by Rachel Rust
Eddie’s face grew stern. “What about Jill Mancini?”
My eyes closed at my mother’s name, and I waited for bad news.
Sergei chuckled again. “She is right here next to me. A lovely woman.”
Though relief flooded through me with the knowledge that she was still alive, anger flared with the mental image of my mom having to be next to that man, hearing his voice, fearing for her life, knowing how much pain he had already caused her in the past ten years.
“I made a deal,” Sergei said. “And I am a man of my word. Free Toby McCoy, and I release Natalie’s mother. However…”
Eddie and I exchanged a nervous glance.
“…the expiration of that deal is fast approaching and I am not a patient man. I will be joining my men soon, to make the exchange, but if you are not there by five PM, then there is no exchange, there are only bullets. Time is running out, I would suggest you drive faster.”
The phone call clicked and ended.
Eddie stood, forcing me off his lap and to my feet. “He doesn’t know we’re in town yet.”
I nodded. “Yeah, he said ‘drive faster,’ like we’re still on our way here.”
Eddie looked at me. “And he didn’t mention you, so I don’t think he’s real sure whether you’re with me or not.” He collected his guns, holstering two by his waist, one on his ankle. The fourth went into an interior pocket of his jacket which was hanging from the back of the chair.
He sat down and took both my hands in his. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“You want me to stay here.”
“Yes.”
I had to smile at his soft voice and sudden diplomatic measures of trying to get me to do what he wanted me to do. But that smile faded when I realized why.
This was it.
The moment was here. Today would either bring the end to Sergei, or the end to us.
Eddie wanted me to stay behind as he went to join Krissy and end it all … one way or another. He was going to walk out that door and the chance of me seeing him again was a calculation I was not willing to make.
My stomach lurched and Eddie’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him. There was no reining in my tears as I hugged him tight. My mind raced to find another way—a way out of this hell that didn’t involve Eddie leaving my side and walking into certain danger. We couldn’t just get in the car and drive away, because my mom needed to be saved. And Eddie might be her best bet.
My arms squeezed him tighter, as the weight of the impossible situation crushed down upon us.
And then I let go.
I wiped my tears away. “Please go get my mom.”
He stood up, but made no promises or guarantees. His hands cupped my face, my eyes flittered, expecting a kiss. But what I got instead was a stare down.
“You stay here and you keep that door closed and locked all the time, understood?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s no way to say this with a positive spin, so I’m just gonna say it.” He paused, taking both my hands in his. “I will do everything I can, but we need to be realistic. If I fail, if this doesn’t work and Sergei wins, you’re going to be in more danger than ever. He will look for you. If I’m not back here in twenty-four hours, you open that door and you run and you don’t look back. You take Josh and your dad and you go to the FBI. You tell them everything that’s happened, even if it gives me a bad name and gets you in trouble.”
He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a small white envelope. It was sealed and folded in half. He shoved it into my hand.
“If I don’t make it back, make sure my mom gets this.”
On the front, in Eddie’s handwriting, was the name Robin Krauss and an Ohio address.
“Okay,” I said, unable to control the shake in my voice. I shoved the envelope into the waist of my leggings.
Eddie and I stared at one another for a long time with no words. I took him in, from his messy brown hair to his chest to the gray Vans on his feet. He was alive, healthy, and breathing, and the very idea that this could change in a matter of hours was something my brain could not comprehend—and something that ravaged my heart to shreds. The idea that this might be the last time I ever saw him was impossible—and yet it was our horrific reality.
He was mine and I wasn’t ready to let him out of my sight. But I also ached to see my mom again, to know she was finally free of Sergei.
I stepped back, my fingers slipping from Eddie’s body. One last touch.
He moved to the door and paused, hand on the knob. “You know, there’s one thing I never told you about, from back when we were in Mr. Kellen’s government class.”
“What’s that?”
“You and I never spoke before our assignment, but I knew who you were long before we were paired up together.” He smiled. “On my first day of class, Mr. Kellen opened with a discussion on socialism and communism. Someone misquoted Karl Marx and then you schooled them on economic ideologies and not-so-gently told them that they should take a remedial reading and comprehension class. And I remember thinking, ‘this girl’s not someone to be messed with.’ And I was right, and I listened to everything you said in class from that day forward, even when it looked like I was asleep at my desk. I was a dick to you as Victor Greer, I know, but I’ve never not been impressed by you. You have a chance at one hell of a future. You deserve that chance, and that’s why I’m walking out this door alone.”
Through a flurry of mixed emotion, I laughed. “Well, I have a confession to make, too. Even though you were a dick as Victor, and a pretty pathetic student, I always thought you were cute.”
He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes pinching downward in amusement. And then he opened the door and it took every ounce of restraint within me not to cling to him and sob like a baby. My eyes strained to capture every square inch of his form as he slipped from sight.
When the door closed behind him, I collapsed into a mess of tears and curled up on the bed. I checked the time. Three PM. Twenty-four hours, I reminded myself.
I lasted forty minutes, and then I got impatient and called for help.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Why the hell are you in town?” Josh asked, pulling up in his rumbling purple Barracuda. “Does Dad know?”
