Chapter 10 #2
“Did you hear?” I asked.
“Phil was blackmailing Kathy?”
“Looks that way.”
“And he was pretending to be Mark.”
Yeah, she’d heard the whole conversation.
“Again, looks like it.”
“I can totally see that.”
Easton came back into the living room with a KFC container of coleslaw in his hand and plopped down in the recliner across from the couch.
“Why’s that?” he asked around a mouthful.
“I know you’re not eating the last of my coleslaw.”
Easton flashed her a smile and shook his head.
“No. Theo ordered four coleslaws, so there’s plenty left for you.”
“Plenty by your estimation maybe. Some of us were stuck in a tiny town for months with no KFC for hours. I missed my coleslaw.”
“Yeah, well, try living without real pizza for ten years,” he volleyed.
Pizza had been a topic of conversation between us while we were overseas. All of us missed good old-fashioned cardboard pizza from Dominos. Sure, there was Dominos overseas but it did not taste the same.
“Fine. You win,” she grumbled.
“Phil?” he prompted.
“He’s nice enough. His work’s a little sloppy because he likes to take shortcuts. I also heard him complaining to Mike about child support. Something about his ex taking him back to court to get more money out of him and he was pissed because if his support went up he’d have to sell his camper.”
Phil sounded like a dick who needed to adjust his priorities. Obviously I didn’t have kids but I couldn’t imagine bitching about taking care of them or wanting to keep a camper more than I wanted them fed, clothed, and happy.
“What about Mike and Sarah?” Easton went on.
Bridget settled back on my chest and it struck me then how natural it felt to have her on my lap, cuddled into me while she was talking to Easton. Not only that, but Easton hadn’t batted an eye when he saw her there. Not even a raise of his eyebrow in question.
“What about them?”
“Either of them give you any weird vibes? Did they ever act strangely? Anything.”
“I’m not the best judge of weird vibes seeing as my boss was conspiring with a warlord and I had no idea.
Neither had I caught on to the blackmail scheme going on.
But Mike’s a little on the quiet side. He was there to work, period.
He was fully engrossed in solving the battery issue.
It consumed him more than the rest of us.
Sarah liked to gab, mostly about her Instagram followers and how when the project was finished she was going to travel and create content for her IG.
Some sort of inspirational content using drone footage flying over beautiful landscapes.
She also had plans to sell her footage. She said she just wanted to be free and see the world. ”
I knew nothing about Instagram or social media beyond the serious security risks it posed. So I didn’t understand how someone could make a living creating content and honestly I didn’t care enough to know.
“Mike ever talk about his wife? What she did?”
“Yeah, she’s a photographer. Mostly nature. She sells her images to major publications.”
Before Easton could ask any more questions the motion sensor floodlight went on in the backyard.
Both Easton and I got to our feet. I was still holding Bridget.
“What on—”
“Shh.” I glanced at Easton, got a chin lift, and swiftly started down the hall.
“What’s happening?” Bridget whispered.
“Not sure. Easton’s gonna check.” When I made it to the master bedroom I went directly to the closet. “There’s a safe room in here. I need you to go inside so I can help Easton.”
“What?” Bridget turned to stone in my arms.
“Just to be safe. I’m sure it’s nothing but I need you in the room so I can—”
“I can’t,” she rushed out, tightening her hold around my neck.
I finished punching in the code to open the door. The lock clicked and Bridget started trembling.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I’m claustrophobic. Like really claustrophobic. If you stick me in there I’ll have a panic attack and won’t be able to breathe.”
Fucking shit .
She didn’t sound scared; she sounded fucking terrified.
“I’m gonna set you down.” Her arms turned into steel bands around my neck. “You’re not going in the room.”
At my assurance she loosened her grip and I dropped her to her feet. I rushed around to my holster and pulled out my Sig. I held it out.
“Quick, baby, I need you to pay attention.” She nodded and I continued.
