Grim (Shadow Security #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Grim

Whoever said it never rains in Southern California has clearly never been here.

It’s coming down in buckets, and I need gas.

Driving back and forth from my Los Angeles apartment to my new job in Sage Canyon, a small town just east of Temecula, is becoming a pain in the ass.

Granted, I don’t work a nine-to-five job, so I’m not required to go into the office often.

Except when my boss calls an all-hands meeting for nine o’clock in the morning.

Instead of dealing with morning rush hour traffic, I opted to drive up tonight. I’ll sleep in one of the unfinished rooms set up in the massive new building that houses Shadow Security. It’s pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. I’m excited about the job, just not the commute.

If I’m honest, I’m not a big fan of change when it comes to work.

I can go with the flow on a mission—that’s my specialty—but a whole new company, new boss, new base location, even new co-workers, makes me nervous.

Not socially, but professionally. The job we do as elite bodyguards requires a high level of trust, and I don’t have that with everyone. No matter how much they’ve been vetted.

Luckily, the rain stops like nothing happened just as I’m pulling into a gas station.

It’s a little after eight, so dark out, but the place is well-lit and not far from the freeway.

I get out of my truck and swipe my credit card before putting the nozzle in the tank and letting it fill.

There’s an older model van parked on the opposite side of the gas island from me, with no one inside.

I’ve just pulled out my phone to see if I have any texts when the door to the van creaks open. I see a tentative hand and then a tangled mass of blond hair before a petite woman practically tumbles out. She catches herself, holding on to the door, and cautiously lifts her head.

Beneath the cascade of messy hair, she’s beautiful except for how pale and wasted she looks.

I can’t tell for sure because of the fluorescent lights, but there seems to be a bruise on her face too.

She’s not at all steady on her feet, and she sways a bit before lifting her chin and trying to focus on me.

Brushing hair out of her face, she blinks a few times.

“Help me,” she finally whispers, leaning heavily against the side of the van. “I need—”

Before I have a chance to react, a guy who looks about thirty-five comes around the back of the van, momentarily startled to see the woman clinging to the door. Then he smiles with a look that appears fond.

“Honey, I told you to stay in the van,” he says in a soft, well-modulated voice. “You’ve had a lot to drink. You should lay down.” He wraps an arm around her and pulls her against him. She winces, pushing at his chest before seemingly giving up the fight.

“She can’t hold her liquor,” the man says to me with a friendly smile. “I’m going to put her to bed and let her sleep it off.”

The woman mumbles something, but I can’t hear it.

Everything inside me is torn.

I feel like I need to verify that she’s okay but he looks like an average, clean-cut middle-class guy in jeans and a polo shirt.

The only red flag is the fact that she asked for help and what might be a bruise on her face.

I can’t tell for sure. And did she ask for help because she doesn’t feel safe or because she’s so drunk she doesn’t feel well?

Is it a red flag or something that’s none of my business?

She seems more relaxed now, or she’s on the verge of passing out, and the nozzle clicks loudly, alerting me that my tank is full.

Slowly and carefully, to buy myself some time, I put the nozzle back in the pump.

“Have a good night!” The guy calls as he helps the woman into the passenger seat of the van instead of into the back, where she came from. As he awkwardly lifts her, her blouse rides up and there’s an obvious and ugly bruise on her ribs that no lighting can disguise.

Now I’m paying attention.

That’s red flag number two.

I watch as he puts the seat belt around her, snaps it into place and then closes the door of the van. Her head lolls to the side as he jogs around to the driver’s side.

I don’t like this.

I have nothing but my gut and a bruise that could have been the result of anything, but it goes against everything I stand for not to do something. To at least verify that she’s okay. But he’s pulling away and I’m—

The woman’s head lifts and she turns. Wide, frightened eyes meet mine, and one hand is splayed on the glass.

“Help me.” I can’t hear her, but I have no trouble reading her lips.

Red flag number three.

I watch as the van pulls up to the street, pausing to wait for a break in traffic. That gives me the opportunity to jump back in my truck and put it in gear. I pull out behind the van, and the driver eases onto the highway going south. Since that’s the direction I’m going anyway, I follow.

Impulsively, I hit the speed dial for the office.

