Hijacked (A Retribution Novel)

HIJACKED

A Retribution Novel

By Cindy Stark

www.cindystark.com

Hijacked © 2015 C. Nielsen

All rights reserved

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

A
lso by Cindy Stark

Aspen Series

Wounded

Relentless

Lawless

Cowboys and Angels

Come Back To Me

Surrender

Reckless

Tempted

Crazy One More Time

Pinecone Valley Series

Love Me Again

Whispers (An Argent Springs Novel)

Retribution Novels

Branded

Hunted

Banished

Moonlight and Margaritas

Sweet Vengeance

Which Witch is Which?

Which Witch is Wicked? (Coming Soon)

Eliana Conway zipped across Burnside Bridge, barely noticing the busy Willamette River below as she made her way into downtown Portland, Oregon. Darkening skies threatened rain, but so far, so good. She had a decent chance of making her delivery before the clouds opened.

A red light impeded her progress, and she exhaled her annoyance as she came to a stop. The clicking of her turn signal echoed through the quiet interior of her car, ticking off the seconds until the light turned green.

When it did, she floored her accelerator, turning in front of the slower oncoming traffic. Someone honked, but she paid him no mind. If he wanted to beat her, he’d have to be quicker on the pedal.

A few turns later, she slid her candy apple red Challenger into an open parking space near the waterfront. She grabbed the large plate of cookies from the passenger seat and climbed out of her car, her heels clicking on the cement as she hurried down the sidewalk. The scent of rain hovered in the air, and she savored the smell. Her day had been particularly beastly, and only one thing would calm her restless soul.

A multitude of homeless people littered the ground beneath Burnside Bridge, and she tried not to make eye contact as she passed. Many snuggled into worn sleeping bags in an attempt to ward off the chilly evening, some already nodding off though it was barely past eight.

A scruffy, younger man with long, dirty hair followed her movements with hungry, dangerous eyes. Not homeless, she thought as she glanced over his dark jacket and decent shoes. More than likely, he was a drug dealer. One who preyed on others.

Most would say she was crazy to walk alone through this area in the evening. Maybe she was. But she’d learned a long time ago how to take care of herself, and she feared little. Not because she didn’t believe something could happen to her. She’d witnessed stabbings, robberies, and rape during her younger years. She’d survived more than she cared to remember, and she’d helped plenty of others who’d received their own battle wounds from the streets. But having nothing to lose gave a person a liberating sense of freedom.

Eliana stared back at the man, daring him to make a move.

He must have realized her fearless challenge because he blinked and looked away as though she wasn’t worth his notice.

She smirked as she headed toward a familiar stretch of cement wall that ran along the bank of the beautiful river. A smile rose from deep inside her at the sight of a hunched, older man ensconced in a stained, taupe trench coat.

Howard grinned when she approached, pushing out thin, weathered cheeks which revealed several missing teeth. “Princess? What are you doing down here this time of night?”

Elusive, overwhelming happiness spread through her as she sat next to the man she’d come to think of as her surrogate father. Peace settled in her heart, and she could breathe once again. “I brought you chocolate chip cookies. Your favorite,
and
…I hurried so they’d still be warm.” She wished he’d let her give him more—real food, a warmer coat, a bedroom at her house.

“God save me.” He laughed as he reached under the plastic cover and took a stack of three. He shoved half of one into his mouth and shook his head in pleasure. “You look like an angel and cook like one, too.”

She grinned, pleased at his reaction and set the paper plate on his lap.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I can’t take all of them.”

“Of course you can. I made them for you.” She glanced at the shadows creeping up around them. “You can share with your friends or keep them all for yourself.”

“Victor would probably like some. I’ll save a couple for him.” Howard nodded, seeming satisfied with his decision.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” He said the same thing every time she brought him cookies. She’d never met Victor, had no idea if he really existed, but it seemed to make her friend happy, so she didn’t question him.

