Chapter Ten
An alert sounded on Kellan’s phone, waking him from a light slumber. He thought he’d heard it earlier, but decided he’d dreamed it. Before he could reach for his phone, Ethan Addison strolled into the room carrying a tray overflowing with food. He smelled bacon and his stomach rumbled. Careful of the stitches, he pushed up to recline against the headboard, wincing at the pull. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”
“The bosses sent me to help your sorry, shot-up ass out.”
“Good. Me and my shot-up ass appreciate it. Do you mind grabbing my cell?”
Ethan deposited the tray on the bedside table and handed him the phone. He checked the alert. “Someone just left the property.”
“Wyatt and Amelia. They’re headed home.”
“No, I have two notices. Someone else just left.”
“Shit.” Ethan turned and bolted out the door.
Kellan’s heart started racing. The only other person here was… “Annabelle?”
No answer. He ripped the needle from his arm, ignoring the pain, and swung his feet off the bed. The room spun when he stood. He waited until it stopped rotating before he made his way into the hall. He was naked, but he didn’t waste time getting dressed. “Annabelle?” he called again.
Ethan dashed up the steps. “She’s gone.”
Kellan swayed and slapped a hand against the wall for support. “What?”
Ethan handed him a note. He scanned the message.
Dear Kellan ~ thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be alive if not for you, but my staying puts you in serious danger. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been shot. I can’t risk my stepbrother or his associates harming you again.
I wish there was another way. Please know that I fully intend to keep my commitment to your company for the full amount of the fees. It might take months, but I will pay.
I’m so sorry you were shot for me. With my deepest affection ~ Annabelle.
“Sonofabitch,” he shouted, causing the stitches in his stomach to pinch. “We have to go after her. Her stepbrother will kill her.” He hugged the wall as he made his way back to his room. “Call the office and get a trace on the truck. It was Greenly or Grassley, something like that, landscaping.” He’d been out of it, but he remembered it had something to do with lawn care, not to mention the fact that it emanated an overwhelming scent of fertilizer, i.e. cow shit.
“Greeson Landscaping.” Ethan dialed the office as he paced. “I saw it parked by the garage.” He spoke to someone, probably Tyler, and explained what they needed. “They’re tracing—what the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He was gingerly pulling on pants. “Going to find her.” Underwear was too much trouble, so hello, commando.
“I’ll go,” Ethan said. “You stay here and rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“Like hell.” Vertigo hit and he closed his eyes against a wave of nausea with one foot inside his cargo pants. Latching onto the back of the chair to steady himself, he waited until the wave passed before he finished dressing. He made sure to slide on his bullet-proof vest, even though it didn’t stop the last one.
Ethan stood with his muscular arms crossed and a glower on his face. If he thought he intimidated Kellan, he was sadly mistaken. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
“I can’t let you do this. I promised Amelia. She threatened me with castration if I let you out of the bed and I’m rather fond of the twins.”
“Either she does it or I do, and I promise you, I won’t be gentle,” he growled.
“Shit. Wait a minute.”
Kellan brushed past him making sure to hold on to the rail lest he take an unfortunate header down the stairs.
“Kellan, we don’t have the trace yet. We don’t even know where she went.”
“The bank.” She was headed to clear out her safe deposit box. He was sure of it.
#
Annabelle navigated the streets in front of her bank, the area busy with Los Angelenos going about their daily business. She found parking on the street a couple of blocks away and fed coins into the meter. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, so she added an extra quarter to be safe. She slid her backpack over her shoulders and kept her head down, wishing she’d thought to grab a hat. She considered using the one in Mr. Greeson’s truck, but it smelled like sweat and mulch and she just couldn’t put it on her head. She did find a pair of sunglasses in the glove box and she slid them on.