“Hey, Grim. You on your way?” My sister, Courtney, answers the phone.

“Listen, I need someone to run a plate for me. It’s important.”

“Sure. Hang on.” There’s a slight pause and then another voice gets on the phone.

“Grim, it’s Luna. Give me the plate.” Luna Gallagher is our new cyber security expert, and she can find information about almost anything, any time.

I read off the license plate.

“Give me a sec.” She hums Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” as she works. “Okay, that’s registered to a Magda Herrera. It’s a blue Toyota.”

“This is a van,” I mutter.

“Ah, yeah, looks like the plate was reported stolen about an hour ago.”

“I’m in pursuit. Is Rage there? Can you put him on?”

“Sure thing.”

A second later, my best friend and partner in crime is on the line. “Yo. What’s going on?”

“I need back-up. I’m on I-5 heading south, almost to Oceanside. Looks like we’re about to get off…” I give him the exit number, telling him we’re heading east.

“It’ll take me about fifteen to catch up to you,” he says, not bothering with questions. “Maybe less if traffic cooperates.”

“Call me when you’re on your way.”

“Will do.” Rage, whose real name is Elliott Rageis, has been my best friend since college. We were both ROTC, both Special Forces in the Marines, both got out and went private. I trust him with my life—and he trusts me with his.

I’m not the one in danger at the moment, but my gut has never steered me wrong.

And right now, it’s screaming.

The van picks up speed after turning onto Highway 79. I’m not from this area, and I haven’t traveled these particular back roads, but I’m grateful for the training my brother-in-law Daniil made us go through to learn our way around.

Dan and Courtney bought a hundred acres east of Temecula, in Sage Canyon, not too far from the San Bernardino National Forest. They want privacy and a place where they can run training exercises.

They’re building a big-ass house and a state-of-the-art office building that doubles as the headquarters for Shadow Security.

It’s been over-the-top and kind of exciting getting in on the ground floor of something like this.

They also offered Rage and me a piece of the action. We’d be business partners as well as family. Neither of us have given them an answer yet and that’s one of the reasons we’re meeting tomorrow.

But I can’t think about that right now.

The van is going sixty on a two-lane street without a single light or even lines on the road.

My phone rings, and Rage is on speaker.

“I have your coordinates, I’m about five minutes out, coming from the other direction.”

“Great.”

“You sure about this, bro?”

I chuckle. “Eh. Maybe. I just know the woman looked scared and when he put her back in the van, there was extreme bruising on her torso.”

“What happens if she’s a battered wife who refuses to leave him?”

“Then I can sleep tonight.”

“Fair enough.”

“Dan pissed that you took off?”

“Nah. Courtney and Luna were cooking and Dan, Chris, and Marcus were just hanging out. Ron and Eric and their wives don’t get in until morning.”

I’m focused on the van and the road in front of me so I merely grunt in response.

Suddenly the van swerves, veering off into the woods on a road I would’ve missed if he hadn’t turned off.

“Fuck—we just turned and we’re on some back road bullshit.”

“Almost there.”

I’ve just righted the truck after the sharp turn caused me to briefly fishtail, and then I see headlights behind me.

“Right behind you,” Rage says.

He keeps pace with me as we fly down this deserted road that seems to be heading toward nowhere. If the guy in the van was innocent, he wouldn’t be doing eighty, trying to lose me.

He turns again, like he knows this place, and I’m right behind him.

This has the potential to go very, very bad and I hear Rage talking on what’s probably an earpiece.

“…no, I don’t think so… not that I can tell… yeah, there’s nothing but—”

All of a sudden, the van screeches to a stop. I slam on the brakes, coming to a stop about two inches from his rear end. The next thing I know the driver’s side door opens, the guy jumps out and disappears into the woods.

What. The. Fuck.

“You want me to go after him?” Rage is at my window, the Colt .45 he prefers in his hand.

“Let him go,” I say. “We don’t know where the fuck we are or what might be waiting for us in those woods. I’m more concerned about the woman.” I get out and Rage walks behind me as I carefully approach the passenger side.

I glance back and Rage gives me a nod, indicating he has my back, so I reach for the handle to open the door. As soon as I do, the blonde tumbles out and into my arms.