Mind Lies (26 page)

Shaking my head in disgust, I hiss, “It’s called being diabetic, you sick fuck. You might wanna try feeding your captives. Maybe they’ll live longer next time.”

“Ha! Fire!” He spins around to see the other women. “My Raven a fighter. What we do with fighters?”

The women don’t answer but simply keep their eyes cast downward where they sit huddled together on a dirty blanket. Their clothes are torn, and dried blood caked their once-tear-soaked cheeks.

“We discipline!” Vasily shouts before backhanding me across the face. Caught off guard, I stumble, slamming my elbow into the wall before reaching a hand out to balance myself.

“Raven, Raven, Raven. I like fire, but you do not tell Vasily how to run his business.”

A door slams shut in the distance, and he smiles, “Ah, boss is here.”

Taking shallow breaths to beat the dizziness back, I lean against the wall and listen to the sound of footsteps getting closer while wondering if the boss is Yakov. My eyes follow shiny shoes up to a suit-covered body. I come face-to-face with a much older man, mid-sixties I would guess. He has thinning hair and a scar under his eye. He has crow’s feet around those eyes, but they’re not from smiling, more like from squinting in the sun or being an asshole all the time.

“She’s pregnant?” the man asks Vasily.

“Surprise, Yakov!” he replies.

“Good. It the mans?”

He nods.

“Extra security. Man fight hard for child. We be prepared,” Yakov says, adding, “No harm to child. It worth more than the girls.”

My unborn child is worth more than the women?

Clearing my throat, feeling certain they aren’t going to kill me because my child is somehow worth something to them, I speak up. “Locklin’s one man, and you could have killed him at the doctor’s office. Me too, for the matter.” They both settle their eyes on me, Yakov’s with brows raised as if I’ve spoken out of turn, and Vasily’s displaying a sick satisfaction I don’t want to understand. “If we’re not dead yet, clearly you want something that can’t be gained from killing, and the only thing that could be is information. I have no desire to die today, or to watch someone be hurt. It’s possible I could answer your questions.”

Vasily claps. “This called common sense, Yakov. She full of wisdom, my Raven.”

Yakov shrugs. “I do not care how we get information, so long as it is obtained. Yuri?” The man comes when called and speaks with Yakov for a moment before leaving. When he returns, he has two chairs. Yakov places one outside the cell, and Yuri carries the other one inside before returning to his post.

“Sit,” the Russian orders. I do as I’m told because my head is pounding.

“Vasily tells me you clever girl. So you going to tell me how you evade my men and hide for . . .” He looks over his shoulder at Vasily, who answers: “Twelve years.”

“Twelve years.”

Chapter Thirty-three

“Are you all ready for the wee one to arrive?” the nurse asks as I sign forms and pay the bill in cash. “We will be,” I tell her, not because I want to carry on a conversation, but because I lose myself in the memory of feeling my son kick for the first time.

I’ve watched Jerri like a hawk this past month, and that includes noticing every time she smiles, when she places her hand on her belly, or when she sings to him without even noticing. I’ve been envious of her touching her belly, which I can’t freely do, and jealous of the unborn lad when he gets her soulful voice—the same one that used to calm me when I was making love to her, afraid I might never hear it again.

Afraid I might never see her again.

Always worrying I might never feel her touch again.

Touching her today was like coming home, only this time, I wasn’t afraid to leave. I wanted to stay right where I was with my skin touching hers, my boy eagerly kicking against me.

I need her in my life. I’ve known it for a long time, but now it physically aches when she’s not near. I don’t have the adrenaline driving me forward to chase ghosts anymore. Now all I have is a driving need to be with her every second of every day.

It’s not healthy. It’s nearly obsessive.

But I don’t fucking care.

“Locklin!” Jerri’s shrill scream echoes through the office, and I tear off toward the sound.

The bark of a man.

The slamming of a door.

“Jerri!” I shout when I round the corner, pushing open the heavy exit door that had just slammed shut and watching a dark van peel out of the parking lot. I don’t stop running until I get to our car. But I see slashed tires—so I keep running.

