Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

by Teresa Michaels

  My shoulders are yanked back and my face forcefully tipped up. “What evidence?” Dosdell repeats.

  I need time to think.

  Fumbling, I slide my hand into my back pocket and hand him the SD card. As he walks across the room to where there’s a single laptop on a collapsible table, my stomach jumps into my throat. What the hell am I going to do? He clearly has no qualms about murder. Once he sees what’s on the card he’ll kill me and I don’t have enough time to run from here.

  Looking to Vivian’s body, I cringe. My eyes trail down to the pool of blood, and then back to her body. Lying sideways, I see something silver sticking out of her waistband. Stealing a sideways glance at Dosdell, I tiptoe over to Vivian and bend over her waist, pulling at the shiny object. For the second time in my life I’m thankful to see a gun. I slide it out of her clothing, ignoring how vacant her body’s already become, and return to my position on the couch.

  “What the hell is this? Some kind of joke?” Dosdell bellows. He turns to face me and I’m frightened by what I see—false compassion has been replaced with rage.

  Think of a logical response.

  “No. I figured out that she was somehow involved in what happened with Innovation Airways…I didn’t know how and I thought if I could convince her I had evidence that she’d confess, or…I don’t know. I guess I thought I could figure out what was going on by myself.”

  “There’s no evidence?”

  “No…at least I don’t have anything.”

  Dosdell reigns in his anger, looking almost relieved. That is, until his eyes land on the bloody footprints leading from Vivian’s body to where my feet are firmly planted, that I didn’t realize I’d left.

  “I have a feeling you’re not being completely honest with me, Breanne.”

  “I…I am.”

  “Tell me what you know. The truth this time.”

  Survival instincts kick in and I raise the gun. Dosdell laughs.

  “I happen to know that you don’t know how to use a gun. Put it down before you get hurt.”

  “Like you’re not going to hurt me the second I do.”

  “What are you planning to do? Kill me? Turn me in? I’m willing to bet no one knows that you’re here.”

  I’ve been here too long. Even if Drew didn’t get my text right away, he would have by now. I have to believe that they’re coming. I need to stall.

  “I want answers. Why’d you do it? For the money?”

  He cocks his head to the side, appraising me. “He couldn’t stay away, could he?” he tsk’s. “It’s ironic when you think about it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mark didn’t tell you about him and Vivian?” he asks.

  I shake my head, though I don’t really need an explanation at this point. Mark refusing to tell me Vivian’s motive now makes perfect sense.

  “Vivian was responsible for putting you on that flight, thinking you wouldn’t make it home. She’d tried convincing Mark to leave you for years, but he refused. When she finally got him into her bed she wasn’t willing to give him up…she loved him. A part of her understood that he didn’t feel the same. That didn’t stop her from trying. She was a narcissist. I’m not sure she actually cared that it wasn’t mutual.”

  “And Mark?”

  “Mark did what he felt he had to do, for his job and for his family. He faked his own death thinking it would keep you safe. I know he’s not proud of the things he’s done but it doesn’t change anything—especially now that you’re here,” Dosdell says, exhaling loudly. “Vivian’s dead. Mark will probably wish he were after tonight, and all his planning and drastic measures will have been for nothing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Dosdell frowns, leaving my question verbally unanswered.

  “To answer your earlier question, it wasn’t about the money. I’m not a bad guy, Breanne. At least I never wanted to be. The moment the CIA refused to protect my wife and son and they ended up being killed, I stopped caring. I couldn’t figure out why I had to suffer, living without them.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and paces on the other side of the room.

  “I was on my way to an early retirement until Mark called and informed me of a case he was working on. I always had a soft spot for him. He asked for help and I couldn’t refuse. Especially once I understood the targeted organization’s mission. You see, the CIA didn’t do their job correctly and because of that my personal information was compromised with minimal effort. The people who killed my family wanted blood when they discovered my true identity.

  “I would have gladly given them mine…but where’s the lesson in that? By going undercover I deceived them, and as retribution they felt justified in taking the lives of the only people I loved.”

  Dosdell wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and continues. “A few weeks into my assignment with Mark, I overheard a conversation between a Henry Ridges and the founding leader of the Threads. Henry had an idea. Use technology against those who believe in it to show them just how dangerous it can be. His original pitch was to develop software to gain access to financial institutions and essentially rewrite purchase history. Since Threads diverting Innovation Airways was already in progress, Henry wanted to add this element. The personal data the airline stored was a prime target; it made perfect sense. Threads would make money and frighten the public enough to rethink their philosophies related to online purchases, credit card applications, even paying taxes.

  “Their leader refused, claiming that taking their money was going too far. Can you believe it? After what they planned to do to the plane, cashing in on it was too much.” He scoffs and throws his hands in the air. “So, I stepped in. I convinced Henry to take it a step further. Why take pennies to prove a point when you can take their life savings and make it untraceable upon death.”

  “So, you did kill all those people for money.”

