Running With the Devil

by Lorelei James

  Kenna’s hand shook. “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Open the damn door. And don’t try to run once we get inside because I will shoot you.”

  The metal hinges creaked when Kenna jerked on the handle. The stale odor of animal urine rushed out and she gagged.

  “Inside.”

  Marissa pushed her and slammed the door shut. Prodding her with the gun, they walked through a labyrinth of muddy hallways. There were doors everywhere. Even if Kenna unearthed her courage and tried to escape, she’d waste precious time trying to find a way out of the building.

  Cold fear slammed into her.

  At the end of a corridor, they entered a cavernous room two stories high. It stank of manure and feed and motor oil. Despite the darkness, Kenna looked around for a place to hide. Rows of individual stalls lined the wall opposite the garage door. A variety of hooks and rusted-out pulleys dangled from the ceiling above each stall, an area she remembered from her ranch days that was used for surgery for large animals. Built-in plywood shelves were stacked from the concrete floor to a raised platform nestled in the far corner.

  Unfortunately, the only windows were on the top level above the loft. No one could see in. She couldn’t see out.

  Two straight-backed, paint-chipped chairs had been placed in the center of the room. Marissa kicked aside a burlap bag and pointed with the gun to the chair on the left. “Sit.”

  Kenna sat.

  From the bag, Marissa pulled out a roll of duct tape. She placed it on Kenna’s knee. “Wrap that tape around your calf and the chair leg. Right one first.”

  “You’re making me tie myself up?”

  Marissa grinned evilly. “Yeah. And if you make a break for it, I’ll shoot you in the thigh first, then work my way up.”

  Once Kenna finished, she straightened until her spine connected with the back of the chair.

  “Clasp your hands behind your back.”

  She did as instructed, holding her breath as Marissa stalked closer. Some strangely brave section of her brain knew Marissa had to put the gun down in order to tie her hands and it insanely insisted she grab the opportunity to escape. But fear overrode the erratic impulse. She remained absolutely still while Marissa wound duct tape around her wrists.

  Marissa stepped in front of her again, gun in one hand, cell phone in the other. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re going to convince Tito Cortez that you couldn’t wait until tonight to see him. Naturally he’ll get suspicious, then you’ll tearfully admit you’ve been ditched by your lover and beg him to hop on his bike to pick you up. Men get off on that coming to the rescue shit.” Her cold brown eyes narrowed. “The bike part is important because I want him alone. I don’t want any of his gang buddies or bodyguards tagging along.”

  “And if I can’t convince him?”

  “You will if you want to live.”

  Bile rose in her throat. “What happens then?”

  “Then I show up at the meeting in your place and bring him back here.” Marissa punched in a number. “Hope your acting skills are good because your life depends on it.” She held the receiver to Kenna’s ear and the gun at the back of her head.

  The barrel was cold in comparison to the sweat pouring down her neck.

  “Remember, I can hear every word. I’ve waited too damn long for this. You tip him off, you die.”

  With that threat hanging over her head, Kenna had no problem persuading Tito to her meet early.

  As Marissa clipped the phone back on her belt, Kenna found the courage she’d been lacking.

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “Wrong. We were never friends.”

  “So you decided to kidnap me and tie me up to prove it?”

  “No. You’ve been nothing more than bait. Tito is so predictable. He’s such a sucker for a blonde with big tits.”

  “Bait?”

  “For someone who’s supposedly so smart, you sure are dumb, Kenna.” She said the name sarcastically. “Last year Jerry and I planned to intercept a huge shipment from Jerry’s boss. He needed an alibi. You were it. Ten grand was a small price to pay when our haul was over two million. His boss blamed it on another group. We got away free.” Marissa laughed again.

  “Only you, Kaye, are so gullible to believe gorgeous girls squire around lonely men all in innocent fun. Do you have any idea what really goes on at escort services?” She paused. “Those women are whores, bought and paid for just like the ones working the corners. The only difference is they don’t have to fuck their customers in a filthy alley.”

