Blind Fury

by Gwen Hernandez

  “No, this is Wanda. Tara called in sick today.”

  Ah, Wicked Wanda of the West. “Oh. It must be serious,” Jenna said. It wasn’t like Tara to ditch work, and she almost never took sick days, even when she was really ill.

  “Undoubtedly,” the woman said with obvious scorn. “If you want to leave a message, I’ll take it, otherwise I have work to do.”

  “Uh, no thanks.”

  Jenna ended the call with a sense of unease. Tara was the most dependable person she knew when it came to work. She may have fallen head over heels for Colin, but Jenna still couldn’t imagine her friend missing work for anything but an emergency. And if it was an emergency, it was surprising that she hadn’t called. She tried Tara’s home and cell phones, but both went to voicemail. Had she passed out, was she too weak to get to the phone? If she had a stomach bug, it could quickly turn dangerous if she became dehydrated.

  Mick’s concern over Colin’s character came back to her and her gut clenched. What if Tara wasn’t sick at all?

  “Call me back as soon as you can,” Jenna told the machine. “I’m worried about you.”

  She knocked on Mick’s bedroom door. She was wary about facing him, but what choice did she have?

  “What?” came the muffled response.

  “Mick, I think something’s wrong. I…” She took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

  He opened the door and her belly did a little flip.

  “What is it?”

  After last night, just looking at him had the power to take her breath away. He was sexy as sin in a black Dos Equis T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet. God, why did life have to be so complicated? She wanted to go back to bed with him, where she’d felt safe, desirable, and cherished.

  She was shocked to notice that his eyes were red, as if he’d been rubbing them. Could he really be that upset? Maybe he was thinking about Rob and feeling guilty for sleeping with her. That was much easier to believe than that she might be the cause for his distress.

  “Do you have a way to reach Colin?”

  His head jerked back. “Di Ferio?”

  She nodded. “Tara called in sick today, but I can’t reach her by phone. It’s not like her to skip work, even when she’s feeling awful.” She held his gaze, silently pleading with him to take her seriously. “So, either she’s gravely ill or something else is going on. Either way, I need to make sure she’s okay.”

  He stared at her for a beat before nodding. “I’ll call him.” Then he shut the door in her face.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MICK CLOSED THE BEDROOM door and resisted the urge to beat his head against it. He knew he was acting like a petulant, heartbroken teenager, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t felt this way since Kimberly Fenton had broken up with him before going to college.

  He’d enlisted the next day.

  But he couldn’t run away this time. He’d promised to protect Jenna, and he wasn’t going to turn his back on her just because he’d made a mistake. No matter how much she had wanted him at the time, he should have recognized how vulnerable she was.

  Or maybe she’d come to him precisely because one night was all she’d wanted. He’d never given her any reason to expect he’d give her more. She knew what he was usually like.

  The worst part was he still wanted her. So much it hurt. Every time he looked at her pretty, freckled face, he wanted to kiss her until she melted in his arms the way she had last night.

  With a disgusted sigh, he dug up his phone and called Colin. All he got was his voicemail. “Hey, man. Give me a call. Jenna can’t reach Tara and she’s worried.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to say more than that. He was worried too. Colin was still on his list of people who might have been involved with the smuggling.

  Reluctantly, he sought out Jenna and found her on the sofa surfing the Internet on her laptop. The keys clicked in an uneven rhythm as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

  He cleared his throat and she looked up with a hopeful expression. “Did you reach him?”

  “No.”

  Worry etched her face as she stared at the computer screen. “I know something’s wrong.” Setting down the MacBook, she hopped up from the couch. “We need to check her house. What if she fainted and fell down the stairs or…”

  He could almost see her brain processing all of the bad things that could happen to a woman living alone, and she didn’t need to go through that. “Okay,” he said, interrupting her thoughts before she took them too far. “Let’s go.”

  “Thank you,” she said on a relieved breath, glancing at him quickly before switching her focus to something behind his head. “I’m sure you’re not very happy to be stuck with me right now, but I appreciate your help.”

  “No worries, Jay,” he said, falling easily back into playboy mode. “We’re big kids. I think we can both handle it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Now that we’ve gotten the sex thing out of our way, we can get back to figuring out what we should do next.”

  Her face reddened and she turned away, clasping her arms around her waist. It took every ounce of his willpower not to go to her, but that would get him nothing except more heartbreak.

  He needed his head on straight so he could sort this out and get the hell out of Dodge.

  Riding shotgun in the Camaro fifteen minutes later, Jenna didn’t know what to think about him. She’d always thought she could read Mick, but now she had to wonder. His feelings seemed to be all over the map when it came to her. Their relationship had been strained before their night of passion, but now it was stretched tight, like an overburdened rubber band. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Tara was her primary concern right now.

  Mick parked along the curb in front of Tara’s place and scanned the area before letting Jenna out of the car. They mounted the steps together, with him keeping her close to his side, all business. When they received no response to the bell or loud knocking, Jenna tried Tara’s home phone again.