“You see this lever right here?” I got another nod.
“That’s the safety. You click that down and the gun is ready to fire.
Do not take off the gun safety unless someone opens the closet door.
There is a bullet chambered. Once the safety’s off all you have to do is aim and pull the trigger.
You have twenty rounds in the magazine. You got that? ”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts, baby. That door opens, you shoot. You don’t wait to see who it is, just pull the trigger. When I come back I will knock five times. Five, Bridget. Not one or three—five. If someone knocks twice and opens the door. Shoot. Got it?”
“Five times,” she repeated.
I handed her my Sig, pressed a kiss against her forehead, and ordered, “Don’t leave this closet until I get back.”
She nodded and I took off.
When I made it to the living room my phone was buzzing on the kitchen table. Likely the call was from the office belatedly telling us someone had breached the perimeter. I nabbed my phone, saw it was Garrett, and took the call.
The phone wasn’t to my ear before he launched in, “Easton’s around the front. Back of the house is clear. I’m tracking the target now.”
Target, not targets. Yet I still asked for clarification. “Just one?”
“Yes.”
“How close did he get?”
The cream shades were drawn, so even if someone got close they wouldn’t be able to see in. However, that also meant we couldn’t see out but we could see the floodlight coming on to light up the backyard brighter than daylight.
“Lights trip at fifty feet. Alarm alerts at forty feet. The alarm didn’t trip. He came over the back wall, lights came on, and he hightailed his ass back over. Easton’s being cautious checking the front yard. Camera out there didn’t pick anything up.”
A forty-foot perimeter alarm was the best we could do in a neighborhood. It wasn’t ideal but it was something.
“Did you get a good image?”
“Negative. He was wearing a mask.”
A mask?
“The man who attacked Bridget didn’t bother.”
“Nope.”
The back door opened and Easton strode through, deep lines creasing his forehead.
“Easton’s back, we gotta roll.” I told Garrett something he very well knew.
“House in Fairfax is ready.”
Sour hit my gut. I didn’t want to think it but it had to be said. “No one followed us.”
“I know where you’re going with this,” Garrett started. “I already have a message out to Shep. I’d like to say I’m a hundred percent sure we’re secure but a man in a mask hopping the back fence of one of our safe houses says otherwise.”
Yep, that was where my mind had gone.
“So with that, are you sure Fairfax is the best place to go?”
“Yes.”
Trust .
This was one of the times when I needed to trust my teammate even though my instincts were telling me to pack up Bridget and go on the run.
“That said, I’m sending you there because the property’s in the middle of nowhere. Lots of land surrounding the house. If someone shows up there, time will be on our side.”
My chest tightened.
A burn I’d never felt before lit and fury took over.
“I’m not purposefully putting Bridget in danger so we can—”
“It’s called a calculated risk,” Zane came over the line.
Motherfucker .
I didn’t have time to go rounds with my boss.
“Calculated or not, I’m not feeling—”
“You want this done for her,” Zane cut in. “If you want her safe and at the end of this her staying in Annapolis—or more specifically in your bed—you’ll trust your skills, you’ll trust Easton’s got your back, and you’ll trust Garrett. It’s that simple.”
Trust .
There was that word again.
Easton started down the hall toward the bedrooms. Before my friend got shot I needed to stop him.
“I wouldn’t go back there. She’s armed with instructions to shoot.”
Easton stopped dead and tilted his head.
“You gave her a gun?”
I ignored Easton in favor of getting Zane off the phone.
“We’re headed to Fairfax.”
“Damn.” Zane whistled. “A man who sees logic and doesn’t bitch and cry and throw a hissy fit. I like it. Let’s hope your brothers follow suit. I’ve had enough of grown-men temper tantrums.”
I didn’t have time, yet I still told him, “I wouldn’t count on that. Cash is a big baby who doesn’t like to follow directions.”
With that, I disconnected and went to get Bridget.