Chapter 28 #2
Winston was at the office, reading the case notes O’Connor had brought.
“Still going through it. This is one sick fuck. This Boston group kept a lot of things from the public. Like, there’s an email from the mayor directing them to not disclose that the victims got flowers because he didn’t want to ruin the flower business.
He said if it got out, every woman in town would be calling the cops on her boyfriend. It would be pandemonium.”
“I can see the logic,” Duke answered.
“It’s stupid, is what it is. They’re putting the next potential victim in more danger,” Winston argued. “Without warning signs to be careful of, it makes it easier for the perp to collect his next victim. Give the public as much warning as you can.”
I stayed out of the dispute as a few seconds of static signaled them both transmitting at the same time. That was the problem with these tiny earpieces. Not stepping on each other’s transmissions required discipline.
“Enough,” Lucas scolded. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Winston answered. “We’re missing the autopsy reports. The cases only include short summaries of the findings.”
“I’ll check with O’Connor on that,” Lucas confirmed.
Jordy’s weak voice came over comms a second later. “Help, I can’t…”
Then, I heard Pete say something unintelligible.
Military protocols instantly clicked into place, and we all stayed off the channel until Lucas said otherwise.
Lucas transmitted instantly. “Jordy, say again.” Lucas’s voice was calmer than I would have been.
“Buckle up,” I commanded as I pointed at my ear and started the Porsche’s V-8.
“What’s going on?” Yates asked.
I pointed at my ear again.
“Next time, I get one of those too.”
I didn’t want to miss anything, so I put a finger to my lips.
After a second of silence, Lucas added, “What’s the problem?”
I pulled away from the curb, right after a minivan, and burned rubber, reversing course on the street. Jordy and Pete were at the house with Peyton. If they were in trouble, so was my girl.
Lucas tried again. “Jordy, say again... Pete, radio check.” With no answer, he made the call. “Zane and Winston, back to the house, max speed.” We were the two closest.
Since he’d said my name first, I responded first. “Roger that.”
Winston confirmed the order right after me.
“Jordy and Pete,” Lucas said slowly. “If you copy, single click.”
No response came, which made the silence sickening.
My stomach tightened as I took the first corner, tires squealing.
I steered purposefully, alternating between full throttle and heavy braking, dodging around slower cars, my vision narrowing to the road ahead and obstacles.
This Porsche was the real deal, a road beast, especially as Joe had set them up.
My Ducati was possibly the only way to get there faster.
“What happened?” my passenger asked as he cinched his belt tight.
“They’re in trouble at the house and not answering.”
Yates shook his head. “Not good.”
I pressed the button to initiate a call. “Call Peyton,” I commanded as soon as I found a clear stretch.
“Calling Peyton, iPhone,” Siri responded through the car’s speakers. I clicked up the volume to be able to hear over the roar of the twin-turbo V-8.
The call went to voicemail. “Peyton, call me right away.” I hung up and retried the call with the same result.
“Be all right, Angel. Hold on, I’m on the way.”
“We’re on the way,” Yates corrected me. “Rangers lead the way.”
I nodded, grateful for the reminder that as polished as he looked now, at one point the man had been a Ranger and had gotten down and dirty in the same faraway deserts as I had.
“And I appreciate it.”
I pressed the accelerator all the way down as soon as I passed the next car.
Peyton
What the hell was that explosion?
Jordy had fallen down, and as I watched, Pete stumbled in and fell as well.
Through the glass, I saw smoke fill the room. Rushing around the table, I headed for the door, but then I saw my worst nightmare.
A bald man was inside the house amid the smoke, wearing a gas mask.
Instantly, I ducked down below the windowsill.
Had he seen me? I clamped my hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing.
A second later, his voice answered my question. “Do you see her?” Baldy’s yell was clearly muffled by the mask.
“No, but she’s got to be here,” a second muffled male voice answered.
They were after me.
I crawled along the wall of the house, making myself as small as possible, my mind going a million miles a minute into more than one bad place about the outcome if they found me.
Patting my pocket, I confirmed what I already knew. Like a fool, I’d left my phone charging on the kitchen counter. I had no way to call for help, no way to reach my man.
Jordy’s gun had been out on the coffee table. Maybe I could get to it. Lifting up, I peeked over the edge.
I saw the gun on the corner of the coffee table, under a magazine. What I also saw before ducking down was the second man, just as big as the first, but with long hair instead of bald. Getting past these goons and to the gun would be just as impossible as getting to my phone in the kitchen.
My self-defense training was maybe good enough to get out of one guy’s grasp, if I surprised him when he grabbed me, but certainly not two.
Why did they have gas masks on? Did that have to do with why the guys had collapsed?
My God. What if they were hurt?
“What about these guys?” Baldy asked.
“Leave them,” Long Hair answered. “We only get paid to bring her in. Check the other rooms.” Hired bad guys. Buzzcut and Shorty, now these two.
“What if one of ’em wakes up?”
“The gas knocks ‘em out for at least five minutes. If he wakes up early, you can shoot him.”
Crap, crap, crap. I couldn’t let that happen. Standing, I yelled, “Assholes!”
As soon as Baldy saw me through the window, I ran for the side of the house and as fast as I could around the corner. The drugstore would be safe. I only had to make it there and call for help.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind me, but I didn’t dare look back.
The gate was unlocked, so I swung it open, then slammed it behind me and knocked over the trash can to block it. So far, I was keeping ahead of Baldy. Only a few more yards to the sidewalk and I could run down the street toward the drugstore.
“There you are,” Long Hair said as he stepped around the corner and blocked my way.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I cried in my most helpless voice as I slumped my shoulders and slowed down.
Long Hair smirked and grabbed my arm.
Eyes, throat, nose, balls, knees. I exploded upward and punched him as hard as I could in the throat.
He gurgled, grasped his throat, and stumbled backward, letting go of my arm.
I ran for the sidewalk, but stepped on something sharp and hopped for two steps.
“Bitch.” A strong hand grabbed my ankle, and I went down hard. Pain radiated from my knee all the way to my hip.
Long Hair pulled me toward him.
I pulled up my free foot and mentally repeated the target list as Long Hair pulled me toward him. Eyes, throat, nose, balls, and knees. With a swift kick, I jammed my heel into his nose. A lady shouldn’t have liked the crunching sound of his nose breaking, but I was no lady today.
Long Hair let me go with a scream, and I scrambled away as Baldy rounded the back corner of the house.
He pulled off his gas mask and lumbered toward us, more elephant than cheetah.
“Bitch,” Long Hair called as I reached the sidewalk. “Help me.”
Ignoring the pain in my injured foot, I raced down the street toward the drugstore three blocks away. I could run faster than Baldy—at least I thought I could. Why hadn’t I agreed to jog at lunchtime with Marci when she’d asked?
I chanced a look back after several houses.
Baldy was helping his friend up. But it got worse. There was a third man helping Baldy get Long Hair to his feet. Then, it got even worse when they all piled into a small blue car on the street.
Now, the drugstore was no longer an option. I couldn’t outrun a car.
I darted into the side yard of the closest house.