Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4) (14 page)

The invasion of her hotel room was a message. She had no doubt that he wanted to show his power over her, that at any time he could do whatever he wanted. And that included sending someone after her without her even knowing it, and violating her in this way. For all Natasha knew, he could have ordered her to be followed, too.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked as she shivered. She wasn’t cold. She was terrified.

It was a long time before she gathered herself enough to get to her feet. Instead of cold and frightened, she had gone numb. She couldn’t involve law enforcement, so there would be no calling the police to report the invasion.

When she was standing, she took another deep breath. This time she felt calmer. Or maybe she was simply more numb.

She closed her eyes a moment before she walked into the bathroom to throw water on her face. The moment she stepped onto the tile, she flung her hand over her heart and gripped her blouse tight. It wasn’t the mess that had been left that caused tears to rush forward.

Someone had scrawled a message across the mirror, and it couldn’t have been long ago. Droplets rolled down the mirror from the still damp, smeared words, written in something like blood. She almost screamed when she saw a huge dead, bloody rat in the sink basin.

She backed up as she stared at the letters, tears flowing over her cheeks. Just one more message to emphasize that her life would never be the same.

Talk and everyone dies.

Natasha couldn’t face the dead rat or the bloody words at this moment. She left the bathroom, closed the door behind her, and forced herself to start cleaning up the mess in the bedroom.

She put the drawers back where they belonged, picked up her skirts and blouses and hung them in the closet, put her undergarments in one of the drawers, and tucked her empty suitcase in a corner. She picked up the covers and laid them on the bed, along with the four pillows that had been thrown across the room. She left the blackout shades closed. The near darkness suited her at this moment.

Her feet ached from standing in her boots all day, although that seemed a trivial thing to be thinking about. She sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged off her boots and socks. She put her feet onto the carpet and the texture of it against her soles seemed to ground her for the moment.

The ring of a cell phone jerked Natasha out of her feelings of helplessness and horror. It came from her purse that she had dropped in the entryway.
On Top of the World
played as her ringtone as usual, but this time it made her sick to her stomach. If she couldn’t change her new reality, she would probably never feel on top of the world again. She had to get rid of that ringtone.

She didn’t want to answer her phone. She didn’t feel composed enough to handle a call with anyone. At the same time, she knew she couldn’t let it go to voicemail. If it was Mark, she was afraid of what he might do if she didn’t answer.

Trying to avoid looking toward the bathroom door, she hurried to her purse. She knelt beside it and found her phone at once in the pocket she kept it in. She glanced at the screen and her heart dropped. It was him.

Mark Okle.

She swiped the screen to answer it and brought the phone to her ear. The first thing that came out of her mouth was surprisingly calm despite the storm raging inside her. “Why are you doing this to me, Mark?”

“That isn’t the way this conversation is going to go, Natasha.” Mark’s voice was firm. “The situation has changed. You are now my employee and you will do as I instruct you.”

Her voice shook. “Employee?”

“You will be compensated.” Mark spoke as if they were in a business transaction or he was in the process of offering her a job—except she had no choice but to accept the position. “We have rules you will follow.”

She swallowed. “I can’t go to the police.”

“Or any other law enforcement agencies.” Mark continued, “You will keep your distance as much as possible from your cousin and her Federal agent husband. You will limit your time with them.”

“She’s my cousin.” Natasha wanted to break down and cry again. “She’s my best friend.”

A part of her thought perhaps she shouldn’t be admitting to him how close she was to her cousin, but he likely knew anyway.

“As long as you keep quiet about our business dealings, I don’t have a problem with you being with your cousin.” Mark sounded surprisingly pleasant. “But I do have an issue with you spending much time with Trace Davidson.”

“How can I avoid him without them suspecting something is wrong?” Natasha tried to gather herself. “They’re my family.”

“Do whatever you have to.” Mark’s tone changed to one of impatience. “But you will limit your time with him. Do you understand?”

