12. Dana
“You had a copy of Zane on your phone.” I’m in a daze as Grizz offers me the little nugget of information Jack wanted to keep from me, and, dear God, I hope I still have my half smile plastered on my face, because internally I’m spiraling out of control.
The walls of this little room suddenly feel closer together than they ever have, if that’s even possible.
I have Zane’s core files sitting on a terabyte drive hidden in a flimsy cardboard box in the kitchen of my coffee shop labeled “last year’s receipts.”
My heart beats into my ears, and bile threatens to spew from my anxious stomach any moment.
I thought maybe—maybe—I had a list of all the aliases that were handed out to those who worked with Jessa and me. Or maybe they were old files belonging to the Sparrs. Maybe something about money. If they were Matteo’s files to begin with, I could have handed them over—an easy cut and run. Maybe he would cancel the hit and I could get away again.
Maybe I could make sure I was never found.
But it’s Zane.
I can’t let his program see the light of day. Without Jessa, Zane can be turned into a weapon, and if word got out it wasn’t destroyed, chaos would break out. It wouldn’t just be three hitmen. It would be entire crime families, governments, terrorists, and, yes, even Michael and his team. One of the last things Jessa would have done was initiate self-destruct on Zane’s program. How it ended up on my phone, I have no idea. But I won’t let her death be in vain.
“Dana. Did you hear me?” Michael startles me.
“Yeah. Um—it’s a good thing it’s gone then.” For a moment—just a brief second—I want to come clean. But, like telling the guys at Dale’s about Stan’s death, this information would change everything.
No one should have Zane but its creator, and that ship has sunk.
“Look, Dana, we’re staying here tonight, but you need to know we’re moving out in the next day, maybe two. Tomorrow, we have a couple of things to check out around town. You’ll be moved to our cabin once we’re sure it’s secure. We’ll try to find a way for you to say your goodbyes and tie things up, but I’m afraid you can’t go back to your store. It’s too dangerous. For now, we need to get some rest.” Jack looks exhausted.
“I don’t have much space.” I point to the single bed in the corner of the room.
“It’s fine. You take the bed. Grizz will take the couch. I call dibs on the SUV.”
Grizz groans beside me. We both know this couch is as hard as a rock. I’ve only been sitting on it for ten minutes, and my bottom is going numb.
“What if someone attacks us in the middle of the night? Are you sure you want to sleep in a car?” I stand, clearing the animal crackers from the table as my stomach growls. I walk into the kitchen to pour two mugs of tea, then grab my thermos out of the cupboard for Jack as he answers me.
“It’s doubtful. Your place isn’t linked to you, and no one followed us out here. It appears the first shooter panicked. It worked in our favor, because no one else seems to be ready. Regardless, we swept the perimeter and set up some traps. We’ll be notified if anyone is on your property. The car has bulletproof glass and soft leather seats that go all the way back. I’ll be fine. Thanks for this.” Jack holds up the thermos, then takes a sip. He places a couple of items from the table back in the duffel before flinging it over his shoulder. “Good night, Dana. Grizz.” They exchange a nod, and Jack leaves, ending our conversation.
The soft hum of the only light in the room buzzes around us.
Seeing Michael and Jack again reminds me of Jessa. It was only a year ago that I still had her with me. The closest thing to a family, a sister. My top lip quivers at the memory, and I try to push down my sadness.
“I’ll lock up. The bathroom is through there.” Picking up the same padlock I used for the front door, I close the latch on the inside and hook it into place. I don’t need to look to know Michael is watching me. The little hairs on the back of my neck are uncomfortably stiff.
I know what they’re thinking. Even the cell I was in on their base was nicer than this. I was happy here though, until they came, reminding me of everything I lost.
Now this place has lost its appeal.
I no longer see my quaint abode nestled in the mountains. I see a broken-down shack; off-grid hiding at its finest. Because that’s what I’ve been doing this past year—hiding.
Not living, just not dying—until now.
Heavy footsteps behind me lead into the bathroom, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Michael isn’t putting his thoughts into words.
Removing my jacket, I open my small closet, pull out an old sweatshirt I picked up in a thrift store one town over, and put it on. The days are beautiful here, but the nights get chilly.
By the time Michael comes out of the bathroom, the fire has died down and I’m almost done with my tea. The embers will burn slowly, warming up the cabin overnight.
