Chapter 77
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Todd
Right under his snout
I’m not exactly happy with this plan—rather, my part in it—but if it works and Freya willingly leaves it means Mal will be happy, and that’s all I care about.
For that reason alone, it’s worth it.
Even the implied “fuck you” to Sterling by spiriting his mate away right out from under his snout is a hollow victory with the man still alive.
Mal draws a rough blueprint of the house. We go over maps, and both my phone and Mal’s are stored in Faraday bags that will be waiting for us, along with our overnight bag, at the airport.
Morning has Mal’s old cellphone, also in a Faraday bag. And I’m given another, larger bag to take with me, to stow a laptop, tablet, and other devices she wants to bring.
I’m nervous as hell, but this has to happen.
What I haven’t told Mal is what Jax privately told me at home after Mal climbed into the SUV. Things will move fast from this point, and not to tell Mal. He was letting me know so I could mentally prepare Mal in case today’s operation isn’t successful.
We’ll only get one chance at this.
I have my own gun holstered on my back waistband, and I’m given a jacket, hat, name badge, and other accessories that identify me as Mike Cannady, a custom cabinet salesman.
The small car I’ll drive is outfitted with a wrap with the company’s info on it.
While Freya is at her appointment, I’ll set a burner and a note to answer it on Freya’s car and park close enough that I can see her but where she can’t easily see me.
Morning has Mal wear the hat and jacket while the plan is explained.
I’ll have a burner, too, and I’ll wear an earpiece so I’m always in contact.
The cellphone I’ll leave on her car has a bug in it so they can monitor her even if it’s shut off.
If she tries to call her husband, we’ll know, and the teams will move in immediately and grab her.
I memorize the plan and the map, then it’s time to go.
Mal reluctantly removes the hat and jacket and gives them to me. “Tell her I looked at the moon every night,” he says, his eyes bright, close to tears. “And that I tried not to look back, but I couldn’t help it because I love her and need her.”
I don’t want to leave him in this state. I cradle his face in my hands. “What does that mean?”
He sniffles. “She’ll know. You tell her that. If she’s on the fence, that will make her mind up.”
“Okay, baby.” I pull him in for a long hug, rubbing my face in his silky hair. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.”
“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep,” he mumbles into my chest. “You can’t be sure.”
I feel Mal’s agony over his mom, missing her. I think about my mom. I was only ten when we joined the pack, but I remember her grief and fear, even through my own, as we hurriedly packed and left. I wanted Dad, but he was gone, and I wanted to protect my mom despite my age.
This situation is drastically different than mine, but I want to fix this for Mal, be his hero. “Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too.” One long, last hug, and he steps back so I can get in the car and head out, one of the SUVs following me.
Once I reach the parking lot, the other SUV disappears while I find a spot to park close to her car. I set the phone on her car, just under the driver’s side wiper blade, tucking the note under the blade and partially covering the phone. Then I move my car and sit back to wait.
Which is the hardest part.
“She’s almost done,” Morning says in my ear. “She’s walking up to pay.”
I don’t know how he’s getting this intel, and I don’t care. I sit up, tensing, waiting.
She emerges a few minutes later, and it takes everything I have not to just roll up, grab her, toss her in the car, and run.
But as Morning hammered home to me, there are security cameras everywhere. Which is why I’m wearing the hat, jacket, and sunglasses to obscure my identity. I suspect from the slight tingle I feel from the sunglasses that they’re charmed somehow, but that’s beyond my pay grade.
She walks up to her car and hesitates, staring, then looking around, her gaze darting all over. Finally, she takes the note, reads it, looks around more, and picks up the phone.
My finger hits the send button on my burner as soon as she slides into the driver’s seat.
It’s not until the fourth ring that she tentatively answers. “H-hello?”
“Do you want to see Mal?”
A pause. “Who are you?”
“Drive straight home,” I tell her. “I’ll be five minutes behind you. I’m your expected estimate for a bathroom reno.”
There’s fear, and expected hesitation. “What’s going on? Who is this?”
“I’m a friend. Do not call or text anyone. I will explain when we talk at your home.”
“Is Mal with you?”
“I will explain when you see me.” Morning emphasized repeating, not explaining further.
I watch her sitting in her car, her head swiveling as she looks around. “How do I know you won’t hurt me or kidnap me?”