“What’s the pretty lawyer lady been doing this week?” he asked as he lifted the rest of the cookie to his mouth.

Startled by a vicious wound on the back of his hand, she reached out and caught his wrist before he could take another bite. “What’s this?” Dried blood caked the jagged gash, deepening her concern.

He jerked away. “It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“You should have someone take a look at it.”

He gave her a placating smile. “I’m fine, princess.”

She highly doubted that. “Let me see it again.”

He shook his head, his long, grizzled beard rubbing his chest. “If I have problems, I’ll get help. I guarantee, if something kills me, it ain’t going to be this little scratch.”

She didn’t like him talking about dying. His cut looked anything but fine. But she recognized she’d butted up against the stubborn side of him that she’d encountered so many times. If she kept pressing, he’d walk away.

He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and talked over it. “You didn’t answer. Whose ass did you kick this week?”

She snorted and shook her head, keeping her expression even. Howard loved to hear the details of her job, but the child abuse case was still too fresh in her mind, too close to her own personal tragedy. “Nothing much to tell. I did help one young woman get child support for her kids.”

“Dead beat jerks. Don’t guys know it takes money to raise them kids? My old man was cut from the same piece-of-shit cloth.” It took a few seconds for his angry expression to morph into a smile. “Good thing those moms have you looking out for them.”

She nodded and wondered if her mother would have done a better job if she’d had resources?

“Remember that one gal whose boyfriend beat the holy living tar out of her? Ever hear from her again?”

Eliana snorted, thinking of Janie Holden with her beautiful blond hair. Men always went for the blondes, it seemed. “She married the cop that helped save her.”

“What?” Howard turned and fully faced her. “That Sam guy you had your eye on?”

She shrugged. “It was a fleeting attraction on my part. No big deal.” Like every other man she’d met so far. Most were good for a date or two, but she’d never been able to connect on a deeper level with any of them. She recognized it was a flaw on her part, but she couldn’t do much about that. Her life circumstances had made her who she was, and she couldn’t change the past.

“Damn fool man. Blind, too, if he can’t see you’re a gem. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Ah, Howard. That’s why I love you.” Eliana patted his forearm. She’d first met the homeless veteran almost a year ago when she’d been searching for her nomadic, mentally-challenged brother. That search had proved fruitless so far, but God had graced her with a dear friend instead. “Why won’t you come live with me?”

“I already told you. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I’m happy here with my friends.”

She wanted to point out that he was homeless, living on the streets, but she didn’t. “Like Victor?”

“Uh-huh. Just like Victor.” He gave her a solid nod. “I’ve made my peace with the world, and this is where I belong.”

She shook her head in frustration. “It’s not okay, Howard. You need to be where you’re safe and warm. You need some good medical care.”

The expression on his face dropped, and a similar feeling fell to the pit of her stomach. “Don’t take that from me, Eliana. My dignity is all I have left. It might not seem like much to you, but it is to me.” His jaw shook as he spoke, leaving her feeling like utter trash.

She swallowed and tried to regroup. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I worry, and I have plenty material things to share.”

The look in his eyes was anything but weak. “I’m doing fine.”

She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, but Howard, stubborn as he was, had the right to make his own decisions. Much like her brother. “Okay, fine.”

He grinned. “That’s a good girl. Save your arguing for the courtroom.”

“Right.” At least there, she could help better others’ lives.

A drop of rain hit her cheek. Then another. She tipped her face upward toward the steel gray sky.

“Looks like the rain is here.” Howard struggled to stand, almost tipping the plate of cookies. “Let me walk you to your car. This is no place for a lady at night. Especially a lovely one like you.”

They both knew he wouldn’t make it a hundred feet without having to stop because the pain in his legs would overwhelm him. As it was, it would take most of his energy to find shelter beneath the bridge.

“I’ll be fine, Howard. I have the Duke with me.” She patted her purse, feeling the stiff weight of her Nighthawk 9mm inside. “I’m more worried about you.”

