The sergeant stepped forward, coming right into Destiny’s face. “Let this go. They’ll investigate when they get to it.”
Destiny nodded and stepped back. Tears burned and she sucked in a shuddering breath.
“It’s okay,” Gracie murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over Destiny’s back. Destiny forcibly slowed her breathing.
She focused on her cop training, on rational thought. The sergeant’s behaviour was odd enough that Destiny gave him a side-eye. She knew how many corrupt cops there were in this city. Had this guy and his cronies been ordered not to look for survivors in the blast? He might be the reason Duncan and Mandy weren’t saved.
But there was no proof they were in that blaze.
She pulled out her phone and dialled Duncan’s number. Straight to voicemail.
“Duncan, please, please call me back immediately if you get this.” She hung up, her hand shaking.
Next, she tried Mandy, but that, too, went straight to voicemail. She left the same message.
Blake was next. He was probably the team member she was closest to after Duncan and Mandy, though she knew them all well.
Blake answered on the first ring and Destiny laughed in relief.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as soon as he heard her reaction.
“There’s a fire at the Soldiering On offices. I can’t reach Duncan or Mandy.”
“Sierra and I are on our way,” he said, referring to his girlfriend and Mandy’s best friend. “I’ll call the others. I was the last one to leave other than them, so they should all be fine.”
She hung up and a thankful sigh escaped. Gratitude and fear mingled, overwhelming her. She had to keep it together. She had to.
Once she had control of herself, she made her way back over to the sergeant in charge. “Do they think it was deliberately lit?” she asked.
He eyed her for a long moment. “A nearby resident reported hearing an explosion right before the fire was called in.”
Destiny’s eyes went wide. “A bomb?” she asked softly.
He gave a half-shrug, half-nod, to indicate he suspected it but couldn’t confirm.
Beaton. Destiny knew about the threats, of course. Duncan had reported them, even though there was no evidence they came from Tulane and the people at Beaton security. Destiny had no doubt that was who had targeted them.
But she didn’t know whether it would help or hinder Duncan and Mandy to have news of their attacker spread throughout the emergency services ranks, so she kept her mouth shut.
“I can’t reach two of my friends,” she told him. “They might have been in there.”
His eyes hardened, an odd reaction. With their job they saw a lot of bad shit, experienced a lot of heartache, but it was nothing like losing a friend. Most cops—good cops—had empathy when it happened to others of their kind.
“I’ll let the fire chief know.” He made no effort to move.
Destiny gave him a nod, not letting her suspicions about him show. Then, she turned to Gracie and led her out of earshot. “Can you cover for me at the barrier? I’ll have a look around.”
Gracie’s eyes went wide. “What for?”
Destiny shrugged. “I’ll know it when I find it.”
She didn’t know what she expected to find—a note, some kind of evidence Duncan and Mandy weren’t trapped in the inferno still raging above them. The jets of water were finally having an impact, and Destiny could sense the heat lessen as she slowly made a circuit around the building, getting as close as she dared to the fire.
The only thing of interest she found was the scattered pieces of a cell phone. She didn’t know whether it had anything to do with Duncan and Mandy—she couldn’t tell what kind of phone it was from what remained—but she carefully bagged and tagged it just the same.
By the time she made it back around to the front, the rest of the Soldiering On team had arrived, their significant others in tow.
Blake and Sierra stood with their backs to Destiny, Blake’s false arm comfortably around his girlfriend’s shoulders. Blake was tall and broad, almost as big as Duncan, and the comparison was a kick to Destiny’s chest. Paul, in his wheelchair, with his girlfriend Christine were to Sierra’s left. Zack and Radha were to Blake’s right, with Sam—aka Angelica Samson—with her new boyfriend Cameron rounded out the circle. Destiny had a sudden pang of loneliness as she looked at them, coupled-up with someone to support them.
She shook it off and strode forward. They all turned to her as she approached, eyes watchful and wary.
“What do we know?” Blake asked.
Destiny straightened her shoulders, prepared to deliver a status report. “I got the call over the radio at about nineteen hundred and raced over here. Firefighters and police were already on scene. I asked: no known survivors, but also no known casualties. However, an explosion was reported, so they suspect a bomb.”
“Tulane?” Sam asked. Her hand tightened in Cameron’s, and they both watched Destiny closely, having had their own close-call with Beaton Security.
“I believe so.”
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Cameron, but Destiny pressed on with her story.
“I tried calling both Duncan and Mandy, but both went straight to voicemail. So I called you, Blake. So far, all I have is this.”
She held up the bag that contained the remains of the cell phone. They all peered at the jumbled plastic, then switched their gazes back to her.
“A cell phone. No idea if it was Duncan’s or Mandy’s, though.”
Blake looked closer. “I can’t tell either. Paul?”
Destiny handed the bag to Paul, and he searched through the bag without opening it, trying to get a better look at the pieces. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to get anything off that, data-wise.”
Destiny nodded. “I’ll get it to the lab, see if they can pull prints or something.” She pocketed the bag. “Blake, you said you were the last to leave other than them. What time?”