“No,” I said, hopping in the passenger seat, careful to not let him see the bulk of my handgun under my shirt. “And you are not to tell him. You promised when I called … no questions, remember?”
He rolled his eyes. “Can you at least tell me why you’re here?” He pulled out of the gas station parking lot, near the motel. When I had called him, I didn’t mention the EZ Motel. My stay at a shit motel would have taken even more explaining than me suddenly showing up in Rapid City when I was supposed to be in New York.
“I just need to take care of a few things, but I don’t want Dad to know because he’ll lecture me on wasting time and money and ‘why aren’t you in class?’ and all that shit.”
Josh paused. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“I’m not missing anything,” I lied.
“Hell, even I haven’t missed class yet,” he said with a dollop of pride.
“Good for you,” I muttered. “You went a whole week of college without missing. I’m sure they give prizes for that.”
“Whatever.” He didn’t ask any more questions, though the tense grip on the steering wheel told me there were plenty, and he was pissed to not know what was going on with me.
In his profile, he looked like our dad. Hell, he looked like me. I longed to tell him about our mom. She’s in town and is in danger! She didn’t leave us out of spite! She actually loves us! But there wasn’t enough time and the three-mile ride home felt like a lifetime of silence, resentment, and pain.
Josh had assured me that our dad was working all day, so it was no surprise to find the house empty.
It smelled different. Cleaner, like no one lived there, and these days barely anyone did. I b
olted to my bedroom, slammed the door shut and searched for my car keys. They were in a desk drawer, next to a pad of paper that I had received as a Christmas gift from my mom a few years ago. The stationery was blush pink—and I hated pink, which was one of the excuses I had for never having used it.
But in life or death situations, favorite colors be damned. I grabbed the pad and a pen, and then sat down next to my bed and scribbled like a mad woman. The words flowed effortlessly, even though I had no idea what I was going to write until the ink was already on the paper.
Dear Dad and Josh,
I want to start by telling you just how much I love both of you. Dad, you have done an incredible job. Two parents in one, and Josh and I both know how hard you work and how much you have sacrificed for us. You are amazing and I apologize for any times that I may have said unkind words, or acted in a way to make you think differently.
Josh, you are my biggest ally in life. From day one, you have been by my side and although we’ve had our moments, I could have never asked for a better brother. (Protip: less pot, more studying.)
I’m writing this letter to you guys because it may be the last communication we have. I have returned home to take care of a matter that slithered into my life through no fault of anyone in our family. Not even Mom.
Ten years ago, Mom left, but it was not because she didn’t love us. It was because she had to. She found out her law firm was a money launderer for a criminal named Sergei Romanov. He threatened her life and her family to keep her from going to the police, essentially forcing her to leave us in order to protect us from him.
Mom is in trouble once again. She left her law firm and now Sergei has her. In retaliation, Sergei has also come after me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I kept you out of it for as long as possible for your own protection.
If I go missing, if I don’t come home, bring yourselves and this letter to the FBI. I wish I could give you more details, but time is running out and I must go now.
Remember: Go to the FBI if I go missing. You are in trouble.
I love you both to pieces. Love, Natalie
It wasn’t until I signed my name at the bottom that I realized I was bawling, both cheeks wet with tears. I folded the paper up, slipped it into a matching pink envelope and wrote Dad and Josh on the front. After slipping it into the desk drawer, I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs.
Josh stopped me before I could make it to the back door. He stared at my tear-streaked face.
“Seriously, are you messed up in drugs or something?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. Are you?”
He shrugged. “Weed’s not a drug.”
I shoved him out of my way. “I have to go, and I don’t have time to fully explain anything. No, I’m not on drugs, no, I don’t need help, and no, I’m not crazy. I’m just busy and I have stuff to do.” Halfway out the door, I turned to him, feeling guilty over my impatient attitude. None of this was his fault. “I’m sorry, Josh. I love you and I’ll see you later.”
I slipped out the door, barely able to hold back sobs, knowing I had probably just lied to my one and only brother, and that’d be his last memory of me. One day soon he’d be telling the police or FBI, “She said she loved me and then she left. That was the last time I saw her.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, getting into my car. The familiar scent of cheap leather and my strawberry air freshener released more tears. In my head, the smells translated to memories of safer times. Before Eddie. Before I ever had to know how to use a gun, and before I had ever known the terror of losing everything, including my own life.
With my head in my hands, I forced regular breathing until my head cleared enough that I could get the key into the ignition and start the car. Through bleary eyes, I drove out of my neighborhood.
By the time I drove past the city limits and began snaking my way through the winding lanes of The Black Hills, my tears were gone, replaced by narrowed eyes and a firm grip on the steering wheel. My mom was out there, waiting to be saved, and the only thing I could think of that was worse than losing my own life, was surviving if my mom lost hers.
