by Lake, Keri
I shook my head, momentarily irritated by the questions that refused to let go of my attention. “How the hell do you know any of this?”
“Because your father was the one who pulled me out of that prison. He risked his own ass for me.”
My father? Bits and pieces slowly snapped together. “I don’t care what kind of bond you may have formed with my father. I want nothing to do with him. I care about you. Please don’t do this. Let me go.”
“I am letting you go, Lucy.” His voice, like his face, remained impassive and cold, despite his words.
“I don’t want you to do this!” I writhed against my binds, eyes locked on him as he backed himself to the door. “Please, why are you doing this?”
For a moment, he hesitated on the threshold, as if I’d caught him off guard with the question. “For my brother, I was willing to go to war. For you, mia Luce, I’m willing to wage one.” He closed the door behind him.
“No! No! No! Let me go! Let me fucking go!” I kicked and squirmed in a fit of rage, the bed squeaking with my tantrum. “Don’t do this!”
Tugging the binds, my wrists burned with the twisting and pulling. Angry pulses of rage coursed through my veins, my legs beating out another frenzy. The plastic rattled against the steel as my muscles trembled with the effort of trying to break my binds.
“Come back!” I stilled, sobbing into my arm in futility. “Don’t do this.”
52
Jase
I paced outside of her door, flinching at the sounds of her screams from inside the room. Fuck, I hated to leave her helpless.
Had things been different, I’d have stolen away with Lucy, gotten the fuck out of the city, and found a quiet place for her and me. But with the evidence she held still floating around, they’d never give up looking for her. Or me.
We’d both be hunted down by the bastards, and all it’d take was one mistake. One slip, and they’d find us. I’d have to hope they’d kill me first, because I’d never survive watching anyone hurt her.
She'd become my kryptonite, the only thing in the world that could bring me to my knees. The thought of anyone hurting her spurred the kind of rage that’d have a motherfucker burning down cities, and I wouldn’t stop until all that remained was ash and cinder.
Tightening my jaw, and my resolve, I strode away from the door. I tugged my phone from my pocket on my way toward the kitchen and dialed Dax. The original plan had been simple—find Viktor and kill him. I had no doubt that he was Pasák. The back rooms of the club. The secret dungeons. The flow of drugs. The tattoo. The email sent to Lucy just added a whole new layer of complexity to the plan, because it meant I had to find the missing woman, too.
Three rings, and Dax picked up, sounding like he’d swallowed a grizzly bear.
“'Sup, Brother?”
“I’m going after Viktor. You in?”
“You know I am.”
“Meet me here.” I lifted a push knife from the countertop and slid it into my holster. “I’ll bring the supplies. It’s a party tonight.”
“Got it. Your place. Be there in ten minutes.”
“Hey, Dax, this could be some heavy shit going down. You don’t have to do this.”
Without a beat of hesitation, he said, “I’ve spent three years at the bottom of a fucking bottle, or tied to a tourniquet. I need this.”
“All right. See you in ten.” I hung up the phone, set it on the counter, and pulled a fifth of Tennessee whiskey from the cupboard. Popping the cap, I knocked back a swig, squinting as the warm liquor warmed my stomach and straightened the menagerie of thoughts bouncing around my head.
The faint sound of Lucy sobbing continued to tear at my heart. Ignoring it, I made my way to the table, where all my weapons were laid out, clean and assembled. I slid Black Betty into the sheath. Shoved a magazine into my Glock and tucked it into the drop holster that I strapped around my hips. I pulled two more mags for the Glock, and two for my Sig Sauer AR-15 that’d been modified to an automatic.
If I was going to war, I sure as hell wouldn’t be going down without a fight.
By the time I’d loaded up, her crying had died. I cracked the door of the bedroom, finding that she’d fallen asleep, but I had to look away. Staring at her, tied to the bed, wearing my shirt that’d slid to her belly, revealing the lace panties beneath, was enough to make me want to throw down my weapons and crawl back into bed beside her.
Instead, I shut the door and headed out.