She chanced a look around, not seeing anyone suspicious. The area where she parked wasn’t heavily trafficked, allowing her to proceed down the sidewalk unnoticed. Turning the corner, she once again checked for out-of-place lurkers, but the path was clear. She pushed through the revolving door and entered the lobby. She banked here but usually used the drive-through located behind the building. She approached the service desk and told the perky brunette what she needed, pitching her voice low when she recited her name.
“If you have a seat, someone will be right with you.”
Annabelle chose a red leather chair located next to a tall plant, using the leafy foliage for cover. Her nerves were on edge and she couldn’t stop her leg from bobbing. Had Kellan discovered her missing? She hoped not. She also prayed he didn’t blame Ethan. Nothing or no one could’ve stopped her once she made up her mind. Her next visit was to the lawyer’s office to sign whatever forms were needed, but she hadn’t planned beyond those two tasks. Where would she go? Maybe she could drive to Oklahoma or Arkansas and find a security company to help her. One thing was certain…they wouldn’t be as good as COBRA Securities.
She’d need to figure out transportation, too. She couldn’t steal Mr. Greeson’s truck. Besides, it had GPS so she could easily be tracked. She didn’t want to use up her cash. Since she was already at the bank, maybe she could withdraw money from her savings. She’d be long gone before Robbie came for her. Or Bixby. Having two psychopaths after her was troubling, to say the least.
What was taking so long? She stood to ask the brunette but the woman wasn’t sitting behind the desk. She turned, ready to flee when a voice spoke behind her.
“Ms. St. John?”
She gasped and spun around to see a man standing in front of her wearing black dress pants and a white oxford shirt with a diamond-patterned tie. His dark hair was slicked back from his face and his brown eyes assessed her frankly. She didn’t like the smile that played along his lips. “I’m Dirk Beyers, the assistant branch manager. I understand that you would like to access your safe deposit box?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your key?”
“I do.” She showed it to him.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take care of it for you.”
He led her down a carpeted hallway to a small room no bigger than a broom closet. Against the wall was a table with a gray plastic chair. “First, I need you to sign in.” He placed a card in front of her with her name printed at the top. She signed and dated it. She tried to give it back to him, but he held up a hand. “I’ll need you to sign out, too. I’ll be right back with your box.”
She settled the card on the table as he disappeared through a doorway. She glanced around, looking for cameras, wondering if she was being recorded but didn’t spot any obvious ones. Dirk returned with the eighteen by twenty-four-inch steel box and deposited it on the table in front of her.
“Take your time, Ms. St. John. When you’re done, just press this button.” He indicated a panel on the wall. “I’ll come back for you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”
#
“Hey, Peters, isn’t that her?”
Fred Peters fumbled for the binoculars in his lap and trained them on the woman walking down the sidewalk. The boss—he had no idea the guy’s name—predicted she’d come here sooner or later. They’d been parked along the street for a freaking day waiting for her to show, spending a fortune feeding the meter. Ronnie was starting to smell ripe. Or w
as that him?
Ronnie thought he spotted her twice before, only to be false alarms. They were counting on her not coloring her light, almost white hair. If she did, they’d have a harder time spotting her. But they’d hit jackpot this time. “That’s her.”
“Hot damn,” Ronnie hooted. “’Bout time.”
They missed her at the airport where she parked in the long-term lot. The boss had been tracking her car and they arrived soon after she did, but she hadn’t been near her vehicle or on the shuttle bus either. They managed to locate her again by her cell phone, but some do-gooder shoved her behind a car and she got away.
Then they had her—they freaking had her—but she escaped from the car when Ronnie had to take a piss. Some snot-nosed kid sent them on a wild goose chase and they couldn’t find her again. That’d been a hard one to tell the boss. He’d been irate. Or Fred assumed he’d been mad. It was hard to tell the tone of his voice when he used a machine to alter it. But the words…those were definitely pissed. Fred didn’t normally put up with assholes, but this one paid damn well.
