GetOn

by Regina Cole

  “You’ve got bigger problems than that, man,” Redmond laughed, a wheezing, pathetic attempt thanks to his lack of oxygen. “I was just on the phone with Ford. He killed your boy and he’s got your girl.”

  “Don’t you fucking lie to me,” Garrett roared, cocking the pistol. His hands were steady, even though his insides were churning at the words.

  “I’m telling the truth! I wasn’t there alone. My boys followed your friend and the girl and they got ’em. Killed the guy, took the girl hostage, and all because you’re messing where you shouldn’t be.” Redmond relaxed against Garrett, and he tightened his forearm in response to the extra weight.

  “You must be one big pain in the ass. The boss isn’t happy. The only way he won’t kill your girl too is for you to show up to his place. Alone. You bring any more pals, she’s dead, you’re dead, they’re dead. If you know anything about Ford, you know bringing cops is a complete waste of time, and he’ll kill you anyway.”

  Garrett stayed silent for a moment, the gun heavy in his hand. Trent, his longtime best friend, dead? Mia, the love he’d just found, captured and quite possibly minutes from death herself?

  This was his worst nightmare. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d been about to save the world, avenge Priscilla, move forward in life.

  Not slide back into hell.

  But there was no choice. If he had to walk straight into the mouth of hell itself for her, he’d do it.

  “Tell me where to find them.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Goddammit,” Mia hissed as she yanked at her bonds. Duct tape. Weren’t big-time asshole drug lords supposed to use more sophisticated means of tying people up? This shit was impossible to escape from.

  She should know; she’d been taped to a fucking chair for two hours now. At least they’d taken the bag off her head.

  Ford’s guys had grabbed her and Trent, but Trent hadn’t gone down easily. She’d screamed and tried to help him as the goons started pounding Trent with fists and kicks, but they’d thrown a bag over her head and tossed her into the back of a car.

  She hadn’t seen Trent since then, and she hoped like hell he was okay. They’d keep him alive, right? He knew much more about what was going on than Mia did, and they hadn’t said she was doomed to die. But god, if Trent had been hurt or killed, it would crush Garrett. She knew how much they meant to one another.

  And if not for her, Trent and Garrett could have watched each other’s backs.

  Quick, distract yourself. She blew straight up, trying to convince the single curl that had strayed onto her forehead to join the rest of the mess currently rioting around her shoulders. It tickled, and she couldn’t reach it with her shoulder to brush it back. It was kind of nice to have something so trivial and small to work on. It kept her from freaking the hell out at the situation she was in.

  A noise across the warehouse drew her attention. Warehouses. Why did it always have to be warehouses? Didn’t this guy have a posh penthouse apartment somewhere, or a McMansion up in the hills? Why couldn’t any of this shit go down with expensive carpeting and comfortable furniture?

  A few rays of the setting sun shone through one of the high, long, grease-covered windows. Dust motes floated in the air, and the sight suddenly reminded Mia of home. That little Texas house she’d shared with Abuela. Trying to catch the motes with her chubby hands, laughing as she stirred them into a frenzy.

  “My little Mia, you will never catch them that way. You must slow down, see everything.”

  Her abuela had been so wise. If Mia had slowed down with Garrett, she might not have gotten him into this mess.

  An angry tear tracked down Mia’s cheek. If she got out of this, she’d apologize to him and Trent. This was her fault. All her fault. Her life had been a series of shit storms, and it was time to stop taking other people into them.

  A door opened somewhere behind her. “Art,” someone called from the back of the warehouse. Mia straightened but didn’t turn. She barely breathed.

  “What is it?”

  “Redmond called. He just got free. That guy is on his way. He thinks it’s that cop who set up that sting.”

  Mia’s heart thudded. Garrett was alive, thank god. Please, let him stay away. She slammed her eyes shut and prayed. Let him call the cops to get me and Trent out of here, don’t let him rescue us on his own. He’ll be killed. He’ll be—

  “The guy knocked Redmond unconscious and tied him up before he left. He doesn’t know how long he’s been gone, but any time now we should be expecting company.”