“Jerrilyn!” I shout, distance gaining between the van and myself. It swerves around a corner and heads west, out of town.

“Fuck! No!” Slowing down, I dig through my pocket until I find my cell phone and dial 9-1-1.

“She’s gone!” I bark down the line. Ignoring the operator, I continue, “Black van heading west on Harris Street.” I rattle off the first four digits of the license plate, then add, “A pregnant woman abducted from O’Leary’s Clinic. Find her.”

I hang up the phone and dial Lee. “They got her,” I tell him before he has the chance to say hello. “They fucking took her from the clinic!”

“Where are you?” he asks.

“O’Leary’s Clinic, south of Harris.”

Then he says, “Five minutes,” and hangs up.

Walking back to the car, I rip open the door and grab my gun from the console, sticking it in the back of my jeans. There’s a crowd gathered outside the door, and one of the nurses runs toward me, white as a sheet.

“Sir?”

I’m sure I look far from friendly. Her hand shakes as she holds out an envelope with my name on it. “I think this is for you, but I wasn’t sure if I should touch it.”

I shake my head. “The police are on their way. I’ll pass it along. Thank you.”

She nods and scurries off. I open the flap to the envelope, but before I can pull out the contents, Lee comes barreling into the lot. He doesn’t park, only slows the car as I open the door and get it.

“Police are looking, and two of my guys at G2 are lookin’ through traffic cams to get a location. The rest won’t help until they know it was the Russians. Until it can be confirmed it’s them, it’s just a regular abduction.”

I ignore him and reach inside the envelope.

Pictures.

“Fucking hell,” Lee curses beside me, his eyes switching from pictures to the road.

There are quite a few of me in Boston. Pictures of Jerri coming and leaving my motel room that night. At the bottom of the stack is a photo of girls huddled together in a cell.

Dirty.

Bloody.

Raped and waiting to be sold.

“Flip them over,” Lee tells me.

Unless you want Raven to have the same fate, you will call,
is written on the back of the last photo.

There’s a number underneath the message, and I pull my phone out of my pocket, prepared to dial.

“Wait,” Lee says. “That might be enough to get G2 in on this.”

I whip my head toward him. “You’re fucking here, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m here as myself, not part of G2. Five minutes, partner. Just let me make a call.”

“She could be anywhere by now! It’s been ten minutes, and I know you know what happens in ten fucking minutes!” I shout, pointing in the direction the van was headed as we blindly try to find it.

“Colin,” Lee barks through his hands-free. He regales him about everything that had just happened and the pictures in my lap. “Run it through the boss, and put a trace on this number.”

“Done,” Colin chirps back before the line goes dead.

“Now you call.”

I dial the number twice, my fingers failing to work. It rings nine fucking times before someone answers.

“I see you got my package?” the Russian prick answers.

“I did. Care to tell me how I can fix this problem?”

“You’ve been fucking with my shipments. I do not like when people fucks with what is mine.”

I bite my tongue but throw back, “You can’t own a person. They’re not for sale.”

He laughs. “Everything for sale! For a price.”

I shake my head. “That what you want? Money in exchange for a life?”

“Silly Irishman.” He continues laughing. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

“So talk. I’m listening.”

“In time,” he says. “First you need to ditch your getaway driver.”

Lee and I share a look before the Russian adds, “I have eyes everywhere when I sense a threat. I make it my business to know people before I take them down. I do not like messes. And you, Irishman, are making a fucking mess.”

“Alright, I’ll ditch the driver. What next?”

“You go to Jarvis Industrial Park.”

I frown. “There’s nothing there but concrete.”

“Exactly. I see you coming from a mile away. Alone. I will have you picked up. See you then.”

“Proof of life. I’m not coming unless I speak to her.”

“Ahh, the fiery Raven,” the smug fuck says before throwing in, “Vasily is quite fond of her,” adding fuel to my fire.

Then, “Lock?”

