by Jordan Dane
“It’s here, boss. Just like she wrote.”
“Clock’s ticking, Lucas. They close at midnight.” Jess stood in front of his desk with hands on her hips.
“Then you better have a seat and pray Gary don’t get lost, ’cause you ain’t leavin’ here until he gets back.” Baker handed her note and key to the wannabe cowboy, then continued, “Go on. Sit. That ain’t exactly a request.”
Jess clenched her jaw and plopped into a seat, her arms folded. Now she had a dilemma. First off, Gary looked to be one bronco shy of a rodeo. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine him getting lost on the painted pony of a merry-go-round. Second, Sam would be getting impatient about now.
Jess hadn’t counted on Baker holding her and Seth until he got his laptop back. Damn it! She wanted to leave and take care of Seth, but that idea looked shot to hell. She had to face reality. Even if she made contact by radio, what could she say in front of Baker that wouldn’t stir up questions from Sam? And as paranoid as Baker was, he’d probably think SWAT was right outside. No, she’d have to let the chips fall, and knowing Sam, she wouldn’t have to wait long.
Even expecting it, the knock on the door jolted her heart. Jess shut her eyes tight.
Oh, hell! Right on time.
Baker grimaced and shot her a nasty look.
“If this brings trouble down on me, you and your friend here won’t like how fast shit trickles downhill.” He snapped his fingers at Gary. “Open the damned door.”
As she figured, Sam wasn’t a patient soul. Her friend stood in the doorway, not saying a word, at first. She shifted her eyes around the room, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Jess had seen the look before, and she held her breath, waiting for Sam to open her mouth.
“Well, I’m not selling Girl Scout cookies. And this doesn’t look like a Kiwanis Club meeting. Are you all right, Jess?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She nodded. “We were about to head out.”
“We?”
“Yeah, he’s coming.” Jess pointed to Seth. “Introductions will have to wait.”
Seth waved a finger, trying to look casual in duct tape. “Hey.”
Sam grimaced at the kid, but before she got a good look at him, Jess stood and blocked her view, turning to Baker.
“Lucas has an appointment to get to, but we’re all done here, right?”
The man took a slow breath and narrowed his eyes—more intimidation—but after a long moment, he flinched. That’s when she knew she had him.
“Yeah, I gotta go. Cut the kid loose. But our business better be done and over, Jess. Neither of us wants a repeat.” Then he pointed a finger. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” Jess headed for Seth and helped him to stand once he got free. She wedged a shoulder under his arm. “Oh…and Lucas? I’d like my gun returned. You know, the one you borrowed from my place?”
He smirked, his eyes shifting from Jess to Sam. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sorry.”
Jess clenched her jaw. Her Glock 21 would be a casualty, but at least she had Seth back.
“What happened to him?” Sam asked. “Was it nickel beer night if you came dressed in duct tape?”
Before Jess could reply, Seth intervened.
“I picked a fight and got out of control. The duct tape was for my own good.”
“Yeah, right. You look like a real animal.” Sam crossed her arms and cocked her head. “So what happened that got you all riled up, sport?”
“A guy took offense to my Jerry Springer tee.” Seth winced as he walked toward the door. “And nobody slams Jerry.”
Real tough guy! Jess almost smiled. Seth looked like a total flounder out of water in this dump. He would never have come here on his own. And by the look on Sam’s face, she wasn’t buying any of it, but to her credit, she let things play out. She seemed to appreciate their urgency to leave.
“Next time, be more careful, young man.” Baker laid it on thick, but he didn’t show a speck of amusement. “We can get a pretty rough crowd in here. You’re lucky no one pressed charges.”
“Yeah, I feel real lucky.” Seth didn’t bother to hide his cynicism and never looked back.
When Jess got him to the door, she handed Seth over to Sam. She wanted to make sure business with Baker was concluded out of Sam’s earshot. Jess looked back at him and tapped a finger to her watch.
