Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP

by Dennam, J. A.

  “Aw…” Crystal sent a saccharine smile toward them. “Aren’t they cute together?”

  “Shut up, Crystal,” all three answered in unison.

  Her light eyes moved back and forth between them, feigning ignorance. “Oops. My bad. They look really… comfortable, is all.”

  “We’re friends,” Mac rumbled, dropping his arms when Mel moved away.

  Crystal’s mouth curled with a satisfied smirk. “Since we’re all here,” she continued, “you may as well tell me what to do.”

  Derek jerked a chin toward their prisoners. “Somewhere else.”

  “Rafferty can’t hear you,” Mac reminded him, unwilling to bring Crystal upstairs into the living part of the old house they occupied. “Earphones. Remember?”

  “We’ll take her to the commons room,” Derek said through a set jaw.

  Mac searched his memory for a time when he and Derek hadn’t butted heads and failed to find one. Ironically, a woman was always involved in one manner or other. To avoid another conflict, he decided to remain downstairs. “I’ll stay here, then. Keep an eye on our prisoners.”

  “No. You’re part of this. Austin can stand guard for a while.”

  Mac’s shoulders instantly squared. “Since when do you order Austin around in his own house?”

  “It’s called teamwork, asshole, you should try it sometime.”

  “Children!”

  All eyes fell on Crystal who now stood on the pool table. “I’m fighting a killer case of cotton mouth. Think we can move past this macho bullshit and get on with things?”

  Melanie was already on the phone. “Okay, thanks.” She disconnected the call and said to Derek, “Your sister is sending Austin down.”

  Derek’s nod was brief, but now the two were locked in some sort of amorous gaze. Mac crossed his arms, watched the visual exchange of hearts and flowers while their prisoners bled and suffered in the background.

  Rafferty’s pained moan broke the spell.

  Derek turned around and stared down at the man who’d caused them all so much misery. He brought a hand up to his chest, rubbed the bullet wound he’d acquired for his attempt to defect from IGP. “God, I wish I could look that fucker in the eye right now,” he murmured.

  “You can’t,” Crystal reminded him. “Me and Ty worked hard to make your wound count for something. Rafferty thinks that bullet killed you, and if he knows you’re alive and he escapes, everyone in this house will be used to lure you out.”

  Mac was still trying to wrap his head around that one. “That doesn’t mean Ty had to lie to us,” he growled, the anger over a trusted friend’s deception flaring anew. “Mel had to go through the grieving process all over again.” At least, until Derek was found alive in Crystal’s bed.

  “Why does everyone blame Ty?” Crystal said with a scowl. “Rena’s the one who convinced him to play along. Be mad at her.”

  “We expect that shit from your sister,” Melanie said with crossed arms. “Ty should have known better.”

  Derek’s jaw pulsed beneath the heavy whiskers. “Still, Crystal’s right. The important thing is Rafferty thinks I’m dead, and it’s too soon to lose that advantage.” Then he pointed out the bulge between Rafferty’s legs. “Besides, I imagine he’s plenty occupied with that.”

  “Hard ball,” Melanie muttered with a shiver. “Rafferty described it as blue balls times ten. And he gloated when you had it during your withdrawals, Derek, so I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him.”

  “Believe me, pity is far from what I’m feeling,” Derek ground out. “He’s living the worst kind of hell imaginable right now… and I wear the fear in his soul like a second skin.”

  The starkly lit basement filled with booming footsteps as Austin Cahill—two hundred-thirty pounds of solid muscle—descended the stairs. “I’m here,” he stated loudly when he reached the bottom, towering over them all. “Go strategize, I got this.”

  A steaming plate of food was balanced in one hand and he pulled up a chair. The yellow bulb overhead cast a fiery halo over his jet-black hair. “Oh, and we made dinner. Better get it while it’s hot.”

  It didn’t take long for the smell of meatloaf and potatoes to reach their two captives. When it did, the noise level increased significantly.

  Crystal’s mouth fell open. “Lord, if you love me, please… please, feed me some of that.”