He snorted in protest. “There’s a nice warm place waiting for me under the bridge. I’ll be all right.”

“Okay.” It was pointless to argue. She took his hand and squeezed, sad that the rain had cut short their visit. “Eat some more cookies while they’re warm.”

“Count on it, princess. And you come see me again soon.”

“Absolutely.” She took a couple of steps and then turned back to wave. Howard was busy stuffing the cookies into his oversized pockets as he shuffled away from her.

With her heart heavier than before she’d arrived and frustration pulsing through her veins, she headed toward the area where she’d parked.

Why did life have to be so damn hard? Why did so many suffer?

Her instincts pricked to life, focusing on a lone figure leaning against the trunk of a tree not far off her path. A moment later, she recognized the younger guy who’d eyed her earlier. His stance held the stiffness of a predator lying in wait, and she knew he wouldn’t let her pass unimpeded a second time.

An internal chill warned her, and she slowed her steps, giving her time to reach into her purse. She secured the Duke in her grasp, slid it out, and carefully held it to her side just in case. Her pulse surged like electricity in a lightning storm, but she continued to move forward as though his presence didn’t affect her.

As she approached, he stepped into her path. Dark eyes, hard with intention pinned her as fear attacked her thoughts. She had no doubt he meant to harm her.

Instead of backing away, she took a step forward. “What the fuck do you want?” she hissed in her most menacing tone, which she admitted was damn good despite the shaking inside her.

Unfortunately, her tone didn’t seem to faze him. “Your money. Your jewelry. My cock between your legs.”

She lifted her gun and pointed it at him. “Go for it, then. If you think you’re man enough.” Then she prayed he wasn’t an imbecile strung out on drugs.

His expression changed to one of surprise. “Whoa. No need to overreact.”

She narrowed her gaze, wishing she could pull the trigger and relieve the world of a blemish. “You know what I hate? Assholes like you who think you can take whatever you want with no regard for the victims. I should shoot you right now.”

He snorted. “You’re not going to pull that trigger, and we both know it.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She ached to do it.

He stared her down, and she sensed him weighing the odds.

“Yo, dude!” Another hoodlum called out from farther down the walkway.

The punk held her gaze until the kid yelled again. “Fuck,” he hissed. “It’s your lucky night.” He turned and jogged toward his friend.

“Or yours,” she hollered after him. Her heart thundered in her chest, intensifying her feelings of frustration. What was wrong with this world?

If she didn’t find some sort of release, she’d blow.

She kept the gun at her side until she reached her car. The only problem was that the thought of going home where loneliness rattled the walls like death chains was more than she could bear right now.

She exhaled and looked down the street. She was a woman desperate for redemption that never seemed to come.

A glowing neon beer sign caught her attention, promising salvation…or at least a distraction. Times like these, when everything seemed wrong with the world, she ached to be around people, to find someone who would tell her everything would be all right. Even if she didn’t talk to anyone, she needed the reassurance that life continued to go on and that the possibility to find happiness hadn’t eluded everyone, which gave her hope.

She glanced at her car once more and then turned back to the neon sign. “Screw it,” she whispered. She’d let the fates lead her to whatever they had in mind for her that night.

*        *        *

The air wasn’t much warmer as Eliana stepped inside the small, darkened tavern. Several TVs mounted high on the walls broadcasted a hockey game, and as far as she could tell, she was the only woman in the bar.

Some women would let that intimidate them, but Eliana found she preferred the company of men over women. Men were predictable. Women tended to judge her for her looks, never seeing the wounded person beneath. She’d tried a time or two to share, to engage potential new friends, but they couldn’t imagine her having any kind of loneliness or abandonment issues, and they always turned the conversation back toward themselves.

Who needed that?

Several men turned to watch as she walked in. She met their stares with a cool one of her own as she made her way to the bar and claimed a seat. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best idea, after all. She wanted to be around people, not fight off come-ons.