Captive, Mine (22 page)

You need to stop wishing she wasn’t so well behaved. And start thinking about how you’re getting your asses out of this.

Lake looked up at the sunlight, the angle of it already lower. Cold weather wasn’t far away, and winter at the cabin was a brutal, grueling affair he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Time was running out, and though the diversions were more than enjoyable… he knew a reckoning was coming.

And soon.

Sighing, Lake reached into his pocket, laying his cell on the nicked, faded wood of the table. He took a sip of the acrid, but still blessedly hot coffee, and leaned to the side, pulling out the pistol. Laying it on the table next to the phone, he stared at it then looked at the phone. Back and forth, one to the other.

You better know what the fuck you’re doing, Lake.

He looked toward Lily’s room. The morning light still hadn’t reached the hallway, the shadows darkening the corridor such that he could only vaguely make out her door. Did she still sleep?

It would be better if she did.

Lake laid his left hand over the gleaming, polished metal of the M1911. He didn’t even know why he still carried the old hand cannon. The Beretta was far more accurate, though without the satisfying punch of the .45 caliber Colt.

Somehow, holding it made him feel better. How far had he fallen when the only two things that made him feel better anymore were his weapons and the captive woman thirty feet away who’d still probably kill him if given half the chance?

No time for self-pity anymore, asshole. It’s time to do what has to be done.

He lifted the pistol from the table, resting an elbow on the wood, turning the weapon in the sun, the light glinting off of it in blinding flashes. Lake looked down that hallway one last time.

“No going back from this, Lake.”

His whisper seemed harsh in the quiet of the cold morning.

He picked up the phone, his thumb punching in the numbers fast before he thought better of it. Odds were good that the number wasn’t even in service anymore, but it was worth a shot. A call from him would be unexpected — and he needed every ounce of surprise he could squeeze out of the FUBAR jam they were currently in.

Lake grunted at the sound of the call going through. Not disconnected after all. Someone picked up before the second ring.

“Bishop.”

His raspy voice still made Lake’s skin crawl. When he’d first met the man, he’d had no idea what Randall was thinking keeping such a scrawny, pimply-faced scumbag around.

Then Lake had witnessed what Barry Bishop could do with a gun… and a knife.

“Get your boss on the phone, Barry.”

There was a pause, and an intake of breath. “This can’t be you…”

“I’m waiting, asshole. Make me wait any longer, and I’m hanging up. I don’t think the boss man would be happy to learn you’d jerked me off on the phone rather than putting me through to him.”

“All right, all right. Wait a second!”

The line went quiet.

Lake’s heart pounded harder and harder as each second ticked by. Did he expect him to call? Was he that far ahead of Lake? That the line hadn’t already been disconnected… wasn’t good news.

It said: confidence. That was never a good sign when dealing with a cold-hearted sociopath.

“Mr.
Freeman.
I was about to show Barry here the error of his ways in pulling my chain. I didn’t believe it was actually you.”

The man’s voice was smooth and deep, ever relaxed, not so much as a syllable raised in anger or distress. Lake could picture the asshole right now, the jet-black hair, the bleached white teeth with the too-prominent canines, the deeply tanned skin as if he’d spent one too many hours out on the links.

And the eyes, like two points of black iron, as hard and pitiless as his soul.

If he had one.

“I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”

Lake clutched his weapon tighter, relieved his voice hadn’t cracked with the strain. He knew the next few seconds might well doom he and Lily both to a torturous death and a shallow grave.

“Now, Mr.
Freeman
, what kind of tone is that to use? We’re all… friends here. Why don’t you come in; we’ll talk things over. I’m sure we can come to an agreement on—”

“Shut the fuck up, Randall.”

The man made a sound on the other end of the line somewhere between a murmur and a growl.

“I still wonder, Mr.
Freeman
. Did you plan it from the very beginning? Did you enjoy her yet?”

“That rapist piece of shit is lucky I didn’t take his little pecker as a souvenir.”

Randall’s laughter made Lake grit his teeth.

Thirty seconds alone with you, motherfucker. That’s more than I’d need.

“My little mole in WITSEC… you surprised him. I told him I need people who can actually
complete
the job assigned to them. Someone like you, actually. DeSalvo is careless, and weak — stupid. You know, it’s not too late to make things whole again, Mr.
Freeman
. You worked for me once — you can do it again. If you make the right decision here.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Slim chances, Mr.
Freeman
. Slimmer by the day, I’m afraid.”

The pleased sound Randall made sent chills down Lake’s spine. Something wasn’t right. Randall knew —
had
to know — that Lake had him by the short hairs. Lily was supposed to be Randall’s trump card. The one thing neither the feds nor Randall had control over anymore. With Lily gone, so was any leverage the drug dealer hoped to hold over Emmanuel Cross.

The news should’ve sent Randall into a homicidal lunatic rage — he’d seen that side of Randall before.

