Chapter 5 Xave #2
“From what I gathered from their questions, I think I made them suspicious by not acting like everyone else. They probably thought I was your bodyguard or security or something like that. I’m guessing they weren’t even planning on grabbing me and drugged me so I wouldn’t be a problem, but it probably tripped their Spidey sense when we went into the back room together, and they panicked.
” My hand closes around another set of keys.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad my high ass decided to hit on you,” he says ruefully as I tuck the keys in my pocket. “I’m pretty sure they would have killed me the second I transferred them the money. So if you weren’t here, I’d be dead right now.”
“They probably would have,” I say as I stand and wipe my hands off on my pants. “But the good news is I don’t think they know who you are either.”
“What do you mean?”
“They only asked for your fee from the gig. If they knew how much you’re really worth, they would have asked for a hell of a lot more. They snatched you because you’re Helix, not because you’re Damon.”
He huffs out a soft laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Although I’m not sure they would have been happy with the results if they tried to ransom me.” He glances at the ground and the bodies. “What are we going to do about them?”
“We’ll leave them here until we can get back to civilization. I know some people who’ll clean up the scene for us.”
“You know some people?” He arches one dark eyebrow as a hint of a smile ghosts over his lips. “And here I thought you were just a jock with an inflated rep.”
I grin and motion for him to follow me to where the cars are parked. “The best advantage you can have is people underestimating you.”
He falls into step beside me. “Isn’t that the truth.”
The parking area isn’t more than a cleared space big enough for three small vehicles off the dirt road that leads from the main road to the cabin. Crammed into it are an older model Toyota and a newer F150.
“Which one are we taking?” he asks, surveying the vehicles.
“That one.” I point to the Toyota. “A truck is more likely to get pulled over, and that’s a complication I don’t want to deal with right now.”
He watches as I walk up to the car and test the handle. It’s unlocked, and I pull the door open. Before I toss the bag in, I pop the glove box.
“Huh.”
“What?” Damon asks, coming up behind me.
“They cleared it.” I snap the box closed. “But that’s fine. They didn’t scratch out their VINs, so it’s not like we won’t be able to track them.” I nod to the truck. “Do you want to check the glove box and bed?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nods. I can tell he’s feeling unsure, but he also needs to feel useful so he doesn’t have time to think about what happened.
While he goes over to the truck, I pop the trunk of the car. I’m expecting it to be empty, but it’s full of black canvas bags.
“Damon?” I call.
“Yeah?”
“Come check this out.”
“What is it?” he asks as he comes to stand beside me. “Wait.” Carefully, he unzips one of the bags and looks inside, then huffs out a laugh. “Son of a bitch.”
“Is that your equipment?” I ask, eyeing the little bit of what looks like a turntable that I can see.
“Yeah.” He zips it back up and points to each bag as he counts softly. “And it looks like it’s all here.”
“Can you check to see if our phones and whatnot are in with it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I watch as he opens each bag and looks inside, and I’m not surprised when he doesn’t find anything.
“Do you have any security on your phone?” I ask as he zips up the last bag. “Other than just biometrics or a passcode?”
“No, but it’s a burner, so they won’t find anything on it.”
“It is?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
He tosses me a little smirk. “Yup. Figured out early on in my career that carrying my actual phone on jobs is too big a risk, so I have a burner I use just in case something happens.”
“Smart.”
“What about your phone? I’m assuming you’ve got a shit ton of security on it?”
“I do, but they got my alternate, so they won’t find anything useful on it, either.” I close the trunk.
“Alternate?”
“Let’s just say that phone will lead them right to Jonathan Greely, a day trader from Manhattan who exists on paper and nowhere else. My real phone is locked up in my hotel room.”
“You have a phone set up under your fake name?” He shoots me a confused look. “So it’s not just a name you use as a cover, but a whole-ass identity?”
“Yup,” I say absently, my gaze fixed on the pile of canvas bags as more pieces of the puzzle fall into place.
There’s definitely at least one more accomplice out there, and they must have used a van or some other transport vehicle to get us here.
They might not have been pros, but they were organized, and unless the last guy was one of the bar staff, they had to have been connected to the rave somehow if they were able to drug us and drag our bodies out of there without anyone noticing.
“What’s that face for?” he asks.
“I had a theory that the guys who grabbed us were somehow connected to the rave, and I was just thinking that if they were able to drug us and they have your equipment—”
“Then someone either gave it to them or let them take it,” he finishes grimly. “So they either worked it, or they knew people who did.”
I nod and mull over everything we know so far. There are so many questions I want to ask and so many blanks that need filling in, but now isn’t the time. We need to leave before anyone else shows up and we have to fight our way out again.
“Was there anything in the truck?” I ask, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind to percolate while we focus on getting the fuck out of here.
He shakes his head. “The glove box was empty, and the bed only has some sandbags and a couple of old tires in it.”
“How about we get out of here?” I ask. “I’ll drive?”
He nods, and we toss the backpack with our pilfered items in the back seat before getting into the car.
“Do you know where we are?” he asks as I start the engine.
“Yeah.” I put the car in gear. “I checked the map on that asshat’s phone, and we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. From what I could see, it’s about three miles to the main road, and another five or so before we’re on the highway. Then it’s just over a hundred miles to the city limits.”
He leans back in his seat and almost seems to melt into it as I maneuver the car out of the tight parking space and onto the dirt road that will take us away from the cabin.
He looks drained, like he’s fighting another wave of fatigue that I’m guessing has nothing to do with being drugged and is his way of dealing with everything that’s happened.
“How are you doing?” I ask, going as fast as I dare on the narrow dirt road.
It’s not much more than a wide path, and it’s been badly neglected over the years. Parts of it look like they’ve been washed away, and it’s so uneven that the car rocks back and forth like a funhouse ride every few feet.
“Fine.” He rolls his head to the side to look at me. “Just…”
“Processing?”
He nods.
We fall silent, and I keep my attention on the path so I don’t drive us into a ditch. It feels like it takes forever to get to the road that will eventually take us to the highway because of how slow I have to go, but it’s really only about twenty minutes.
The road is paved and wide enough for two cars to pass each other, but it’s also been badly neglected, and the asphalt is full of cracks and potholes, so I have to watch my speed again as I navigate down it.
A soft sound, like a puff of air being blown out, catches my attention, and I glance at Damon.
He’s leaning back against the seat with his head hanging to the side and his eyes closed. His lips are parted, and he lets out another soft puff, like a mix between a sigh and a snore.
Fixing my gaze back on the road, I slow down so we don’t hit the bumps as hard and mull over our situation while he sleeps off whatever he needs to.