by S. R. Jones
She sighs. “That’s the thing about people with these sorts of personalities, they’re master manipulators. But they can also lose control at times. He’s obviously got tired for some reason of playing cat and mouse with Cara. But why? Why now? I wonder if there’s some stressor in his life that’s triggered him.”
Nibbling on a nail, she gets lost in her own thoughts for a while before speaking them out loud. “I mean, I’d say her meeting you is one stressor for him. Something to maybe push him to act now. A guess, of course, but an educated one. If he bought this house as part of his plan, we can assume he’s been wanting to take Cara for a while, but I’d say he’d have waited and done it in a more organized way. But then you came along. This is all conjecture though. I suppose I’m trying to get into his head. Figure out what caused him to make such a bold move?”
I have no fucking clue, and I don’t care.
Because he might be a predator, but I’m a predator, too.
And he’s in my sights.
She looks at something on her phone and starts to dial, reciting the numbers under her breath. I raise an eyebrow at her and she whispers to me.
“I’m calling one of the women he was involved with as a young man. There’s a note on the file of the police being called to the house and her number is listed here.”
A few moments later I faintly hear a woman pick up on the other end and say hello.
Mags begins to explain that she wants to talk about Tristan and asks the woman a host of questions. Once she’s done, she turns to me and there are tears in her eyes.
“He’s dangerous alright. Hit her on numerous occasions. Liked to take his belt to her. Low sex drive though, with physical intimacy issues, but lots of online porn.” She glances at her watch. “How long until we get there?”
Not fucking long if I have my way. I’m so enraged, but I do what I did in the military. I shut that off and calm my mind and focus. I need to be in the zone, or I might make a mistake, and that’s not acceptable.
Cara might be his prey, but he’s mine… and I’m going to fucking kill him.
We pull up half a mile down the road from the house Tristan has bought and get out of the car.
Before we left Harrogate, Ethan met us in a car park and gave me his highly illegal, handgun. The guys offered to come with me, but I didn’t want a lot of us there if things go south. We already had some serious explaining to do to the authorities when Ethan got us involved in his mess. I won’t do it to the guys again. And all we have found out points to this being only about Tristan. Not Russian mob shit like Ethan stepped into. And so long as he is here, I can handle Tristan. No problem.
I’ve got the gun hidden under my shirt in a holster, and my army knife at my waist.
“Stay behind me,” I tell Maggie.
She nods, and we head up the gravel track leading to the isolated place. As we get near, I thank my lucky stars I’ve got friends like Liam, Ethan, and Reece. Guys with all sorts of skills they are willing to put to effective use when circumstances demand. Legal or not.
Reece is a fucking genius with the hacking. It’s funny, because he’s the biggest of all of us, a hulking monster of a bloke, and yet he’s the one we all turn to when we need brains over brawn. Thank fuck he can work quickly, and he got us the info we need.
Tristan might be dangerous, but he’s hardly a criminal mastermind. He hasn’t covered his tracks too well. Although, it would likely take the system ages to get this information the official way. They’d need warrants and to make requests through the proper channels. Reece bypassed all of that with his light-fingered cyber skills.
“You have friends with interesting talents.” Mags makes me jump when she speaks.
“Yep. Some of them, Reece, for example, did some intelligence work, as well as the military stuff. Speaks a fuck ton of languages. Liam’s similar. Ethan and me, we’re good old-fashioned cannon fodder. Although, I suppose we do have our other talents. I’m an excellent thief, when the need arises.” I flash a tight smile.
“But still, both Special Forces trained. Hardly cannon fodder.”
“Yeah. Ethan was a sniper.”
“And you?”
I smile at her. “I did all sorts of stuff. I got used a fair bit in interrogations, because I’m supposed to be some sort of genius at reading people. Fucking joke, because I had no idea Tristan was anything more than your average dickhead.”