And that wasn’t going to happen. My foot pressed down on the accelerator and I sped toward the small cabin.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It took longer than expected to find the cabin, having been there only once. However, I knew most of the roads through the hills, having lived in the area all my life. After a few backtracks, I spotted the turnoff that led to the steep, gravel driveway. I parked a half a mile away, off the road, between some bushes, not caring about the scrapes in my car’s paint.
I checked the time on the dash before shutting down the car. It was after five PM. The meet was already happening—or had already happened, depending on how things were going.
Forcing away negative thoughts, I exited the car, leaving it unlocked with the keys in the cup holder. I had no pockets, and already the elastic waist of my pants were clinging to the Glock and Eddie’s letter to his mother. Besides, if someone wanted to steal my car, that seemed like a minor problem to have in that moment. And I owed karma at least one stolen car.
The land between me and the cabin was a steep climb, littered with rocks, fallen branches, and brittle pine needles. The combination of bright sun and crunchy steps meant my arrival was going to be anything but stealthy.
After each step, I paused, listening and waiting for any sign that Sergei’s men were around. Most of the trees were too slender to hide behind, but I still zig-zagged my way from trunk to trunk all the way up the hill.
As the roof of the cabin came into view just over the hill’s crest, I crouched and reached for my gun. I racked the slide with the next gust of wind, hoping the rumbling of leaves and branches camouflaged the sound of the metal. Creeping forward, I glanced around in all directions. Every natural woodsy movement of swaying trees and wind-blown pinecones caught my attention, sending my heart racing faster.
The cabin was small and unimpressive, though it loomed large because of who it housed within its walls—my mom and Eddie. And Sergei.
I spotted the first security guy as I neared the hill’s plateau. He was average sized, but the gun in his hand was not. A rifle of some kind, black and menacing. The second guy was patrolling the space on the other side of the cabin. He came into view about every thirty seconds, then turned and paced the other direction.
Hiding behind a boulder, I studied the situation. There were two cars in the driveway. An old blue sedan and a sleek, black Mercedes. Eddie’s chop shop vehicle was nowhere to be seen, probably parked off-road somewhere nearby. I listened for voices … any indication of what was happening inside that cabin. Despite my fear of not knowing my next move, I needed to be right where I was—standing up, not just for myself and my mom, but for Eddie, as well. He may have been the one with the FBI training, but his ass needed saving. I had meant those three little words I whispered to him the night before. I did love him and I had for a while. He may have had the muscle, but I wasn’t someone to mess with—Eddie had said so himself.
The time for preparing for action was over. It was now or never. Time to act.
The cabin sat in an open clearing, roughly thirty feet from where I hid. The space all around the building was wide open, grass and gravel. No trees. No boulders. No matter which direction I approached the cabin from, there was nothing to give me cover.
The front of the cabin had two windows, but the side closest to me had none. If I were to get to the cabin undetected by the people inside, it was my best bet. But I had to get rid of the outside guys first.
I picked up a golf ball-sized rock that was rested near my right foot. With a steady breath, and a prayer to whatever was listening, I chucked it toward the cars in the driveway in front of the cabin. It skipped off the hood of the blue sedan with a clunk, catching the attention of the first guard. His head turned like a dog who just saw a squirrel. He waited, then walked to the cars, gun readied.
On
ce his back was to mine, I ran, careful to stay on the footstep-cushioning grass while avoiding the crunchy gravel. At the window-less side of the cabin, I hunkered down behind a gray air conditioning unit. The first guy out front was still down by the cars, so I crawled my way to the back of the cabin, peeking my head around the corner to watch for the pacing guard on the other side.
He came into view, turned, and then paced back the other way, out of sight. I used the opportunity to study the backside of the cabin. There was one small window and a back door.
I slinked back, waiting for the pacing guard to come back. A few seconds later he did, then once again turned and was out of sight. I crawled as fast as I could to the door, keeping myself below the window. On my knees, I grabbed the door knob as my heart thumped hard—the pacing guard was bound to return in just a few seconds. The doorknob squeaked as it turned, sending my heartbeat into an even more rapid pace.
The pacing guard’s footsteps grew closer and I launched myself inside the cabin, unsure what or who would be waiting for me. The room was dark and empty. No people, no furniture, just a stack of firewood in the corner. It appeared to be a bedroom that hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades. The stagnant smell of wood and dust filled my nose.
At the other end of the room was another door. I pressed my ear to it, listening for any sign of Eddie or my mother. Or Sergei.
Voices carried back from the front of the cabin, but were too muffled to understand.
As I reached for the doorknob, another sound startled me—the shuffling of shoes just on the other side of the door, like someone was shifting their stance. And then a man cleared his throat. A few seconds later he sighed and cleared his throat again.
Another guard.
Shit.
I leaned back on the wall, eyes closed, running through possibilities, most of which ended up with me dead on the floor, a bullet hole in my head. The weight of the gun in my hand increased and my fingers curled tighter around the grip as I wondered if I’d be quick enough and skilled enough to put a bullet through someone else before they could do the same to me. The very thought of shooting someone chilled me to bone and Eddie’s words rang through my head. Taking a life sticks, right up here. But that had been said back when we were in the motel, and this was the here and now. Life or death. It was either them or me.
