The Chase

by Jesse J. Thoma

  “Moose started to drift away from the group. Jose, George, and I were still tight though. George was the only one who really understood why Moose wasn’t around too much. I don’t know for sure, but I think George was mixed up with some of the crowd that supplied Moose’s habit. We were young and he wanted so badly to be cool and tough. One of the dopes he hung out with convinced him to get a gun for protection, and to make him look like hot shit.”

  Isabelle rolled onto her back and pulled Holt into her arms, her heart hurting in response to Holt’s trembling voice. It felt good to hold all that raw emotion and power and know it was where Holt wanted to be.

  “I was boxing then, mostly just to piss off my mom, so I wasn’t as involved in George’s day-to-day shit. Jose hung with me at the gym. Neither one of us knew the mess George had himself in. I still don’t have a fucking clue what the whole story is, but he slept with the wrong girl, or threatened the wrong dude, or just mouthed off at the wrong time. I don’t know. We were walking home from the gym one day because he decided he should learn to fight, so I was teaching him, and he had that fucking gun tucked in the front of his pants. We both felt like that made us invincible. No one would mess with us if he was carrying. No one except the guy George had pissed off. He walked up, pulled the gun from George’s pants, shot him in the head, pointed it at me, laughed, and walked away. It’s like he wanted me to know how dumb I was for thinking that a gun made me safe.”

  “Oh my God,” Isabelle said, pulling Holt into a crushing hug. “You were a kid. No wonder you don’t carry a gun for work. How do you get over something like that?”

  “You don’t. I still see his face as he got shot sometimes. I held him in my arms for the few minutes it took him to die,” Holt said, almost whispering. “Moose heard and really freaked out. He started using more and more. I tried to talk to him, but he was like a different person. It was just me and Jose for a while, and then Lola came along.”

  “How does she fit in the picture? Girlfriend?”

  “No, she’s George’s baby sister.”

  “She didn’t blame you did she?” Isabelle was beginning to see why Holt was so maniacal about protecting her and catching her tormenter. It must tear Holt apart when she can’t right a cosmic wrong. Isabelle wondered if constantly chasing those who deserved it was a way for Holt to work off her guilt at not saving her friend. Isabelle wasn’t sure she would have survived a trauma like that. Her childhood had marked her in ways she was still discovering, but everyone had come out alive.

  “No, I don’t think she ever thought I could have done anything different. We just felt like we owed each other something. I don’t know when that debt will be paid on either side. I was glad to have her around though, because about a year later, shit got really hairy.” Holt sighed heavily and shifted in Isabelle’s arms before continuing. “I didn’t know at the time, but the cops had a video of George getting shot. The guy who did the deed was a big time drug dealer with ties to a major cartel. He was on the FBI’s ten most wanted list. When the feds got a lead on him, they came knocking at my door asking me to testify against him.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eighteen. Jose was seventeen and Lola was sixteen.” Holt shook her head like she couldn’t believe she was ever that young. “I said I would. I felt like I owed it to George. The next day, the US Marshalls showed up at my door and said if I was testifying, the only way to stay alive was witness protection, for me and my family.”

  “That’s what? New life, new name, no contact with your old friends?” Isabelle couldn’t imagine giving up everything she had ever known.

  “Yeah, you can’t even keep pictures or mementos of your old life. Anything that could tie you to your old life has to be left behind. I was on my way to a Golden Gloves championship at that point. I didn’t want to give up my boxing career. I would have, though, except my parents flatly refused to join the program. They said it would have been too much of a sacrifice to give up their charity work, their foundation, their friends, their connections, all because their daughter happened to see a drug dealer kill another lowlife.”

  “They actually said that? Your parents refused to let you join witness protection because it interfered with their social calendar? And they called your friend a lowlife?” Isabelle was beyond outraged. She sat up so quickly she unceremoniously dumped Holt off her chest and onto the bed.

  “Hey,” Holt complained, “bring back my pillows.”

