Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
BUTCH
I stare at the scene in front of me. This is…
Not a great development.
The last body Becca created pretty much handled itself, but I don’t see that happening here. Not unless these two dipshits set a self-destruct sequence on the giant red box truck parked out front. Even then, we’d have to get them inside it before it detonates.
And I can’t imagine two bodies in an exploded truck won’t call attention to the neighborhood, which is the last thing I want.
I wouldn’t put it past the chief to try and punish the people here for my refusal to bend to his will.
That’s what men with overinflated egos and insatiable thirsts for power do—they punish anything that threatens their sense of self.
Anything that contradicts the bullshit they spew.
“I’m really sorry.” Becca keeps her voice low as she tucks closer to my side. “I wasn’t actually trying to kill them. I was just trying to keep them from hurting Myra.”
“I know, B.” I smooth the hair back from her worried face.
“You did good.” Too good, actually. We might have to have a conversation about how to incapacitate instead of terminate, because I really would’ve liked the opportunity to interrogate these fuckers.
Figure out why exactly they were here and who exactly sent them.
“Becca did this?” Tate, who lives next door to Simon and saw both of us running this way, looks over the mess we’re facing.
“I didn’t actually mean to.” Becca turns her eyes to Myra. “You've been working so hard to make your house beautiful, and I just went and killed two guys in it.”
Myra gives her a soft smile, reaching out to take Becca’s hand. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t really have a choice.” She lifts her chin. “And I helped a little bit.”
“You helped more than a little bit,” Becca reassures Myra. “If you hadn’t thrown boiling water in that guy’s face, I don’t know how we would have gotten the upper hand.”
From the sound of it, Becca isn’t the only woman who favors found objects as weapons. Between the two of them, I’m not sure many people would stand a chance. Because those two think really quick under pressure.
Unfortunately, in Myra’s case, it’s likely a trauma response. For Becca, it’s just how her brain works. I also assume feminine rage plays a pretty big part in it, and they both probably have to carry theirs in a dump truck. Hell, most women likely do.
“I think the best thing we can do is get them and their truck the fuck out of here.” Simon turns to Tate. “Let’s take everything to the warehouse. We can all meet up there and decide what to do next.”
I nod, agreeing easily. The sooner we get these guys away from this neighborhood, the safer everyone here will be. “Let’s do it.”
I turn to Becca, meeting her dark gaze. “You stay here with Myra and the rest of the girls. I’ll help these guys and then we can meet up and decide where to go from there.”
I know we planned to go to the motel today. Leave the people here to live in peace. But after seeing Myra’s photo on one of these prick’s cell phones, I no longer know if us leaving will make them any safer.
Becca’s hand comes to grip the front of my shirt. “But you’re coming back, right?”
I lean close, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “We’re in this together, B. I wouldn’t have anybody else be my partner in crime.”
Becca blinks up at me, not looking amused at my little joke. “Even though I keep accidentally killing people?”
“Especially because you keep accidentally killing people.” So far she’s done a pretty good job of taking out only problematic people. At the end of the day, some people just don’t deserve to live. Technically, Becca’s doing the world a favor.
Along with Myra and me.
Her lips twitch in a hint of a smile. “I’ll try not to make it a habit.”
“There are worse habits to have.” I turn her toward the door. “Go with Myra. Reconnect with your friends.”
Maybe it’s a good thing our departure has been stalled. I know deep down Becca wanted to see Felicity and Shelly. I also know she would have likely put it off indefinitely. I’m not sure exactly why, but I have my suspicions.
As confident and sure of herself as Becca is in some ways, she seems less secure in others. One of those is friendships.
I struggle with the same thing. Making friends is tough for me.
I’m just not likable. I’m moody and set in my ways.
And I don’t tolerate bullshit. While Becca’s problem isn’t the same, I think she probably has just as tough of a time.
Instead of people not liking her, they don’t understand her.
And people tend to ridicule what they don’t understand.
I’m sure she’s endured more than her fair share of judgment and mockery from people she thought she could trust.
Myra intercepts her, hooking an arm through Becca’s to continue leading her toward the door.
Becca shoots me a panicked look over one shoulder, and I feel a little bad.
I hate forcing her into something, but I don’t really have a choice.
She can’t tag along while I help move bodies. Not when no one else’s girlfriend—
My brain shorts out for a second over how easily I thought of Becca as mine.
Over how much I don’t want to remind myself she’s not.
Shaking my head in an effort to physically reroute my focus, I turn to Simon and Tate and get to work.
It takes the three of us a few hours to get everything moved.
There’s an odd sense of déjà vu as I stand in the warehouse that once played such a big part in my life.
If I really think about it, the years I spent pretending to be a part of this group were probably some of the best of my life.
Unfortunately, it was all a lie. I was never really one of them.
I was an undercover cop for the Memphis PD.
But I’m not sure I was ever really one of them either.
I thought I was. Believed I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, becoiming a cop and making Dave proud. It’s what I promised him as he drew his last breath. I wanted to do it for him. For me. For the son he never got to see grow up.
For the friend I never got over losing.
But I don’t think Dave would be proud of what the Memphis PD is now. I want to believe he would have done the same thing I did and stood up to the corruption. That he would have done what was right no matter what it cost him.
Because that’s exactly what I fucking plan to do.
Crouching down, I hover one of the cell phones we collected in front of its dead owner’s face, opening it the same way Becca did so I can do a more in-depth investigation of the contents.
I move systematically through each app, opening it regardless of what it seems to be, just in case one of them is a vault app.
