Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
SIERRA
The Norfolk Airport is packed with holiday travelers wearing bright smiles in silly holiday sweaters.
Every single red and green sweater drives a spike in my heart.
I’ll never have what they have. Family. A reason to be cheerful in the season.
The masses amble around aimlessly, chattering like chipmunks, even though its only eight in the morning.
I want to scream. I want to run through them. I can’t take it anymore. Being cooped up on the plane with my memories and my worry was more than any person should have to endure.
The phone Cole got me chimes. It’s a notification for a voicemail. Someone must have called while I was flying.
Please let it be Bryan.
I hold my breath until I have the screen in front of me.
The urge to curse returns. Cole.
I should just delete his message. I can’t take any more pain.
As I worm my way through the B concourse, I go against my better judgement and play the message.
He’s shouting. I glance around to see if anyone else is hearing his piercing voice.
“Sierra, where the hell are you? Call me immediately. Jesus. I’m going mad here. I need to know you are safe. Right now I’m having visions of you dying in a snowbank, or being kidnapped. Or… fuck. Just call me!”
I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall outside the airport bathroom.
Why? I just want him gone from my life.
He destroyed my life. Then lied to me about being my fiancé.
To help me, that little voice says in my head.
But I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Bryan. My brother, my only family.
The next voicemail is worse.
Cole’s voice is thick with emotion. “Sierra, all of the Strong clan and Agile team are out searching for you. We’re worried sick. Call me the instant you get this.”
The last message raises the hair on my arms. “I won’t stop until I know you’re safe.” He disconnects.
I’m a walking emotional disaster by the time I finally reach the revolving exit door. I stumble into a man as I try to hurry out the sliding glass doors. “Oh, excuse me. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
The man, tall and thickly muscled, has close cropped hair, with eyes made of obsidian. My gut reaction is that the guy is scary.
And pissed.
I bumped into the wrong guy. His angular jaw is locked tight. There’s something disarming about the way he’s looking at my face.
“S-sorry,” I stammer, as I take a step back.
He tilts his head and sharpens his focus on me. “Do I know you?”
Ice water courses through my veins.
“Uh, no. I don’t think so. Excuse me, I need to go.”
I feel his eyes on me when I turn and duck out to the busy sidewalk outside the terminal. The hairs stay raised on my neck for a long time.
Cool drizzly rain lands on my face as I jog toward the ride share pick up lane. A few minutes later, I’m in a small Chevy sedan heading toward my apartment.
“Messy morning,” says the driver, “it’s going to be like this all day.”
Obviously making chitchat.
I’m not in the mood for small talk, but I force a reply. “I just came in from Utah, so it feels warm.”
It’s a classic eastern Virginia winter morning. Cole can have Utah. Serves him right to be cold.
Cold Cole. Hm.
Through gritted teeth, I hiss, “Asshole.”
The driver glances up.
Oops. I murmur, “Sorry. Not you.”
The scent of Cole still clings to me and only adds fuel to the angry fire burning in my gut. I may not have remembered the anger before. But I sure do now.
Cole Strong will never touch me again.
As I stare out the window at the gray landscape, the pain of the night Cole ruined my world sears through my heart.
Fresh, just like it was yesterday. Not seven months ago.
Forty minutes later, the driver calls out to me as he slows. “Ma’am, we’re almost to the address you requested.”
Shifting, I stretch my travel weary body. Everything hurts. Redeye flights always make me feel like crap. But I’d have ridden a bicycle if I had to.
Nothing is keeping me from getting back here so I can search for Bryan.
As we pull into the lot, an ounce of relief washes over me. My white Honda Pilot is right in its spot, number 44.
Interesting. someone brought it back here after the accident. That’s great news, because I’ve got a three city area to canvas looking for my brother.
I need to get moving.
But my body has other plans.
But when the driver drops me in front of my apartment, a wave of exhaustion hits me. Not just my body, but my brain. It feels like I’m trying to walk with concrete shackles as I climb the steps to my apartment.
Reality apparently weighs a lot. At least, if you’re me, it does.
Nothing like having a missing drug addict brother and a few days in a mountain cabin with the man that crushed your heart, then wormed his way back into your bed.
Okay, okay, so maybe I did have a big part in the falling back in bed part, which infuriates me.
But I had reasons: a.) I was not in my right mind, and b.) Cole Strong is the most physically irresistible man I’ve ever met.
But a.) doesn’t apply anymore. And b.)... well, b.) can go screw itself.
I open the lock using the spare key that was stashed over the door, stuck in a little crack over the molding. It was there for Bryan. In case he ever needed to get in.
When I push open the door, I’m hit with wave after wave of memories. Mostly bad. Some horrible.
I’ve never shaken the awful emotions of the night that Bryan was arrested in this very room.
Suddenly, an ice-pick pain in my head steals my breath.
Oookay. I wasn’t expecting that.
Maybe I overdid it.
Carefully, I lock the deadbolt and hook the chain. My plan was to leave right away to begin my search, but that’s a big negative at the moment.
My body flatly refuses to move anymore.
My heavy legs carry me down the hall to the bedroom. Fumbling for an aspirin, I hiss out my frustration as things tumble out of the medicine cabinet.
A box of condoms first. Followed by a pack of tampons which scatter like pick up sticks.
“Oh, come on!”
I don’t even bother gathering a single thing up. It can wait.
The morning light filtering through the blinds in my bedroom is low and gloomy as I crash onto the comforter.
Sleep claims me fast, as if my brain just can’t take another moment of this world.
* * *
Lord, it’s hot in here.
When I roll over, my hair is clinging to my face.
The room is dark. A fevered sweat has soaked my clothes. The cotton of my night t-shirt clings to my skin.
