by Amarie Avant
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you . . .”
“In Santo Cruces City?”
Santo Cruces City, Arizona! She wracked her brain but couldn’t imagine growing up here or seeing it in a movie. The place was virtually foreign to her. Mary Jane continued to operate under the guise that no one, not even herself, could be trusted. She’d allow Wulf to feed her small bits of information, then weed through those. “Yes, why leave L.A. for Santo Cruces City? I’m not even certain this place qualifies as a city.”
“Change of scenery,” he mumbled.
Hmmm, can I get more out of him?
“I’m sure you know more about me than I know about you. What did my police file read when you pulled me up in the system?”
His sexy groan warmed her insides, but she gave a triumphant grin, and again gave him the gun-to-rib push he’d need to proceed.
“If you must know,” he began in an irritated voice. “Keller processed your file before leaving the office.”
She grumbled, fixating on dissecting his information. “C’mon, Wulf. What do you know about—”
Before Mary Jane could blink, Wulf yanked the wheel in a harsh right. They swerved into a ditch. The gun flew out of her fingers. Mary Jane hit the side of her head against the passenger doorframe. Wulf’s seat belt pulled so tight against him, it snatched his heavy frame against the seat.
The gun ping-ponged, only to nestle on the floor in between them. In her peripheral, she saw Wulf breaking the weak, spiraled material of the old-matted seat belt with a quick snap and bulging biceps.
He was going for the gun.
With no time for an axe-splitting headache, she pushed herself forward but was instantly tossed back.
She unlatched her seat belt.
He reached down to the floor between them and gripped the gun.
Mouth wide, she bit down on his forearm.
He yanked at her hair, but her canines held on.
His skin broke; she tasted copper.
His shout pierced her ears, but he wouldn’t let go of the hair on her crown.
Extracting her teeth, she snatched up the gun.
In a split second, she had the passenger door opened and jumped out. Mary Jane scurried and trudged up the sandy ditch. Collecting her breath, she looked down as smoke fizzled from the hood that was smashed in like an accordion. Wulf made his way out of the driver’s side, already calculating the best way up the slope.
“Stay back!” She waved the gun and gritted her teeth through the pain of a headache. She shot in his general direction then ran into an onion field behind her. Heart pounding, lungs raw, she ran toward a dilapidated barn about a quarter of a mile ahead.
Her boots sunk into the rich soil at each step as she glanced back. He’d just climbed up the slope but he wasn’t chasing her down, not like Lyle and Jake had, which made her feel like drowning in worry. Wulf was going to return her to Beasley at the police station. Now, he was treating her like a lion to a mouse, leisurely gaining on her. Or maybe he was waiting for orders from his boss. Beasley had to be his boss. Mouth dry, she stretched her legs to the limit and continued to run.
The evening took the last bit of scorching heat. Gnats gnawed at her sweaty skin.
Mary Jane ran over ashes and a charred foundation that she assumed had been where a house once stood. At the barn, she pulled open one of the wooden doors and winced as splinters nicked her fingers. It was dark. The dust made her sneeze. The person who once owned the house must’ve abandoned the barn. Eyes narrowing, she barely discerned scattered hay. She closed the door.
Picking up a half-bent rake, Mary Jane wedged it between the two handles. As the sweat began to dry on her body, she speedily surveyed the barn. While her eyes adjusted to the dark, she gazed at the loft-style area above and started for the ladder. This would be her best vantage point. If her paranoia were true and Wulf worked for Beasley, then this was the end.
Today, I’m not dying without taking a motherfucker with me.
Officer Wulf wriggled his tensed jaw. Mary Jane was the bane of his existence. She was by far the most attractive offender he had encountered, but he wasn’t sure how criminal the girl really was.
Shit. Stop it, Dylan. That bitch is off the market.
Blood seeped through the bandana around his forearm as another reminder. The lovely lunatic had chomped at his arm like it was her last meal. Boots kicking in the dust, he cursed her very existence.
“Damn Keller. All this waiting is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself.
He could go inside and apprehend her in less than a second. Mary Jane needed to be locked up, so she could do no harm to anyone or herself.