  Kenna had suspected. But she’d been so grateful to have the cash for tuition she’d rather stupidly decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Cheer up. You’re not the only gullible one. That smug bastard Tito doesn’t know that I figured out he and Jerry double-crossed me. But he will. Soon.”

  Kenna cringed when Marissa stepped forward, a malicious gleam in her eye.

  Pain exploded in her head and everything went dark.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A door slammed, nudging Kenna back to reality.

  Marissa pushed Tito Cortez into view through the dimly lit doorway. She held the gun to his temple and walked sideways beside him. With his ankles wrapped in duct tape, he shuffled across the floor like a crippled old man. He stumbled; Marissa righted his balance by yanking on the handcuffs behind his back. She shoved him in the chair, secured him with more tape, then punched him in the face.

  Kenna heard the sickening crack of bone breaking.

  The strip of silver tape muffled Tito’s immediate cry of pain. Blood began to pour out his nose and Kenna found she couldn’t look away from the horror, knowing Marissa would do that, or something worse, to her.

  “Now that we’re all here, let’s get the party started.” She reached over and ripped the tape from Tito’s mouth.

  “You fucking crazy bitch, I’ll kill you for this!”

  “You’re not exactly in the position to be calling me names, Cortez.” She smirked. “What happened to the big badass gang member everybody is afraid of, hmmm?”

  He spit blood on the floor. “You’d never have gotten the drop on me, cunt, if you hadn’t used your pussy stun gun on me first.”

  Marissa rolled her eyes at Kenna. “Men have such a problem being outsmarted by a woman, don’t you think?”

  Kenna didn’t dare nod.

  “You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are,” he sneered.

  “I’m not the one bleeding and trussed up like a pig for slaughter.” Marissa spun and disappeared into the shadows only to return with another chair. She flipped it around, straddled it and rested her forearm on the back. The gun was pointed at Tito’s groin. “Now. When did you and Jerry Travis decide to double-cross me and take over Diablo?”

  Kenna jerked in her seat. God. Marissa was involved with Diablo?

  Tito didn’t say a word.

  “I knew Jerry had a partner. I was just surprised it was you.” She angled her head and studied him.

  Something resembling a snort sounded from Tito’s broken nose.

  Marissa rose slowly to stand in front of him. Whacked him in the side of the head with the gun grip with enough force his head snapped back. Once Tito had quit swearing at her, she calmly said, “I’m asking again. What did Jerry tell the DEA about Diablo?”

  “Why didn’t you ask Jerry?”

  “I did. He wouldn’t tell me so I killed him. I tortured him first, though. Some partner. He rolled on you right away.”

  Although the woman in front of her looked like Marissa and talked like her, there wasn’t a trace of the woman Kenna had known and it scared her to the bone. She knew she was going to die.

  Tito glared at Kenna as if noticing her for the first time. “Why is she here?”

  “Bait. Knew I couldn’t get you alone unless I dangled a whore in front of you.”

  “I am not a whore,” Kenna said.

  Mar
issa stared at her and laughed. “You took money from a man for the pleasure of your company. Doesn’t matter if you spread your legs for him or not.” She sauntered over to Kenna, her free hand smoothed over her scalp. “Sorry, if the truth upsets you, amiga.”

  “Get your hands off me.”

  Marissa cuffed her with the gun barrel.

  Her vision wavered. She wanted to throw up from the pain.

  Tito laughed. “You are one cold bitch, Cruz.”

  Marissa’s brown eyes were as flat and emotionless as her tone. “You got that right.”

  “Maybe we can strike a deal after all.”

  “Too late,” she snapped. “Diablo is mine. I proved I have the cajones to run with the big boys. Took me two years of living in this little shit-hole town to get it organized.” She began to pace. “Jerry told me everything I needed, including his boss’s transportation schedule from Miami. And after some persuasion, he gave me all the details on the distribution network across the Midwest. Technically I don’t need you. But I do want to know how much the DEA knows about my plans.”