  “Babe?” A low, accented female voice this time, also from behind Mia. Goddammit, why had they put her facing the loading bay door instead of the offices behind? She couldn’t see a fucking thing except work tables, rusted-out equipment and the fading sunlight.

  “Ramirez texted me. He wants me to go with him to the race tomorrow night.”

  Soft, wet sounds followed. Mia clenched her fists. Ugh. They were seriously making out while holding hostages?

  “I’ll be so glad when we don’t have to deal with that irritating fuck anymore,” Ford said. Mia strained hard to hear his next words. “He’ll be dead tomorrow night, and then you and I can be together.”

  “Ooh, I look forward to that,” the woman purred. “I’ve been telling my husband about you, what a good businessman you are. I don’t think we’ll have any problem getting Ramirez’s position after he’s dead.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” More kissing, and Mia wanted to throw up. She decided to start counting the steel girders overhead to distract herself, but it didn’t really work that well.

  How could they so casually talk about killing people? Giving up on the silence, Mia subtly turned her head right and left, looking for some sign of Trent. Though she knew there was nothing to stop them from killing him. And her.

  God, please let Garrett not come after us. Don’t let him die because of me.

  “Hey, Eskie, go check on that little shit we picked up. See if he’s still breathing.”

  Mia jerked her feet, but nope, they were still taped to the chair legs. He had to mean Trent, didn’t he? But before she could figure out where those footsteps were headed, the sound of a motorcycle engine bled through the loading bay door.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered aloud, dread and hope curling together in her belly. “Oh my god.”

  “Eskie! Champ! Go see who that is.”

  Ford appeared next to her, and Mia had to bite her lips to keep from spitting on him. She settled for a glare instead.

  “I think, little Latina, your boyfriend has arrived.”

  She gritted her teeth so hard they ground together. But her gaze was glued to the warehouse doors as they opened, and nothing could have yanked her away from the sight of Garrett, leather jacket zipped halfway, no helmet, wraparound shades covering his eyes.

  He was okay. Oh god, he was fine and alive and healthy.

  And he’d just walked into his enemy’s lair for her.

  If they got out of this alive, she’d kill him.

  Garrett was strangely calm as his bike entered the warehouse. He kept a tight rein on his emotions, drawing on his years of experience on the force. But underneath his calm, businesslike exterior, he was vibrating like a goddamn violin string.

  Not even when Priscilla had died had he felt this much rage, this much violent anger overtaking him. His best friend might be dead, and the woman he loved was being dangled like bait for a fish. Never again. This would end here, no matter what.

  He’d done what he’d sworn he’d never do, all in the name of ending this for good.

  He hoped like hell it was worth it.

  Garrett cut the engine and slid his sunglasses atop his head. Swinging his leg over the bike’s saddle, he didn’t even blink as four guns pointed in his direction. He just put his palms up to show he wasn’t carrying anything.

  “Ford.” Garrett nodded at the man he’d been hunting for so long. His anger roiled and bu
bbled. Mia was duct taped to a metal folding chair, her wrists behind her back, and she looked positively murderous.

  If things weren’t so dire, he’d have laughed. Only Mia could be kidnapped and pissed instead of terrified. He’d no doubt she’d kick Ford’s ass herself if she could get free.

  “Long,” Ford said with a smile. He stepped forward, almost as if he was about to offer to shake Garrett’s hand. Fat fucking chance. “Nice to see you face-to-face after all these years.”

  “I can’t say the same,” Garrett replied, dropping his hands by his sides. “I’m here, so let her go. If you play nice, I won’t call the cops.”

  Ford tilted his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Cops? Oh that’s funny. That’s really fucking funny.” He stepped right up to Garrett and pointed his finger in Garrett’s face. “If you know anything, then you know the cops can’t touch me.”

  “They haven’t yet,” Garrett admitted, eyes cutting to Mia, warning her to keep silent. “But we both know it’s only a matter of time. There are some things not even you can get away with.”