“Time’s a-wasting. We done here?”
“We better be.” The man scowled, rooting her where she stood. “’Cause if I get that déjà vu feeling from you, you’re gonna find yourself on the wrong side of the turf.”
Jess wanted to say something clever as she turned to walk out the door, but nothing came to mind. She knew Baker meant every word.
On the drive home, after Seth insisted he’d be okay without a trip to the emergency room, Jess introduced Sam to the kid and told her about how she’d hired him. Given what had just transpired, the thought of Seth punching the clock like an hourly employee sounded ludicrous to her. Sam heard it in her friend’s voice as Jess tried to explain why she’d crossed paths with him in the first place. Any other time she might have found humor in Jess’s version of a “summer intern” job, but not tonight.
The situation only made her sad.
Road noise and the sounds of Chicago traffic had filled the void in conversation over the last ten minutes. Sam had picked the backseat to put distance between her and Jess. She stared out the window, the ebb and flow of street lamps washing over her. Seth Harper rode shotgun in stone cold silence. Apparently, he sensed the rift and kept his mouth shut. Smart boy. And although she had no concrete reason to believe Jess had lied about her confrontation with Lucas Baker, she knew it in her bones.
And that hurt worst of all.
Jess had always been a loner. Sam knew this, but being hit with the harsh reality that her best friend would never completely trust her had hurt all the same. Jess maintained her privacy like a miser hoarded coins, and Sam wanted to respect that. Her friend had come by that philosophy honestly and with good reason. But when Jess kept her at arm’s length under a misguided attempt to protect her, Sam hated not being included in the decision.
Jess did things her way. End of story. Sam had no idea how to break into her world, and after tonight, she realized she might never get a passkey.
“Pull over, Jess. I need to walk.”
Jess slowed the car and looked in the rearview mirror, making eye contact in a flash of light, but she didn’t question her need to be alone. Of all people, Jess should understand that. Sam was close enough to walk the last couple miles. When Jess pulled to the curb of the older residential neighborhood, a street lined with small well-kept bungalows, Sam opened the car door with some parting words to Seth Harper.
“If you need it, I can put you in touch with a twelve-step program for Springer addicts. The first step is recognizing you have a problem.”
“Yeah, very funny.” He nodded with his head down, not looking back. “Good to meet you, Sam. And thanks.”
From the backseat, she tousled his hair and got out of the car. Jess followed after putting the car in park and leaving Seth to wait.
“Are we all right?” Jess faced her in the dark, hands in her pockets.
Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. After an awkward silence, she began to put her feelings in perspective.
“You know, I get the fact that you’ll never let me in, but it still hurts.”
“I didn’t intend—”
“No, you never intend to hurt me, Jess, but that doesn’t mean I’m bulletproof.” Sam took a deep breath and stared into the night sky. “Look, I’m tired and you need to get him patched up. Let’s talk…tomorrow. I gotta get some sleep, but I’ve got things to sort out first.”
Jess stared at her for a long moment, looking as if she wanted to say something real, but then changed her mind. Moonlight painted pale blue streaks through her hair, giving her an ethereal quality. The image disturbed Sam, as if she was s
taring into the face of a ghost. Jess nodded and turned to walk away without saying another word, then hesitated and looked back over her shoulder.
“You know, I trust you with my life.”
“Yeah, but not with what’s in your heart, Jess. I mean, I know you love me like a sister, but you sure don’t trust me with who you are as a person. That, you keep all to yourself.” She tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. “And this obsession of yours is consuming you, but you just don’t see it. I don’t know what you have going on with Baker, but…you’ve changed. And not for the better.”
After a long moment of silence between them, Sam let it go.
“Good night, Jess.”
She turned to walk away, but as Jess drove by, she watched her go. Something had changed between them tonight. Jess had stepped over a line with their friendship, and she only hoped she could get past it the next time—if there was a next time.