“Ma’am, if I wanted to hurt you, I’d have put a bullet through your head.
As for kidnapping, that would’ve already happened.
I’m watching you right now. The last thing I want is to hurt you.
I’m here to help you. Please, go home. Do not call or text anyone.
Pretend everything’s normal. When you get home, pull into your garage, into the bay closest to the door that opens into the utility room, where the security camera blind spot is, and close the big garage door. ”
She looks around again, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if that helps. “Is Mal okay?”
I refuse to let impatience bleed into my tone. “Ma’am, I will answer your questions in person.”
She holds up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three on your left hand. Please, we don’t have a lot of time. I promise you, no one will harm you. I’ll be five minutes behind you.”
Finally, she nods. “Okay. I’ll be alone at home.”
“We know,” I gently say. “That’s the point. We don’t want your husband knowing.”
She freezes. Even at this distance, I watch her swallow hard. “Okay,” she says. She hangs up and, a moment later, she starts the car. The bug in the phone plays a feed into my earpiece. I start the car and wait until she’s pulled out and turned toward home to put the car in drive.
“She’s taking her usual route,” Morning says.
“Good.” I pull out.
She stops at a light up ahead, four cars between us. Still nothing but music playing in her car. I watch her looking around.
My heart breaks for her, that she’s so terrified. If there was a better way, I would’ve strongly advocated for it.
But even Mal agrees this is best.
She makes no stops. I hang back and pull into a parking lot just before the final turn into the development and let the SUV go past me.
“She parked in the garage,” they report a few minutes later. “In the proper spot. Door closed.”
“Good,” Morning says. “Sterling’s still at the office, so with traffic, even if he left in the next five minutes, he’s still at least an hour away. Let’s try to get her out of there in under forty-five. Go ahead, Todd.”
“Roger.”
I feel my gun in the middle of my back, under the windbreaker. When I pull into the driveway, I park back a bit, like someone who doesn’t live there or isn’t familiar with the occupants.
“Hope this works.” I grab the tape measure, brochure, and tablet in a portfolio case.
“If it doesn’t,” Morning says, “the team will move in immediately after you leave. They’ve staged behind the house.
We really don’t want to disable the camera system, because that looks suspicious.
Her leaving of her own free will is a harder story for Sterling to sell to the cops.
I’ll monitor but will avoid speaking. The surveillance team activated the cell jammer when she rolled into the driveway, so if you need help or have questions, say it into the radio. ”
“Copy.” Making sure the windbreaker is pulled down in the back before I get out, I smooth the name badge lanyard and put on a salesman’s smile as I approach the front door.
She opens it before I get there, her eyes wide, but I don’t change my expression because I know the doorbell camera’s focused on me. “Hi, Mrs. Sterling? I’m Mike Cannady. We spoke on the phone yesterday about the bathroom renovation estimate.”
She nods, eyes still wide as I reach out and hand her a business card, making sure my name badge and the large tape measure I’m balancing on the closed tablet cover are clearly visible to the doorbell camera. “Y-yes.”
When she flips the card over—well, I didn’t think it’d be possible for her eyes to get wider, but they do.
DEEP INHALE. SNIFF.
I keep talking as she meets my gaze. “I know I said I’d come by tomorrow, but I had a cancellation today and it wasn’t far from here, so I thought I’d take a chance.”
She closes her eyes and takes a long, deep inhale.
“Is today convenient?” I continue. “I don’t mind coming back tomorrow if it’s not.”
Her eyes pop open again, tears already spilling. “Today’s fine.” Her voice sounds normal-ish, I guess? “Please, come in.” She steps aside to admit me. She’s already blinking back tears, and I hate that it’s probably a survival skill she’s become quite adept at over the years by necessity.
I keep the smile on my face and hand her a brochure. It looks normal, but I point out the first line. It’s in the same font as the rest of it—damn, Morning really commits to the bit—and says:
Are there cameras in here? We need to talk where they can’t hear.
She reads it and nods. “The master bath’s this way,” she says, leading me upstairs, hopefully acting normal enough that if there are cameras, they don’t pick up anything unusual.
I follow, making the right comments. “This is a beautiful home, Mrs. Sterling.”
Upstairs, I’m the one who has to remember to keep moving because I smell Mal’s scent, strong, as we pass one of the closed bedroom doors.