  They could hear it ringing through the door, but no one answered.

  Mick leaned over and peered through the front window before shaking his head. “I can’t see anything. Let’s go around back.”

  “I have a key,” she said.

  “Okay, good. We’ll use it if we need to, but let’s check in back first.”

  They marched around the building through the tall, wet grass—Tara’s was an end unit, which made for a quick trip—and Mick pulled a gun from the back of his jeans, holding it in front of him as he examined the sliding door to the basement.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Just being careful,” he said, trotting up the deck staircase to the main back door. “Stay there for a second.” He crouched low and looked in each window before returning to her side.

  “Did you see something?” she asked, her concern growing by the minute.

  “No.” He tucked his gun away. “Let’s use your key.”

  They circled to the front and let themselves in, entering through the living room. The green walls, ruffled floral upholstery, and lace curtains were a complete contrast to Jenna’s own style. And the place was a bit of a mess. Old issues of Cosmo and People littered the coffee table, and piles of laundry on the sofa threatened to fall in an avalanche at any minute. Everywhere she looked, another surface begged to be cleaned.

  “Tara?” Jenna called.

  No answer. If Tara was truly sick, wouldn’t she want to be home where she’d be comfortable?

  Mick prowled the cluttered space like a panther trapped in an English garden, keeping his arms in close as if he were worried that the smallest disturbance of air would send one of the many ceramic kittens crashing to the ground.

  Turning from the living room, he glanced at her. “Stay behind me.”

  “Okay.” Jenna fell in line, every sense straining for a sign of Tara.

  “This place must be driving you nuts. Is it always this messy?” Mick asked as they fin
ished searching the main floor.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Two bedrooms and a bath. Tara used to have a roommate, but now she makes enough money to have the place to herself.” She followed Mick as he took the steps two at a time and cut left at the landing.

  They searched through the spare room and bathroom, even checking closets, large cupboards, and the shower stall. In the master bedroom, pieces of colorful lingerie were piled on a chaise lounge in the corner. Judging from the unmade covers and misplaced pillows, two people had recently slept in the bed.

  They looked in the closet and master bath before moving downstairs to the basement and garage. No Tara. No car.

  “Nothing,” Mick said.

  Where could she be? Something had to be wrong. Fear knotted Jenna’s stomach and she slumped against the wall.

  “Hey,” Mick said, wiping away her tears, which she hadn’t even realized were there. “We’ll find her.”

  She broke down then, crying not just out of fear for her friend, but for how badly she’d botched things with Mick, the stress of wondering whether someone was out there watching her every move, and the loss of her life as she knew it. In spite of the bad start to their morning, he moved closer and held her, his touch soothing.

  His slow, deep breaths and steady heartbeat helped ease her anxiety, and the tears finally stopped after a couple minutes.

  Embarrassed, she pushed his chest lightly, ignoring how warm and strong he was, and slid out of his arms. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help wondering if she’s in trouble. What if Colin hurt her? Or what if—“

  “Stop, Jay. Let’s get out of here and we’ll make some calls.”

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, to ignore how much it hurt that he’d gone back to calling her Jay. “Okay.” He was right. She needed to stay focused on what they could do, not get caught up in the endless game of what-ifs.

  “How about we check out Colin’s place too? If she’s sick, he might be taking care of her.”

  She couldn’t imagine Tara wanting anyone to see her when she was sick, but then she’d never been this serious with a guy in the three years Jenna had known her. “Good idea. Thanks.”

  They detoured to Colin’s apartment, but no one answered the door and the blinds were drawn.

  Back in Mick’s car, they both pulled out their phones. While Jenna was on hold with the hospital, Mick called the police to see if Tara had been in an accident or, hell, even arrested. They couldn’t assume anything at this point.

  Half an hour later they’d turned up nothing.

  “Where could she be?” Jenna asked, barely keeping her panic at bay.

  “Have you considered the possibility that she might have run off to Vegas with Colin?”

  “No way,” she said. “Tara’s spontaneous, but when it comes to work, she’s solid. And she would definitely call me before doing something like that.” Wouldn’t she?

  Mick’s look echoed her last thought. “Sometimes people do unexpected things.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  Her face heated under his accusing gaze. He had a point. She’d totally broadsided him last night, but still. In her gut, she was certain that Tara was in danger. “Can you please call Colin again, just in case?”

  “I did. Right after I finished with the cops. He’s still not answering.”

  The cool breeze buffeted her face as she stared through the open car window at Tara’s front door. Slowly, an unwelcome thought wormed its way into her brain.

  “Do you think her disappearance has anything to do with everything else that’s going on? Especially since Colin’s not answering his phone either?” She turned to look at Mick, her brain firing on all cylinders now. “What if he was just using Tara to keep tabs on me, and she found out?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. “But it has occurred to me that Colin might be involved in this whole mess. It wouldn’t surprise me at all, actually.”

  Jenna rubbed a hand over her acid-filled stomach and stared out the car window. Where are you, Tara?

  Mick hit the freeway, heading out of town, away from D.C., away from his condo.