  Tito actually looked scared for the first time.

  Kenna dry heaved. The violent, unrelenting stranger she’d considered a friend would kill them both without remorse.

  Marissa thumbed the safety. “Last chance, Cortez.”

  His mouth twisted in a grotesque sneer. “You ain’t gonna shoot me. The last thing you want is the wrath of the Compadres on your foolish head. You’re bluffing, puta.”

  The gunshot was deafening. Almost as deafening as Tito’s answering scream.

  When the smoke cleared, Kenna saw blood pouring down his right arm and over the spider tattoo.

  Marissa said, “I never bluff.”

  *

  Geo had finally pinpointed Kenna’s location. Drake raced off on the motorcycle, armed, angry, and wondering what the hell she was doing more than two miles out of town. Traffic leading out of Sturgis on this deserted service road wasn’t bad. Still, by the time he’d hit the open road, he’d reached the boiling point.

  Following the coordinates on the portable GPS, he sped past the abandoned veterinary building. A mile up the road he stopped, called Geo and double-checked the coordinates. The signal from the tracker on Kenna’s purse hadn’t moved. He’d been in the right place after all.

  Hot, dry winds whipped powdery patches of dirt along the highway into red dust devils. The strength of the gusts nearly blew the motorcycle off the road. When Drake reached the vast parking lot surrounding the veterinary building, he powered down the bike and rolled it into a shallow drainage ditch. Probably overly cautious, but he had no way of knowing what was going on inside and wasn’t about to broadcast his presence.

  He loaded the clip in his Glock, shoved the extra clip inside his vest and turned his cell phone to vibrate. He moved toward the Ford Taurus parked behind the building.

  At least the gale force of the wind masked the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his boots. He hunkered down in the shadow of the car, raising his head up only far enough to peek inside the driver’s side window. Nothing out of the ordinary besides the rental sticker. He shuffled to the rear door and looked in the backseat.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  Kenna’s duffle bag and purse were on the floorboards. Had she sent her belongings with someone else, hoping to throw him off? No. Kenna had no idea Bobby had placed a tracker on her purse. And chances were slim she’d been mugged and the assailant had taken off with her stuff.

  So where the hell was she? Why had she chosen to hide out in this spot? He scanned the secluded area and it hit him: No one in his or her right mind would willingly choose to come here.

  Someone had forced her here.

  Who?

  Fear took root, spurring him into action. Using the shadows cast by the waning sunlight, he circled the building and counted five entrances. Main one in the front. Two garage doors in the back. One emergency exit on each side of the structure. All locked, all obvious. The last one had potential. It wasn’t a metal door, but a wooden one that connected the outdoor animal chutes with the inside and probably ended up as a direct link to the stalls.

  But he had to see the interior layout to make sure. A bank of dirty windows was nestled beneath the roofline. If he could just get up there and look inside… His eyes narrowed on the six-inch pipe running up the side of the building. Encased in metal latticework, it had a wide enough base he could climb. It’d be a stretch to get close to the window. With no other option and running out of time, Drake jammed his gun in the holster and quietly started his ascent.

  Sweat poured in his eyes. The muscles in his back protested but he finally reached the top.

  Don’t look down.

  He took a minute to catch his breath, securing his footing on a bracket. Holding on to the pipe with one hand, he leaned out as far as he could and gripped the thin metal strip of the window frame. Even with his face pressed against the filthy glass the interior was so dark he couldn’t see anything.

  Drake cupped his hand to block the sunlight and waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust. He made out a platform directly below the windows, beyond that stood the hulking forms of the cargo doors.

  His gaze traveled down the steel door tracks until it reached the concrete floor and the main body of the room. He squinted until the three figures in the center came into focus. Two sat on chairs, one paced between them. The person standing was definitely a woman, but she wasn’t Kenna. Long, lean body, long dark hair.

  Was it her roommate, Shawnee?

  He watched closely.

  When she flicked the long wavy hair over her shoulder, he recognized the twitchy gesture.

