“No.” Their house in Fairfield had been repossessed. They’d been destitute after her father went to jail. Without Ed, Anna didn’t know what would have happened to them. “We moved here when Mom and Ed got married. He was a widower.”
They got out of the car. Holly took the lead heading down the side of the large Victorian, with its blue painted siding and red trim. There were balconies and even a widow’s walk on the roof. It was a gorgeous heritage home. Anna had never been comfortable here though, and had spent as much time at her grandma’s as possible.
No one was on the street. Everyone was probably eating dinner. “If the neighbors hear about any of this, my mom will die of mortification.” Although maybe worrying about what other people thought shouldn’t be such a big deal.
“We were discreet,” Holly said. “I had someone come look for fingerprints on doorknobs and light switches to run through the system, but whoever was here cleaned up after themselves.” Holly shot her a thoughtful look and slowed so Anna could lead the way.
Her heart pounded. This whole situation was beyond crazy. She kept wanting to close her eyes and pretend none of it was happening. Unfortunately, life didn’t work like that.
She pulled her key out of her purse, opened the door, and stepped inside the cool interior of the house. The hallway was neat and spotless as always. She stood to one side as everyone traipsed inside. The house was quiet. Real quiet. She ran her hands across the dark oak paneling.
“Do you mind if I look around again?” Holly asked politely, poised on the balls of her feet. Since Anna’s outburst, the cop’s demeanor had softened considerably.
Anna didn’t think it would matter much whether she minded or not. “Anything to get my life back.”
Holly headed upstairs and Anna wandered into the formal living room and frowned. Everything gleamed. Not a speck of dust dared show its ugly face in this house. She rubbed her hands over her arms as goose bumps formed.
“What is it?” Brent asked quietly. The last rays of the sun shone through the windows at an oblique angle, highlighting the immaculately polished surfaces and sparkling glass.
She stared around at the leather chesterfield and the baby grand piano. “Something’s different.”
Brent stood beneath a huge portrait of Ed and her mom that hung over the fireplace. His expression twisted. “She didn’t waste much time after your dad was arrested.”
She shrugged. Her mother had needed someone to look after her. “We’d known Ed for a couple of years. Mom had been friends with his first wife and had helped them out when she was dying. I guess it felt natural to lean on him when it was her turn to need support.” Once Ed had come into their lives, everything Anna had ever known had shifted on its axis. She’d grown up fast.
Brent pointed to graduation portraits on the piano. “You have a stepbrother?”
Revulsion spiked. “He was a year older than me in high school.”
“I take it you two didn’t get along?” he asked. The guy didn’t miss much.
“Not really.” She didn’t look at the photo. “He lost his mom and then his dad got married soon afterward, it must have been hard for him.” She’d always tried to put herself in his shoes even though they didn’t fit.
“My heart bleeds.”
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “He left for college soon after the wedding.” She glanced at the stack of mail, almost sure someone had gone through it since she’d been here on Saturday morning. She fingered the edge of an envelope. “I haven’t seen him in years. He works down in Seattle and we don’t do the family get-together thing.”
Brent was staring at her hard, but she refused to meet his gaze. Holly came back into the room, Finn at her back like flexible body armor. Anna watched them, intrigued.
What was it like to love someone like that? Like you’d die for them?
Her mouth went dry. The thump of her heart felt hollow. Ed doted on her mother, but he never let her think for herself. Finn and Holly were both obviously very independent people and yet they operated as a team. It wasn’t something she’d observed before, but then she tended to surround herself with single people, and avoided the couples and family scene.
“See anything out of place? Any clues as to who these jokers may be?” Holly’s eyes were sharp, but her tone was sympathetic.
“You do know who my father was, right?” Anna questioned suddenly.
Holly nodded and her eyes grew somber. “Kids aren’t responsible for their parents’ actions.” Her gaze darted to Brent.
What did his father do? Abuse his wife? Abuse his children?
“I want you both in protective custody—just until we figure out what is going on,” Holly finished.