“Eighteen thirty,” he told her with confidence. “I needed to get home to help Sierra prepare for having Mandy over to dinner tonight.”
Sierra cleared her throat. “Do we know what time the bomb went off?”
“About quarter to,” Destiny said. “Why?”
“Because Mandy promised me she’d leave work by six thirty to get to my place on time. We also invited Duncan, so maybe he left early, too, and they…” She trailed off, tears gathering in her eyes. Blake pulled her towards him and placed a comforting kiss against her forehead.
“Then why haven’t any of us heard from them?” It was Zack, softly speaking the hard truth none of them wanted to admit. If Duncan and Mandy were alive, they wouldn’t let their friends think they were dead.
“Let’s give them some time,” said Destiny. “They might be in trouble, and if so they might need to find an encrypted way to contact us.”
She turned to Paul, but didn’t have to say anything. He spoke first. “I’ll monitor the encrypted channels, and set up some alerts just in case,” he told her. “And I’ll check security cameras in the area, see if I can spot them.”
Destiny turned to Zack. He smiled, the scarring on his face meaning only half of his mouth quirked up.
He, too, knew what was expected of him. “We have a few cars scattered around the city for emergencies. Radha and I will go for a drive and see if any of them have been moved or taken.”
Blake shifted, drawing their attention. “I’ll check the safe houses. Though I think Duncan would avoid them for fear of being compromised, if he’s in a bind he might head to some of the lesser known ones.”
Sam nodded. “Cameron and I will focus on the Beaton angle, try to get proof it was them.”
Destiny raised her eyebrows. “You guys are efficient.”
They all smiled at each other. “We’re a team,” said Blake. “You should’ve joined us when you had the chance.”
Sadness welled within her. Destiny felt that more and more each day. She’d
chosen the police force instead of Duncan’s company because she wanted to make a difference in a corrupted system. Her brother had died because of police error, and those responsible had gotten away scot free.
But the constant fight had worn her down. She didn’t know who to trust, where to turn. Other than Gracie, she had no one in the department she could count on.
But seeing the Soldiering On crew working together as a unit, trusting each other, playing to each other’s strengths, made Destiny long for a similar team herself.
“Maybe I still will,” she murmured. That is, if Duncan was still alive to offer her the job again.
Her stomach lurched.
“Awesome,” she said to the others with a forced smile. “I’ll stay here, try to find out what I can. Everyone keep in touch.”
They quickly dispersed, and Destiny turned back to look at the building that looked more and more like an empty shell with every minute that passed. The flames were fading, but the building almost looked worse without them, empty, stark, and completely destroyed.
She just had to hope they’d gotten out in time. She couldn’t let herself think anything else.
Chapter 3
The safe house was a small, nondescript, one-story building in a sleepy suburban neighbourhood. Duncan pulled the car—one of Soldiering On’s vehicles he’d taken from near the offices—into the driveway. Then, he hopped out, leaving Mandy staring after him. He limped to the garage, keyed in a code that opened the rolling door, and made his way back to the driver’s side.
His leg was killing him. Too much crouching and driving tonight, not enough rest. He rubbed it absently as they waited for the door to roll up, then drove the car into the empty garage.
He still didn’t look at Mandy.
“Where are we?” she asked as he parked the car and the two of them slid out. He pressed a button on in the inside of the garage and the rolling door rumbled closed.
“It’s a safe house, but not one we have listed on our systems. I…acquired it after Beaton hacked our system and compromised our operations.”
He keyed in another code and the door to the house swung open. He’d installed the keypads so he wouldn’t have to carry keys with him, and he was glad he remembered the codes.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Mandy asked as she stepped into the house, glancing around curiously.
He reached out to flick the light switch and blinked to adjust his vision. It was just as he’d left it—sparsely furnished with items he’d bought with cash off the internet, with yellow walls and cheap floorboards. A thin layer of dust coated everything, since it hadn't been used in months, but other than that it was a perfectly liveable house.
“It’s a last resort. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it unless it was an emergency.”
She slanted a glance toward him, then strode further into the living room. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a safe house, if no one knows about it?”
He shrugged. “You know we’ve bought a couple recently, all equally safe. This is just my private one.”
She stared at him for a long moment and he resisted the urge to squirm under her gaze. She nodded, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief.
“That’s fair. And no one followed us here?” She kicked off her heels and exhaled in bliss. They’d had a half hour walk to the car, and her feet must’ve been killing her, but she’d never complained. Now, though, she eased herself onto the nearest couch and rubbed her feet. Duncan was so distracted by the sight of her bare feet that he swallowed and had to look away. Usually she was so polished and perfect, he rarely saw her so casual.
He tried to remember her question. “No, I looked out for them on the drive here, but nothing. I also disabled the tracker on the car—the one we use to monitor our vehicles—just in case.”
She nodded, then fell silent for a moment. “I was meant to be at Sierra’s by now, having a lovely dinner.” She blinked away tears.
“You’ll see her again. And she’ll understand.” Duncan eased himself into an armchair a few feet from her, out of reach so he wasn’t tempted to offer to rub her feet.
