Authors: CJ Lyons
She grabbed her coat. “Looks like I’m headed there.”
Jessalyn jerked her chin. “What? No. You can’t, we’re in the middle of dinner.”
Caitlyn gave her mom a peck on the cheek. “Sorry, gotta go.”
“Caitlyn Matilda Tierney, you come back here this instant.” Several diners looked
around. Caitlyn was certain they expected to see a wayward toddler running away. She
was out the door before her mother could repeat her summons.
There was going to be hell to pay when she got back, she knew. But a solid lead was
a solid lead. Even if it did mean hanging out with a bunch of bikers.
* * *
Jimmy McSwain had given his niece a two-room suite on the Executive level. Nice digs
if you could afford them, Goose thought as he surveyed the rooms to decide where best
to place the bugs and pinhole cameras. Since he’d left Asheville, he slept in the
trailer behind the clubhouse, a drafty single-wide with a plasma screen, all the porn
you could watch, four bunk beds stuffed into two small bedrooms, and a dozen guys
fighting over them on any weekend night. Weekdays it wasn’t so bad, usually just him
and Bernie crashing there.
After he’d lost his job and the Reapers invited him to go from being a hanger-on,
partying with them on weekends and making the occasional ride down to Daytona, to
a prospect, Goose had sold everything that wouldn’t fit in the back of the cab of
his pickup or in the saddlebags of his bike, loaded the bike onto the truck, and moved
here to Evergreen.
He sat down on the king-sized bed, taking care not to wrinkle the fancy coverlet folded
at the end. It was kind of a relief, not having to worry about anything like insurance
or condo fees or bullshit like that. But after fifteen months of living out of a duffel,
he wouldn’t mind a night or two on a real bed like this.
Caitlyn also packed light; her bag was even smaller than his. Inside it he found her
laptop, an unloaded Baby Glock in an ankle holster, a pair of black cargo pants, blue
jeans, silk long johns, assorted panties and sports bras—nothing from Victoria’s Secret,
more’s the pity—two fleece pullovers, and two off-white button-down blouses. Combined
with the suit she was wearing, apparel that could be used anywhere from a boardroom
to a SWAT raid.
Goose liked the way her mind worked. He’d Googled Caitlyn on his phone while waiting
at registration for her to arrive and discovered she was something of a FBI celebrity,
had made all the major news outlets six months back. Saved a town in upstate New York
from a psychopath Russian mobster and had uncovered some government corruption while
doing so. All while almost dying herself.
With her red hair and freckles and tale of death-defying action, no wonder she was
such a media darling. He’d bet the FBI brass hated that. Wondered if they even knew
she was here. Chasing down a missing law student wasn’t exactly something the FBI
would take on outside of the movies.
He checked out her laptop. She had an encrypted password, but that was okay; the keystroke
recorder he loaded onto it via the battery pack would take care of that. Anything
she typed, he’d see on his own machine.
After finishing with her laptop and zipping her bag shut again, he placed his bugs.
Looked around the rooms once more: nothing out of place, nothing visibly disturbed.
Not that she would know since she hadn’t even been up here yet, but double-checking
details was what made him good at his job. A single digit out of place could bring
down everything, so yeah, even while playing I-spy for the Reapers, he sweated the
small stuff.
He was just reaching for the door to leave when he heard the click of a keycard being
swiped from the hall. Plastering himself to the wall behind the door, he hoped she’d
walk far enough into the room that he could slip out without her noticing.
The door opened. He held his breath and sucked in his gut, fists at the ready in case
it came to that—although he’d never actually hurt her. Poppy’s orders were hands off;
they didn’t need the feds raining down on them like the wrath of Khan.
The room was in darkness and she’d have to pass the entrance to the bedroom in order
to reach the lights. If he was quiet, he should just make it.
Caitlyn moved past him. He grabbed the edge of the door to keep it from shutting,
ready to sidle around it once she was far enough away not to notice the movement.
Before he could make his move a man barreled through the door, blindsiding Caitlyn
and knocking her into the bedroom. Goose left the safety of the shadows and was ready
to intervene when he saw it was Weasel. Trying to help him, no doubt.