I breathe a sigh of relief and tell her the only thing I can think of in case this doesn’t turn out as I hope. 

“My water, Jerri girl.”

***

“They won’t kill you yet. They need something from you,” Lee tells me. I nod my head. My hands are clenched into fist on my thighs, craving to drive into something.

Someone.

“Not trying to talk me out of it?” I smartly say, not because I care what his answer is, but because the past sixteen minutes in this fucking car have been the longest of my life. And talking makes the time go by quicker.

Gripping the steering wheel harder, he replies, “No.”

I know there’s a fuck of a lot more than what meets the eye with Lee, but even now, in a situation like this, he doesn’t bother to enlighten me.

His business, not mine.

I don’t pry because what’s the point?

Men are simple; if we want you to know something, we’ll fucking tell you. If we don’t, there’s a reason why.

“End of the road, Lock.”

I take one last look at Lee. We’ve become more than just partners, despite the fact that we rarely made small talk over the past twelve years. It’s bigger than that. He doesn’t have to be here right now; he didn’t have to act without G2 and risk a suspension to fucking help me.

But he is.

Not because he owes me anything, but because he’s a good fucking man.

I take a look around the desolate landscape. The buildings in the industrial park are long gone. The result of a fire that broke out six years ago, leaving nothing but concrete behind. Opening the car door, I give one last nod to Lee. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he smartly says, and I nod back.

“Wide open, then?”

He gives me a sober look. “Wide open. Go get your girl.”

I shut the door and bang on the roof twice. I don’t watch the car disappear, but instead turn and walk with speed toward my meeting point, well aware that I’m wide open without a weapon and could be taken out at any time.

They don’t want me dead.

Yet.

The Russian’s want me alive. For what I have no fucking clue. Could be information, but then why not ask the driver, Lee, to come too?

Maybe they just want to beat and torture my sorry ass for all the headaches I’ve caused them over the years, but it feels as if they’ve gone to too much trouble for that to be the case.

At the moment, I really don’t give a shit. I need to get Jerri out of this mess, and if I can make that happen, I don’t give a flying fuck what they do to me.

When I reach the top of a small hill, a car comes into view. I can see the outline of two men, and when I get near, a third man exits the back seat with a gun trained on me. I don’t raise by hands but instead walk slower. Standing five feet in front of him, I stop.

He’s about my size. Not as fit but matched for weight.

“Lift your shirt and turn around.”

I do as he asks, showing him I have no weapons, then proceed to do the same with my pant legs. Once he’s satisfied, he points to the car. “Inside.”

His accent is thick. Either he fucking sucks at speaking English or he’s a man of few words. Not that I want to speak to the prick, anyway. No. What I really want to do is reach out, grab his arm, and snap it in the middle.

The gun would fall, and I’d catch it before it hit the ground while elbowing him right under his nose.

Hopefully, I could get shots off faster than the two in the front seat could draw, but the truth is I’ve never shot someone.

Never killed anyone.

The only time I’ve had to fire my weapon is for sport.

For practice.

The car weaves out of the concrete desert, and I continue thinking of all the way I could kill these sorry bastards. It’s not long before we arrive at a warehouse. I know this place; it used to be a wildlife rehabilitation centre but closed down over a decade ago for some reason or another.

We’re about seven miles out from the docks. Through the bushline, it would only be about a mile before you hit the water.

Perfect location for trafficking. There’d be no security to worry about at the shoreline. No dock hands or undercover G2 agents would get in your way. It’s a prime location, one they wouldn’t show me if they planned to keep me alive. 

I’ll get you out, Jerri girl.

Even if I die trying.

I try not to think about how much I fucked up over the years. Evading these fucks for twelve years is a pretty goddamn good stretch. But the mess I made with Jerri . . .

I could have been out.

I could have quit this shit. I could have left it all behind, made a life with her.

Paddy told me many times over the years to pull my head out of my arse, and this is exactly what he meant. It wasn’t just leaving Lee, G2, and the abducted women behind—it was having something worth living for when you did.