  “Oh really? That’s fucking rich.” Ford stepped back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Let’s see. Biggest drug bust on the East Coast—and I’m off scot-free. Embezzlement, smuggling, prostitution…oh and of course, let’s not forget murder.” Ford got in Garrett’s face again, but Garrett didn’t move. “Or don’t you remember poor little Priscilla? I do. She wasn’t who I wanted. I wanted to kill your ass for getting in my way. That deal cost me millions, you know. Fucking millions of dollars, and you had to stick your fucking nose in it!” Ford was yelling by the end, his temper completely blowing his cool. “So I found her, when I was looking for you, and I decided to throw you a bone. I’d kill Priscilla, and leave you alive to learn your lesson. But you didn’t learn a goddamn thing, did you, Garrett?”

  Garrett knew his time was running out. He’d have to talk quickly if he was going to get anything else.

  “I’ve learned about your little races. They’re more than just fun, we both know that. But what about Ramirez? What do you stand to gain by murdering your own supplier?”

  A small gasp from Mia distracted Garrett for a split second, and he followed her gaze across the room. Two of Ford’s men had dragged a limp form out onto the warehouse floor.

  It was Trent, facedown on the concrete. He wasn’t moving.

  His chest tightened, and he wanted to go ballistic, pick up Mia and get her the hell out of there before they could kill her too. But he didn’t, couldn’t. He had to see this through. He’d just have to pray things worked out the way he’d been promised.

  “Ramirez,” Garrett said, nodding to the woman who had come up behind Ford. The tall blonde had dark eyebrows and olive skin. “Is he your husband? Your lover?”

  The woman laughed, wrapping her arms around Ford’s waist. “Ramirez doesn’t matter. He is merely a pawn in our game, and soon he won’t be alive. Just like you.”

  “So the race is a setup to kill him. You’re from Columbia, aren’t you, Gloria?”

  She frowned, and inwardly Garrett sighed with relief. “I bet your husband misses you. How can he run the business without you?”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the low neckline of her fitted orange top. “I can help him from here. Besides, it is none of your business!”

  “Listen to me, Long,” Ford said, stepping free of Gloria’s embrace. The woman smirked at Garrett and moved to stand by Mia. “I think we’ve talked enough. You know how this goes. If you get in my way, you’re dead. I had plenty of people killed before Priscilla, and now you, your girlfriend and Ramirez are in line. It’s nothing personal.” Ford shrugged as he pulled his gun from his pocket. “It’s just business.”

  “Garrett!” Mia yelled, jerking at her bonds. “Oh god, please—”

  Gloria clapped a hand over Mia’s mouth, but jerked it away a second later, blood streaming down her arm. Mia’s lips were coated with blood and her eyes were wild.

  Ford cocked the pistol, and Mia screamed the words he’d been afraid he’d never hear. “Garrett, I love you!”

  He bent low and ran forward just as gunfire blared through the warehouse, the violent echo ripping through his body.

  Before things went black, he allowed himself a moment of regret.

  She’d never know how much he loved her too.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Her heart stopped, but the beating sound continued rushing around her ears. As if in slow motion, Garrett fell, his body bouncing obscenely on the warehouse’s concrete floor.

  Mia jerked against her bonds, her wrists and ankles burning in protest at their tight bindings, but it didn’t help. She was still trapped, watching a pool of blood spread beneath Garrett. The bullet must have gone through him.

  He was dead. Trent was dead. But what was that sound?

  Mia shook her head, gasping. That had been her. Her screaming.

  She barely heard it over the sound of people in dark clothing, helmets and Kevlar swarming the building, their assault rifles pointed directly at Ford and his cronies.

  “Help him!” Mia nodded toward Garrett. Maybe they could stop the bleeding, save him. “Please, help Garrett now!”

  “Freeze! You’re under arrest.” One of the SWAT team approached Ford. It kind of sounded like a female voice, but she clearly wasn’t about to take shit from the guy.

  Ford smiled but dropped his gun. “I’ll go with you, but I’ll be saying nothing until I’ve spoken with my lawyer.”