I meet Michael in front of the couch with a blanket. His features have softened a bit. At least he isn’t clenching his jaw like he was before.
Muttering his thanks, he wastes no time opening the blanket and getting himself comfortable. I walk to the front and turn off the light, leaving only the glow from the fire to light my way to bed.
It takes me a few good tosses and turns before I decide to lie on my back, glancing upward. Grizz groans a couple of times from his spot as he gets comfortable.
With everything going on tonight, I should be exhausted, but my eyes won’t close.
I screw them shut as the memory of the night Michael and I spent together surfaces. I had felt so connected and safe with him, and the sex was hot. I’ve told myself over and over again that it’s because there was a dangerous aspect to it, and that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him, but the truth is, I connected with him on a level I’d never connected with anyone before, and that was what hurt the most in the end.
Grizz’s breathing is rhythmic, smooth—soothing, and it leaves me alone with my thoughts.
In the silence, I get pulled back to that night. The way his scent wrapped around me and the weight of his body. When I try to push those memories away, I see Jessa, standing in the middle of that room. The last time I saw her has overwritten every memory I have of her now. All I see is how resigned and sad she was when she told Michael to get me out of there so I wouldn’t see her die.
I inhale a sharp breath and blink rapidly into the dim room to stop my emotions from spilling over. Then, to chase away my thoughts, I say the first thing that comes to my mind.
“Why do they call you Grizz?”
“Go to sleep, Dana.” His voice is low, but there’s no question: it’s an order.
“Okay. Goodnight, Michael.” Hearing my own voice in this cabin is odd.
I’ve never had anyone here overnight, so I’ve never had anyone to talk to, and I’ve never heard my own voice in the darkness like this.
“Goodnight.”
The logs crackle a couple of times as I lie still, watching the glowing light from the fireplace dance across the ceiling.
I’m alone, by myself, off-grid, and the people in town call me Kim. There are still three people out there who are trying to kill me. This broken-down shack may as well be my tomb. If I don’t make it out of here, there is no one left to mourn me. A lump forms in my throat at the thought.
My father is in jail, but that isn’t even the sad part. The pathetic kicker is, he was never a dad to me. Jessa’s dad acted more like a father than he ever did.
My mother is remarried. I haven’t checked on her in over a year, so she just moved on. She knows how to reach me if she really needs to, but she hasn’t.
Jessa and her family—the only family I felt I belonged to—are all dead and gone. I’m alone and fighting for my own survival, and I’m not sure there is a point in fighting anymore.
My chest heaves on its own as the emotions float to the surface. I take a deep, shuddering breath and try to settle myself before I wake Michael up.
“Dana, are you okay?” The dark mass that is his body doesn’t move in the dim cabin, and I freeze for a moment before I answer him.
Then I clear my throat with a cough. “I’m good. Just dry in here.” I’m not as convincing as I would have wanted to be, but Michael doesn’t push it.
Pulling the sheets up to my eyes, I wipe the tears away and try to even out my own breathing, thankful for the cover of night.
My mind keeps wandering around, bouncing through the years, from our high school days to the times Jessa and I were on our own. This isn’t the life I wanted, for either of us, and my emotions rise up again as those memories fade into the last time I saw her.
“…after my father.” Michael is halfway through his sentence before his voice pulls me out of my downward spiral.
“Pardon me?” I speak toward the ceiling, and Michael sighs.
“Grizz. I’m named after my father. His coworkers called him Grizzly because of his burly size.” Without being able to see him, I am more attuned to his voice. He hesitates on his words, and it isn’t lost on me that he is speaking in the past tense.
“Oh.” I weigh asking a follow-up question but decide against it.
He’s probably trying to get me to close my eyes and do as I’m told, so I stay silent, but he doesn’t.
“He was a cop. Killed in the line of duty. It happened a little over eleven years ago now. It was a hit ordered by Matteo Sparr. They found his body in a ditch outside Port Thomas.”
My eyes bug out when I make the connection.
“That’s—where I’m from.” That’s not what I want to say.
