The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  Was just a matter of safety, was all.

  “Then, perhaps it's merely coincidence that, two weeks ago, my daughter went missing from her apartment in downtown. The same place you commissioned Fosters to perform a cleanup.”

  My blood turned cold. Like, ice cold. Clamp my fucking lungs and let me catch my breath cold. “You have a daughter?”

  “Yes, Mister Hawkins. I have a very smart and crafty daughter.”

  “And her name is Lucia.”

  “Lucia Novaková. Formerly Lucia Reznicková.” He puffed his cigar again, keeping his eyes on me. “Not many know of our connection. Those who do carry the burden of making sure it never becomes known, lest they suffer a most gruesome death.”

  “Does she know about you?”

  “She hasn’t seen me in thirteen years, but I’ve watched her.”

  “Yeah? So, you were there, hanging out in the fucking trees, when she was nearly raped in the woods back in middle school?”

  His jaw clenched, and he tipped his head. “You’ve known my daughter for quite some time, then?”

  “Yeah. And she never mentioned you.”

  “That is the unfortunate nature of who I am and what I do. But I’m telling you right now, if something happens to her, I’ll be coming after you.” He pushed to a stand and straightened his pants. “I’m not a man you want to fuck with, Mister Hawkins. I suggest you find out where she ran off to, and see to it that she remains safe.”

  “You think she’s safe with me?”

  “Of course. You don’t strike me as a foolish man. Don’t forget to deliver the package next week.” The package he’d given me back at the mansion. He tipped his head and exited the room. No more than a few seconds later, the door clicked after him.

  What the hell was so important about that package? I’d been tempted to crack a corner of it open a few times, but hadn't.

  More to the point, what the fuck was up with the woman? The girl from my childhood, who'd turned out to be the pain in the ass hounding after me and the daughter of the man who had the balls to threaten me.

  Shit just kept getting weirder. Next she’d be the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe and a cousin to Jimmy Hoffa.

  Whoever she was, I had to find her.

  First, though, I had to make things right.

  35

  Lucy

  Hands on my hips, I stood in the middle of my apartment. Everything seemed untouched, which was odd, considering the door had been unlocked the whole time. The desk they’d tipped over stood upright, papers stacked in neat piles. The lamp that’d been knocked and shattered was gone, no tiny broken pieces of ceramic left to get stuck in my heel, from what I could see.

  There wasn’t a trace of any more mess than there'd been the night Peepshow had broken into my apartment. In fact, I didn’t see a single speck of dust on the hardwood, which meant somebody had swept. Swept my fucking apartment. I didn’t even sweep my apartment.

  Who would’ve cleaned up? Jase?

  Ridiculous. I'd lived with the man for two weeks, and although he wasn’t what I’d classify a pig, by any means, he certainly didn’t go out of his way to don an apron and play Molly Maid.

  I’d expected to have to explain blood stains and broken furniture to Craig, and instead, it looked like I had gotten away for two weeks—which led me to wonder if I’d had one of those mental vacays like Arnold in Total Recall. It’d make sense. Jase was kind of my fantasy for a while, and if truth be told, I'd probably needed some excitement in my life.

  “Saving these for a rainy day?” Craig held one of my thongs between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Craig, I don’t rifle through your cock-ring drawer. Could you please not go through my underwear?”

  He dropped it, and the fabric fluttered to the dresser. “It was sitting out. You’re inviting scrutiny, when you leave shit like that out.”

  “Scrutiny? What, like girls who wear thongs are slutty, or something?” I set my hands on my hips. “Because I’ll have you know, I haven’t had sex in over a month.”

  A tranny in a prom dress couldn’t have had him whipping his head around as fast as he did. “Really? Seriously, what the hell have you been doing for the last two weeks?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t know even know what I’ve been doing the last three years.”

  He lifted the skull that sat on the nightstand between him and my bed. “What’s this?”

  “Hendrix.”

  Eyes sliding back to the skull, he asked, “What’s a Hendrix?”

  “I … talk to him sometimes, when I’m stressed.”

  “You talk to a skull?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I tipped my head. “So did Hamlet.”

  “And it’s a widely accepted fact that Hamlet was insane.”

  “And your point is?”

  He gave a brief shake of his head and set the skull back on the end table. “Nothing.”

  Slumping into the chair behind me, I stared off at my pathetic little space that I’d busted my ass over and still couldn’t afford. I’d have to find somewhere else to live and work, and start over again, but I could go back to being alone and working a tired job that never paid enough. Could pick right up where I’d left off in my directionless little bubble, floating over all the people who seemed to have their shit together. Hell, maybe I’d go high class the second time around, and work for a strip club in the suburbs.

  Except, I didn’t even know if those men were still following me, or if they’d given up, and I didn’t feel safe anywhere in the city, or with Craig. Each second that ticked by felt as if I was borrowing against my fate.

  What the hell was I doing with myself? “I think I need a do-over.”

  “Uh-oh. Do I detect a midlife crisis coming on?” Craig sat down beside me.

  “At twenty-three?”

  He shrugged and leaned into his elbows. “I guess it can happen. You’re mature for your age.”

  “Craig … do you fantasize about men or women more?”