  Marissa Cruz.

  Everything inside him froze. He knew one of the occupants of those chairs had to be Kenna. But which one? He couldn’t see because Marissa blocked his view. Nothing blocked his view of the gun in her hand absorbing the kickback as she fired.

  Oh Jesus. Oh God. Not Kenna.

  Drake flinched and lost his balance. The bracket beneath his foot gave way and plummeted to the concrete, landing with a loud ping. Flailing his arm, he swung away from the window in a last-ditch attempt to restore his stability.

  Shit. Now he dangled by one hand more than two stories above the ground.

  Don’t look down.

  He gritted his teeth against the excruciating pain of his arm trying to separate from his shoulder socket and lunged for the pipe with his free hand. His fingers connected with the metal, as did his forehead.

  Stars exploded inside his head. Cymbals crashed in his ears. Still he hung on. Without waiting for his vision to return, he shinnied down the pipe.

  As he hit the ground running, he reached for his cell phone and hit redial. “Geo! Shots were fired inside the building at the coordinates. Request back up immediately. Have them send everything they’ve got, but goddamn it, make sure they don’t come in sirens blaring. There are hostages in there.” He swore and snarled, “No, I’m not waiting. I’m going in.”

  Drake traded the cell phone for his gun. He picked up a broken metal bar and raced to the front entrance. To create a diversion, he beat on the door several times and then backtracked to the rear of the building. Marissa wouldn’t ignore the interruption. Hopefully it’d give him enough time to get inside.

  Using the sharp flat side of the metal bar, he pried the wooden door until the frame splintered and the rusty hinges shrieked. Too late to worry about giving away his location.

  The pungent smell of rotting hay and animal shit permeated the dank space. He crept to the side of the stall and moved toward the release gate. It’d been left open. He craned his neck until he could see the people in the middle of the room.

  The breath left his lungs in a whoosh.

  Kenna was bound to one chair, Tito Cortez to the other. Although blood pooled beneath Tito’s chair, revealing he was the one who’d been shot, Kenna’s face had seen the business end of a pistol. More than
once.

  Dark fury seized him.

  Where was that bitch Marissa?

  She stalked toward Kenna and grabbed her by the hair. She held a knife at Kenna’s throat. “I know someone is in here. Come out right now or I swear I’ll kill them both. Her first.”

  Drake gauged his chances of taking Marissa out. Not good with his arm still shaking from his unexpected gymnastics session.

  Shit. “How do I know that as soon as I show myself you won’t kill them anyway?” he shouted.

  “You don’t. Show yourself.”

  He stood and walked out of the stall slowly, keeping his gun above his head. He couldn’t look at Kenna or he’d go berserk.

  Marissa smirked. “Mr. Mayhaven. Put the piece down.” He did. “Now strip.” When Drake balked, she dug the knife deeper into Kenna’s throat. “Do it or she dies. It’s the only way I can be certain you aren’t hiding any surprises.”

  In angry jerky movements, Drake removed his clothes. When he wore nothing but black boxers, she said, “Enough. Stay right there. Now, tell me. How did you get here?”

  Drake’s eyes flicked to Cortez. “I’ve been shadowing him.”

  “Why?”

  This was the part where he’d get tripped up if he was wrong. “Jerry told me everything. And when he wound up dead, I figured it was a Compadres hit, so Cortez could take over.”

  “Well, you figured wrong. I took Travis out.”

  Holy shit. Who was this woman?

  “Tell me exactly how you ‘fell’ into this opportunity with Jerry.”

  “Jerry wanted me to use my connections with Vasquez to increase distribution lines, but I didn’t trust him because he wouldn’t tell me who his partners were in Diablo.”

  “Partners.” Marissa spit on the ground. “Diablo has always been a solo operation. My solo operation. Travis wouldn’t have told you anything, unless…”

  Tito’s head snapped up. “Fuck you, man. You’re DEA.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Drake neither confirmed nor denied. But he saw his years’ worth of undercover work blown wide open.