At ten minutes before midnight, when Lucas Baker pulled in, the skating rink parking lot was quiet. It was on the way to where he’d be spending the night. Jess Beckett had been a regular pit bull, latching onto him and making his life a living hell over the last several weeks. Living out of a suitcase was no fun, but he had a feeling he was finally on the downhill side of the ordeal now. Pretty soon it would be business as usual.
Before he got out of his vehicle, he looked around to case the place. With his engine and radio off, he heard the steady thump of muffled music coming from the rink. A few vehicles were still parked in the lot, and a group of kids hung by the entrance, talking it up and smoking cigarettes. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, so he got out of his car and locked it.
As he headed for the entrance, he fumbled in his pocket for the key Jess Beckett had given him, along with the note for the locker number. He clutched them in his hand, ready to make his stop quick. As a precaution, he reached down to touch the butt of his .45-caliber Glock 21 tucked in a belt holster under his suit jacket.
You’re a real piece of work, Beckett. This damned trip, along with everything else, had been a royal pain in the ass. While he was out of commission, he’d found a temporary way to get online, but only on a limited basis. Beyond the strict instructions he’d been given when he first got his laptop, he had never strayed from protocol—until now. He’d restricted his usual routine, being on an unsecured setup, but hell if he’d call attention to his fuck-up. He would handle things his way but needed to get back online pronto.
Still, he had to admit, Jess Beckett picking this place had been a smart move on her part. With the rink closing at midnight, she knew he’d have to hustle to make it. And the locker had been a stroke of genius. If she’d walked into The Cutthroat toting his laptop, he had a whole different scenario planned for her. That would now have to wait for a time when she least expected it.
Baker smirked when he thought about spending quality time with that bitch.
The skate rink looked run-down, a reflection of its surroundings. The older neighborhood had a reputation for being rough, but Baker remembered a day when that hadn’t been the case. As he came closer to the group of black kids near the entrance, they grew quiet and watched him with wary eyes, as if he had a tattoo on his forehead marked with the word “outsider.”
When he got inside, the lights had been flipped on and the last customers were getting ready to leave. Rap music blared on the overhead speakers. There was no one behind the ticket counter, but he spotted the location of the lockers and began his search for the number written on the paper.
“We’re closed, mister.” A guy pushing a broom and picking up garbage yelled at him from across the rink.
“I’ll only be a second. My kid forgot something.” Baker turned his head, not giving the guy a clear look. He didn’t like the attention and had hoped to get in and out without notice.
After he found the right number, he stuffed Beckett’s note in his pocket and tried the key. When the locker opened, he saw his black computer bag inside. He pulled it out, unzipped it, and turned the laptop on. It had enough juice to power up. He wanted to check the desktop to make sure it was actually his, but the damned manager or janitor kept watching him. Baker knew he wouldn’t have much time.
The monitor kicked its blue light across his chest and face as the screen popped on. After a minute, he had his answer. The laptop was his. But to drill down further, to see if the bitch had tampered with his stuff, he’d have to do a closer inspection elsewhere. He packed up his gear and headed out, shifting the shoulder bag tight under his arm and away from prying eyes.
He made a quick exit and walked by the kids who were still standing out front, fighting a growing smile on his face. But that changed when someone stepped out of the shadows in his path.
“You taking up a new hobby, Lucas?”
In the dim light he almost didn’t recognize the man, but the Russian accent was unmistakable. Then he remembered seeing him before.
“I don’t have time for hobbies. What are you doing here? I told you I’d fix the problem.”
“Yes, you did. And yet, here we are. I had to see for myself.”
Baker showed the man what he had slung on his shoulder. “I got my property and I’m back in business. End of story.”
“I wish it were that simple, but you broke protocol. You called attention to our…organization.” The man kept his voice low and steady. And he moved against the light behind him to keep his face in the shadows, making eye contact impossible.
“What’s the big deal? In the grand scheme of things, I only lost a day, nothing more than a hiccup.”