Anna’s mouth dropped open. Brent crossed his arms over his chest. Finn eyed his brother like he was going to tackle him.
“It won’t be for long, just until we track these people down and find out what they are up to. You can stay at our new house, which isn’t far away.” She looked at Brent with a beady eye. “Which you promised to visit months ago.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Finn relaxed. Then Brent squinted again at the horrible graduation portrait of her that her mother insisted stay on display. He moved his head to one side and back again, brows crunched together. “Is it my imagination or is that an impression of lips on Anna’s photograph?”
The patina of the piano was a glossy black, the glass in the frame spotless, so that smudge was obvious with the angle of the fading light. Holly went over and peered closely. “Looks like someone kissed the glass.”
Ice eased through Anna’s veins.
Holly pointed at the faint imprint. “How likely is that to be the person we’re looking for as opposed to your mother?”
She choked out a laugh. “My mother and Ed are OCD when it comes to cleaning. No way would either of them leave a smudge on the glass.”
“Can I take it for evidence? Just in case?” A spark of excitement lit Holly’s gaze as she pulled out her cell.
“Burn it, for all I care.” Anna nodded. Shivers laced through her spine and her teeth started to chatter. Who would kiss her photo? Why?
Warm hands closed over her shoulders. “I’m going to take Anna outside. She looks green.”
Holly nodded absently. Finn watched them through narrowed eyes.
Anna found herself maneuvered out the front door. Brent closed it softly and then started jogging away from her.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she chased after him.
“No way is anyone locking me up. And I’m not real good at relying on others to solve my problems for me.”
And that’s what she was, a problem.
They were at his truck and he opened the door. “Stay here. Finn and Holly will take good care of you.”
Anna’s hands closed around the door handle and she climbed in beside him. The idea of sitting around doing nothing while he put himself in danger and searched for answers made her nauseous. “He was my father. I’m the one who got you involved in all of this. I’m not letting you take all the risks.”
Brent pulled away from the curb just as Finn sprinted down the driveway. Anna closed her eyes against the fury in Finn’s eyes. The last thing she’d wanted was to cause division between Brent and his brother because she was pretty sure, now her father was dead, Finn was the only person in the world Brent had left.
Rand stood in the woods and eyed the huge log cabin with envy. This was the sort of lifestyle he was after. Not some apartment in the Windy City, staring down drug dealers and gangbangers. Just as soon as he got his money back, he was gone.
Good choice of hideout, Ms. Silver. Luxurious and remote.
Getting here had been an adventure, but this was the end of the line and there was nowhere left to run. Fog hid the moon, drifting over the canopy of the trees with ghostly threads. It was quiet in the bush—so quiet even the sound of his own breathing seemed loud, although he knew no one else would
be able to hear it. He held his sidearm down by his thigh as he watched the back door from the woods. He and Marco had waited for over an hour—caution and darkness their best allies for an attack. The sun had finally dropped below the horizon, leaving a thick, dense absence of light surrounding them.
He wore camouflage and had night vision goggles—overkill for tackling two civilians, but Rand went with what worked for him. He wasn’t screwing this up, not with Kudrow and the General both frothing at the mouth for whatever information the girl had, and time running out.
Since the last US administration change, General Browning had not only done black-op jobs for the government, but also a little freelance work on the side. For four years they’d been running a clandestine mercenary operation, using the charity as a front to hide their activities and a means to launder their money before funneling it to offshore accounts. Davis had stumbled across them moving the latest payment from a Saudi sheikh who’d asked them to do a little destabilization work in Yemen. Didn’t take much to spark a fire in that tinderbox.
Rand wanted that money back. Damned if anyone was taking what was rightfully his.
But Anna Silver couldn’t get killed in the cross fire. They needed her alive until after they got those account numbers, and he had plans for her. The idea had had him hard as rock all day.
Over the years he’d found the least willing women were usually the most fun. Sometimes Marco joined the party. Sometimes he hunted alone. It all depended on how Rand was feeling and whether or not he was in the mood to share. He hadn’t decided whether to share Anna or not, yet.