Natasha licked her dry lips. “Yes.”

“I’m sure by now you’ve had time to think about the message I had left for you in your room.”

She thought about the dead rat and the writing on the mirror. The taste of acid filled her mouth and she almost vomited. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“I think it was,” he said. “You need to be aware that I mean business. I have no compunctions about carrying through with any of the threats I made sure were delivered to you.”

“I believe you.” She swallowed, her throat aching with the effort. “I will do whatever you say, so no more messages are necessary. You have me, Mark. You have given me no options. I won’t put people I care about in danger.”

“They’re already in danger.” He sounded pleased as he added, “But I am glad you are clear on the situation.”

She gripped her phone tighter. “Very.”

“Let’s continue where we left off, regarding your being in my employment.” Mark had the air of someone negotiating a business transaction. “You will carry my products in your store as you have been, however you will keep special items on hand for specific buyers.”

Her stomach twisted. “You want me to deal drugs from my store.”

“You aren’t the dealer, you are the middleman. Or middlewoman.” He laughed as if it was a joke. “I will send clients to you on occasion who will buy these specific items. Do you have that?”

She put her hand to her forehead. It felt hot, as if she was burning up with fever. “Of course.”

“You will make a considerable amount more than you do now. You will live comfortably.”

“I don’t want your blood money.” People
died
dealing drugs from ruthless cartels murdering law enforcement and others standing in their way; to those who dealt on the street and got caught up in drug wars; to people who overdosed or became so addicted they might as well be dead. “You can keep it.”

“That’s not how this works.” Mark’s words were laced with danger. “You will take the money. Put it into an education savings account for your darling baby niece and any brothers or sisters she might have.”

“They wouldn’t want your blood money funding their college tuition.” Natasha wanted to scream at him. “I’ll give it to an organization for the treatment of drug addiction.”

He surprised her when he chuckled. “Irony. I like that. You’re a smart woman, Natasha.” He stopped laughing. “Just don’t think you’re smart enough to outwit me or the Jimenez Cartel.”

At the mention of “cartel,” her skin grew colder. “I would be working for the Jimenez organization?”

“You
are
working for the cartel,” he said. “You have been all along.”

She clenched her fist and bit her knuckles to hold in a scream. When she composed herself, she lowered her now aching hand. Crescent-shaped marks indented her skin from biting so hard. “What do I have to do for you?”

“What you have been doing.” She could picture him smiling as he went on, “You are so innocent-looking that law enforcement won’t even notice you. This is very lucrative and ingenious. No one will suspect you.”

She couldn’t speak as he went on.

“You will be going to more shows across the country, delivering more product to pre-selected buyers. From this point on, you will know ahead of time who these buyers are.”

“For your resin statuettes.” Each word tasted bitter on her tongue.

“As well as the numbered prints.”

“Drugs are hidden with the prints?” Her eyes widened. “That’s why you frame them. You put drugs inside the backing.”

“Marijuana, to be exact.”

Her mind went back to the statuettes. “Touching these things is why the K9 came after me,” she said aloud before she thought better.

“What K9?” His words came out as sharp as a blade. “Explain.”

“It was yesterday, after I set up for the show.” Natasha’s throat felt almost too crowded to speak, but she managed to push all of the words out. “I asked an officer if I could pet his K9. He gave me permission, and when I tried, the dog snarled and barked at me. The officer patted me down and checked my purse. Of course he didn’t find anything, but I wondered why the dog reacted like he did. Residue must be on the statuettes and I got it on my hands.”

A pause, then Mark said, “This incident gives me an idea that will avoid any issues during the shows.” He sounded thoughtful. “I will send you with two statuettes empty of drugs that are well cleaned. That will solve the problem.”

She said nothing, but he continued. “Of course, you do realize that if you are caught with the product on hand, I have things set up so that you take the fall and you will be the one to be locked away. None of it will come back to me.”