“The point is you showed poor judgment, Lucas. You accessed our site by an unsecured means and you allowed strangers to jeopardize this operation. Secrecy is how we survive, but I don’t think you fully appreciate that. And what if this happens again. What then?”
The man’s voice was nearly a whisper. Baker felt his cheeks blush, and his skin tingled with adrenaline.
“I tell ya, it won’t happen again. I’m gonna take care of that bitch.”
“This bounty hunter…Jessica Beckett, yes?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“And who do you think she’s talked to, Lucas? How much does she know?”
Baker didn’t answer right away. The face of Beckett’s detective friend popped into his head, but if he mentioned the cop, the Russian wouldn’t understand.
“Beckett knows nothing. And even if she did, no one would believe her. The bitch has no credibility. She’s a hothead who goes off half-cocked, flying by the seat of her pants.”
“Yes, unfortunately, I’m familiar with the personality type. Go on.”
Baker understood what he was implying and resented it, but the arrogant bastard was too dangerous to dismiss. The man was more than just a reflection of his boss. Like a psycho, the Russian enjoyed his work, and it showed. He’d seen him in action, once. And once was enough.
“She’s got some kid that works for her. Seth Harper. I don’t think she talked to anyone else. I can take care of him too.”
“Then I suppose her police detective friend isn’t a concern for you?” The man inched closer, sticking to the shadows. “She is to us.”
Baker clenched his jaw, his breath caught in his throat. He inched his hand closer to his weapon.
“Even after I told you I’d handle the situation, you checked up on me?”
“Think of me as quality control.” The man laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “My superiors ask questions, I must have answers. That is all.”
Baker relaxed a little and forced a smile. The Russian still made him edgy, but it looked as if he’d get through this.
“Tell them things are under control.”
“Yes, that is my hope.” The Russian grinned, his silhouette defined by a distant street lamp behind him. “Good night, Lucas. No hard feelings, yes?”
Baker took a deep breath and shrugged, happy to be done with him. It had been a long night. But when he walked by the man, he felt
a hand at the back of his neck. The Russian spun him around to face him in the dark and pressed something hard to his rib cage.
He felt a punch to his chest. Then another. It staggered him.
What the hell? He looked down, catching the first blooms of red. His eyes grew wide and a chill raced through his body. With it came fear, raw and undeniable.
He’d been shot.
Numb and in shock, he tossed the computer bag down and reached for his Glock. The Russian got to his gun first and grappled it from his hand. For the first time, he noticed the man wore gloves.
“Fucking coward,” he muttered.
In the murky haze, everything blurred and faded out of focus. The kids at the entrance to the rink ran for cover. And in the background he heard shouts, the rumble of engines and the squealing of tires. Yet his world spun cock-eyed and sluggish, in slow motion. He dropped to the ground, catching a glimpse of the Russian standing over him.
“You’re nothing…a damned coward.” Baker’s voice cracked. “You couldn’t even…face me like a man, asshole.”
His chest heaved for air but he couldn’t fill his lungs. And the coppery sweet smell of blood made him nauseous and light-headed. He fought to stay conscious, but his arms and legs had grown numb and the pain hit him in powerful waves.
“Is this man enough for you?” The killer raised his weapon and aimed at Baker’s face.
In the split second he knew he would die, Lucas Baker felt the pounding of his heart, but he defied death with a sneer, saying, “Fuck you.”
Muzzle flash was the last thing he saw.
Alexa Marlowe had been on the trail of Lucas Baker for a week, but she’d gotten sidetracked after receiving a tip. Some woman bounty hunter had put out word on the street, looking for Baker too. Curiosity got the better of her and she’d looked into Jessica Beckett, hitting pay dirt when the bounty hunter scored a solid lead on Baker before she did. Alexa had been relegated to playing catch-up, a game she normally refused to play, but now she was determined to make up lost ground.