  “In the commons room.” Derek held out a hand, indicating the stairs. “Mac will show you the way. And Crystal?” His gaze grew dark. “If you try anything, don’t think the hole in my chest will slow me down. I’ll find you. And I’ll kill you.”

  ____

  So, his name really was Mac. Sure, they'd called him that last night, but she'd figured it was more of a handle considering the man's size. What were the odds his last name was Truck?

  Crystal settled over the plate of food and picked up her fork in a fist that meant business. Before the tines got dirty, however, she paused and wondered just for a moment…

  What the hell. If it were poisoned, she’d die with a full stomach.

  As she shoveled in tender bites of beef, Mac loomed close by. His presence ushered in a foreign sense of safety that had been notably absent since she’d been taken from her own family by IGP’s boogeymen. But it was also a reminder he was protecting the people of this house from her. She was now the boogeyman, just like Derek and the other ghosts on Nexifen.

  She glanced behind her just in time to watch Mac settle down on one of the many other tables in the commons room.

  Commons room. What a joke. It was nothing like the cushy gathering hole she remembered at college, more like a boring workplace cafeteria. But, for some reason, Mac added an intriguing quality to an otherwise depressing environment.

  What was it about him? He wasn’t really handsome, but he had this intense aura that completely fascinated her. His expressive brow was by far the most characterizing feature he possessed. She’d mostly seen it creased over a guarded look that had the power to burn holes through backbone, but when relaxed it softened like butter.

  Like when he was around the two women in the house, whom he clearly loved. The pretty brunette, Danny—who Crystal assumed was Derek’s sister—had delivered a joke about Mac’s shrinking waistline while loading Crystal’s plate with food. The teasing pat to a firm stomach had wrung the cutest baby-faced smile from him she’d ever seen. What the hell? How could a face transform so radically?

  So, I get the hazel-eyed master of doom while they get the big softy.

  And why the hell did she care? The first time he touched her he nearly knocked her head clean off, but for some reason, she found herself continually resisting the urge to lean into him.

  Her fork stopped an inch from her mouth when Derek sat down directly across from her and laced his fingers together.

  “I think the best way to approach this,” he said in a grim manner, “is to start with a few ground rules.”

  Of course the others weren’t eating. They weren’t half-starved like she was. Crystal loaded the forkful of green beans into her mouth, spoke through them. “Let me guess. Rule number one.” She swallowed. “Don’t hurt your little friends.”

  “And if you do…”

  “You’ll kill me.” Mashed potatoes went in next. “Got it.”

  “Rule number two. Full disclosure.”

  “Which doesn’t mean shit if you don’t trust me.”

  Derek narrowed his gaze. “But it’ll keep our alliance this well-oiled machine we all want it to be.”

  Which was code for or I’ll kill you. She nodded. “Rule number three?”

  “Stay away from my son.” The look on his face showed her this was the mother of all rules. “Don’t touch him. Don’t occupy the same room with him. Don’t wave at him from afar. He’s completely off limits to you.”

  Crystal rolled her eyes. “Not that I care, but you all should get over it. He’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

  His eyes held hers in a god-awful v
ice she couldn’t break.

  “I know who you are,” he said calmly. “I know what you’re capable of. The only reason you’re alive is because Rena wouldn’t want you dead.”

  “And the only reason you’re alive,” she bit back levelly, “is because I pulled your half-dead ass out of the woods and gave you two pints of my own blood.” She leaned in further, challenging. “So, tell me, Bennett. What else is it going to take?”

  Derek chewed his bottom lip, seemed to consider things for a moment. “IGP headquarters is down, which means our brethren are hiding out at Lesico’s main facility.”

  Lesico Laboratories was Sophie’s haunt, the scientist behind their wonder drug. She and Rafferty had been partners before Rena killed her. Rafferty supplied the lab rats Sophie needed to improve her drug, and in turn, Rafferty grew his talented league of enforcers. In fact, Sophie had a bit of a sexual fetish for her muscle-bound science experiments; therefore, she spent more time at IGP headquarters than at her own work. Her favorite victim? Well, Crystal was looking at him.