Caitlyn landed an elbow to Weasel’s side, but she was fighting from a disadvantage,
on her knees beside the bed, Weasel’s heavier weight on top of her from behind. Before
she could twist her way free, Weasel grabbed the coverlet from the bed, threw it over
her head, wrapped it around her tight, and pushed her to the floor. He held her in
a choke hold, his mouth next to her ear.
“Go home, fed. Forget about Lena Hale. You’re messing in something ain’t none of your
business.”
He shoved her headfirst half under the bed. Then he and Goose raced from the room,
pulling the door shut.
“Hey, what’s the deal?” Goose protested once they were safely behind the locked door
of the room next door. “Poppy doesn’t trust me? Sent you to spy?”
“I just saved your butt.” Weasel waved him to silence as they both listened to Caitlyn’s
door slamming open, footsteps stomping down the hall, then back again to her room.
Goose ran over to where his laptop was set up on the desk and activated the bugs he’d
just placed.
“What’s she doing?” Weasel asked, keeping his voice low.
Goose listened on the headphones so there was no chance of the sound carrying through
the walls. “Calling her uncle. Asking if he can pull security tapes for this floor.”
He turned to Weasel. “Shit. We’re screwed. All because you had to play the heavy.
Poppy said to keep things quiet.”
“Relax. These feds aren’t as tough as they think.”
“You sound like you have some experience there.”
“You been with the club long as I have, you learn there’s a public side of things
and a private side of things.” Weasel narrowed his eyes at Goose. “Let’s just leave
it at that.”
Goose pulled up the video feeds. Caitlyn had changed into jeans and was loading her
Baby Glock and strapping on an ankle holster. “What about the security cameras? She’ll
know we’re here, see our faces.”
“Don’t worry. Poppy will take care of it. Let’s roll.”
“Don’t you want me to stay here, monitor things?”
Caitlyn grabbed her leather car coat and left her room. Her footsteps echoed past
their door and down the hall again.
“Only if you want to miss all the fun. I’m betting she’s heading to the clubhouse
right now.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Once Lena poked a few holes higher up, the section of plaster wall collapsed under
its own weight, filling the small room with dust, choking her as she dodged the heavy
slabs. The crash shook the room and left her ears buzzing.
If her captors were nearby there was no way they’d miss hearing that. Before the dust
had a chance to settle, she climbed over the rubble and began clawing at the wire
and wood lathing separating her from the outside wall. The lathing was thin, popped
free of its nails easily when she leveraged her weight against it, but the wire wouldn’t
budge. Eyes tearing with dust, fingers bleeding, she searched for the end of the wire
where it was anchored to the wood beams supporting the wall.
Adrenaline and anxiety sped her heartbeat through her veins with the force of a hammer
driving nails. What she wouldn’t do for a crowbar, she thought as she wiped blood
from her hands onto her pants, mixing it with the plaster dust. All she needed was
a few inches clear between the two-by-fours, just enough for her to shimmy through
to freedom.
The chimps had done their part. Once Smokey began tearing at the siding, her three
buddies had joined in on the fun. The outside siding was now riddled with gaping holes,
including a sizable one directly across from Lena.
Lena shivered against the night air hitting her sweaty skin. She wanted to howl in
frustration. Only the wire separated her from the outside world.
Clawing her fingers through the holes in the wire, she shook it, leaning her entire
weight against it. She knew she couldn’t tear it apart but hoped to bend it enough
to loosen it from whatever anchored it to the wall. When that didn’t work, she tried
weaving one of the thin pieces of wooden lathing through it and leveraging it away.
It gave slightly—at least she imagined that it did—but refused to pull free.
She tunneled through the plaster debris on the floor—the stuff was heavier than sin—and
searched for the bottom edge of the wire sheet. It was anchored all right. Not just
stapled in place. No, the sick, twisted bastards who’d built this place had nailed
it to the outside of the two-by-six-footer with thick eight-penny nails bent over,
the sharp edges of their heads driven into the wood. She might have been able to pull
them out, given enough leverage, but she was on the wrong side of the footer and there
was no way she could reach them through the wire.