  “Sorry,” Isabelle said, resuming her reclined position but retaining her rage.

  “They couldn’t forbid me to do it. I was eighteen. I could have gone if I wanted. But I didn’t want to give up boxing, and if I wasn’t safe, Jose and Lola probably weren’t either. The US Marshalls weren’t going to offer protection to them, but if anyone had been watching me the year prior, they knew who I was spending all my time with. I made the stupid decision to forgo the protection and testify, identity intact. I moved out of my parents’ house. For a while, I was bouncing around between friends’ houses, the boxing gym, and other less pleasant locations. Just my luck the guy who killed George escaped the FBI’s custody. He had been implicated in lots of shit before, but nothing ever stuck. That’s why the FBI was so excited about me. I was an extraordinary eyewitness. Three guesses where it was rumored Mr. Murderer was headed once the feds lost him.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” Isabelle said, kissing Holt before letting her continue.

  “When I heard the trouble I was in, I moved full-time to the streets. I didn’t want to risk any of my friends’ safety. Jose still hasn’t forgiven me for going it alone, but I sidelined him. He’s not a fighter, and for a while, I was better on my own. Eventually, though, I needed help. That’s when I looked up Moose. We had lost touch because of the drugs, the trial.”

  “Do I even want to know where you were living?” Isabelle asked. Holt shook her head and Isabelle left it alone.

  “Moose was rotting in jail when I finally found him. He described to you the torture I put him through. I was too young to know better. I needed him and I needed him clean. I don’t know why, but it worked. He never touched smack again. We both know how extremely rare his story is. That’s just not how recovery is usually done, but that time together is the bond that keeps us tighter than family now.”

  “The two of you tracked down one of the FBI’s most wanted? By yourselves, at eighteen?” Isabelle wasn’t sure why she was so shocked. She hadn’t observed anything to suggest Holt wasn’t up to such a preposterous task, but it seemed shocking all the same.

  “Took us six months, but we found him.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the ground,” Holt said grimly. “The second meeting, he had the gun and the overconfidence, and I had my wits. He chased me blindly through an abandoned mill building and was too busy lining up his shot to notice the stairs were broken. He fell six stories.” Holt sighed. “Moose and I were famous for a little while, and we started the business. We’ve been tracking people ever since. Lola joined as soon as she was eighteen.”

  “I don’t know how you’re still emotionally in one piece,” Isabelle said. She had always suspected Holt’s backstory was complicated, but she couldn’t have guessed this kind of horror.

  “It’s funny, but until I met you, I would have said I was doing just fine, thank you,” Holt said. “Now I wonder how true that is. I suppose that’s not a pain you get over quickly, and I realize I would do anything to protect you. I wonder what that means about me sometimes.”

  “It means you’re wonderful and about the most principled, dedicated person I have ever met. But don’t worry. If you step over the line, I’ll bring you back,” Isabelle said, feeling like it was the least she could do.

  *

  “Diamond’s freaking out, Decker. I’m not sure how useful he’s going to be for a little while,” Gary said, not making eye contact with him. “Our two weeks are almost here. What do you want me to do with the supply?”r />
  Decker was having trouble deciding how to react to the latest development in the mess that his prize operation had dissolved into. Parker Caldwell was dead, an unfortunate necessity since the man had outlived his usefulness and become a headache, but Diamond had been sloppy, and the bounty hunter had recognized him. If Decker could keep his link to the heroin addict hidden, the supply was fairly protected.

  “Proceed on schedule. Don’t let Diamond anywhere near the supply in case Lasher is watching him. You stay away from him too. I don’t want his name linked to mine.”

  “I’m a little worried this is going to set him off. He’s been on the edge of relapsing for weeks. He’s got a big mouth when he’s using.”

  “Well, make sure he stays quiet then. Get him in rehab and remind him of the consequences of being too talkative.” Decker didn’t like to inflict pain personally, but the power of being able to order it done intoxicated him. “I’m going out of town for a few days. You’ll have to get by without me.”