Marco had circled around to the side of the property that faced the sea, skirting the shoreline. Rand waited for his all-clear signal. There was a light on upstairs, but no activity around the house for the last thirty minutes. It was only 8:00 p.m. but with the fog it felt later. Much later. Maybe they’d gone to bed. Maybe the prick was fucking her right now.
He almost stepped forward, actually raised one foot. Then a rustle in front of him and off to his left had him freezing in place, and melting to the forest floor. What was that? A bear? A squirrel? He turned very slowly and spotted a figure lying prone in the trees. Black fatigues. Assault rifle. WTF? Suddenly he was aware of potential eyes all around him.
Cop? Spec Ops?
Shit, this was an ambush? Anger screamed through his bloodstream.
He wanted to warn Marco, but first he needed to gain a little breathing space. He faded back through the forest, carefully checking others weren’t close by. He approached the figure silently from behind. The guy was focused front and center and never heard him coming. Rand snapped his neck with a barely audible crack. He took the earpiece out of the dead man’s ear. Listened in as others moved into position. Clicked his own comms rapidly to get Marco’s attention, but it was too late. Lights flooded the area and Marco started shooting. He watched his man take a bullet even as Rand slipped back into the shadows and away from the action.
He hit the other side of the road and arrowed south through thick forest, then into the water before adrenaline stopped beating the fuck out of his heart. Slogging across the narrow inlet in full gear kept the fury building. The cops had been expecting them. Someone had tipped them off. The warden, maybe. Or Anna Silver had gone to the cops from the get-go and fed him a thin trail of crumbs. Setting him up.
The water was cold. Clothes heavy. Weapons waterlogged. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had to work this hard to find his quarry. Bitch.
And now Marco was shot and captured, and chances were they’d know he had an accomplice. Anger seared his veins.
She’d made him look stupid. Shit. Fucking shit. He couldn’t believe this. He sluiced water out of his hair and pounded through the waist-high seawater up onto the shore, intent on putting as much distance between him and Carver’s house as possible. The throb of helicopter rotors punched the air. He set his jaw.
How many cops were out there? Had they found their dead buddy yet?
The whole op was a total clusterfuck.
He and Marco had stolen a truck to drive to Bamfield. Switched plates in the metropolis of Port Alberni. They’d left their belongings in a hotel room in Victoria and he needed to retrieve them before Marco was identified. Identifying him wouldn’t be simple because their prints were not on file—unless Marco wasn’t dead and tried to make a deal. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t believe a schoolteacher had done this to him. He jogged onward along the road, ready to dive into the bush if a car came. About three miles out of town, he spotted a house up ahead, to one side and buried in the woods. He slowed. Secluded. He figured he wasn’t far from the logging road that led south. There was a car in the driveway. He could steal it, but it would get reported too damn fast and they might be able to set up a roadblock and trap him on the road out.
A dead cop meant there’d be a roadblock all right.
A redheaded woman crossed the window, serving a plate of food to a man as he sat at the table. Rand’s stomach growled.
Rage contracted down to a fine point as he considered his options. His heartbeat slowed. Focus was what had kept him alive in more situations than he wanted to count. He watched the house as the man and woman ate their meal. He even let her clear the dishes. Then the guy started pulling on a jacket.
Rand pulled his ski mask over his face. Gripped his pistol and wondered if they had beer. He sure as hell could do with a beer right about now, though he couldn’t risk dulling his senses.
The guy headed outside and Rand slipped behind him as he opened the car door. He hit him with the pistol and the man dropped like a rock. Rand dragged him over rough gravel into the bushes, then tied his wrists and ankles with fishing twine from a rod and reel propped on the deck. He stripped off one of the man’s socks and stuffed it in his mouth, and wrapped twine repeatedly around his head until he was confident the poor sap wasn’t going to be making any noise. Then he hitched him between two trees. This sucker wasn’t going anywhere without help. Hell, he should be thankful he hadn’t just slit his throat. A cold smile played the corner of his mouth as he turned back to the cabin. His breath was hot and tight in his lungs. He walked up the steps and quietly opened the door. Warm air hit him with a welcome blast against his damp clothes. The place was shabby and rustic, but comfortable. It felt safe.