53
Lucy
At the click of the door, I opened my eyes and resumed my pathetic attempt at escape, though I’d spent weeks sawing at zip ties to know it was futile.
I half-heartedly slid the thick plastic ties along the metal bar, hissing at the prick of pain against my wrist. “Shit!” I looked up to see blood trickling down my arm, and I probed the bar’s surface, tapping my finger over the irregular jag of metal sticking out, near the top of the headboard. I hadn’t noticed it before, likely because he hadn’t tied me to that particular bar before. Hooking the loop of plastic between the top bar and the lip of metal, I closed my eyes. The next few seconds would either free me, or hurt like a bitch.
With a deep breath, I pushed my fisted hands outward, tightening the plastic. I braced my feet against the mattress, lifted my bound hands up, just slightly above the lip, and slammed them down, knocking the top of my head. My wrists throbbed, but the broken plastic had me screaming for joy, and I rubbed the burn from my skin.
Hot damn! Scrambling from the bed, I rushed toward the chair, lifted my jeans from the small pile of clothes, and wiped the trickle of blood from my wrist onto my pants. Stepping into each leg, I tugged the jeans up, over my hips, and pulled on my boots. From the duffle beside the bed, I fished for a clip and snapped it beneath the top layer of hair—a habit I’d picked up living alone, to never leave the house without one whenever possible.
As I swiped my cellphone off the nightstand, I caught sight of Jase’s suitcase peeking out from beneath the bed. Flipping it open, I rifled through his clothes and lifted a burner phone from inside. He had a few of them, and I had no friggin' clue how to reach him on the one he carried, didn’t know the number. If I had to guess, the call I’d heard earlier was probably to Dax, so I zipped through the numbers and, upon seeing Dax’s, stuffed the phone into my pocket and pushed through the bedroom door.
Slowing my pace, I tiptoed through the hall, keeping an eye out for Jase, and past the kitchen, catching site of two Glocks sitting on the table.
Backtracking a few steps, I popped inside the kitchen and grabbed one of the guns and a magazine, sliding them into the waistband of my pants beneath Jase’s long T-shirt I wore.
Beside the holster sat the keys to Jase’s car. Thank God. I nabbed them from the table and made a mad dash for the front door.
I had to catch him. Had to stop the insanity from happening.
My own phone buzzed inside my pocket, and my heartbeat kicked up as I stared down at the number flashing across the screen. Pausing at the door, I lifted the phone to my ear, half in a state of disbelief.
“Jo?”
“Hey.” Tears laced her voice, and she sniffed. “Look, I’m sorry I got pissed at you.”
“Where are you?”
“Can you come get me? I … Viktor and I got into another fight. A bad one. So I hooked up with this dude from the club. I’ve been at his place the last three days.” She snorted through the phone. “Not exactly the getaway you recommended, but hey, that’s how I roll.”
“Are you … are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just really miss Viktor. I … shouldn’t have done what I did.” Her voice held a genuine shaky quality as she broke down in tears. “I want to see him.”
Part of me wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the situation had become. No, part of me wanted to strangle her, but in reality, it wasn’t her fault. It was Viktor’s. He’d lied. I’d lost my mind worrying about her over nothing. All she’d done was taken my advice
and gotten away from the bastard.
“No,” I said a little too quickly. “I mean, no sense in looking eager, right?”
“If you’re too busy, I’ll call a cab. I’m just low on cash at the moment. This guy … all we’ve done is fuck all weekend. God, I’m such a whore.” She broke into another sob. “Nothing but a lousy whore.”
“Just sit tight. I’m coming. Where are you?” I crossed the room to the desk and wrote down the address she relayed over the phone. “All right. I’m coming. Just hang on, okay?” I had to get to her before Viktor.
“Please hurry,” she said.
As the phone clicked, another thought struck me. If Viktor had lied, then Jase had put himself in danger for nothing.
After plugging the address into the GPS of my phone, I ran for the door, both cellphones in hand, and dialed Dax. Down the stairs, and into Jase’s car, it seemed to take forever for Dax to answer.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, all casual, as if nothing was going on. As if he didn’t happen to be walking into certain death.