  “According to Vivian and Henry, yes. But that wasn’t my real motivation.” Dosdell begins walking toward me, stopping only a few yards away. “The people who killed my family weren’t the only ones responsible for what happened…so was my employer. The CIA should have done more to safeguard my identity, but they didn’t. Pulling off a financial scam like we planned meant we’d be able to infiltrate even the most secure databases, including the CIA. I started thinking about the type of information unrestricted network access could get me. It wasn’t just one asshole agent who fucked up my life. It was the institution. I knew that the information I could get my hands on would sell for enough money to keep me hidden and taken care for the rest of my life.”

  “Just admit that it was about the money.”

  How can he not see this?

  “Revenge,” he corrects me.

  “Well, I guess the jokes on you since the code was never completed.”

  “True, though the people who took my wife and son away from me were conveniently on the same flight as you. Being that you were one of two survivors, I’d say I got the last laugh.”

  “And the rest of the plan?”

  “You’re right. We didn’t make any money and that’s fine with me. If nothing else, the larger plot put responsibility elsewhere. There’s no way any of this could ever be tied back to me.”

  “How is that possible? If you were supposed to help cover up the forensics when the plane went down, how could Vivian and Henry not know who you really were?”

  “Easy. They knew my skills and did a background check. When that came back clean, I was in. From their perspective, I couldn’t identify them. It was a downfall on their part and a complete advantage on mine.”

  So Dosdell wanted to hurt the people he felt were both directly and indirectly responsible for hurting his family. The financial gain was just a bonus. By killing people who had nothing else in common aside from the technology organizations they supported, the CIA and FBI would be too busy chasing other leads and wouldn’t be able to draw conclusions on who had done this. Even if the agencies eventua
lly discovered the link to the Threads organization, there were no ties to Dosdell. No one knew who he was.

  Dosdell takes a few steps closer. “Nearly everyone who knows my role in this is dead. Which brings us to you.”

  Time doesn’t stop because I’m unsure of what to do next, no matter how much I wish it would. I run through options quickly in my head. I could tell Dosdell that Mark is listening and has already learned the truth in hopes that he’d take his own life and end this charade. Or better yet, I could try to convince him that the building is surrounded. Either way, I’m at risk of getting killed or being taken hostage and seeing Drew or Mark get hurt because of this, physically or emotionally, is out of the question.

  “Despite what you think I don’t want to kill you. I have a lot of respect for Mark, and after going through what I did with my family, I wanted to protect you.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “You haven’t left me with any other option.”

  Dosdell removes the safety from his gun and I do the same.

  “If you kill me, how is that any different than what happened to your family? Huh? What about my children?”

  “With you gone, Mark will finally do the right thing and quit the agency. He’ll step up and take care of them.”

  My free hand instinctively falls to my belly. “What about the one I’m carrying?”

  Dosdell’s eyes widen briefly. He sharply inhales and I’m hoping it just might be his last breath. I don’t know if Drew and Mark are on their way, or if they even know where I am. I can’t rely on anyone else…it’s now or never.

  “I’m sorry,” Dosdell exhales and it’s clear he means to take two lives in one shot.

  That’s all the push I need. I’m not losing Drew’s baby. Without a second thought, I steady my hand and pull the trigger.

  With my posture already unsteady, the kickback from the gun sends me stumbling backwards into the stone wall. In slow motion, I watch as the bullet pierces Dosdell’s chest. Shock is plastered across his face as he falls first to his knees and then collapses onto his stomach. I tell myself to get out of here, but I’m finding it difficult to move. My entire body trembles and the ringing in my ears is disorienting.

  Using the wall for leverage, I lower myself to the ground, resigned to crawling to my escape, but even that’s a challenge. Closing my eyes, I will myself to keep going.

  Muffled stomping and shouting echoes throughout the warehouse. I’m unexpectedly pulled from the ground and I wonder if I’m dying because I got it wrong and I was the one who was shot. But life’s not that cruel, not this time. I open my eyes to Drew clutching me against his chest. Cradling me like an infant, he buries his face in my hair and rocks me back and forth.

  “Damn it, Breanne. Thank God you’re all right.”

  “You found me,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “I’ll always find you.”

  Drew pulls back, pushing lose strands of hair out of my face. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

  Drew drops his forehead to mine and takes several deep breaths.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he asks.

  “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  Drew tightens his grip on me. “Don’t you understand that nothing could hurt me worse than losing you? Never do anything like that again.”

  “We’re having a baby,” I blurt out.

  “I heard,” he says with a smile.

  “I had no idea if you were really listening.”

  He nods and moves one of his hands, splaying it across my stomach. “Every word.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumble through my own cries. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

  “Shhh, it’s ok. You’re alive…both of you are. That’s all that matters.”

  “Can we go home?”

  In the background I’m aware of Everett giving instructions over the phone, but I can’t be bothered to look. I don’t want to see the bodies of Vivian and Dosdell.

  “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  Drew stands, keeping me nestled tightly in his arms and pivots away from the wall. He kisses my forehead, tells me he loves me and then stops abruptly. Before I can process his lack of movement, he begins back peddling and his body tenses. Confused, I snap my neck around as Dosdell stumbles forward, pointing his gun directly at us.

