Stealing Her
Page 12
“He’s just a dog,” I said, shrugging as I approached her with a soft smile on my face. “But it sounds like you need a new daddy,” I repeat, more seriously this time.
That took the words from her mouth, and she stared at me with a blush for a few moments before a knock at the door made both our heads jerk that way.
I approach the door and pull it open, and I see Hawk standing there, sharp eyes peering at me uncertainly.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey. What’s up?” I say, feeling a little annoyed at the second interruption but not letting myself take it out on Hawk.
He’s doing his job exactly the way I’d want him to.
“Thought I’d give you an update in person.”
“Sounds like I’m not gonna like it.”
“I have no idea, that’s the problem,” Hawk chuckles darkly. “The good news is, the mark hasn’t gone to the police or the media, as far as I can tell. But someone has got to have tipped them off. I’m starting to see stakeouts around campus, and some of my contacts say people are asking questions.”
“Shit,” I murmur. “It was only a matter of time, anyway. She called in sick, so I’d think classes would be covered, but that won’t last us forever. There must be someone else.”
I open the door enough for Hawk and Lila to see each other. Lila has stopped playing and picked up Henry, watching us curiously and nervously.
“Lila, work with us here— is there anyone else who’d be looking for you right now? Anyone who might go to the cops?”
She’s silent for a moment, looking like she’s thinking hard, but she frowns, shaking her head.
“No, not that I know of.”
I stare at her hard for a few long moments, but I choose to believe her, and I nod solemnly before looking back to Hawk.
“There’s got to be someone out there. Could be her father pulling strings through a few channels. Find that someone and take care of it.”
“You got it, boss,” Hawk says, and I nod, closing the door and looking back to Lila.
The girl is harder to read than I’d like to admit…and it could cost us everything, if she wants to cause trouble.
Lila
I frown at Chains, then at his associate—Hawk—in confusion. I can’t exactly pretend like I know what’s going on here. This is an illicit trade I have no business with, and I have a feeling the less I know, the better it is for everyone all around. But knowing that doesn’t keep my mind from wandering in worried circles. The tone of voice these men use to talk about “the mark” makes me a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. I want so desperately to trust Chains. After all, he has done a lot to earn my trust, even my affection. I don’t know if it’s on purpose, but I can’t deny that he earned a whole lot of points just by bringing me my dog.
Henry, meanwhile, is squirming in my arms, trying to wriggle around to better face me so he has easier access to lick my chin. I hold him close, suddenly feeling very defensive and protective of him. Who knows what kind of dark activities these guys get involved in?
And the phrase, “take care of it,” has me pretty shaken up. I don’t know what that entails, but I have a strong feeling it’s nothing very pleasant. Especially because there’s a good chance the person who’s been looking for me is Cassandra. She’s innocent, totally outside these guys’ jurisdiction, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want them to harm her. I don’t even want them to contact her or mess with her in any way. She’s probably just worried about me, like a good friend should be. I mean, I did disappear off the face of the earth from her perspective. Of course, she’s worried about me. As Hawk and Chains continue to exchange a cryptic discussion of how to take care of the problem, I muster up enough courage to interrupt.
“Wait,” I interject suddenly, “you can’t possibly be talking about dragging my friend Cassandra into all this, right?”
Hawk and Chains both slowly turn to look at me, brows furrowed, wearing identical expressions of wariness. I feel a chill run down my spine. Having both of these incredibly dangerous men looking at me like this is nerve-wracking.
“Cassandra?” Hawk repeats, tilting his head to one side.
“Yeah,” I reply matter-of-factly. “Cassandra. My best friend. I tutor her every week and sometimes we do little photoshoots together. It’s a whole thing.”
“Right, but what about her?” Chains prompts me softly. I’m surprised at his patience.
“It’s probably her who’s out looking for me,” I suggest, “especially since Henry went missing, too. She loves this dog almost as much as I do, and I’m sure she knows something is up. I mean, first I went missing, then Henry, too. That’s got to look weird in her eyes. And if you think for one second I’m going to let either of you harm my best friend, well—”
“Lila,” Chains interrupts me, holding up a hand calmly. I pause mid-sentence, blinking at him. “Cassandra isn’t even an issue. We worked that out already. As far as she knows, you’re still out sick.”
“But what about Henry?” I ask fervently. Henry perks up at the sound of his name.
“Cassandra believes that your father came to pick up the dog to take care of him while you’re on the mend,” he answers. “We don’t consider Cassandra to be of any concern to us at the moment. Rest assured.”
“Oh,” I answer, feeling both deflated and relieved. “Well, then, I have no clue who could be looking for me. Cassandra is… well, she’s kind of all I’ve got.”
For a split second, I catch a glimpse of something like pity on Chains’s face, like he’s finally getting a good insight into just how lonely my life is. Yikes. You know your life is an empty, sad mess when even your captor feels sorry for you.
“I mean, she may be my only friend, but at least she’s a damn good one,” I add quickly.
“I’m sure she is,” Hawk says, thankfully without even a trace of mockery.