He dialed the number and the boss answered in that robotic, creepy voice. “One minute.” Fred rolled his eyes as he waited for the boss to return. They didn’t have time to wait. Finally, the boss said, “You have her?”
“She’s heading to the bank now.”
“Take care of her.”
The line went dead. Much like the blond would be soon. Fred tossed the cell on the dash and grabbed his gun from the floor. “Boss said to take care of her.”
Ronnie started the engine, but as they’d been focused on their prey, they missed the fact that a delivery van had double-parked, blocking them in.
“Dammit, move,” Ronnie yelled to the empty truck. “Sonofa—”
Fred opened his door. He couldn’t call the boss and report another failure. “I’ll go after her.”
Ronnie reached for him, grabbing his arm. “Dude, there are too many people around. Someone might see you. Besides, she’s gone.”
Fred looked up to see that his partner was correct. The woman had disappeared, probably inside the bank. He cursed long and loud. “We’ll wait until she comes out. Then we’ll cap her ass.” There was no alternative. Fred didn’t fear many things, but the boss terrified him.
#
Kellan fought a severe case of nausea all the way down the twisting, winding roads. Closing his eyes didn’t help. Neither did Ethan’s reckless driving—not that he’d complain since they needed to get to Annabelle as soon as possible. It took guts to attempt some of the passing maneuvers Ethan had managed on the narrow roads. Guy had a career in NASCAR if he ever decided to give up the security business.
Ethan patted the dashboard. “This baby handles well.” He apparently read Kellan’s thoughts. “Not as good as Sally, but not bad.”
Ethan owned a cherry red vintage Mustang that he’d named Sally, after the Wilson Pickett song, Kellan assumed. The guy babied it and Kellan couldn’t imagine him ever testing her like he was the rugged SUV right now. After a particularly harrowing pass around a motor home that resulted in a blaring horn from oncoming traffic, Kellan clutched the armrest. His face was coated in sweat and the hand holding his weapon was shaking like an addict jonesing for his next fix. Perhaps Amelia had known what she was talking about when she insisted he needed to rest. Still, there was no way he’d lie in bed when Annabelle’s life was in danger. She was out there, alone, with not one, but two psychopaths after her. He trusted Ethan with his life—he trusted all his coworkers—but Annabelle was his responsibility, had been from the moment she approached him at the airport. She was his.
How could she leave him?
He thought they were a team. Her rationalization that he could be hurt again was bunk. He’d been a cop, now working for an elite security company. There was no one better equipped to protect her, certainly not the bozos from Cable Security. Yes, he’d been shot. It happened. He could still do his job and damn well.
The phone rang and he put it on speaker. “Got a location,” Tyler Redmond said. “I’ll send it to your phone.”
“Thanks.” Kellan blinked to try to focus on the map. Before he could type it into the SUV’s GPS, it was already there. Tyler was a freaking genius. “The truck’s stationery. She is headed to the bank.”
“Hang on,” Ethan instructed. “I’ll have us there in no time.”
#
Annabelle waited until Dirk left before she tugged the metal box closer. Her heart was pounding and she wasn’t sure if it was because once she opened the lid, memories would assail her, or the uncomfortable way the assistant manager watched her. Though she banked here, she’d never met him, but he acted as if he knew her. His leer was unsettling. She wished Kellan was at her side and then chided herself. She didn’t even really know him. The fact that she’d felt safer with him than she’d felt with anyone ever was beside the point.
With a deep inhale, she inserted the key and lifted the lid. The first thing she spotted was the black velvet box that held her mother’s wedding ring from her marriage to Annabelle’s father. The diamond winked at her when she peeked inside. She wanted to take time to go through all the contents, but she’d already spent more time here than she wanted. She needed to be on her way.
Her father’s medals were all inside, along with trinkets and mementos from both sets of grandparents. She removed all the contents and packed them into her already-heavy backpack, having added the contents of her purse earlier.