She snorts. “Cara used to get all defensive when I called him a dick, but he’s always creeped me out. The way he’d do this subtle boasting all the time. And the way he watched her. I knew he liked her as more than a friend, but I figured he realized it was a no go.
“She does have terrible taste in men it seems.”
“Until you.”
I glance at Mags. Her face is serious, not laughing, not making a joke. “I’m not sure I’m much better.”
“You are. I don’t want you to give up on her, on this thing between you, because you think you’re not good enough for her.”
“I’m not going to. I still know I’m not good enough for her. But I’m selfish, and I want her, so I’m going to make her mine. If she’ll have me.”
Mag’s claps her hands together in an oddly childish movement for her. She’s normally so controlled. “Yay. I’m so glad to hear it, because I think you’re perfect for each other. She’s going to be a mess, though after this. And she needs some help. There’s only so much a person can take before they break. I don’t want her to break, Luka.”
I don’t want her to break either. “I’ll make a deal with her. I’ll go and do this eye movement whatever shit you were talking about, if she’ll go and see someone herself. I presume you know a good therapist for her to see.”
“Yes. I do.”
The road bends sharply to the right, and I put my finger to my lips and hug the hedgerow, not wanting to risk Tristan seeing us. As we inch around the bend, the house comes into view. I drop to my belly, and Mag’s follows without me having to tell her to. I crawl along the track, not even caring that the gravel is digging into my palms.
Maggie taps me on the shoulder. “I have an idea. Why don’t I go and knock on the door?” she whispers.
Wow, she’s got a pair of lady balls on her, I’ll give her that. “Erm…that’s crazy. He’ll know you won’t be alone. And he’ll figure out somebody has hacked into his information the minute he sees you. It will put you in danger.”
“Maybe, but it will take him time to put it all together, to figure it out. Even if that time is only two minutes, it gives you chance to get in there while he’s distracted.”
“No can do. It puts you in danger.”
She puts her hand on my arm and looks at me. “I want to do it. It gives you time to get in there and find Cara. I can hopefully look after myself. I doubt he’s going to kill me, and not if he thinks there are others coming for him.”
“No.”
“Oh, God. Look, I know you’re trained, and I know you know this is the best thing to do. Me marching straight up to the front door and knocking on it is going to throw him off balance long enough for you to get in there. You break in, and the moment he hears someone breaking down the door—or whatever your super-soldier plan is—he’ll go and grab Cara.”
She bites her lip, thinking for a moment. “I can say I have a friend who is a Private Investigator and he got me the address. I’ll tell him I’ve left a note for Laura, letting her know to tell the authorities if she doesn’t hear from me in a certain time. If I play to his ego, tell him I’ve read his file and I know he’s dangerous, it might work. I can make him think my own ego has brought me here alone. I can pretend I believe I can talk him around. End of the day, we only need minutes for you to get in. Is there a way you can get in?”
There is. The back of the house has a modern conservatory added onto the old part of the building, with sliding glass doors. At least according to the info Reece drummed up. I can jimmy those and get into the main body of the house
easily enough. But it might make some noise.
“Pull the plans up,” I tell her.
We both look at the info Reece sent to her phone, with the plans for the alterations the previous owner put into the local council. The kitchen is the furthest room from the conservatory. If she goes and knocks on the front door, which opens straight into the kitchen, I should be able to get in around the back without him hearing. So long as she can keep him talking on the doorstep.
“Fuck it. Give it a go. But call me now and put your phone on speaker so I can hear what’s going on. I’ll mute mine so there’s no risk of him hearing what I’m doing.”
I turn my phone onto mute, and when Mags calls me, I put her on speaker, and she does the same, then slips the phone back in her pocket.
“Have you ever fired a gun before?”
Her eyes widen as she shakes her head.
I’m torn. If I give her the gun, she can always aim it at him if he threatens or tries to hurt her. It might stop him, but if it doesn’t, it makes things more dangerous for her. A lot of people are killed by their own guns. If you pull one on someone you damn well better know how to use it. In the end, I decide against it. I can get to Maggie in a moment if I must. If she can distract him long enough, I’ll search for Cara, but if she gets into trouble, I’ll help Maggie first.