“I know.” His tone is low. “My dad transferred there five years before it happened. He had planned on retiring near the coast with my mom, but he caught wind of some shady business.” He stops abruptly, and I wait, almost unable to breathe for fear I’ll miss something. With the sheets pulled up to my chin, my wide eyes stare into the darkness at nothing. “My dad was the best cop there was, and he paid for it with his life. Turns out, it was his own partner who set him up that day. Some stupid shit almost half his age who ended up being on Matteo’s payroll sent my father to his death.”
Shame burns through me.
This can’t be a coincidence.
My father is a cop-killer. Michael’s father is a cop who was killed, and it all happened in the same city.
“Michael. I have to tell you something.”
I don’t register my tears, which have been freely flowing out of my eyes and back into my hair, until I reach up to brush a strand away from my face and my fingers come away wet with sorrow.
“I already know.”
My lip trembles. My breathing turns heavy.
How can he stand to be around me?
“I’m so sorry, Michael.” My words catch on each other as I choke them out over my sniffles. He doesn’t answer, so I fill the silence. “When did you find out it was my dad who?—”
“I’ve always known. You are not your father, Dana. At first, I was interested in you because I wanted to know what your father’s life was like. But then the more you shared with me, the more I realized that he took our fathers away from us both.”
“Is your mom still alive?”
“Yes. She moved a couple of towns closer to the water to be near her friends, because she doesn’t drive anymore. I visit her whenever I can. You’d like her. She’s a stubborn woman. You two would probably hit it off.”
I blubber out a laugh as my tears continue to roll into my hair. The room is still dark, and his silence settles in once again.
Michael and I talked a bit last year, but it was nothing like this. We stayed away from any topics that carried emotion, and I realize now he steered a lot of the conversation away from him, focusing on Jessa and me instead.
Sharing this can’t have been easy.
The way he paused as he spoke and the change in his tone as he told me about his dad make my stomach twist with anxiety.
I found out my father was working for the Sparrs to pay off gambling debts of his own. Michael probably already knows all of this, but he is still here.
“Your dad was a good man. I wish I had a better father. I haven’t seen mine in over ten years.” I think of him and my mom often, and I try to hold on to how we were before he started drinking and gambling.
Sometimes I hate them; other times I feel bad for them. They had me before either of them had graduated high school. They were just kids themselves. It wasn’t until I turned the same age they were when they had me that I realized what a burden I must have been.
On a good day, I don’t fault my mom for not trying to contact me. She has a second chance at life. My dad has been in and out of prison since I was a teenager.
“Oh, Dana. I thought you knew.” His voice lingers in the shadows.
“Knew what?”
“Your dad died a few months ago.” Slack-jawed, I stare straight up, blinking repeatedly. “He was killed in prison. They would have notified his next of kin.”
Except they didn’t.
I was his only next of kin. He and my mother were divorced. She either wasn’t told, or she was informed and decided against reaching out to me.
“Oh.”
Oh. That’s all I have. A human life has ended, and the only person in this world who held a connection to him takes the information in with nothing more than oh.
The pathetic irony that I am about to walk in his footsteps isn’t lost on me. Most of the people in my life know me by a name that isn’t mine.
Jessa kept my past alive. She reminded me of all the good memories we had.
When I’m gone, there will be no one to notify. I guess they’ll tell my mom, but I wonder if she would be better off not knowing.
Even in death, I would be a burden.
Everything has finally caught up to me. I was lonely living all the way out here by myself, but, until yesterday, I didn’t understand what real isolation was.
Lying quietly in the dark, I consider the severity of my desolation. My stomach knots, and my heart punches into my rib cage as my tears return without mercy.
I swallow hard.
“I don’t want to die out here alone.” Blubbering, I whisper my fear into the room, not sure if I want Michael to hear me or not.
The springs in the couch groan as he moves, and before I look over to see what he is doing, he’s crouched down on the floor beside my bed.
“Dana, you’re not alone,” he whispers. His fingers brush through my hair in the darkness, stopping temporarily at the wet spot beside my temple before I hear him sigh. “Close your eyes and take slow, steady breaths.” I do as he says, but my breathing is ragged. “Most of the guys I work with have lost something or someone because of the Sparrs or the people associated with them. It’s what makes us a family of our own. You made a sacrifice you shouldn’t have had to make, and because of that you are one of us. You’re not going to die out here alone, Dana. No one here will let that happen.”
My confidence shatters, and I’m suddenly disgusted with myself.
Cop-killer’s kid.