“Dax. Listen to me.” I pulled out of the parking lot and turned out onto Washington Boulevard. “Jase is with you?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m right behind him.” A breathy quality to his voice and a jostling sound told me he was in transit—either walking fast, or jogging.
“Please listen. Jolana, she’s okay. I talked to her. Tell Jase he doesn’t have to do this. Jo is safe. Tell him to come back.”
Static hit my ear, forcing me to pull the phone away for a brief second.
“Sorry, babe. Reception’s not good. What’d you say?”
“Tell him Jolana is safe.” I articulated each word and spoke louder, directly into the receiver. “I’m going after her!”
The static intensified, his voice cutting in and out.
“Did you hear me Dax?”
“I …” More sounds of rustling mixed with spurts of static. “Got it.”
The phone cut to silence. Caught between whether to go after Jolana, or the two of them, I bit my lip to shit as I stared off, the red stoplight blurring into a streak.
I remembered when I was a young girl, my stepfather, Paul, would tell me that if ever the house caught fire, I should concentrate on getting myself out. Going back inside for others could mean the tragic realization that they’d escaped and I'd be left to perish in the flames.
Except, it felt like I was the one who'd set fire to the house by telling Jase about the email. How foolish of me to think he wouldn’t try to go after her.
54
Jase
Camped out behind the bushes that lined the barbed fence to the old Wayne Foundry and Stamping, Dax and I sat crouched, eyes on the adjacent building set about a couple hundred yards away from Sphinx. Behind us, the electric wires hummed over the ghostly quiet of Greenspan Street. Another block over, on the opposite side of the factory, headlights flickered with the passing cars along Michigan Avenue.
“We enter through the side window. The main entrance is the opposite side of the building.” I spoke low, pointing to the gray building just down from the club. “Pretty sure that’s where the girls are kept. Steam tunnels connect each of the buildings. You find Jolana, and I’ll go after Viktor.”
“Change of plans, Brother. Your girl says Jolana isn’t in there.”
I frowned at him. “Lucy?”
“Yeah, she called my number from your phone. Said Jolana’s safe.” He tugged a small pair of bolt cutters from his coat pocket, similar to the ones I owned—a staple for urban explorers. “She, uh … told me to tell you not to go inside.”
Should’ve known the zip ties wouldn’t hold her. She was too crafty, too smart. “Should’ve used rope.”
He frowned. “Say what?” Turning more serious, he scratched his chin. “Your call, Hawk. Just know … I’m going in, with or without you.”
“The fuck you’re going in without me.” I pushed off the ground, tugging at the tall and rusted chain-link fence, while Dax snipped it away from the post with the cutters. With the top bar busted off, a few tugs widened it enough to slip through.
Keeping to the shadows, I stalked toward the busted out window and peered inside, where the first floor showed no sign of movement. Only the dark emptiness of the open space and the debris that lay scattered about.
Sliding the strap of the AR over my head, I handed the gun to Dax, hoisted myself up, and climbed inside the window. Once my boots had hit the dusty gravel on the other side, I reached back through and grabbed both rifles from him, stepping to the side as he climbed in behind me.
“Same game plan,” I said, tossing him the gun. “Take the backway into the club, if necessary.”
When I glanced back at Dax, his eyes seemed wide and wild, filled with something that looked like crazed excitement. The crazed part I got—the bastard was always crazy. The excitement seemed a little out of character for him. “You okay, Brother?”
“I’ve waited a year to find Olivia’s killer. I can’t wait to have the fucker at my mercy.”
I patted his shoulder before jogging across the gravelly chunks of concrete, rotten wood and paper plastered to the floor, until I reached the stairwell at the opposite side of the factory. Barreling into the steel door with my shoulder hardly budged the damn thing. Dax added his weight, and we managed to open the door enough to slip inside the stairwell.