I relax a little, stroking Henry’s scruffy head. He’s panting now, staring over at Chains. He squirms a little too much and I set him down with a sigh. Immediately, the little dog goes rushing over to Chains, jumping at his legs and trying to lick him. The sight warms my heart, although there is still just the faintest worry in my mind that one of these times, Chains is going to suddenly react to Henry with violent anger. I don’t know why I expect that. Maybe it has something to do with Daddy. But I have to remind myself: Chains is nothing like my father. He’s a better man than that. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
Although, maybe that’s just what Chains wants me to think. Maybe his entire goal is to turn me against my own father. My heart starts to race. If that’s his secret plan, it’s working. How gullible and easily persuaded can I be?!
But then, Henry loves him. Clearly. I can’t help but smile as Chains dismisses Hawk and bends down to pet the little terrier with patience and kindness. Henry, for all his dumbness and clumsiness, has always been a pretty good judge of character. He’s been mildly afraid of my father the whole time I’ve had him, which is strange considering how often they’ve been around one another. You would think by now Henry would’ve warmed up to Daddy, but that’s not the case.
Occasionally he’ll even growl at my father when he gets too close to me.
It’s very odd, because normally Henry kind of just tends to love everybody he meets. He adores Cassandra, of course, which is why I often let her dog-sit him. I know he’ll be happy with her. And now, he’s definitely given Chains his seal of approval. Henry can hardly get enough of him, actually. How can he be a bad guy if my dog loves him so much? Surely, if Chains was really someone to fear, Henry’s instincts would have led him away from him.
“Sorry, he’s so clingy with you,” I note curiously. “You must put off some kind of dog-friendly pheromone or something.”
Chains stands up and chuckles, brushing off his hands on his pants. “I like dogs. They’re honest. You’ll always know exactly where you stand,” he says, glancing over at me as if reading my mind.
He nods. “Sure. You can ask.”
“It’s just… why are you doing this? All of this, I mean. The kidnapping and the ransom and everything,” I ask, gesturing broadly around us.
I see him visibly bristle at the question and I realize I might have touched upon a nerve. I hold my breath, still worried that he’ll suddenly explode with a burst of rage like Daddy would. But instead, he just sighs, a faraway look in his eyes.
“When I was a kid,” he starts off slowly, “my father died. Cancer. Spread through his entire body so quickly he just never had a chance.”
“Oh wow. I’m so sorry,” I murmur, already feeling guilty for even asking.
He smiles faintly and shrugs. “It was a long time ago. He was a brilliant man with a damn good job. He was an engineer who worked on designing motorcycles. There’s a lot of wealth to be gained in that industry. When I was very young, before he died, we lived a pretty decent life. Nice house, reliable car. And then, of course, he died so suddenly. We had just bought the house, were still working on that high mortgage. Then there were hospital bills. And funeral costs. And my mom, who had been a stay-at-home mother when I was little, suddenly had to get a job. Lots of jobs. She was juggling three or four jobs at a time just to make ends meet.”
“Whoa,” I murmur, shaking my head. “That must have been hard.”
Chains nods and goes on, “It was bizarre: we still lived in that massive, ritzy house, but we couldn’t afford to even buy a can of soup for dinner. We were drowning under that damn mortgage, but we couldn’t afford to move either. Besides, that house was my father’s dream. He helped design the place himself. So to leave it behind… well, it would have felt like abandoning my father’s legacy. As soon as I was old enough, I started working, too. I barely had time for school, since I was working two jobs myself. I grew up very quickly. I knew that I had to sacrifice my childhood, my youth, to work if we were going to have any chance of holding onto that house.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I sigh.
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” he says. “And then, we were both working so much that I started missing school. Too many days. Truancy officers got involved. They came to our home and found how filthy and catastrophic it was on the inside. You see, Mom didn’t have the time to cook and clean like they expected her to. For all our efforts to keep that house, we spent almost no time there except to sleep the bare minimum hours of rest required to get us back up and out to the next job. I was sixteen by then. I thought of myself as an adult. After all, I was the man of the house. But the truancy officers and the child protective services disagreed. They labeled my mother unfit to raise me, and they took me away from her.”
“Oh my gosh,” I gasp. “How unfair!”
“Yes. I agree. But there was no arguing with them. I was only a kid in their eyes. I had no say in the situation whatsoever. But even when they moved me into foster care, I wouldn’t abandon my mother, my responsibilities. I needed to make money— fast. I thought maybe if I could pay off the house, all would go back to normal. They’d take me back home. My mother and I would be reunited,” he says, pausing as that muscle twinges in his jaw. I can tell this is difficult for him to talk about openly. “So I decided to deal drugs. I was only going to do it for a little while, just long enough to make the money I needed to pay off the mortgage and put the pieces of my life back together.”
“What happened next?” I prompt him, eyes wide.
“They caught me,” Chains says with a shrug. “Since it was my first offense and I was still so young, I didn’t do any time for it, but with my criminal record it was damn near impossible to get a good job again. We lost the house. My mother and I drifted apart. That bank took away everything I had sacrificed for, everything I loved. I had no home to return to, and it was their fault. So, I took on a new career: one that would make me money and let me carry out revenge against the big-wig assholes who tear good people out of loving homes.”