Natasha closed her eyes at the mention of going to prison. It was a terrifying thought, yet at the same time it could solve her problems. If she was put behind bars, she couldn’t work for Mark and everyone would be safe.

He was apparently a mind reader along with being an evil man. “If you go to prison, I will kill all of them, so don’t even think of allowing yourself to be caught.” She sucked in her breath as he added, “And if you try to be noble and kill yourself, they die, too.”

The phone went dead as he disconnected the call. Natasha tried to hold back the tears, but she couldn’t stop them.

She cried, deep, gut wrenching sobs nearly tearing her apart. For as long as she lived, her family and friends would be in danger. If she went to prison or died, they would be in danger.

No matter what, that wasn’t going to happen. She would do whatever she had to in order to keep them safe.

If Mark died would this stop? A thought went through her mind that she would never have dreamed of considering before.

What if I killed Mark?

Would everyone finally be safe?

She shoved the thoughts from her mind. No matter how strong the desire was, she could never take the life of another human being.

Even if that person intended to murder her loved ones?

~~*~~

Brooks had excellent instincts, and in this case he figured Ball Cap hadn’t been sent to approach Natasha and threaten or harm her. The man was most likely there only to keep an eye on her.

He had a good idea that the man who followed Natasha would be sitting and watching the bank of elevators on her floor. When Brooks had first walked Natasha to her room, he had seen two chairs, one to either side of a huge flower vase, directly across from the elevator doors. If Ball Cap sat in the chair on the far side of the flower vase, it would give him the perfect hiding place to see if someone came to her from the elevator, or if she left her room to take the elevator to the lobby or somewhere else in the hotel.

The stairs would allow Brooks access so he could make it to the floor without being seen by Natasha’s tail. It took three minutes to reach the back stairwell, and the heavy metal door swung wide without a sound when he opened it. He began jogging up the eleven levels to her floor.

He worked out to keep himself in shape, doing cardiovascular exercises as well as lifting weights to increase his strength. He wasn’t out of breath when he reached the landing for her floor. A big placard with the number 11 was mounted next to the door. Sweat beaded his forehead. It was warm in the stairwell, and a jog combined with a heavy jacket added to the heat on his skin.

Before he opened the door, he looked through the small window at the empty hallway. He estimated he was standing only a few doors from Natasha’s room. He was also far enough away from the elevators that Ball Cap shouldn’t even know Brooks had been there.

He eased the door open, thankful for a staff that apparently kept things moving flawlessly. He had seen pure professionalism and an extraordinarily well-kept property.

The carpet dampened any sound his boots might have made as he strode toward Natasha’s room. He kept watch by checking behind him periodically.

He closed in on the elevators. He paused and stayed hidden as he saw Ball Cap sitting in an armchair nearby, the brim pulled low to shade his eyes as he stared at the front page of a newspaper.

When Brooks was satisfied that Ball Cap was staying on the floor’s elevator area for now, he headed to his room. He needed to give Natasha some time to calm down and then he would go to her.

~~*~~

Two hours later, Brooks made it to Natasha’s floor again. He had left his Stetson and his jacket in his room, but wore his shoulder holster with his Walther beneath an overshirt.

First thing he did was check to see if Ball Cap was still by the elevators. Sure enough, the man was still in the chair.

Brooks returned to Natasha’s room and knocked softly at her door. No answer, so he knocked again. He heard the chain lock slide into place before the door mechanism clicked. Natasha opened the door only as wide as the chain would allow.

Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, as if she’d been crying. Red blotches covered her pale features and her lower lip trembled.

“Go away.” She said the words in a low voice but they still came out sharp and angry. “Don’t ever come near me again.”

She started to close the door, but he stuck his boot in the space between the door and the frame. “We need to talk.” He kept his tone down. “If you don’t open this door now, your tail might spot me, and I have a feeling that might not be a good idea.”

Her eyes widened and the blotches faded as she grew paler. “I need to undo the chain lock.”