He turned the lock as the woman called, “You were quick. What did you forget?”
She came out of the bedroom all smiles and rosy pink cheeks. He raised the gun. It was useless, but she didn’t know that. She stopped dead and lost all color. Her eyes darted to the window.
“He’s not going to be able to help you.”
Her eyes widened and then flashed with anger. “What did you do to him?” She took a step toward him and raised her hand as if to strike him.
He slapped her hard and she hit the ground. He liked the sight of her down there, a lot. Anger morphed into something else. Something primal and ruthless. Ancient and animalistic. He dropped to his haunches, lowered his voice. The imprint of his hand was stark red on her milk-white flesh. “Where are your car keys?”
Her eyes flashed to the key rack. “Over there. Just take it and get out.”
Little bitch. He grabbed her by the hair and twisted her around so she was bent up in an uncomfortable arch and had to grab onto his wet shirt for balance. He could feel the revulsion in her touch even as she defied him, but he knew how to break her.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
She started punching him and he slapped her so hard her head bounced off the linoleum.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he told her, because he was doing this even though he didn’t have much time, just to ease the pressure in his balls and siphon off the fury that pounded his blood. “If we do it the easy way, your old man need never even know.” He held her gaze, and understanding filtered through the confusion and fear.
First, her husband wasn’t already dead. Second, she wasn’t getting a choice in this and
fighting would just make it worse. The emotion leaching from her gaze was fascinating to watch, but Rand didn’t have time for any long-term observations. She nodded slowly and climbed jerkily to her feet. He gripped her wrist as she led the way to the bedroom, although she panicked at the doorway with the bed just feet away.
He subdued her easily and dropped her to the floor. He started peeling off his wet clothes, thankful to be out of them. Taking an extra five minutes wouldn’t harm his escape plans and right now his dick was so hard it felt like a lead weight between his legs. He pulled her up, pushed her on the bed, and dragged her jeans down to her ankles. She thrashed and he smacked her again, dazing her with the impact. “Keep still.”
Finally, she lay unmoving and he did what he needed to do. When he was finished, he pulled on her husband’s dry clothes that were too short for him in the arms and legs, but at least were dry. He made her get dressed and forced her into the car at gunpoint. “You and I are going for a drive. If the cops stop you, I’m your brother visiting from Victoria and you’re driving me home. If you do anything to raise their suspicions, I will kill them, and then I will strip you naked and make what just happened look like a fucking romantic comedy. Understand?”
Her eyes were bleak as she nodded at him. She started the car and turned onto the main road.
Yep, he sure as hell knew how to break them, but he was pissed this was just some redheaded stranger rather than the brunette he was chasing. He didn’t like anyone jerking his chain and he really didn’t like people shooting his buddies.
CHAPTER 8
Sitting in the passenger seat of Brent’s truck, Anna had her knees drawn up to her chin, the neat denim skirt pulled tight over her legs. He liked the girly clothes she wore, not that it was any of his damned business.
“How do you know Holly won’t stop us getting on a plane?” She bit her bottom lip and he had to drag his eyes back to the road.
“She might go to the airport, but she won’t risk anything that might put me back inside because that would not go down well with her fiancée. Not that she wouldn’t bust my ass if she found out I broke the law,” he added. He’d made a few calls when they’d been getting Anna’s “other” passport. “But that won’t matter, because we aren’t leaving through the usual channels.” And he was pretty sure Finn would know that. He’d hurt his brother by rejecting his plans to help, but he’d spent a lifetime not trusting others and wasn’t about to change now, even though part of him wanted to. But he couldn’t do it. Not even for a brother whose unfailing loyalty he’d done nothing to earn and didn’t deserve.
Dark Waters (2013) Page 12