  Her eyes drooped in disbelief. “Let me guess. You want me to pop by.”

  “Blend in,” Derek stressed. “Find Lana and question her about the basement chemist who makes our drug.”

  “Okay, remind me again why Rafferty’s secretary would know anything about our basement chemist. She’s a total Barbie.”

  “According to River, the courier who delivers Nexifen has a thing for her. They talk a lot.”

  That’s it? They talk a lot? “You mean, you want me to ‘blend in’ with over twenty ghosts—who’ve possibly missed me, by the way—so I can gossip with Rafferty’s office bunny?”

  Derek’s mouth thinned into a hard line. “Lana already helped me once. She wasn’t exactly happy with her job position, which was mostly bent over his desk.” He let that sink in for a moment. “Besides, our ghosts should be experiencing withdrawals by now since I have the entire supply of Nexifen. I doubt they even miss you. Once we take control of our basement chemist and his stash, we’ll make sure they never get their hands on another dose again.”

  “While we get a steady supply for ourselves until a cure is found.” She searched his face for any signs of deception and found none. “They’ll go crazy. Become walking time bombs until they die.”

  “We’ll just have to kill as many as we can before that happens.”

  “That’s quite a load for just the two of us.”

  Derek leaned back. “It can wait a few days until I’m well enough to help. Tonight, you just need to find Lana.” He stuck out a hand toward the man behind her. “Mac’s volunteered to assist you on that front.”

  Crystal peered over her shoulder, caught Mac hanging on to every exchange. “You mean he’s volunteered to babysit.”

  “Happens to be my specialty,” Mac retorted, keeping the scowl.

  “You gonna read me bedtime stories, too?”

  An image of it flashed through her mind, bringing a smile to her face. Instead of rising to the bait, Mac looked away with a tilt of disgust to his mouth.

  A decision was made. As long as they were within arm’s reach, Crystal would continue to sling bait until Mac Truck became her big softy.

  “Since we’re on the same side,” Derek continued, commanding her attention, “you can tell me if there was anything useful on your laptop.”

  “You mean the one you broke during your escape last night? Nothing was on it except my highest Minesweeper score.” His look called her a liar. She gave a helpless shrug. “They knew I had it. Watched my every move. You wasted your time trying to smuggle it out of there before the explosives went off.”

  “You’re already breaking rule number two, Crystal.”

  Her answer came without blinking. “I’m telling the truth.”

  Derek folded his arms over the table and fixed her with some kind of voodoo truth stare. Crystal suppressed a shudder. “My father used to look at me that way. Stop it.”

  “I think your sister used the equipment I saw in your room to get Sophie’s ID and password.”

  Her sound of disgust came as she pushed her empty plate away. “Rena wouldn’t have been able to get those things without my help. Two years in the slammer put her way behind. But I didn’t do it on anything that can be linked to me, so just forget about the laptop and equipment. It’s a dead end.”

  Crystal could see his wheels turning, knew he didn’t want to let it go that easily.

  With a sigh of acceptance, Derek slowly folded her hands in his own. “I want our partnership to work,” he said thickly. “Our end goals are the same: to survive this death sentence that was forced on us both. To grow old with our families.”

  Crystal looked at their hands, knew his gesture was more of a threat than one of camaraderie. It compacted the feeling of foreboding when she considered the fact she had no family left. Sophie had seen to that.

  “I think you are extremely misguided where Rena’s concerned.” Her eyes locked with his. “But I’ll try to help you get your life back.”

  He must have sensed her sincerity because his hands gave hers a squeeze. “Yours, too, Crystal. It is possible. The only reason you were brought to IGP was to ensure Rena’s cooperation. You may think she abandoned you, but I don’t. And, whether you believe it or not, your sister holds the key to our future. When she comes through for us… you’ll finally get to go home.”

  But there was no home. Before the tears could come, she pulled her hands away and stood. So did Mac. “Your faith in Rena is admirable,” she said, “but if I had money to bet, I’d put it all on Ty.”