Okay, Lena, okay. No need to panic, just because you’ve pretty much destroyed half
the house and there’s no way the bad guys won’t notice it when they come back and
that could be anytime now and they’re going to be so very angry and who knows what
they might do … Stop it! Work the problem.
An encouraging
chrumph-hurumph
sound came from outside. Lena looked up to see that Smokey had returned. The chimp
squatted beyond the hole in the siding, regarding Lena, tilting her head one way then
the other as if examining Lena’s predicament.
“Think you could help me again?” Lena asked. The chimp didn’t move for a moment, then
bounced up and down. “Here, can you pull here?” Lena wiggled her fingers through the
bottom of the wire, pointing to its edge. “Be careful, it’s sharp.”
Smokey touched the wire, tapped a finger against the nails, making a gurgling noise
in the back of her throat, like asking an uncomfortable question.
“I know, it’s not going to be easy,” Lena said, making eye contact with the chimp.
“It’s probably going to hurt.” She pressed her palms against the wire, forcing it
as far forward as she could. The chimp leaned into the hole in the wall, sniffing
the blood on Lena’s hands, the short hairs on her snout tickling.
She screeched and reared back, agitated.
“Wait, don’t go!”
Too late, Smokey had disappeared into the night.
Lena wiped her face on her sleeve, ignoring the tears and mucus and plaster dust she
smeared over her best wool coat. Her job-interview coat, the one she’d found at a
thrift store, the price tag still on it. Anne Klein, only five bucks. It’d seemed
like a sign from God that good things were coming her way, she remembered thinking
at the time.
Idiot. She knew better than to put her faith in signs and portents. There was only
one thing that could help her survive this: God. She just had to trust in Him.
A wave of tranquility swept over her, the night noises, the rasp of her breathing,
the pounding of her heart all vanishing into a peace-filled silence. She closed her
eyes, the better to see His vision for her.
Whatever you need, God. I’m trusting in you. Please just give me the strength and
courage to walk the path you lay before me. Amen.
A deep breath in filled her lungs with crisp, clean air. Another one out, expelling
her doubts and fears. She opened her eyes, renewed energy tingling along her nerves.
Smokey had returned and sat watching Lena, arms wrapped around her chest. She looked
very sad.
“It’s okay,” Lena reassured her, perching on the pile of debris and mimicking the
chimp’s posture. “We’ll think of something.” She tugged the belt on her coat tighter,
trying to block the wicked winter wind. Then she looked at the belt buckle. Nickel.
And the fabric was wool. Strong enough?
Thank you,
she whispered to the heavens. She wove the belt through the wire immediately above
the nails. The wood footer and heavy-duty nails were stronger than the wire—especially
where it had been cut along the floor. All she needed was enough leverage to tug a
few of the wrapped strands free.
Once she had the belt secured she braced her feet against her side of the wall and
leaned all her weight back, stretching the belt taut. With loud grunts and screeches,
Smokey cheered her on.
The wire fought, bent, and twisted. Smokey clapped as Lena strained, pushing with
all her might. Finally, the bottom strands beneath the nails popped free. One inch,
then two, then
pop-pop-pop,
the wire gave up the battle. Lena fell back, releasing a fresh wave of plaster dust
while Smokey flew head over heels then somersaulted back to the wall, banging on it
in victory.
“Thank you, Jesus!” Lena shouted, doing her own jig, floundering over the chunks of
plaster.
She tossed bottles of Ensure through the opening, followed by her coat. Wrapping her
scarf tight around her face to prevent being ripped by any stray splinters or nails,
she sucked in her stomach and crawled through the wall to freedom.
The night sky was filled with stars, shimmering with halos as the mountain mist scudded
across them, carried by a brisk westerly wind. Never had shivering felt so good.
Hope filling her heart, Lena slid back into her coat, filled the pockets with all
the Ensure she could carry, and looked out into the darkness of a black vista of trees
with no signs of civilization in sight. Smokey returned, cautiously, taking her time
as she walked around Lena, assessing her. Lena stood still, holding her hands out,
palm down.
“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she cooed to the animal.