  “You don’t need to say anything, asshole. The whole country just saw what happened. What you confessed to.”

  Ford’s face went pale. “What?”

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” As the officer started Mirandizing Ford, Mia turned back to Garrett.

  Finally, an ambulance was backing up through the warehouse door. Mia bounced in anxiety, willing them to hurry. He was losing so much blood.

  “Help him!” she begged the EMT from across the room. “Please, dear god, help him!”

  “We will,” the EMT nodded then bent to his work.

  Mia sat there in the center of controlled chaos. SWAT team members searched the warehouse, arresting Ford’s entourage and putting them into police cruisers to be driven away. Another crew of EMTs worked on Trent, and for a heartbreaking minute, Mia knew he was truly dead. But then they brought a stretcher and oxygen, and loaded the beaten and bruised Trent into another ambulance.

  “Thank god,” Mia whispered, her eyes filling with more tears. After having staunched the flow of Garrett’s blood, they loaded him up and then closed the doors.

  Shutting her out.

  “Hey!” Mia screamed, jerking the chair a good six inches toward the ambulance. “Can someone let me go? I need to be with him! Please!”

  Finally someone, the SWAT leader who’d arrested Ford, came over to her and began slicing her duct tape bonds.

  “Thank you, please hurry!” Mia said, worry and adrenaline flooding through her. “I’ve got to go with him.”

  “Which one?” The woman had removed her helmet, revealing a thick braid of red hair pinned to the back of her neck.

  “The one who got shot. I want to go with him to the hospital, can I do that?”

  The woman knelt in front of Mia’s chair to slice the bonds at her ankles. “Well, we really do need to take your statement.”

  Mia might be freaking out, but she wasn’t stupid. “I’m his wife. I need to be with him!”

  The woman darted her light-green gaze up at Mia. Her lip curled at the corner, almost looking as if she didn’t really believe Mia’s story. Mia set her chin, not blinking, not looking away.

  The woman finally nodded, pulling the last of the duct tape from Mia’s sore skin. “Fine. We can get your statement at the hospital.” She helped Mia to her feet. “You’d better get in there, they need to move him out of here pretty quick.�
��

  Mia’s legs were asleep but she didn’t care. She hauled ass across that warehouse floor, waddling like a drunken duck. When she yanked open the ambulance door, three EMTs turned and looked at her.

  “I’m his wife,” Mia growled as she pulled the door shut behind her and crawled up to Garrett’s head. “Put this fucker in drive.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the driver said with a smirk.

  Mia put her palm against Garrett’s cheek, her heart thumping anxiously as she tested his temperature. Cool, his skin was too cool.

  She leaned down, pressing her lips against his forehead. “I love you,” she whispered against his clammy skin. “Garrett, you’ve got to live, because I love you.”

  It was the longest vehicle ride she’d ever had.

  * * * * *

  Garrett moaned in his dream. Son of a bitch, something hurt. He’d been riding through the night, Mia on the back of his bike, her arms clenching tight while her breasts rubbed against him. Suddenly, a curve in the road had come from out of nowhere and he’d swerved, losing control of the bike. He’d connected with a tree, hard, breaking his shoulder and smearing blood on the trunk.

  But he didn’t care about himself, there was something else. His bike? No, that was totaled, a smoldering wreck against the base of the pine. He smacked his good hand against his shoulder, trying to staunch the flow of blood as he staggered back toward the road. What was it? What was he forgetting?

  “Mia!”

  He ran for her. In the center of the road, a metal folding chair straddled the two yellow lines. Sitting in it, slumped forward with her curls matted with blood, was Mia. Her wrists were tied behind her back, her ankles secured to the chair legs with barbed wire.

  “Oh my god,” Garrett cried as he reached her, falling to his knees. “Wake up, Mia, please! I didn’t get a chance to tell you…” Words failed him as tears ran down his cheeks. “To tell you…”

  “Tell me what?”

  She wasn’t moving, but that was definitely her voice.