  “Business or pleasure?” Holt asked from the doorway, looking too relaxed for Decker’s liking.

  Decker was disgusted to see Gary flinch. For the hundredth time this week, he reminded himself of the pitfalls of working with idiots.

  “Holt Lasher, what a pleasure,” Decker said, taking in the foe filling his doorway.

  “I’m sure,” Holt said, her face neutral, but her eyes burning with rage. “I don’t think we have ever been introduced.”

  “What do you want?” Gary asked rudely.

  Decker inwardly cringed and wished there was a way to dump Gary through a hole in the floor, although he wasn’t happy to see Holt Lasher either. There was a semi-automatic pistol in his top right desk drawer. He took a moment to imagine what it would feel like to pull the trigger and the thrill he would get seeing the bullet slice through Holt’s body. He wondered if he could hit her between the eyes. But he was trying to lessen his complications, not increase them. Having to hide a body, install new carpet, and find a therapist for Gary would be a headache. His moment of fun wasn’t worth it.

  “Please forgive my colleague for his rudeness. This is my accountant, Gary. He’s a numbers man, if you follow my meaning. Usually, I only allow him to talk to himself. I’ve heard of your reputation as a bounty hunter, Lasher, but you’re right; we’ve never formally met. I think we would get along well, however. We have a lot in common.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Holt said, “Where are you escaping to?”

  If Holt’s question had a hidden accusation, Decker couldn’t detect it in her voice, which was calm, almost lazy, and because Gary’s rudeness had backed him into a corner, he had to answer. She wasn’t accusing them of anything and so far had been pleasant. If he followed Gary’s lead and was rude, it would give her more reason to be suspicious and poke around. In all honesty, it didn’t seem like the woman needed much of a reason to be nosy.

  “Colorado. A friend is loaning me their house for the week.”

  “Abandoned his ski house for the summer, huh? Such a shame. It’s beautiful in the mountains this time of year.”

  “A common misperception,” Decker said, not sure what Holt was getting at. “Not all of Colorado is mountainous.”

  Holt was looking around Decker’s office and seemed to be paying particular attention to Gary. She was physically intimidating, but her expression, piercing yet devoid of any specific emotion, was obviously making Gary twitchy. She looked like a very large dog locked on to an unsuspecting squirrel. Given the way Gary had conducted himself over the last six months, Decker was uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

  “May I help you with something?” Decker asked. “I was just finishing up a few business matters with Gary before heading home to pack.”

  Holt looked Decker in the eye, her gaze unflinching and aggressive. She stepped forward a foot, using her powerful frame to fill Decker’s line of sight. On a lesser man, the intimidation probably would have worked. Gary would be scared dead by now, but Decker was powerful himself, although not nearly as physically endowed. He didn’t appreciate being bullied in his office and stepped forward.

  They were only a few inches apart in height, and were no less than a yard from each other. Decker matched Holt’s stare and was impressed that she seemed amused by the fact he stood his ground instead of being cowed.

  “I was in the neighborhood. I came to offer my condolences on the death of Parker Caldwell. I hear you were friends.”

  “Casual acquaintances. We traveled in the same social circle,” Decker said, “I heard about his death this morning on the news. Terrible tragedy.”

  “Casual acquaintance? That wasn’t how he told it. He raved about your close personal and business relationship. He would be so hurt to hear you say you shared little more than crudités.”

  Decker wasn’t sure how well he managed to hide his surprise. He glanced at Gary, who was standing with his mouth open in shock. When he looked back to Holt, she was gone. She had left as quietly and suddenly as she had appeared.

  “Fuck.”

  *

  “Okay,” Holt said, her mind clear and sharply focused. “I’m in a piss poor mood, and we have one too few bad guys in the can. Time to go hunting.”

  Holt’s employees were lined up, standing at attention in the main room of the bounty hunting office. Holt hadn’t asked them to drop everything and focus on catching Isabelle’s tormentor, but here they all were. Moose stood perpendicular to the line, looking like a drill sergeant observing his recruits. Max was the first in line, closest to Moose, a position usually taken by the highest ranking of Holt’s employees.