  “Where are we going?” Jenna asked, her voice tight.

  “I just want to see if anyone’s following us.”

  He didn’t spot a tail as eased into the middle lane of the freeway, got up to speed, and set his cruise control to five miles over the limit. The accelerator was too much temptation, and Jenna wasn’t likely to appreciate any reckless driving. After all, the guy who was responsible for the accident that had destroyed her family had been joyriding in his new car, redlining the speedometer before he lost control and plowed into the Ryans’ vehicle.

  Rob had just left the Air Force when it happened. The medical care for Jimmy had racked up astronomical bills that ate through their parents’ life insurance money like a fire burning through dry grass. Rob had stuffed all of his feelings about his loss deep inside, joined up with Claymore to pay the bills, and never looked back. He hadn’t become angry or vengeful, he had just done what needed to be done. Mick could relate to that.

  And now Rob himself was dead, and the way things were going, Mick wouldn’t be surprised if his friend decided to haunt him for all of his failures with Jenna. He shook off the thought and focused on driving like a grandma as he exited the freeway, turned onto the overpass, and took the on-ramp heading back toward town.

  As they got closer to his condo, traffic picked up and he had to slow for merging cars. He tapped his brake, but nothing happened.

  “What the hell?”

  He pressed the brake pedal again, but it went all the way to the floor without resistance. The Camaro didn’t even hiccup as it raced toward the brake lights ahead of them.

  “Shit. Hold on. The brakes are out.” Which shouldn’t have happened, because his car was new. Someone must have tampered with them. Goddammit.

  Jenna inhaled sharply as her head swiveled in his direction. “They’re out?” He could feel her gaze on him, but he kept his eyes on the road. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  There was no time to reassure her. The car thunked into fourth gear as he downshifted, and the engine howled in protest, his RPM needle pegging in the red zone. He flipped on his hazards and honked as he crossed the fast lanes, heading for the outside shoulder. His heart raced as they careened along the gravelly asphalt.

  Mick pressed and released the brake repeatedly. Still no pressure. Shit. “I need some way to slow us down without spinning out,” he said, thinking out loud. Could she tell his hands were shaking? Or that part of him was savoring the exhilarating rush of danger? Because, oh yeah, he was totally fucked in the head.

  He held the button on the emergency brake and slowly pulled it back. The car got squirrelly, so he stopped. He downshifted again, wincing at the beating his transmission was taking, its high-pitched whine sounding like a dying animal.

  “Hold tight. I’m going into the grass.”

  “Can’t you shut off the engine?” Jenna asked, her voice tight with fear.

  “If I do I won’t have full steering control.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Just trust me.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. “I do.”

  If he’d been a praying man, he would have recited a psalm or something, but instead he spoke to Rob. “Come on, man. I could use some help here,” he muttered.

  All around them, cars were slamming on their brakes—lucky bastards—and honking as Mick and Jenna flew by, kicking up debris. Gripping the wheel tightly with both hands, he eased his left wheels off the shoulder and onto the sloped grass, fighting as the car tried to veer sharply off the road.

  Jenna screamed as they bounced along, then covered her mouth with her free hand.

  His muscles strained to keep the car on a shallow trajectory so that they wouldn’t flip. He maneuvered all the way onto the grass, using
his knee to help keep the wheel straight as they were jostled by the uneven ground. He pulled the handbrake again and downshifted. Forty miles an hour. Still too fast.

  A stand of trees loomed like a brick wall in front of them—much too close. Mick’s mouth went dry. If he yanked the brake to a full stop, he risked flipping the car. But they weren’t slowing quickly enough…

  At this rate, they were going to crash head-on.

  His ears buzzed and time slowed. In a steady move, he pulled the emergency brake all the way back. The car slowed, but then one of the wheels caught, and the vehicle skidded sideways.

  Jenna screamed and reached for him as the forest loomed in her side window. The fear on her face cut through his soul.

  “No!” he yelled. Not Jenna. With all his strength, he jerked the wheel. The car spun one hundred and eighty degrees.

  Mick braced for impact as the driver’s side of his shiny Camaro slammed into an oak.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JENNA SAT IN THE car, momentarily stunned by the impact and their sudden lack of motion. Coming out of her mental fog, she unlatched her seatbelt with shaky fingers.

  “Mick?”

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  He moaned and pressed his forehead with his fingers, pulling away from the deflated side airbag. Their eyes met and he pulled her onto his lap, fumbling to get her over the center console. “Thank God you’re okay.” He held her tight against his chest.

  She wanted to cry with relief. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “Nothing serious. My head’s still spinning, and I’m sure we’ll both be sore tomorrow, but I think I’m fine.” He brushed her hair back from her face and smoothed it. “What about you?”

  How was she? Nothing specifically hurt except her head where it had bumped the window when he spun the car. “Thanks to you, I’m good.” She stroked his cheek. He’d risked his life to save her.

  He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her—a hot, feverish attack that left her breathless and wanting. “Don’t you know I’d do anything for you?”