He stood outside the barn and peered at the sliver of moon. Pulling out his walkie-talkie, he connected with Patsy for the second time. Their first conversation had been more about him calming her down and assuring her that he was alive. Now, he needed to make sure the ditz did her job.
“What’s the ETA on Keller?”
“He and the guys are a few minutes out.”
“You did well, Patsy.” He hoped the compliment would calm the remainder of her jitters. Even if nothing ever happened in Santo Cruces City, she wasn’t cut out for the job, but she was Chief Keller’s second cousin. “Tell me more about Mary Jane. Does she have a record?”
“Just a sec, Wulf.”
Earlier, when Keller told him to let Mary Jane go, he’d been so angry about Beasley’s arrival that he hadn’t asked any pertinent questions. Keller had been in a rush, but Wulf knew he should’ve forced his boss’s response.
Now, he attempted to jog Patsy’s memory of protocol. “Since I’ve been gone, has Garland returned to give you the processing file?”
He mentioned the other officer at the station with Patsy and himself, when Mary Jane had crashed into his cruiser. Garland had left for another incident, but surely should have returned by now. Probably with crazy, old Patrick.
“No, Garland told me to do it. I’m looking into it as we speak. Just one more sec.”
Shit. Okay, so it’s been a busy day, but I need a criminal breakdown on Mary Jane. How the heck did she grab my gun?
His thoughts slammed through his brain as a storm of F-250 engines roared. Beasley’s men were riding over the onion field.
“Patsy, tell Keller I need him ASAP. Beasley’s minions are coming.”
Wulf paused. Rowdy men standing in the truck beds shot off rounds from their guns. His stomach coiled at the thought of the law-bending Beasley. Wulf darted to the side of the barn.
Engines off, doors slammed, and men jumped down.
Beasley hopped out of the blue truck. The shooting instantly ceased. In his obese, breathy voice, he gave an order. “Boys, don’t touch my MJ! But by all means have some fun with the officer!”
Wulf grimaced. He leaned back against the wooden wall as he thought about a plan of action while Beasley’s men cackled. A smaller, more compact engine sounded nearby. Keller? Wulf peeped around the side of the farmhouse as Keller and three other Santo Cruces City officers pulled up. All of Beasley’s men were looking toward the two police cruisers, heading their way.
Wulf watched as Beasley shook hands with Chief of Police Kirk Keller, a lanky man. Standing together, they resembled the number ten. Keller had a cul-de-sac for a hairline and pipe arms.
“Beasley, how can I help?” Keller asked as he and the other officers huddled together.
“I don’t know how you can help, Kirk,” Beasley mocked. “That fucking newbie cop is in there with my Mary Jane. I’m not sure how much she told him! Now, he has to be dealt with.”
“Let me go in and talk to ’em.” Kirk held up his hands in a manner to keep the fat one from blowing a heart gasket. “I didn’t witness the altercation, remember? I had to step out and call you when I learned of Mary Jane’s arrival. I couldn’t get a hold of you, so we left the station half-staffed to come lookin’ for you!”
“Keller, watch yourself,” Beasley b
egan in a warning tone, lighting a cigar. He puffed and blew in Keller’s face.
Keller coughed, while his head turned toward the dusty ground. “Wulf is a good cop. He’s too smart to let himself be taken so easily. There’s no funny business going on with him and the gal. Trust me. From the accolades he received by the LAPD—he won’t believe anything your little bitch has said.”
Wulf turned to the wall and noticed a side door. He pulled a utility knife out of his pocket. As quietly as possible, he hacked open the deadbolt on the door. Slowly, he entered the room, checking all the corners. He was in the middle stall. He heard Keller attempting to enter through the front. The little minx had hoisted a useless rake through the door handle without even a consideration for other points-of-entry.
5
Mary Jane’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the sound of gunshots and roaring engines. Every sound the men made in their attempts to get the door open increased her anxiety a hundredfold.
A callused hand covered her mouth. Before she could scream, she was pulled back against a muscular body. She tried to open her mouth to bite down, but her lips were pulled tight.