  “Wow that conversation went Sybil in two seconds.” His eyes squinted as he seemed to contemplate the question. “I guess guys. I’m supposed to say that, though, right? I’m the non-threatening gentleman friend who didn’t just get all giddy to know you’ve not had sex in a month. By the way, are you going to ask me for sex?”

  I frowned. “Uh … no. I’m just trying to establish a baseline here. So, say there’s a dude that you think is really hot. Like, you’ve been fantasizing about him for a while.”

  “Like Liam Hemsworth?”

  “Liam? Not Chris? I mean Chris is all, you know, Thor.”

  “Yeah, but Liam’s good with a bow, and well, you know, if the world really does go to shit someday, I choose the hunter over the magic hammer.”

  “Right, so anyway, let’s say you found out that your fantasy guy is this … dark and dangerous type with really hot lips and a smokin’ hot body. And you spend a couple weeks with him, and it’s the most excitement you’ve had … well, in your entire life, really. I mean, crazy and sickening at times, but … I don’t know. Just … different.”

  “This is the guy you supposedly didn’t have sex with?”

  “I didn’t. And we’re just talking hypotheticals here. What would you do?” My hand swept over the apartment. “Go back to this? Or go back to him?”

  He scratched his chin, and his lip kicked to the side as he huffed a breath through his nose. “Well, if we were talking Liam, I probably wouldn’t have left him. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  I puffed my cheeks and blew an exasperated breath. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

  “Life’s short. Do crazy shit.”

  I smiled at that. “I’m so having that printed on a T-shirt.”

  He patted my thigh. “You want to grab some grub? It’s going on five.”

  “Yeah, just give me a few minutes to pack some stuff, okay?”

  With a nod, he stood up from the couch. “I’ll help you pac
k some underwear.”

  * * *

  Pulling the duffle bag over my shoulder, I met Craig in the living room, where he stood petting Hendrix.

  “You taking this?” he asked.

  With a smile, I shook my head and set the skull on the end table. “I don’t need you making fun of me and my sentiment.”

  “Well, then, posthaste, woman! I’m starving, and the lunch specials only go until five.”

  “Oh, my God, you sound like my mother before she died.” I froze in place, realizing I’d forgotten the picture of my mother tucked in the drawer beside my bed. “One more thing.”

  At his groan, I waved him on. “Go. I need a minute, anyway. I’ll meet you down in the car.”

  Dragging his feet, he made his way to the door and slipped into the hallway. At the click of the door, I padded back toward my bedroom. From the drawer, I nabbed a picture of my mom and me, from when I graduated high school. It was my favorite picture of her—her eyes were so bright then, in spite of having lost Paul. Perhaps a moment when her pride overshadowed her pain.

  I'd never hated my mom. How could I? She’d never once abandoned me—not even when things got really bad for us. Probably better that she wasn’t alive to see what a disappointment I’d become.

  I tucked the picture into my bag and grabbed an older photo of Milena and me, from when I was about thirteen years old. Lena had just turned sixteen in the picture. From what I’d gathered, her father and my biological father had been good friends, and my mother worried at first that being friends with her would spur too many questions that couldn’t be answered. Contrary to my mother’s paranoia, Lena had helped me get past the abandonment. Like an angel had been sent down to watch over me.

  A rattle of the door handle caught my attention and steeled my muscles. My bedroom sat directly across from the front door, and I trained my eyes on the slight movement of the brass knob.

  Craig?

  I peered out the window beside the bed, toward where Craig’s car sat at the curb, his propped elbow peeking out of the car window.

  On instinct, I tossed my bag beneath the bed and slid under the frame, which was just high enough to accommodate my body, then pushed myself back into the shadows, toward the wall.

  A blond man entered my apartment, maybe thirty, and the flash at his hip drew my attention to the badge hanging off his belt. Behind him, another stocky built blonde followed, closing the door, and I instantly recognized his scarred up face.

  Conall.

  Oh, God.

  My mouth dried, and I rested my chin against the back of my hands to steady my chattering teeth, while the men tromped through my apartment.

  “Surprised this place hasn’t been fucking cleared out yet, with the door unlocked.” The man with the badge placed his hands on his hips. Had his gaze bothered to sweep low, he might’ve seen me tucked beneath the bed, from where I could see all of him.

  “Should’ve known better than to rely on you ignorant fucks.” Conall’s raspy voice grated on my spine, like a knife tearing across my nerves. “Had I known the stupid bitch was the one we were looking for, I’d have dealt with her that night at the club.”

  “Like you dealt with the stripper that we had to clean up for your ass? Fuck that.”

  Conall’s heavy military boots halted at the side of my bed. My heartbeats turned staccato, and I pushed my hair over my face, hoping it would conceal me. Of all the crazy bastards I’d ever encountered, he'd always scared me the most.

  “Let’s go! I’m starving!”

  At the familiar voice, I tipped my head toward the door.

  Nausea gurgled in my gut at seeing Craig standing in the reopened doorway.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Why couldn’t you stay where you were?

  Both the dirty cop and Conall turned toward him, and my mind scrambled for what to do.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the cop asked.