  “Where’s Isabelle?” Jose asked. He didn’t need to be part of this show of support, since he worked outside the office, but the fact that he was there meant a lot to Holt. He was slightly out of line, and no marine would have admired his posture, but the look in his eyes was all Holt cared about.

  “She’s in my office. She’s working from here today. Probably the next few days.”

  “Let’s get this bastard, boss lady,” Moose said.

  “We all take exception to you getting shot at,” Max said.

  “I’m not a huge fan myself,” Holt said. “I’m sure Lola wasn’t thrilled with the experience either. And I won’t stand for Isabelle to continue being tormented.”

  “We all like Isabelle,” Jose said, finally looking around and seeing how the rest of the group was standing and correcting his own stance and posture.

  “Okay, then let’s get to work,” Holt said, “Before he died, Caldwell told me to ‘follow his votes.’ I’m guessing that means his work as a representative. I want to know his stance on every issue.”

  “On it, boss,” two employees said, peeling out of line and jogging to their computers.

  “I also want deep background on Decker Pence. I chatted with him this morning, and I think he’s a first-rate asshole. He’s vacationing in Colorado this week. Max, I want to know everything, right down to what kind of underwear he likes. I’m sure he’s the lynchpin here. Everyone else, pick up the extra cases. Business runs as usual.”

  With her employees dutifully carrying out her orders, Holt found herself with little to do. She wanted to stand over Max’s shoulder and hurry her along in her computer search, but she had been told many times that wasn’t actually helpful.

  Instead of hovering, or losing her temper at the slow pace, something she was finding easier and easier to do, she opened the door to her office, stepped inside, and the world was new again. Isabelle was resting her head on one hand, her hair less than perfectly styled and her shoulders hunched with stress. Holt had never seen anyone so beautiful.

  “Can I do anything?” Holt asked, wrapping her arms around Isabelle’s shoulders, engulfing her in a protective hug from behind.

  “Catch the person doing this to us?” Isabelle said.

  Even though Holt wasn’t directly under attack, Isabelle knew the toll this ordeal was taking on her. While someone was trying
to destroy Isabelle, Holt was working hard to prevent it. This was affecting both of them. On top of that, there could be no true “us” until the mess was sorted out. Isabelle refused to build a relationship as a damsel in distress. She was leaning more and more toward at least giving “us” a shot, but her thinking was so ass-backward right now, she didn’t know. Not having Holt in her life was unacceptable at this point. Holt had given too much of herself on Isabelle’s behalf, and on top of that, she was funny, kind, and really nice to look at. It seemed weird to suggest they should just be friends after they had been in two shoot-outs, been stalked and chased, and had slept together. Some couples never face the amount of adversity she and Holt had already dealt with together. On the other hand, she felt like she was living in constant fight-or-flight mode, which didn’t feel like the way to make long-term life decisions, just the way to stay alive.

  “What are we doing?” Isabelle asked. She could tell by the way Holt twitched that the question had caught her off guard.

  “Can I have a little context? Do you mean right now? This weekend? The rest of our lives?”

  “I don’t know what I mean. This is really messing me up, Holt.” Isabelle stood and flung herself into Holt’s arms.

  She didn’t know what she wanted, or what she was feeling, but she did know Holt felt safe. Her usual rock solid self-control abandoned her, and no matter how much she tried to keep the tears away, they streamed down her face.

  Holt kissed her wet cheek and used her thumb to wipe away some of Isabelle’s tears.

  “Right now,” she said, “we are standing in my office, crying and hugging, and you are looking achingly beautiful.”

  A tiny sliver of Holt’s words broke through the fear, and Isabelle’s heart fluttered briefly.

  “This weekend, I have no plans, but in two weeks, I would like to take you to a fundraising benefit. As for the rest? The present feels almost too complicated to fathom right now, so why muddy it up with long-term plans?”