“I know. But I don’t want this to be my life, running and hiding in constant fear. We need to end Beaton once and for all.” She looked up at him, pinning him with her fierce gaze.
“I agree. And I think this is our best chance.”
“How so?”
He dug his fingers into his thigh, wincing at the pain, but relishing the way it distracted him from Mandy. “We’ve got at least twenty-four hours, maybe more, in which our friend Tulane will let down his guard. We might be able to catch him in the act, or get into his systems. I don’t know yet, it isn’t like I had time to plan this. But it’ll work in our favour somehow.”
“Okay. We’ll get to that. But, first, does this place have a shower? I’m still covered in concrete dust.”
Duncan’s mind dived into the gutter at the thought of her in the shower, but he forcibly shut down that line of thinking. “Absolutely.” He’d have to go in once she was done. They were both streaked with dust and even a few tiny cuts from the exploded glass.
He eased into a standing position, then led the way down the short hall, grabbing a towel from the cabinet as he went. The bathroom was newly renovated, with a large walk-in shower. He’d stocked it with basic toiletries when he’d set the place up.
He cleared his throat. “I hope it’s got everything you need.” She was fancy enough that he worried she might want expensive products, but she just peered at the bottles and pronounced them fine.
Duncan handed her the towel and then strode from the room. To distract himself from the sound of running water and the thought of the woman under it, Duncan went into the kitchen, thoroughly scrubbed his hands, and then poked around in the cupboards. He found a few cans of soup, so he dumped them in a pot and heated them. Again, he couldn’t help but wonder how Mandy would react. Duncan had often grown up on this stuff, since his mother worked as a part time teacher, and his father had been in the Army before him and they hadn’t had a huge amount of money. But Mandy had grown up with money, and no doubt ate at expensive restaurants all the time.
The difference between them was so marked that Duncan always felt a slight twinge of inadequacy at her presence. She never did anything to make him feel that way—not on purpose, anyway—but he still felt like a poor, rough old man next to her polished sophistication. He hated it, and sometimes took it out on her when she didn’t deserve it.
He stirred the soup absently, then divided it into two bowls. He found some bread in the freezer and set it to defrost in the toaster. By the time it was ready, Mandy was back.
Clad only in a towel.
Not just any towel, but a tiny, barely-covering-anything towel. Why hadn’t he grabbed one of the massive Duncan-sized ones?
“Are there any spare clothes here?” she asked, hands gripped tightly in the towel to hold it together.
Duncan tried to swallow, his tongue thick in his mouth. His blood pounded at the sight of all that bare skin on display. He desperately tried to get himself under control, to reply, but his brain had completely shut down.
Eventually he managed to wrench his gaze away and glared at the pathetic excuse for soup.
“Yes,” he managed.
Then he pushed passed her into the hall, careful not to look at her or touch her, and headed to the closet. He extracted clothes blindly. A t-shirt, maybe, and some sweatpants. He shoved them into her hands and then gestured down the hall.
“Bedroom is that way.”
She carefully eased past him, unable to avoid brushing against him. Duncan’s blood stirred hot at the contact, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Then, she was gone, and he breathed out a relieved sigh.
He returned to the kitchen, set out the soup on the two-person, laminated table, and waited. Only the soft hum of the refrigerator broke the silence of the room. Mandy returned not long after, dressed in his oversized clothes. There was somethin
g about a woman—this woman—wearing his clothes that gave him a kick to the gut.
She looked so different. Usually her outfits were tight and expensive. Now, she was dressed in cheap, comfortable clothes. But they didn’t look out of place. They relaxed her, so she didn’t look quite so untouchable. Her blonde hair, normally curled in a tight bun at the back of her head, hung loose and wet over one shoulder.
She slid into the seat across from him, their knees brushing. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks for the soup.” She glanced at him as she picked up her spoon, her whiskey-coloured eyes meeting his briefly before looking away. A faint blush tinged her cheeks, and Duncan realised he was staring.
He managed a grunt in reply. He had a sudden, desperate urge to go to the gym. He’d spent far too much time there since he’d met Mandy, but it was good for his leg, and helped him manage his sexual frustration whenever he was with her. Since he didn’t have a leg press in sight, he had to suck up the desire he felt at seeing her so warm and natural and keep himself under control.
She dug into the food, not seeming to notice it was cheap soup from a can.
“So, I was thinking…” she began. “If Tulane thinks we’re dead, won’t our friends think so, too?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it would be too risky to call them. I left a note in place of the keys when I picked up the car, just saying we were alive but not to look for us. Hopefully they find it.”
Mandy pursed her lips, but said nothing.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing, I just worry. Sierra’s my best friend, she’ll be upset if she hears about the fire on the news, or through someone else.”
Duncan dipped his toast in the soup. “We have to think about ourselves right now. If Tulane is coming after us—which is a pretty good bet—and if he finds out we’re still alive, then anyone we’re close to might get hurt in the crossfire. What if we hadn’t been the only ones left in the office tonight? What if Blake had planned to leave half an hour later? Who knows who might have got hurt.”
Whiskey-Eyed Woman (Soldiering On Book 5) Page 2