“How can you even?—”
Michael steals my words when he covers his lips with my own in a kiss that I’ve thought about every single lonely night for a year.
When he pulls back, he’s winded and breathing heavily, refusing to leave my space.
“Don’t you dare finish that question, Dana.” He combs his fingers into my hair, then fists his hand before groaning against my lips with another claiming kiss.
I go weak in his hold, just as I did the last time.
I tried to tell myself that I must have been desperate for the attention of someone, anyone, but I realize now how much of a lie that was.
I’ve missed him.
Only him.
He narrows his gaze, his eyes dancing between mine. “You are brave, loyal, and considerate of others to a fault. You take care of everyone around you, but you need someone who will take care of you, and I’ve wanted to be that man for you since that night.”
This time, I pull him to me. Desperate for more of his attention, I grip his arms, earning a wince when I touch his wound.
“I’m sorry, I—No. I’m not sorry.” I adjust my hands and pull him close again.
“Dana.” His gaze flashes to the door for a moment. By the time he looks back at me, I’m shaking my head.
“No, Michael. Please. I thought I’d never see you again, and you were the only person I missed when I walked away from my life. I need you.”
“Dana, I want more than anything to…” He hovers his tense body over me for a long time as the muscles in his jaw clench with each deep breath he inhales. “You need to sleep.”
Decision made, he pushes himself away from the mattress.
I jackknife into a seated position and clutch the top sheet to my chest even though I’m still fully clothed.
“Right.” My cheeks flush in the dark, and I’m thankful he doesn’t see the look of horror on my face. “Of course. I, um, need to use the washroom.”
I scurry into the small bathroom. It’s only big enough for a one-person shower, a sink, and a toilet, and I stand in the dark.
The light switch is on the outside, and I’m too embarrassed to open the door.
After an awkward pause, heavy footsteps approach the door from the other side.
“Would you like me to turn the light on for you?”
No. I would like this room to swallow me whole. Never to be seen again.
“Sure. Thanks.” My answer is delivered an octave higher than normal.
When the harsh light fills the room, my reflection stares back at me through the mirror, and I suck in a harsh breath before calming my pulse.
I run the tap, splash my face with cold water, and reach for a hand towel.
Then I brace my palms on the sink and hang my head, watching my fat tears fall and inch toward the drain.
I’m so embarrassed.
There are people out to kill me, and I’m trying to get some.
I threw myself at Michael.
I can’t bring myself to look my own reflection in the eyes again.
“Dana?” Michael’s voice is low, throaty.
“Y-yes?”
“Open the door.”
“Ah—just a minute,” I singsong, but he’s not buying it.
“Open the door, Dana.” His voice turns husky; his words are firm. His deep timbre vibrates across every nerve ending in my body.
The silence he leaves me in prickles over my skin.
I gather the courage to look in the mirror. My red-rimmed eyes stare back at me.
This is me at my worst.
I lower my head and turn the handle as I prepare to rush past him and hop into bed.
He wraps his large hand around my bicep and tugs me in front of him when I try.
He lifts his other hand, trailing a finger through my tears. Another escapes, rolling over my cheek.
My attempt at chuckling to brush it off is short-lived as he threads his fingers into my hair at the base of my skull and cups my head, pulling me into him and crashing his lips against mine.
He kisses me like it’s a claim, a promise. Then he takes a step into the bathroom, caging me in until I’m backed against the wall.
The space is barely large enough for me to fit.
He hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around him.
Frustration knits his eyebrows as he breaks our kiss to glare down at the toilet that is wedging us in against the shower stall.
Cupping my ass, he peels me off the wall and walks us into the main room before lowering me to my bed.
There is no hesitation when he lifts his weight onto the bed beside me, and I flatten myself against the wall to make enough room for him to get comfortable.
We fumble with each other’s clothing before turning our attention to our own, and we undress ourselves in the small space.
He drags me under him and pins me with his heated weight as I spread my legs around him.
Michael lazily draws his fingers through my folds as he levels me with his gaze. “Are you sure?”
I nod furiously then say, “Yes.” I reach between us and run my fingers along his erection before he changes his mind.
His hips rock forward as he kisses me with a deep growl, and I whimper as he slides his length against my clit.
I’m wound up and primed for him, and I line him up with me, readying him for his next thrust.
