Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Lance
My heart stops beating, dislodges from its chest cavity and crawls up my throat. Code 754 flashes on my phone. I hear Alana stumble out of her bed, crash into her nightstand, and expel a barrage of expletives ending with “fuck my life.”
If it was any other code, I would be fine. Agitated, but reasonable in my response efforts. But 7 is for Mafia, 5 is for Izzy, and 4 is for Hostile.
Izzy’s in trouble.
Fuck! I knew I shouldn’t have left her last night.
After I took her back home, we stood in the kitchen for a few minutes while Specs ran to his car for a few things. When I pinned her against the counter, she threw her arms over my shoulders and whispered, “Stay.”
A request.
A wish.
But I stepped away, letting cold air fill the space between us. “Not tonight. But I’ll be here Monday night.”
One weekend.
It would give me time to talk to Alana, work out details, and do any paperwork to make this legit. Because I am all in.
I’ve never gotten dressed so fast in my life. “Alana!” My arm gets stuck in my shirt, and I almost punch myself in the eye. I hop into my pants and barely miss taking a header into my dresser. I don’t care. I need to get to Izzy. Now!
“I know!” She calls out through the wall. “Grab your go bag. Safe house two.”
There’s silence from the other room as I dig through my closet for my supplies. I holster my gun, and a chill shoots down my spine. It’s a bad day if I need to use this.
Alana dashes in. “Macie will open the safehouse. Switch vehicles five times and lock the fuck down once you’re there.” Maybe she sees the panic in my eyes. I am pretty shitty at hiding my emotions. “Lance, it’s a four. They aren’t hurt. We’re removing them from the situation.”
I breathe, but it doesn’t give me the immediate relief I need.
Flinging my bag over my shoulder, I rush out the door. It’s a fifteen-minute drive from my place to Izzy’s, but the streets are empty at four in the morning, and I’m fucking speeding. Taking the stairs two at a time until I hit her floor.
Specs is scrubbing the door to her apartment, and there’s a black plastic bag balled in the corner of the hallway. Stains pool on the floor. He turns with a rag in his hand, and I notice the whole hallway smells like bleach. “What happened?”
“The ex left a gift.” Specs motions with his chin to the bag. “Apparently, she always wanted a cat.”
I swallow. “He left her a dead cat?”
“No, he disemboweled a cat and hung it on her door.”
“You didn’t hear it?”
He shakes his head. “No, the dude was a fucking ninja. I noticed the blood coming in under the door. Checked the cameras, and he left about an hour ago.” Specs looks green, the bleach burning his eyes red. His shoulders slump with the weight of failure.
“Do they know?”
Another shake of his head. “Still sleeping.”
“How much more time do you need?”
He examines the wall. “Five more minutes. Don’t let her come by with a black light.”
I nod and walk in. The apartment is the same as when I left it. Specs’s laptop is open, and I glance through the camera feeds. All clear. But that doesn’t put my nerves at ease. One sheet of drywall separated Izzy from this monster.
I stamp down the rage as I stand in front of her bedroom door. Do I knock? No. I walk in. She’s curled on her side, one leg thrown over the blanket. Mine.
She’s mine, and I will protect her with every fiber of my being.
I run through a thousand different ways to wake her up, opting for the one that throws all professionalism out the window. I crawl into bed with her, like I’ve wished so many times before, pull her back into my chest, and hold her. She stirs, and I whisper, “Izzy.”
Still in a sleepy haze, she whispers back, “Lance? You came back.”
“Always.” She twists in my arms, looking up at me, sleep still in her eyes, not fully registering what’s happening. My fingertips brush across her cheek, moving her hair out of the way. “You trust me, right?”
She nods.
“You know I will always keep you safe.”
She smiles a sleepy smile. “That’s your job.”
I smile back at her, “And I take it seriously.” She reaches up to my face, and I nuzzle into her hand. “Baby, I need you to go grab your emergency bag while I wake up Drew. We need to get going.”
“Are we going on a vacation?” Her sleep- addled mind is really screwing up this escape plan.
“Sort of.” I kiss her forehead and push away from her. “Time to get up.” As I walk toward the door, I glance over my shoulder. She’s fallen back asleep. Damn. “Izzy, get up and grab your bag.”
I wake Drew up, gently but obviously not as snuggly. A shake to the shoulder, and he flutters his eyes open. “Wake up, Bud, time to go.” I open his closet door, move a dirty hoodie to the side, and grab his bag. He’s asleep again.
Double damn. I head back into Izzy’s room. And she’s asleep too.
Do not lose your shit. Don’t do it.
I raise my voice to a loud and annoyed whisper. “Izzy, you need to get up and get dressed.”
She groans and rolls over.
“I know you’re tired, but think about reasons why I might be here.”
Izzy jolts out of bed. “DREW GET UP!” She throws the blankets off. “Shit, what happened? You’re not here for snuggles and breakfast.”
“Another time, because that sounds amazing, but no. We need to leave. Get dressed.” I point to her closet in case she needs extra reminding where everything is.
Panic glazes over her eyes. “What happened?”
“The cameras picked him up last night. Mastodon thinks it’s best to move you to a safe house for now.” It’s a half truth. She doesn’t need to know about the dead cat in the bag.
She runs around the room grabbing any clothes she can easily access and shoving them into a duffle. “How much time do we have?”
“Well, I would’ve liked to be out of here already.”
She slams her bathroom door while I grab her stuff.
Drew steps out of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Lance, what’s going on?”
“Go get changed and grab your video games. If you can get ready in under a minute, we’ll have ice cream for breakfast. Okay?” Drew tilts his head to the side and sighs, trying to gauge my words.
“One minute?”
“Yep.”
“Time me.” He smiles and rushes off.
I pace around the hallway, grabbing a few things to keep us all busy—a board game they’ve been trying to get me to play, a book Izzy is in the middle of reading, and extra charging cables—while they crash and bang into everything. Neither of them should be assassins. They are terrible and noisy, and they have no idea what they are doing.
“Done!” Drew comes out with one arm in a hoodie and the other sort of limply hanging there. His socks don’t match, and his hair is everywhere.
“Go grab a hat. I’m not going to be seen in public with all that.” I order as I wave my hand up and down in front of him. My joke falls flat, and Drew stares at me, either confused or furious, it’s hard to tell.
Seconds later, Izzy stands in her bedroom doorway looking disheveled. Drew points to his mom. “Does she need a hat too?”
I glance at her. The sweatshirt that says ‘I’d rather be reading’ is caught under her breasts, and her hair is frizzed out in a million directions. I temporarily place all my protective energy on hold, replacing it with a stupid, gooey feeling. My throat dries. “Yeah she needs a hat.”