She lifted the box and tapped the sides, making sure she’d cleaned everything out. Satisfied that it was empty, she secured the flap on her pack and hefted it over her shoulders. She pressed the button on the wall and jumped back when Dirk appeared instantly. Had he been standing there watching her?
“That was quick. Did you get everything you need, Ms. St. John?”
There was that smirk again. It was almost…knowing. “I did. Thank you.” She walked past him, intending to leave but he rushed in front of her, causing her to stumble to a stop.
“Are you sure you don’t need more time?”
“I’m good.”
He opened his hands wide. “Well then, is there anything else I can help you with? How’s your supply of checks? We have some new designs that might interest you.”
Did people use checks anymore? Online banking made them pretty much obsolete. “My check supply is fine, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, not sure she succeeded, not really caring, as she stepped around him.
He dogged her steps like an overzealous puppy and she nixed her earlier thought of withdrawing money from her personal account. A thousand warning bells were ringing in her head and she needed to get out as soon as possible.
Thankfully he didn’t follow her out the door. Small favors. She’d taken two steps when tires squealed. She turned to the sound when she heard a shout.
“Get down!”
The next thing she knew, something slammed into her. Air burst from her lungs and she was flying through the air. She expected to be flattened against the unforgiving concrete sidewalk, but she landed on a slightly less solid surface as gunshots popped. The bank’s glass window shattered and tiny shards of glass rained down to litter the sidewalk around her. People were screaming as the shots kept coming. Then tires squealed again before blessed silence. She lifted her head to thank her rescuer.
“Thank—Kellan? Oh my God, what are you doing out of bed?” she screeched before she promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around him. She’d never been so ridiculously happy to see anyone in her life.
#
Kellan wasn’t sure he’d be able to lever himself off Annabelle. His whole body felt wrecked. He’d spotted her leaving the bank and then movement out of the corner of his eye snapped his attention to the dark sedan with tinted windows zooming close, a gun barrel protruding from the window. He didn’t think, he just reacted, launching himself in the air to tackle her. At the
last minute, he twisted his body so that he absorbed the impact of the hard pavement, before rolling and covering her with his body. He was positive the stitches had ripped open on both wounds and at least one was bleeding, and those whimpers weren’t very manly…wait a minute. They weren’t coming from him…or at least all the sounds weren’t his. Annabelle was sobbing. Damn, he hated when she cried.
She’d thrown her arms around him and squeezed like an Amazonian rainforest anaconda. Despite the blinding pain, she felt so good pressed against him. He needed to force himself to move. There could be more assassins waiting in the wings to take their shot. Ethan had gone after this one, but they needed to get gone before the police arrived. They couldn’t afford to get caught and have to give statements.
With a herculean effort, he heaved himself off her and helped her to her feet. “Come on.”
She wiped her face with the back of one hand and grabbed his with the other. He tugged her down the sidewalk towards the Greeson Landscaping truck she’d parked on a side street. It’d be their escape vehicle since Ethan commandeered the SUV to chase the shooters.
“You’re bleeding, Kellan.” Her voice was high-pitched and worried. “Were you shot again?”
“No. I’m fine.” Dizzy, still a little nauseous, and about a seven on the ten scale of pain, but peachy now that he had her back.
Sirens wailed from what sounded like every direction, converging on the bank where the shootout occurred. Picking up the pace, they rounded the corner and jerked to an abrupt stop. Blocking the sidewalk like a human fence were three men, two of whom were armed. Kellan recognized the man in the middle as the torch who set fire to Annabelle’s house. Melvin Bixby. He shoved Annabelle behind him and kept a grip on her arm.
Bixby took a deep pull from a cigarette before blowing the smoke out through his nose. He flicked the butt to the ground and crushed it with his boot. “Well, well, well, my lovely Annabelle, we meet again.”
“I’m not your anything, you bastard,” she tossed over Kellan’s shoulder. “You set my house on fire.”
The Viper (COBRA Securities Book 15) Page 13
