Chapter 23 #2
He gritted his teeth as he remembered Fowler’s shredded arm and infection-puffy sausage fingers.
“Bourneville,” he snapped as he twisted the rope collar around his fingers. “Place.”
It wasn’t a work command, just a home one. The only time Javi had used it was to stop her staring at him while he cooked. It was a command she’d heard from him before, though, and Cloister had told her to heed.
The ears plastered flat to her head came up, and she stopped mid-bark. They stared at each other, both panting raggedly. Then she whined at him and twisted to try and get down, back feet kicking at the torn-up liner of the trunk as she tried to scramble out.
He kept hold of her collar as he got his other arm under her and lifted her out. His hands and sleeves were covered with blood and chunks of hair, but he couldn’t tell in the dark if it was superficial or if she was badly hurt.
There wasn’t time to find out either.
He set her down, and she tried to bolt. Javi nearly ended up face down in the dirt. He managed to keep his balance, drag her back, and avoid shooting either of them. It was close. From the way she strained against his grip, despite the collar half-choking her, he knew she’d try again.
There was no lead.
Javi put the flashlight between his teeth and tugged his tie loose one-handed.
He fed it through her collar and doubled the end of it around his wrist. The minute he loosened his grip on her collar, she tried to dart away from him again.
The jolt of it nearly pulled Javi’s arm out of its socket, but the tie held.
It should, the amount he’d paid for Italian silk.
“I know,” he ground out as he spat the flashlight out. It bounced over the dirt and rolled under the sedan. “I’m not Cloister, but we’re going to find him.”
Bourneville made a strangled whining sound in the back of her throat and tried to drag him forward. Her nails dug into the dirt as she put her back into it. Even when they started toward the chain-link gates, she was straining at the end of the tie, frustrated that he wasn’t moving fast enough.
Maybe Cloister didn’t just run to punish himself, Javi conceded to himself.
The gates had NO TRESPASSING signs posted and a heavy padlock strung through the bolt. Even before he tried it, Javi knew it was one of State of Mind’s locks, and that it was already unhooked. The gates rattled as he pushed them open and ventured inside.
Hard pools of yellow light splashed over dusty concrete as the security lights over the units flicked on. Javi grimaced and reined Bon back to heel. His arm ached trying to hold her.
Sun-faded industrial blue storage units, livid yellow numerals stenciled on the doors, created their own shadowy canyons within the confines of the chain-link fence.
The first few rows were single story, butted up against each other in rows with narrow paths between them.
At the back, the units were stacked on top of each other, lashed into place with chains and brackets.
The bony yellow necks of two boom cranes hung over the lot from the back.
Javi paused, eyes locked on a smear that looked almost black against yellow under the harsh lights, but he knew it would be red in the morning. The back of his throat tasted sour.
Did Kincaid know, he wondered as he clenched his jaw. Had he planned for the fact that if Javi got out of this, and Cloister didn’t, that he was going to kill Kincaid?
Probably. It wasn’t going to help him, but probably.
He started toward the narrow alley that laced between the units. Three steps away from it, his phone vibrated against his chest. He twisted the tie another loop around his hand and reached up to pull the phone out.
His heart cramped when he saw Cloister’s name on the screen.
He swiped to answer, lifted it to his ear, and waited.
“Look at that time, Agent Merlo. I knew you wouldn’t want to keep lover boy here waiting, but you had to break more laws than I did getting here,” a pleasant, well-educated voice said.
Javi had gone to good schools; his parents had been a grudged social conscience away from wealthy. The speaker had been sent to better ones. If Javi had the time, he could have probably narrowed the list down to two. Maybe three.
“You kidnapped a sheriff’s deputy.”
“That’s just one. How many speed limits did you blow through?”
“You assaulted a San Diego Sheriff’s Department K-9.”
“I was taking your boyfriend here and the dog as a two-for-one,” Luka Horvat said. “But if we’re doing separate charges, I might as well be hung for a sheep.”
There was a dull, heavy smacking noise and a quiet grunt.
“Well, he was meant to scream there,” Luka remarked. “Take my word for it, though, he will eventually. Drop your gun, Agent, and get down on the ground.”
Javi lowered the phone slightly as he turned to scan the still rows of metal units.
“You’re going to kill us both,” he said. “Why make it easy for you?”
There was another smack. Javi clenched his teeth. He couldn’t hear any sort of reaction from Cloister, but Bon whined and yanked, twisting around to snap at the makeshift lead.
“Because I can make it hard,” Luka said.
He drew the word “hard” over his tongue, and Javi thought of the file on the dead agent who’d deeded Miles her surname. Some of the file had been redacted, but not enough of it.
Javi swallowed and closed his eyes.
“I’m going to need to put the phone down,” he said.
“Put me on speaker,” Luka instructed.
Somewhere in the maze of boxes, Javi heard someone move, the scrape of a boot on metal.
He didn’t look up so hard that it hurt his neck.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped it over to speakerphone.
If he knelt, Bourneville would drag him face down over the concrete, so he just dropped his phone onto the concrete between his feet.
“Throw the gun away,” Luka ordered.
There was a muffled yelp on the line, and then Cloister yelled, ‘Don—” The word was cut off, and Luka cleared his throat, vaguely annoyed now.
“Hurt him,” Luka said. The crunch that followed wasn’t loud.
Javi still flinched at it and the strangled whine that escaped Cloister.
Bourneville barked furiously, lunging at the end of her lead so fiercely her front feet weren’t even on the ground.
“His face is next, Agent. He’s no oil painting now, but I can make it worse. ”
“I said I’d do it,” Javi said. “Just—”
The knowledge he didn’t have anything to bargain with caught in his throat. He’d called for backup, but they wouldn’t get here in time.
“I’ll do it.” Javi put the safety on and tossed the gun away from him. It landed on the ground and skidded close enough to a unit to trigger the security light. He held his free hand up and went down onto one knee, his weight braced on the ball of his foot. “Just don’t make a fuss.”
It was the best he could think of.
He let go of Bourneville.