“Like Daddy,” I murmur softly.
He glowers at me, and I can feel the anger bubbling up inside of him. “Yes. Like your father, Lila. That’s why we took you.”
“But that’s not fair,” I protest, putting my hands on my hips. “My father may be a little cold in his business dealings, but that’s just… how it works. Daddy always says it’s a cutthroat business, but there’s no way around it. He doesn’t try to break up families or ruin lives, it’s just… it happens, you know?”
Chains gives me another brief look of pity and for a moment I feel almost indignant. He seems to think I don’t know what I’m talking about, but Daddy has lectured me on this subject a thousand times.
“It’s not houses, though,” he counters, maintaining more patience than I expected. “These are homes. Full of family memories and stories and love and safety. Men like your father prey on the vulnerable. People like my mother who are down on their luck for no fault of their own. It’s a predatory business practice, Lila, and your father knows that.”
I open my mouth for a rebuttal, but then close it again. For the first time, it fully dawns on me that he’s right, that Daddy’s been making excuses all these years. That’s what they are. Not reasons, not justifications, just excuses. Suddenly, I’m horribly disgusted that I ever listened to Daddy about this stuff. He was so wrong, and so was I.
For the first time, I look at Chains and I see the full picture of how he ended up here, how he became the man he is now. And it breaks my heart. I understand now. It all makes sense. And I can’t bear to watch all that sadness building up, all that hopelessness. Without another word, I stride over to him, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him passionately. He’s stunned for a half second, then wraps his arms around me and holds me close. I can feel the shared understanding warm and bright between us. There’s been a shift. We’re on the same side now, for better or worse.
Our kiss is interrupted when Hawk reappears in the doorway, clearing his throat. Chains pushes back, cupping my cheek delicately for a moment before turning to his associate with a hardened expression. “Yes? What did you find, Hawk?” he asks curtly.
“It’s weird,” Hawk begins slowly. “It doesn’t make much sense to me, but I found out who made the police report about Lila Hawthorne going missing.”
“And? Who is it?” Chains presses him.
“Some woman named Sandra White,” Hawk says, and I freeze up, my blood going cold.
“Who the hell is that?” Chains murmurs, frowning.
“That’s… that’s my mother’s name,” I breathe, my heart pounding. “But it’s got to be a coincidence. Or maybe some kind of sick prank.”
“Why do you say that?” Hawk asks.
“Because,” I sigh, “my mother is dead. She died when I was being born.”
Chains looks at me hard, clearly measuring up this strange new information. Then he lightly touches my shoulder, kisses me on the cheek, and strides out of the room. As he leaves, Hawk falls into step beside him.
“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, already feeling the loss.
“I’m going to look into this,” he tells me, and I know he means it in a protective way. “Wait here. Play with Henry. Try not to worry too much.”
I scoop Henry up into my arms and nod. “Okay. I’ll do my best. And Chains?”
“Yes?” he asks, pausing.
“Be careful out there. Please,” I ask him softly.
He gives me a faint, quick smile. “I will,” he promises, and then walks away, closing me into the cell with Henry. I listen as their footsteps echo away down the hall. It’s just me, alone with my worries and my thoughts.
Chains
I step into a coffee shop so cozy that I could finally understand why hipsters would be willing to pay for something besides black drip coffee.
The place seems to have once been someone’s apartment that was converted into a cafe. It sits on the corner of a large
building by a shopping area not far from the MIT campus, easily within walking distance for both students and office workers in the local area. Cambridge is the kind of place with not many locals— hip coffee shops are easy to keep afloat.
A few heads turn my way when my heavy frame steps onto the old hardwood floors that creak subtly. At my height, it’s hard not to. That’s why I’m somewhat incognito today. I’ve trimmed my beard so that it looks a little less wild, and I’m absolutely not dressed like I normally would. But if police have any idea what any of my gang looks like, they’ll be looking for a biker, and we already stick out like a sore thumb in a place like Cambridge, and I’m no exception.
Instead, I’ve opted for the lumberjack look. I’m wearing brown boots, blue jeans, a red plaid flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a subtle, dark gray beanie that doesn’t draw attention but keeps my head covered. I’m also wearing a pair of sunglasses that I take off once I’m inside, and I approach the espresso bar, eyes flitting between some of the employees.
I’m guessing Sandra White is not the girl with blue hair and an undercut standing behind the cash register, but I’ve talked my way through tougher people before.
“Hey there. What can I get for you?” she asks casually when I reach the bar.
“I was wondering if a Sandra White is here,” I ask, watching her eyebrow rise sharply.
“Um…can I ask who’s asking?” she asks reasonably.
But as she does, the woman at the espresso machine glances over her shoulder. She’s a woman with gray hair dyed purple at the tips, and her eyes make me do a double take, because they’re the spitting image of Lila’s. I catch a glimpse of a name tag with ‘Sandy’ written on it in bright purple ink.
Asking to speak with specific employees is a good way to get yourself pegged as either a trustworthy friend or an absolutely shady murderer by other employees. No middle ground. It all depends on how I can pull off the next few seconds.