  When Derek scoffed, Crystal reminded with a stern finger, “Without him you’d be dead, Bennett. No matter what you think, he’s always had our best interests at heart. He’s the one thinking straight. He’s got the sample everyone is after, and if Rena comes through for us, it’ll only be because Ty comes through first. Again.”

  A look of suspicion crossed Derek’s handsome features. “He’s got quite a fan in you.”

  Damn straight. Ty Ferguson was a saint in her book, undeserving of the label he’d been branded by these people. She knew he wasn’t a traitor, and it had nothing to do with his good looks, or the fact he was a fireman and in the business of saving lives. He’d just become another of Rena’s casualties, and in that, Crystal could fully relate.

  “You gonna tell me what happened between the three of you yesterday?” Derek asked without expression.

  It was something she wasn’t willing to discuss yet. Maybe never. “I thought I had a job to do.”

  After a moment, he nodded. “When you get back. We’ll talk.”

  Mac stood guard by the bathroom and caught Crystal’s reflection in the mirror. Face devoid of black streaky makeup, her pert little nose came into focus, along with full, sculpted lips. Her cheeks firmed when she smiled, completing a look that closely resembled the fairies in his kids’ favorite storybook.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Truck?” Her bright eyes, which contrasted heavily with the dark brown of her hair, were alight with mischief as she wrung the water from her washcloth. “Still trying to figure me out?”

  Mac grunted in response.

  “Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” In one fluid motion, she ripped the black hoodie up and over her head, dropped it to the wood floor by her feet. “Better?”

  She expected him to look away. The white glow of full breasts loomed in his peripheral vision, but by some miracle he managed to hold her gaze. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, removed his cell phone.

  Eyes. Look into her eyes. Damn, they’re… symmetrical.

  Eyes, dammit!

  “Mac?”

  Mel’s voice hit him like smelling salts through the phone. “Crystal needs to borrow some clothes.”

  “Danny has some in her bedroom.”

  His eyes moved down briefly, long enough for those rose-tipped beauties to permanently etch into his brain. “A little more room is required in the, ah… the bosom area.”<
br />
  A moment of silence before Melanie laughed in his ear. Mac exhaled loudly. “Just hurry, Mel. Modesty isn’t exactly her thing.”

  Moments later, Crystal held the T-shirt Melanie brought way out by the shoulders. “Let me guess. This is a cover off some car in the driveway.”

  Melanie shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “It’s Austin’s shirt. Best I could do on short notice.” Then she looked at Mac with a cocked brow. “Your hands will be full for a while.”

  The words conjured an image of his hands full… with Crystal’s alarmingly beautiful breasts. He pinched the bridge of his nose to clear it away. “If you’re worried about the daycare, Gretchen can open for us in the morning.”

  “By herself?” Melanie said doubtfully.

  It was an uncomfortable thought. Even Mac didn’t want to take care of fourteen kids on his own. “She can bring in subs to help out until this is over.”

  “Help for what?” Crystal asked by the mirror.

  Melanie pulled him into the laundry room and spoke low. “Mac… I think we should close it for the week. We’re both tied to IGP right now and we can’t let it touch our kids.”

  “And leave the parents in the lurch like that?”

  “It’s better than putting their children at risk,” she argued.

  Mac leaned close and whispered, “IGP doesn’t know shit about me. This thing with Crystal will be wrapped up by tomorrow and I can be back to work on Tuesday. I’ll hold things together until you figure out where you’re going from here.”

  It was the first time he expressed frustration over the sudden changes taking place in their lives.

  Her look softened. “I know how much the daycare means to you,” she whispered just as quietly. “And how much DJ means to you. You’ll still be Uncle Mac, no matter where we end up.”

  Not according to the eyes of Bennett. “You sure about that?” he countered knowing Derek would see it differently.

  “We all have to make acceptances,” she assured with a small smile. “Even Derek.”

  And Mac believed her. Feeling somewhat better, he gathered her in a bear hug. “Give me until Tuesday. Okay?”