Mind made up, I give a brief nod. “Okay, let’s do it. But be careful as fuck. Watch him. He looks like he’s going to hurt you in any way, scream and run.”
She swallows and nods.
“Give me thirty seconds to get around the back, and then go walk up to the door.”
I drop to my belly and slither along the ground, moving more quickly than most people could. Once I reach the back of the house, I pull my phone out and hold it to my ear as I half crawl along the wall towards the conservatory.
I hear the sound of Maggie’s boots crunching on the gravel, and then the sharp rap at the door. At first there’s no answer, and my heart is fucking pounding in my chest. What if he’s already rushing to where he has Cara, determined to hurt her? Part of me is tempted to break straight through the glass doors and race in there. I only stop myself because I know it might put Cara in more danger.
There’s a creak from the phone by my ear and the sound of a door opening.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a nice surprise?” Tristan’s voice is cold…hard.
I can’t fucking believe I felt guilty for nearly choking him. My fingers are itching to get back to it and finish the job properly this time.
“Tristan, I know,” Maggie says. “I know it all. I’ve seen your health records and your juvenile record.”
“How the fuck did you find out about this house?” He spits the words out.
“I had a friend, a private investigator, look into you.”
“How dangerous and utterly stupid of you. You’d better come in.”
There’s a gasp, and I know he’s got his hands on her. I walk up to the doors and start to take a good look at them. I’ll need to break these outer doors unless I can pick the lock, but the inner doors leading to the rest of the house will be easy to jimmy open. As if she can read my mind about the noise of the breaking glass, Maggie starts shouting.
“Get your fucking hands off me. I’ve left messages for Laura and Luka letting them know where I am, and telling them to call the police if they don’t hear from me. I swear to God, you hurt me, you’ll go to jail for a long time.”
She’s shouting some more stuff, but I’m not properly listening as I’m too busy breaking the glass as quietly as I can. I get my hand through and thank God the key is inside the lock. Naughty, naughty. Lack of security. I smile to myself. I turn the key and walk bold as brass into the conservatory. I take a second to look around, and then head over to the sliding patio style doors and pull out my knife.
“Why would you come here all alone? You must be more insane than me?” Tristan chuckles. “Sit there, bitch. Right, answer my questions.”
“I will if you tell me Cara is okay.”
“Of course, she’s okay. What do you take me for, an animal?”
He laughs and I want to break his face. My phone is in my pocket now as I jiggle my knife in between the doors and struggle to hear everything being said.
I pick up something said by Tristan about not believing Maggie has come alone.
“I wanted to talk to you. I think I can help. You need help, and you need to let Cara go. This is what I do. My job is to help people who aren’t well.” She’s doing good, and I smirk as I get the doors open and slide them back silently.
I’m in the main body of the house, in the lounge, and I take my phone out of my pocket and turn it off. Maggie is on her own for a while, and I hope she shouts or screams if that fucker tries to hurt her.
After a three-minute search of the house, I’m back in the main hallway, two steps from the open kitchen door. Tristan is saying some bullshit about how he loves Cara, and she does him, and she’s here willingly. I’m not taking too much notice because I’m utterly focused on the door bang opposite the open kitchen. One that must lead down to a cellar, which is the last place in here Cara can be. If she’s not down there, then we’ve got this all wrong, and he’s either holding her somewhere else or…I can’t even go there with what he may have done or I’ll lose it.
I shove the thought aside and run through the options in my head. I can’t get down to the cellar without letting Tristan know I’m here, and frankly, I’m done with pussy footing around with this fucker.
I pull the gun out of its holster and click off the safety. Then I walk into the kitchen.
Tristan sees me, and he isn’t surprised one bit. He’s stood by the door to the right-hand side of it. Maggie is about five feet away from him.