I open what appears to be a calculator and stare down at the number keys, trying to think of what code he might have used to hide all the shit he didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on.
Neither man has an ID, so I can’t use personal information to guide me. I decide to reduce the app and search through everything else, hoping I find a clue there.
Unlike the other guy, this one has a full camera roll. Like his buddy's, the most recent photo is of Myra, but there are at least fifty other photos before it. Every fucking one of them is a pair of tits. Who the fuck takes the time to add a spank bank to their burner phone?
This fucker appar—
Wait.
I reopen the calculator app and type in a set of numbers every man learned in third grade.
58008
It doesn’t look quite the same as it did on a basic calculator, but that doesn’t matter.
It’s close enough to BOOBS for a dumbass to count, because the app immediately opens, showing a collection of files and photographs.
He must have moved the photo of Myra to the camera roll to make it more accessible, because there are at least twenty additional photos of women hidden behind the vault app.
And one of them is Becca.
“What the fuck?” Simon looks over my shoulder as I scroll through the information, skimming lists of women's names and addresses, along with their labeled photographs.
This explains who likely showed up at Becca’s house, and it turns my stomach. “I’m sure there’s something similar on the other phone.” I doubt I’ll get as lucky when it comes to his password, but hopefully he just has a duplicate of what I’m seeing now.
Simon points to a name as I open a file. “That’s Myra’s ex-husband.” His eyes lift to Tate. “Her dad’s on there too.”
“You think they have something to do with this?” I try to recollect everything Becca told me about them. “Aren’t they in jail?”
“Yes.” Simon points to the line of numbers next to each man’s name.
“Those are their inmate IDs.” He scans the list for a second longer.
“Shit.” Raking a hand through his hair, he steps away, turning to Tate to discuss something I don’t fully catch because I’m busy sending a copy of all of the information to myself.
And a copy to Becca, just in case.
I finish just as Simon says something I do catch. “We need to call Zeke.”
He’s suggested it no fewer than ten times during the process of bringing these two to the warehouse, and I respond the same way I have each and every one of those times.
“No.” There’s no damn way Alaskan Security needs to be involved in this. I don’t trust them. Not Zeke. Not Owen. Not Luca. And sure as hell not Pierce.
Simon scoffs. “You still think we shouldn’t call Zeke and his friends?” He gestures at the two dead guys. “Because it’s not as easy as it used to be to get rid of these things.”
“Absolutely not.” I can’t stand still, starting to pace as I try to think. Try to come up with a plan to clean this mess up. “Fuck.” I search for a better word to convey my frustration, but end up using the same one, just louder. “Fuck.”
“We can’t help you if you aren’t honest with us.
” Tate stands shoulder to shoulder with Simon.
“You said yourself, the cops are still watching us. You think they’re not going to get suspicious at some point?
We’re lucky we got these fuckers here without getting caught.
How in the hell do you think we’re going to dispose of them without attracting attention? ”
“I’ll figure something out.” They just need to give me a fucking minute to think.
Maybe I should call Becca. She’s fucking brilliant. If anyone can figure out a way to deal with this, it’ll be her.
“It’s not just these pricks. How in the hell do you think we’re going to get rid of a big, bright red fucking box truck?” Simon continues trying to convince me.
“We’re not calling Alaskan fucking Security.” I pace faster. “I can handle this. I just need a minute to think.”
“We’ve had a minute to think. We know enough to understand this isn’t something we can take on by ourselves.
” Tate sounds annoyed. “Men all throughout the prison system are using women like currency. They’re giving them up to this group as punishment.
They’re telling these people where to find them in retaliation for putting those fuckers behind bars. ”
Fuck. That wasn’t a conclusion I’d made yet.
I should have brought Becca with me. She would have figured that shit out immediately.
Might already have since she’s got all the information now. Hopefully she’s looking through it as we speak. Narrowing down what’s going on and figuring out how it all fits together.
Because this is all connected. It has to be. The men coming for Myra. The men who came for Becca. Her sister’s abduction. All of it.
The heavy door of the warehouse opens and I turn to see Christian striding in.
He meets my eyes. “It’s time.”
My feet stall as I stop pacing, a sinking feeling sending my stomach to my boots. “Time for what?”
Christian pulls in a deep breath. “I called Zeke. His team will be here in a few minutes.”
My jaw drops. I know I haven’t been completely honest with them up until now, but finding out they’ve already called Alaskan Security without giving me the heads up has my blood boiling. “You fucking—”
Tate and Simon step between me and Christian. Simon holds one hand up. “We’re not gonna do that.”
I stand straighter, shaking out the rage urging me to hit something. “Fine. Becca and I will be gone when you get back.”
Simon shakes his head. “Becca’s already with Zeke’s team.”
She’s what?
“I’ll fucking kill you.” I swing on Simon, managing to return the shot he got in on me the other night.
All three of them are on me at once and I fight with everything I have, aiming to cause as much damage as possible for what they’ve done.
But it’s a losing battle.
Eventually they gain the upper hand, shoving me back, breathing hard as they stare me down.
I knew things would never be the same between us once they knew what I was, but I never expected them to be so fucking stupid. Calling Alaskan Security is the worst mistake they could have made. They can’t be trusted. Their motivations are suspect and their methods are questionable.
I won’t fucking be involved with them.
The door Christian came through opens, dragging the other three men’s attention to it. The second they look away, I slide into the shadows, melting out of sight before turning and cutting to the back of the building. I don’t need to see them arrive to know who it is.
Alaskan Security is here.
And they have Becca.
For now.