Only the light from the open factory sliced through the blackness below us. Tugging a flashlight from the pocket on my holster, I flipped it on, and an arc of light lit the narrow staircase where I aimed it downward. Two flights to the bottom, and we rounded each one quickly, our boots thumping against the concrete, until we reached the door down there.
Dax gave a quick jostle to the handle. Locked. From a medium-sized satchel strapped across his body, Dax pulled out a small drill, and I held the flashlight while he drilled into the locking mechanism. It fell onto the floor with a clang, and Dax switched the drill for a screw driver, turning the lock open.
I directed the flashlight toward his face. “In and out. You ready?”
“Yeah. Let’s annihilate this fucker.”
Holding my rifle close to my side, finger on the trigger, I slid the door open and peered down a long corridor, lit by two red bulbs. Doors lined either side of the hallway that must’ve been offices at one time.
“Where’s the steam tunnels?” Dax whispered beside me.
“Must be at the other end.”
As I signaled Dax to keep on, screams hit the air. Distinctly feminine.
A grip to my arm had me looking back at Dax. “Where are the goddamn steam tunnels?” he asked.
I stepped in the direction of the screaming, but Dax’s grip tightened.
“Fuck that.” He squared his gaze. “I want Pasák.”
“What if that was Olivia in there, huh?”
Pain flickered in his eyes, his brows dipped with the hardening of his jaw, but he released my arm, and I took off again.
Along the hallway, I came to a stop on reaching a door through which the high-pitched wail bled. I waited a moment, weapons at the ready, then kicked through the barrier with a resounding boom. Lining up my shot, I prepared to blow away the first thing that got in my way, and entered the room.
A steel cabinet took up most of the walls to the right. Beyond those, a large Saint Andrews cross stood at the corner of the room, across from a mattress on the floor.
A sharp blow to my ribs sent jolts of pain through my bones, and I bent inward, taking a punch to my right flank. I drilled my fist into my attacker’s cheek, as he came at me again. Right, right, left, I threw three more punches that had him stumbling backward into the wall.
Coming up behind me, Dax cocked his gun, and the man fell to his knees, hands up in surrender.
Soft whimpers lured me deeper into the room, where a blonde sat trembling in the corner. As soon as she lifted her head, I recognized her face.
“Elodie?”
She narrowed he
r eyes on me, as if trying to figure out who I was, until her face lit with relief. “Jase?” Crossing the room, she broke into sobs and threw her arms around me.
What the fuck would Kelley’s daughter be doing there? Untangling myself, I spun toward the man glaring at me from the floor. Hammering another punch to his face threw him backward, slamming his head against the wall. “I’m looking for Viktor.”
Not meeting my glare, the man shook his head.
Gripping the back of his skull, I propped Black Betty at his throat. “You will fucking tell me where to find Viktor, or I’ll gut you open right here.”
“I’m Viktor.”
The new voice came from behind Dax, who swung around, pointing his gun at a man. Flanked by three others in the hallway, the guy tipped his head, holding out his palm. “Elodie. Come.” His fingers flicked, beckoning her like a dog.
I pushed her behind me. “What do you want with her?”
“Elodie owes me a debt.”
“I owe you nothing!” she hissed from behind me. “You sick, twisted fuck!”
“Don’t make me ask twice, love.”
“You won’t have to, if I blow your fucking voice box out of your throat.” I lifted my gun, and heard the click of others echo from the hallway.
“You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Release the girl before this gets … messy.”
“The game is over, Viktor. I shoot you, and even if I die by the hands of your own men, you die. Pasák dies.”
A smile slid across his face. “I wish that were true. In fact, I’d pay to see that.”
I frowned, skating a quick glance toward Dax.
“Ah, what the fuck? You want to know who’s behind that curtain? We’ve got a few minutes, right?” He lit a cigarette. “Let me tell you a story about a boy living on the streets of Detroit. One so starved and cold, he’d do just about anything for a goddamn meal and a blanket.” Viktor paced as he took a drag of his cigarette, then pointed toward Elodie. “That beauty standing behind you? She’s nothing but smoke and mirrors for the king of deception.”