  With both psychopaths’ backs facing me, I pushed forward, allowing my hand to breach the safety of where I’d hidden, and waved to catch Craig’s attention. The subtle tracking of his eyes toward me gave me about three seconds to shoo him away before I dipped back into the shadows.

  “Oh … fuck!” Craig let out a burst of laughter. “Is this three-oh-six?” His eyes widened, and he lifted his glasses, peering at the number on my door that clearly wasn’t 306. His performance could’ve won him the Shitcademy Awards, and if the men standing before him didn’t strike out at him, the gods of bullshit surely would. “My bad. Wrong apartment.”

  He slipped out and shut the door behind him.

  Sucking in a shaky breath, I let the relief swim over me, until the crack of Conall’s neck had my muscles retightening and my breaths shallowing.

  “She ain’t here. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” The cop opened the door, looking out toward the hallway, where Craig must’ve already disappeared. “People in this place are stupid, and that shit’s contagious.”

  Conall’s nose lifted into the air, and he breathed deeply. “Bitch was here. I can smell her.”

  The cop let out a burst of laughter, his hand still on the doorknob. “What are you, part hound dog?”

  “I can sniff out a dirty cunt from across the room. And when I find her, I’m going to turn that dick-gobbling whore into my own personal dolcett.”

  Oh, Jesus Christ. I had to slap a palm to my mouth, to keep from throwing up at the images that conjured inside my head. My nerves rattled, muscles trembling at the thought of ever being at the psycho bastard’s mercy like that.

  “You are a sick fuck. I knew you were a crazy bastard, but I didn’t know you were that fucking sick.”

  Conall’s jaw shifted, his lip curving into the slightest grin. “I ever get my hands on her … she’s going to wish I’d hurry up and kill her.”

  Both men exited the apartment, and I blew out a breath on a wheeze. Resting my head against the floor, I closed my eyes, forcing slow exhales to calm the frantic thrum of my heart.

  I couldn’t be subjected to that man. Couldn’t put Craig at risk, either. Not when they’d just seen his face.

  I wanted to cry but only one thought spun in my head amid the images of being defiled and eaten by Conall: I needed to find somewhere safe to stay, and I’d gone and left the one place I’d felt safest.

  36

  Lucy

  For what seemed like an eternity, I peeked out of the window, watching while Conall and the cop got into their cars and drove away in the dusk that'd settled over the city. Soon it’d be dark.

  “What the fuck was that all about?”

  At the sound of Craig’s voice, I spun around and scooted myself to the edge of the bed. “Remember the dead girl? Slaughterhouse? They’re the ones looking for me.” I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “I need to get out of here. This place gives me the fucking creeps now.”

  “Christ on a crotch rocket. You weren’t kidding about the cop.” Hands on his hips, he jerked his head toward the hallway behind him. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to my place.”

  Sucking in my top lip, I contemplated my next moves, but shook my head. I had nothing, no plan, no idea where I’d go, or what I’d do, but I couldn’t risk putting Craig’s life in danger. “No. I’ll … I’ll find a place to stay.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my best friend. You’re staying with me, whether you want to, or not.”

  Pulling the strap of my duffle up onto my shoulder, I blew out a breath. “Craig, you really are my best friend. Which is why I won’t pull you into the middle of this. I’ll find a place for tonight. Tomorrow …” I nibbled the inside of my lip as the singular choice I had congealed into the only plan that made sense. “I’m getting the hell out of Detroit.”

  “Like … out of Michigan entirely?”

  Toying with the strap of my bag, I shrugged. “As far as I need to go to feel safe again.”

  He rubbed his hand across his forehead and gave a slight nod. In a few quick strides, he crossed the
apartment and threw his arms around me. “Promise me you’ll call me if you need something.”

  I didn’t know why his question brought tears to my eyes. “I always do, don’t I?”

  “Email me that video. I’ll change the meta data and pass it along for you.” His arms tightened around me. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  * * *

  A tremble moved through my body, as I waited at the bus stop just down the street from my apartment. Darkness had grown thicker in the last hour, stealing away the light, and soon the troublemakers would be out, stirring shit. I had enough cash for a couple of nights' stay at a cheap motel, if I needed, or enough for a few days' worth of bus rides, in the event I ended up having a midlife crisis in the next hour.

  I tugged the hood of Jase’s jacket up over my head. Why I hadn’t ditched it, I didn’t know.

  Jase. Could I go back to him? The thought had crossed my mind many times throughout the course of the day.

  What if he refused to let me in, though? Or screamed at me for leaving?

  Jesus, what if he had a woman staying with him already?

  I hated that the thought of him banging some chick had me a little jealous.

  A lot jealous.

  At the approach of headlights, I turned my face away from the oncoming traffic, my guts still churning with the thought that Conall and his band of freaks could be out hunting me. When the car came to a stop at the curb, my heart kicked up into my throat.

  The roar of the motor caught my attention—a much deeper rumble than the newer cars. I dared a glance to the side, and my pulse skipped when Jase leaned over the passenger seat.

  The bulges in his arm swallowed my focus, as his muscle shirt made them look far too sexy for the anger still brewing inside of me. “Get in.”