Why am I burning up?
Assessing myself from head to toe, I check for the usual signs of illness, nothing stands out. No muscle aches. No pounding headache. No sore throat.
Must have been a dream. A bad one from the feel of things.
Then I hear it. The chain on my apartment door, rattling.
I freeze, holding my breath until it sears inside of my lungs.
Hushed voices follow the rattling—men’s voices that I don’t recognize drift to me.
For a second, my mind goes to Cole, but no. I would know that husky voice from ten miles away.
Maybe he sent a local friend.
I try to swallow and fail miserably as all of my cells are thrust into fight or flight. Then I hear words that freeze my racing heart in one swipe.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw her at the airport. I was sure she was dead. Stupid fucker had to get his sister involved. She’s smart, and there’s no way she’ll let this drop. The only way to know we’re in the clear is to finish her for good.”
A growled voice replies, “Yeah, well, I tried. But this time, I’ll make sure she’s bled out before I leave.”
Oh god. Oh. God.
Silently, I slide from the bed. My blood is zooming. My hands are sweating. I grab the backpack that I got at Cole’s and scoot to the window. Very carefully, I flip the latch.
I need to get outside before they get inside.
Please let the window be quiet.
I slowly move the heavy window’s weight up. When the opening is large enough for my body, I slither out onto the small roof that covers the doorway to the building.
My lungs are screaming and I remember I haven’t been breathing.
Pressing myself back against the brick wall, I watch for signs of movement. It’s late. The neighborhood has that hushed feeling that only comes in the early hours of the morning.
This is the perfect time for someone to sneak into an unsuspecting person’s apartment.
How long did I sleep? It’s still dark. It feels like I was knocked out for an eon as stiff as my body is. But much of that’s from the adrenaline raging in my veins.
I wiggle to the edge of the roof. As I flip over, my foot hooks on the lattice. My improvised ladder. I once thought the thing was ugly as sin. I sure do like it now.
When my bare feet hit the grass, I sprint for the cover of the nearby stand of trees.
Now I have to wait. They’ll realize I’m not there and leave. I hope.
But minutes stretch on as my heart thuds around like a wounded bird. What in the world are they doing in there?
When the cold starts to seep in, I realize I’ve got to do something. Hypothermia is all too easy to get on cold damp nights like this. I’m nowhere near dressed for this temperature. Barefoot, in tights and a thin cotton t-shirt, I’m more ready for yoga than I am for running from killers.
Peeking out from behind the tree, I scan the lot.
My car looks untouched from what little I can see. But if those men are tearing through my apartment, looking for something, they’ll probably do the same to my car.
I tuck low and head in the opposite direction from my parking spot, hoping I can find an unlocked car to hide in.
That’s when the best idea I’ve ever had hits me.
Ducking between cars, I start jerking on car door handles. Alarms instantly begin blaring. Car after car. Then, like dominoes, a dozen other cars begin beeping and flashing.
That ought to rattle those bastards.
The parking lot looks like a disco. Lights are flashing. Horns are honking. A ruthless sense of pride hits me.
Slipping into a low bank of shrubs, I wait. The cops are going to rain on their parade.
Less than a minute later one emerges. Then the other. Their faces are calm under the porch light of my building. Walking as if they own the world.
My jaw tightens. I recognize that walk. It’s the walk that men get when they’ve been trained to kill someone, then blend in like it’s a day in the park.
These are Special Forces soldiers.
Virginia is teeming with them.
Two blue lights catch my eyes. Matching local police cars bounce into the parking lot.
Not that they will know the clowns from my apartment are up to anything.
Should I run out and shout help?
I bite my lip as I watch.
Wait. What? The bigger of the two intruders intercepts the cops. Stepping out into the path of the police cruisers.
Oh my god. They know the cops.
The same guy, the bulky one, laughs, points generally at the chaos in the parking lot.
My heart sinks all the way to my toes. Are my intruders cops?
The second guy makes a show of clicking his key fob, silencing his own truck.
One by one, car owners do the same. The parking lot goes back to silence. Sleepy residents must not be too concerned because not a single one comes outside.
I’m completely disappointed. All of that for nothing.
As the racket disappears, some kind of conversation ensues between the two men and the two cops. Lots of macho postures going on over there.
What are they talking about?
I edge closer, moving to a different tree, hoping I can hear what’s being said. When they’re done, the bigger guy gives the cop a man hug with a copious amount of back slapping. “Good seeing you, Kurt, be sure to drop by and visit me sometime. We can tell war stories.”
Oh, Jesus. It’s true. The cops are friends with this murderer.
I curl into a ball behind the tree. My heart stutters as my body trembles with fear.
Now what do I do?
Think. Think. I have to think this through. I’m in so far over my head, I’ve got to step back and regroup. Get my resources together and figure out the safest way to look for Bryan.
The only thing I know right now is I can’t stay here.
The cops pull away. I don’t know whether to rejoice or cry.
The two would-be-murderers go right to my Honda.
The lights blink. Because, of course, the bastards have my keys.
Their heads duck into the vehicle. For a few minutes, they rifle through the interior.
Meathead one taps his hand on the roof and says, “Let’s roll. We’ll catch her later.”
Not if I can help it.
They won’t ever see me again.
I sink deeper behind the tree and pray that I’m out of sight. My teeth are chattering, my heart is still in overdrive. A few seconds later headlights illuminate a path near me.
The driver pulls out very slowly.
The passenger’s face is a scary shadow, half lit in the truck as he scans the area. Looking for me.
A fresh wave of terror hits me. These are the men who may have killed my brother and his girlfriend.
And these men will kill me if I can’t get the upper hand.