer even though she couldn’t see him doing anything but looking for Andy. She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep from snatching the phone away from him.
Breathe. He wouldn’t find anything. Just breathe and act normal.
Ugh, she sucked at lying. Why was she even bothering? It was so freaking stressful, and after the way Greer treated her this morning he deserved to have all of his secrets spilled.
But, dang it, she hated to betray his trust. Even now.
She shifted on her feet. Stared at the computer while Vaughn expertly guided it through the search. Lark offered to treat her to a coffee at the cafe next door, but she declined, too worried by the prospect of leaving Vaughn alone with her phone. After that, Lark gave her husband a quick kiss and wandered away.
Natalie waited several more minutes, her anxiety growing with each tick of the clock. “How much longer will this take?”
“Why?” Vaughn asked casually, not lifting his gaze from the computer. “Have a hot date with my brother tonight?”
She thought she kept her face impassive, but something must have given her away because he turned away from the computer and faced her. Had she drawn in a sharp breath? Or maybe he had super-sonic hearing and had caught the loud, stuttering ba-bump of her heart at his question.
Vaughn’s gaze was serious as it locked on hers. “What do you have to gain by lying?”
“I-I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. Reece said the last time you spoke, you referred to Greer as Greer. Up until then, you always called him by his first name, David—the name on his mail. Process of elimination, sweetheart. None of us told you he goes by his middle name, so the only person who could have corrected you is him.”
Well, shit. So much for her super-secret spy skills.
She searched for a response, came up with nothing. It didn’t matter anyway, because Vaughn steamrolled right over any weak excuse she might have given. “Where is he?”
She drew a breath, let it out slowly. “I can’t tell you. I promised him I wouldn’t.”
For the first time, something other than suspicion darkened his eyes. Hurt. “Why doesn’t he want to see us?”
She just shook her head. “I won’t betray his trust.”
“Dammit. I wish you weren’t such a decent person.” He looked back at the computer screen, and his voice softened. “Is he okay? We’ve been worried.”
“I know you have,” she said just as softly. “And I wish I could tell you yes, he’s fine. But honestly, I don’t think he is.”
Vaughn closed his eyes for a second, and she stayed quiet, letting him have the time to collect himself.
“All right.” He placed his hands back on the keyboard. “Let’s find your nephew.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m pissed.” He offered her a surprisingly gentle smile for such an imposing man. “But not at you. You’re only doing what he asked you to. I get it.”
She wanted to tell him not to be angry at Greer, but the plea would fall on deaf ears. Vaughn needed his anger right now, but she hoped when Greer finally came out of hiding, Vaughn would realize his brother needed him more than his anger.
…
Greer’s “usual spot” had at one time been a gas station. Now the pavement was cracked, the pumps were gone, and colorful splashes of graffiti covered the boarded-up building.
Apparently murder was bad for business.
He’d had to hoof it from the nearest bus stop three blocks away, and his bike was already there waiting on a flatbed trailer behind Bruce’s truck.
Bruce climbed out of the driver’s seat when he approached and looked distinctly uncomfortable with this whole meeting. “Why do you torture yourself by coming here?”
Greer glanced down at pavement that had been splattered with blood the first time he’d seen it twenty years ago. He wasn’t about to tell Bruce this place reminded him why he was the man he’d become, and of all the things he’d done for his family. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Bruce he felt closer to his parents here, where they were murdered, than he did at their graves, where they rested. No need to let the whole world know he was a sick fuck.
“It’s just an easy place to meet.” Which was the truth. It was halfway between his apartment and the base, so it made for a convenient rendezvous. He jumped up on the trailer and started undoing the ratchet straps holding his bike in place. “Help me with this.”
Bruce climbed up and lowered the ramp, then dealt with the straps on the other side.
Once the bike was free, Greer swung a leg over the seat and took a moment to savor the familiarity of it before easing it backward off the ramp. “My helmet?”
Bruce jumped down from the trailer and went to the passenger side of his truck. The helmet sat there on the seat.
“Hey,” Bruce said and tossed the helmet to Greer. “I know you requested a leave, but there’s some shit going down in Nigeria. A war brewing with the wrong people poised to take power. With Zak Hendricks permanently out of the game and Dustin Williamson gone, we’re low on men. Your country might need you.”
Yeah, sure. His country. As if he cared anything about patriotism when he was just trying to convince himself to live another hour, another day.
His stomach dropped like on the first hill of a roller coaster at the thought of another mission. No. He couldn’t do it all again. He’d lose whatever of himself was left. If Bruce canceled his leave, he’d have little choice but to go AWOL. Having his file slapped with a deserter label wouldn’t matter to him in the long run, but it’d hurt his brothe
rs, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt them any more than he already had.
Greer deliberately took his time putting on his helmet to give himself a chance to modulate his voice before he spoke. “Are you ordering me to go?”
“Not yet. Just giving you a heads-up.” Bruce watched him closely.
He schooled his features into a mask. No way would he let it show how desperately he didn’t want another mission. “Consider it given.”
“Uh-huh. You’re not going to do anything crazy are you, son?”
“Define crazy.” Without waiting for a response, he snapped the visor down over his face and started the bike. Bruce called his name, but the engine’s rumble drowned out the protest as he opened the throttle and careened from the parking lot.
Now that he had wheels again, he had work to do.
His first stop was the bar where the kids had jumped him. Since it was so early in the day, at least as far as bar hours went, the place was a ghost town. The bartender leaned on the scuffed oak bar, chatting with a few guys who probably had permanent stools there, and glanced up when the door opened.
He sized Greer up, then lifted his chin in a gesture of recognition. “You’re the guy from the parking lot the other night.”
So this bartender had been on duty that night. He didn’t recall much from the hours surrounding the mugging, probably due to his concussion, and the guy’s hangdog face wasn’t ringing any bells.
“Look,” the bartender continued. “You should know I filed a report with the police. They know you ran off before help arrived. The bar’s not responsible for your injuries.”
“I’m not going to sue you.” Greer slid onto a stool and did his best to appear non-threatening. Not an easy task for a hulking six-foot-five man. “But I am looking for the kids who jumped me.”
The bartender’s eyes rounded. “Kids?”
“At least three. One looked to be about 15 or 16. Dark hair, brown eyes.” He drew his finger across his upper lip. “The start of a mustache. Sound familiar?”
“Nope.” The answer came fast, and a little too casually. A lie.
Too Wilde to Tame (Wilde Security) Page 9