“Do not scream, MJ.”
“You!” It came out muffled, but that’s what Mary Jane wanted to say as Jake removed his hand from her mouth. He took the gun from her shaking hand.
“Why didn’t you read the note in the car?” he whispered in pure irritation. “You could be in San Bernardino by now if you had driven a lil’ faster.”
She froze, watching her gun—technically Wulf’s gun—being placed in his waistband. Biting her lip, she whispered one of the million-dollar questions that had been swarming in her head all day long for the man she did not trust. “Who are you?”
“There’s no time for that, MJ. I’m a nobody, trying to save your hardheaded ass.” When she opened her mouth, he placed a finger over his lips. “Shhh. Come this way.”
He cocked his head toward the window behind her. She hadn’t noticed. The wooden shutters had been drawn, and she had mistaken it for a back wall in the darkness. That’s how Jake must’ve gotten inside. She tiptoed over corroded planks. Then her heart dropped. They both turned as the farm door opened and a figure stepped inside. She froze, and Jake placed a finger to his lips. The shouting and commotion faded as the door closed. She searched Jake’s eyes, as hers semi-adjusted to the darkness. She had to trust him.
Downstairs, a sound of what only could be compared to a sack of potatoes falling, propelled her to move. She cautiously hoisted her right leg over the windowsill. For reassurance, she looked back at Jake. His hand went to her shoulder, a silent cue to continue. A clear case of vertigo had Mary Jane’s vision swimming.
Jake pointed to a small hill of leaves that might break her fall. “Someone is here. Move your ass.”
With a shallow breath, she hoisted her other leg over and was now seated in the windowsill. Her hands gripped at the splintered wooden frame, knuckles taut in fear of falling.
“Mary Jane?” another voice whispered.
She got ready to leap—
“MJ, it’s me, Wulf. Come out. Beasley’s here to kill you.” There was a sincerity in his voice, begging for her to believe in him. “He even had Keller try to kill me.”
She wanted to retort the obvious to the beefy overzealous cop, but she sat frozen in the window frame, legs dangling. She cringed, hearing Jake head toward the ladder. It sounded as if Wulf had come up, but she couldn’t move.
Jake and Wulf’s voices were muffled, but hard with anger as they argued.
“Well, right now,” Jake continued, “you both have to trust me.”
“Thanks to the dumb kid,” Wulf retorted, “you’re the only one with a gun.”
Mary Jane thought to argue, but her vision was becoming blurry as she looked two stories down. Her eyes darted back toward them. The men glared at each other for what seemed like forever.
Wulf’s voice came closer in the darkness. “Keller works with Beasley. It’s only a matter of time before the idiots see her dangling in the windowsill, because she’s too afraid to jump.”
Inwardly agreeing, she almost fell as she leaned back. In a split second, Jake hoisted her up.
Wulf appeared at the landing. “We’re going to have to find another way out.”
On safe footing, she gave him the once-over. Did he really want to help? Wulf’s chiseled face held the same confusion she clung to all day. Maybe they want to kill him too. But why? Easy. Wulf is an outsider.
One by one, they all went down the ladder. As soon as she turned around, she noticed a police officer lying on the floor. He must’ve been the “sack of potatoes” noise she’d heard. Mary Jane breathed a little easier, aware Wulf had protected her.
Mary Jane jumped at the sound of Keller’s unconscious grunting. Jake’s steel-toe boot came down on his cranium so swiftly that the crack reverberated in the quiet barn.
“Dirty or not, he was a fucking cop.” Wulf squared up before Jake.
“Yup.” Jake sneered. “We don’t have time to bitch up. This area is known for underground passageways that lead to old mining companies. Let’s check the stall floors. No time for talking. Everyone works for Beasley.”
Jake’s demeanor never changed as he turned toward the stalls. Wulf seemed momentarily conflicted before he started for another stall.
She tried not to let curiosity take hold as she started into a third dingy, old stall. A chill trickled down her spine at how easily Jake could hurt someone without a pause in emotion. But then she recalled the nanosecond of an image she saw and how she was trained enough to take Wulf’s gun. Was she more like Jake than she was aware of?