“I knew you wouldn’t come alone, bitch.” He makes a move towards Maggie, but I shake the gun at him.
“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“As if you’re going to shoot me in cold blood. And with what? An illegal handgun. No way you’ve got a license for that in this country.”
“Yes, I’ll shoot you. It will be self-defense. Or rather to save Maggie’s life because you were about to stab her with that knife.”
“I’m not holding a knife, genius.”
I smirk. “That’s ok, I’ll simply place one in your cold, dead hands.”
“The gun is still illegal.”
“It’s not mine, and it’s not traceable to who owns it. I’ll say I found it here.”
“No one will believe you.” He’s still sneering at me, but there’s fear in his eyes now. Along with a sort of desperation.
“Well, I’m the decorated war hero, and you’re the teenage screw-up. Plus, Maggie here is a cast iron witness and she’ll say the same.”
Maggie nods, and Tristan’s cheeks start to turn deep red as he stares at me. He’s a cornered animal and I daren’t take my eyes from him for a moment.
“Where is she?” I ask, voice calm. “You can walk away from this. Tell me where she is, and you can walk out of this door now.”
“As if. You must think I’m stupid as fuck.”
I walk to the door and yank it open. “Go. I don’t give a shit about you. I want Cara. Is she in the cellar, Tristan?”
He doesn’t answer but the way his eyes flicker to the cellar door tell me all I need to know. “Thanks for that. Oh, and you’re not going anywhere.” I risk a quick glance to Mags and gesture for her to come to me. When she reaches me, I give her the gun. “Don’t let him move a muscle,” I tell her.
She trains the gun on him and her hands are steady as fuck. I’m impressed.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my zip ties and head over to Tristan. “Put your hands behind your back.”
He starts to do as I say but as I get near him, he kicks the chair next to him and it hits my legs. One split moment of distraction, and I miss him lunging at me until it’s too late.
Pain slices through my forearm. I au
tomatically jerk back and see blood splashing from my arm to the floor. Fucker’s cut me, and it’s deep.
Maggie gives a scream and there’s a loud bang as she fires the gun. Fuck me, she’s going to kill me if she’s not careful. I think she’s trying to scare Tristan, but it doesn’t work. He stands straight and he’s waving a knife in front of him. He must have had it under his sweater or something.
I put my hands up and we’re moving around one another in the kitchen. Tristan isn’t even looking at Maggie, and he’s clearly not worried about her shooting him. I hope to hell she doesn’t try because she’s as likely to hit me. And I can take him. Now that I know he has the knife, he doesn’t have the advantage anymore.
He jabs at me, and I jump back. He’s aiming for my gut, and he’s more accurate and nimble with the fucking thing than I’d like. Almost as if he’s had some training. Maggie is moving around us, still holding the gun, and I pray she doesn’t try to do something heroic.
My arm is bleeding like crazy and I’m going to need stitches, and at this rate a fucking transfusion.
I’m bored of this and I want to get to Cara, so I watch Tristan like a hawk, waiting for him to fuck up. Sure enough, he does. He drops his guard for a moment, eyes swiveling to look at Maggie, and I lunge for him.
I punch him ferociously. Once in the jaw, followed up with a one-two in the gut. The knife clatters to the floor. He bends over, and I aim an uppercut straight at his jaw again. He goes down, hitting the stone flooring with a sickening crack to his head.
Thing about me…I’m not trained to use measured force. I’m trained to use deadly force, and I’ve exerted it. He might be dead, and that suits me fine. Yeah, it opens a can of worms, police-wise, but it’s the only way Cara will be safe going forward.
He’s not moving, but I’m wary as I approach him.
He’s breathing. So not dead…yet. I pull his arms back and secure the zip-ties around them, tight as I can. Let his hands go numb, it’s the least he deserves.
“She must be in the cellar,” I huff out to Maggie as I secure his ankles. Once I’m confident he’s trussed up good and proper, I head for the cellar door at a run, Maggie right behind me.