His precum coats my pussy, and I dig my nails into his hip, urging him forward.
I whimper in desperation when he pauses to look at me.
“I—don’t have anything with me.”
“I have an IUD.”
I strain my neck, searching for his lips, and he kisses me again, delving between my lips and sinking his tongue into my mouth as he glides inside of me.
The old bed creaks as he pulls out and returns a little deeper until he’s finally grinding his pubic bone against my sensitive nub, and I spread my legs as wide as I can.
I want to cry as he pushes deep inside of me, because I never thought I would feel him ever again.
He shushes me as he kisses my tears, telling me he missed me and he was never going to stop looking for me.
In all of my life, I’ve never felt as wanted as I do right now. After Jessa, I thought I was alone, but he’s always been here looking for me, even knowing my past.
I roll my hips against him as his pace picks up. When I open my mouth to cry out, his hand covers my lips, and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“Shh. You’re going to be a good girl for me.” His hot breath blows against my neck as he moans, carrying us higher and higher until my vision blurs with bright light and I come, screaming into his palm.
My body stiffens as my orgasm tears through me. He watches me fly apart with intense fascination as his hips rapidly snap into me. Then he stills and releases inside of me with a growl.
I knew I wasn’t going to last long. My body is exhausted, my mind overwhelmed, and I’ve wanted Michael since I saw him standing in my coffee shop after all of this time.
I wanted this—I needed one last time with him before I broke my promise to stay.
Even the thought of running again pains me.
Michael kisses my sweaty forehead as my heart rate returns to normal, and I deflate under him.
“What happens to me now?”
He shifts his weight off me but remains tangled in my limbs.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ll get you safely back to our base. Then we have a lot to talk about.”
With my eyes still closed, I release the tension in my muscles and wait for a few minutes. I’m almost asleep when his weight shifts and he pulls me to him.
I’m not the only one here who mourns a life that could have been, and it is all because of the Sparr family. These guys are all out here, risking their lives for me even though they think the files are gone.
Jack lost Jessa, and he’s still fighting.
I won’t stop fighting for Jessa even though she’s gone. She never wanted Zane to fall into anyone’s hands, and I’ll destroy it in her name if it’s the last thing I do.
My newfound fire catches in my throat, reminding me how determined Jessa was the last morning I saw her.
I understand her resolve now; I share it.
This is the only option that protects everyone—everyone except me. I’m a gamble. Once I destroy the external drive, it will all be over. Without Jessa to use it or code a new one, everything will finally end.
If Matteo doesn’t have the program, then there is only the hit left. If the payout on the hit is low, like Michael says it is, it wouldn’t be worth it to leave a trail of bodies behind. I’ll make my way to Spokane, flip my identity, and then I’m as good as gone.
A slice of guilt cuts through me.
More than almost anything, I want the possibility of a future with Michael, but I want to protect him even more.
Knowing Michael and the guys he came with are focused on taking me out of here has reminded me: there are more innocent lives to be lost. Stan is dead. Michael was hit with a bullet meant for me.
After they pull me out of here, then what?
There is no answer to that. I wish I had Jessa here. She always knew what to do. But having her was also a hindrance. I always ask myself what Jessa would do, but Jessa’s plans eventually got her killed.
Now it’s time to make my own way.
My heart breaks when I realize there is only one option left.
I have to run. I’ll cut my ties and leave everyone safe. I won’t go back to where Jessa died, and I won’t give up the freedom she sacrificed everything to give me.
For now, I close my eyes. I need to get as much sleep as I can. I have almost everything I need to skip town in my backpack—everything except the drive and some papers, and both of those things are in the coffee shop.
I can’t leave tonight anyway. They have traps set up outside, and Jack is locked inside one monster of a vehicle that would overtake my rusted beater in less than thirty seconds. There’s a reason I never drive it, and it’s because I don’t trust it to get me to my destination.
I turn my head, taking a deep breath and inhaling Michael’s scent. I don’t want to leave him. Everything is screaming at me to stay. I have to remind myself that Jessa stayed for Jack, and in the end she paid for it with her life.
I can’t allow anyone to get Zane’s program, and I’m not sure, if faced with the choice, Michael would choose me over his job.
Above all, I don’t have the luxury of time to figure it out.
Running escape scenarios through my head is like counting sheep, and I drift off in record time.