  “Nooo!” Drew yells.

  Dosdell pulls the trigger as we’re falling, and I can’t be sure which happened first. Our bodies collide with the cement floor, though Drew protected my head from making contact.

  Another shot fires.

  Oh God, please don’t let Drew be hurt.

  Another gunshot, then another.

  I push out from under Drew’s body and scramble to my knees, hovering over him. He stirs beneath me enough to reveal a gash on his forehead. Frantically, I scan his body from head to toe and find nothing else visibly wrong. No entry wounds. No blood.

  It’s too quiet and I’m scared to turn around, yet I do it anyway because we need to call for help. Once I look over my shoulder, I immediately regret the decision.

  Blood.

  So much blood.

  Gasping, I crawl to Mark’s side. My vision flips between the past and the present, the morgue and the warehouse. Just like two and half years ago, the bullet struck his head. Through some cruel twist of fate, this time it’s real and the irony is too much.

  “Mark…Mark,” my voice quivers.

  I cup the side of his face and collapse onto him. The world around me stalls to an excruciating pace. “No…no. Please no.” I scream.

  Strong arms yank me away but I don’t want to go. I reach out to Mark, desperate to hold on to some piece of the man I once loved. Fisting his shirt, I beg for him to move.

  Something…anything…please.

  I’m unaware of anything else going on around me. I don’t know who has me, or if I’m hurt. Right now I don’t care. Watching until the distance makes it impossible to see Mark, I’m overcome with grief.

  I’ve lost him all over again.

  Soft caressing of my hand pulls me from my slumber. I blink several times, adjusting to the light from a nearby window. I attempt to speak but my throat burns, the sound coming out as nothing more than a croak.

  “You’re awake.”

  I turn my stiff neck, coming face to face with the most delicious man. “Where am I?”

  “Mass General.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with me?” My palm flattens over my belly and I whisper. “The baby…”

  “Is fine,” Drew finishes my sentence. “You’re being treated for dehydration and exhaustion. Given everything that happened last night they wanted to keep you for a few hours as a precaution.”

  What happened last night…

  Shutting my eyes, I relive the last image I can remember.

  “Mark.” My hand flies to cup my mouth.

  “Shhh, don’t get all worked up. He’s going to be fine.”

  I look at Drew in disbelief. “Fine?”

  “He came out of surgery about an hour ago. He’s lucky. The bullet missed his brain but the doctor said he has a long road to recovery.”

  “I don’t understand. There was so much blood.”

  “The bullet struck his left eye…he’s permanently blind.”

  “Is Dosdell—”

  “Dead,” Drew interjects. “Mark saved us, you know. He dove right in front of the bullet. Between his shot and Everett’s, they took him down.”

  “And Everett?” I ask.

  “Right here,” Everett responds, causing me to flinch.

  “Jeez, I didn’t see you there. Are you ok?”

  Everett laughs. “I’m fine.”

  “Wait, is Corinne still with the kids?” I start to panic.

  “Yes, and Sarah. My parents should be there in a few hours. Your dad’s on his way too. Oh, and Corinne asked Everett to give you a message
.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Enjoy the next six months because after the little slugger’s born, she’s kicking your ass for what you pulled.”

  “Just sign here and you’re free to go,” the nurse says. “Oh, and here are the pictures from your ultrasound.”

  Drew snatches them from her before they even touch my hand. “This angle just doesn’t do him justice.”

  “He?” I ask.

  “Real men make boys,” he replies, like it’s a known fact. “Besides, do you see that?” he asks.

  The nurse and I lean in to get a better look at what he’s pointing at.

  “That’s his Louisville slugger. He clearly got my genes.”

  “Umm, that’s not—”

  I place my hand on the nurse’s arm and shake my head. “Let him have his moment.”

  Drew’s so happy. I don’t want to burst his bubble by telling him that the object in question is actually the umbilical cord, not the baby’s penis.

  “Have it your way,” she says, fetching the wheelchair. “In you go.”

  “Is this really necessary?” I whine.

  “Unless you want me carrying you out of here,” Drew says. “Yes.”

  Annoyed, I roll my eyes and do as I’m told.

  “You better get used to people taking care of you. I doubt ‘muscles’ over here is going to let you walk on your own until his arms are occupied by your baby.”

  “I’m sure he’ll chain me down when he’s on the road,” I agree.

  “Oh, that’s right. Someone’s a big ball playa.” The nurse laughs. “Between your schedule and all the doctors’ appointments, this pregnancy will fly by. Keep your fingers crossed you’re not on the road when her water breaks.”

  She pats Drew’s arm and he doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, he kind of looks smug. I open my mouth to ask what his expression means, but I don’t get the chance.

  “I should warn you…it’s a circus out there,” our nurse warns.

  “Do the media know what happened?” I ask Drew.

  “Not the whole story. Apparently all hell broke loose when first responders were dispatched to the scene. Being that the vacant warehouse could easily be seen from the Zakim bridge, there were tons of postings on social media. Once the news agencies got wind of all the activity they flocked to the location. Luckily, we’d left by that point.”