A minute later, with them quietly yet frantically pacing around, they heard a squeak from a wooden board in one of the stalls. Wulf pushed hay around with his boot and found a latch.
Since the commotion hadn’t stopped outside, Jake took the butt of his shotgun and jabbed the latch until it broke. Sand and hay gusted through the air when Wulf opened it.
Mary Jane stared down into the pitch-black space. Caught off guard, Jake’s lips seized hers in a hard kiss. There was a hint of passion as he tasted her mouth.
“Good luck, Mary Jane.”
Mary Jane was speechless. For once, she didn’t contemplate conspiracies and Jake in the same thought. She asked wistfully, “Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah, I’ll go back through the window, trample your trail. Tell them you escaped.”
He smiled as she descended the rickety steps. He then locked eyes with Wulf. He firmly handed Wulf a flashlight and returned the cop’s gun. Unspoken words of trust and murder flashed into Jake’s eyes. “Keep MJ safe, and get the hell out of Santo Cruces City.”
Wulf nodded. Ducking his head, the tall man descended the uneven wooden steps as the latch clasped overhead. Mary Jane stared at him as he made the last step onto the dirt pavement. She’d assumed they were in a basement, but the area was too narrow and more expansive leading in one direction. So Jake had to be on to something when he’d mentioned mining companies and underground passageways.
At the faint sound of movement above, she could only assume Jake had scattered hay back over the door. Something in her spirit was unsettled about Wulf. She imagined every type of entrapment while alone with the police officer. Somehow, she trusted Jake more than the cop.
Leery of this new escort, she didn’t move until Wulf began walking. When Wulf turned the flashlight in front of him, she took in the scenery. They were in a narrow wooden pathway, littered with cobwebs. The wooden-beamed structure wouldn’t stand much longer. Wulf had to keep ducking because the reinforced wood hung low in the underground tunnel that seemed to lead on to the edge of forever.
After five minutes of power walking, Wulf flashed the light in her face. “How trustworthy is that boyfriend of yours?”
Her lids shaded at the bright light. “I don’t know him. Now, get that thing out of my face.”
“That’s odd.” Wulf paused, turni
ng the light back toward the constricted pathway. In an edgy tone, he added, “Jake seems to care a great deal about you. I’ve heard about him. Bad stuff. Sociopathic tendencies and he doesn’t really like women. So what? Your lap dance must have really beat him into submission.”
“I do not dance, Wulf. You can wonder about my character all you want, but I didn’t sign up for a Q and A—so expect no answers. I don’t trust him, and I'll be damned if I trust you.” She started off in a jog.
He easily kept up with her as the circular light bobbed in front of them.
After almost an hour in the underground passageway, Wulf’s breathing became slightly shallow. Almost six inches shorter, she wondered why the brawny man couldn’t keep up.
“What time is it?” she asked as the narrowed pathway had yet to display a neon “Exit” sign. Their flashlight had begun to dim.
Wulf pressed the side of his durable watch. “Just after ten. But keep close to me. I know Jake said this passageway was once used for miners, but we don’t know if it’s still a good means for drug running.”
“It’d just be my luck if we cross paths with a cartel down here.” She scoffed and continued on into a jog…
Green foliage was all around. The sun was warm against her skin. Mary Jane jogged, wearing a sports bra and tiny running shorts. She glanced over her shoulder, offering a coy smile. The man behind her was total, utter perfection—square jaw, chiseled cheeks. His runner pants clung to slim muscles, and the hair on his chest always made her nose tickle when she laid down with him at night.
“I’ll race you,” she quipped.
“I’d rather lose.” His smile was hypnotic as his gaze zeroed in on her ass.
“Oh, you always lose.” She leaped over a fallen tree branch and took off in a massive sprint.
Wulf grumbled to himself, “I shouldn’t have slacked off.”
Mary Jane was running top speed. There was a day he could run her into the ground, but this wasn’t one of them. After leaving home, he’d grown lazy. He was now paying dearly for it as he watched her. Running. Smiling. Running harder.