And dead, broken bodies were always the result.

“Bring Ms. Cross in, Mr.
Freeman
. Finish the job I paid you for. I don’t give two shits about what you did to DeSalvo. He’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet in his brain over his little fuck up.”

“You’re wasting your time, Randall. You’ll never find us. The money you pay for those clowns. What do you call them again?
Associates?
You might as well set fire to it for all the good it’s doing you.”

Randall’s low chuckle had Lake squeezing the pistol so hard his knuckles creaked.

“I’ll put you in charge of guarding her, Mr.
Freeman.
Nobody else touches her. DeSalvo can go rub his prick up against some other whore. She’s yours, and you can use her to warm your cock any time the mood strikes you. I’ll even—”

“If you ever see me again, Randall, I’m the last person you’ll ever see. Count on it.”

“Why so upset, Mr.
Freeman
? Listen. You can just drop her off. Name the time and place. After, you can disappear. As long as you stay good and gone, we’ll be square. I’ll consider the money you stole from me… the cost of doing business.”

Something’s wrong, Lake. He’s stalling for time.

“Give it the fuck up, Randall. I’m hanging up now.”

“That place in Huntington Beach was a nice touch. Hiding in plain sight.”

Oh fuck.

“Mmmm, you didn’t think we’d find it, did you?” Randall’s voice changed, the smooth affect gone, the rumbling menace of the thug loud and clear. “I didn’t think we’d get lucky with the first one. So we used process of elimination. Your little beachside hidey-hole is a smoking hole, now. Cops might even think it was arson, too. Wonder who might stand to gain from a little arson, Mr.
Freeman
?”

“You fuck.”

“The kid you had renting the place in Raleigh. DeSalvo says he’ll live, but he’s gonna be in the hospital for a few weeks.”

Jesus Christ.

“Oh and the place in Montana? If you’re there… well, you might have some company. And soon. Hell, they may have been watching it for days. Or not. I guess, well, you wouldn’t know, would you, Mr.
Freeman
?”

Lake’s mind reeled, his mouth suddenly bone dry. How? They had even less time than he’d hoped. If Randall was checking each one — and Lake would, were he in the cold-blooded killer’s shoes — they might have… days.

For all he knew, Randall had every single safe house already pinched. Maybe he was just waiting?

“Bullshit. If you had a fix, you’d have already come for us.”

“
Us
, is it?” He could
hear
the smarmy grin in the man’s voice. “That little cunt’s got you wrapped around your finger already, doesn’t she?”

“Fuck you, Randall.”

“Tell me something, Mr.
Freeman
. How does a man like you afford all of those properties?” Certainly not something you could afford on a SEAL’s pay, is it?”

“I’m hanging up—”

“Of course not. But you see, Mr.
Freeman
— I
know
. I vet everyone I hire. Everyone, you hear me, you fuck? You thieving fucking
rat.
Eventually, we’ll find the hole you crawled into, and you’ll wish you’d taken the second chance you’re about to piss away.” Randall went silent a moment then the smooth, relaxed tone was back. “Last chance, Mr.
Freeman
. You know I never forgive anyone who fucks me over. But, for you? I’ll make an exception. Drop her at the original hand-off spot. Just drop her — and make yourself scarce. Permanently. It’ll be over. You can find another one of your holes and stay in it. That’s it.”

“She’s told me everything, Randall.
Everything.
You think she’s just Cross’ spoiled daughter, don’t you? Well, if you do, you’re even dumber than I thought. She knows everything, Randall. Her daddy doesn’t even know as much as she knows.”

There was the slightest pause from Randall. “Is it Michigan, Mr.
Freeman
? Or the apartment in Vancouver? Where are you,
little rat
?”

He knew he’d gotten Randall’s attention, the man’s voice suddenly tense once more, his textured voice almost a growl. A pissed off Randall was a sloppy Randall.

It was all he had at this point. Lake hoped it would be enough.

“Emmanuel’s the
decoy
, you murdering prick,” Lake snarled, the rage filling him again, his vision tinged with red. “Did you ever consider that? Lily’s the real prize — and you’ll never find her.”

Then Lake hung up.

It was all a fucking lie, of course. Lily wouldn’t tell him jack shit, even if she did know something, but it might be enough to shake Randall just that little bit, get him thinking.

Get him doubting.

Lake stood, tucking the .45 back in his waistband as he strode toward her bedroom.

It was time for Lily to make a phone call, too.

* * *

“T
ime to call your dad, Lily. Here, get dressed.”

I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Lake stood over me with a mug of coffee in his hand. I looked down at the clothes he’d tossed onto the bed then up at him. His face told me not to say a word about it, and I didn’t, knowing how hard it must have been for him to give me her clothes to wear.

“What time is it?” I asked, taking the coffee.

Lake sat down. “Early, but we’ve got a lot to do today.”

“Um… okay I guess. What do we have to do? Did something happen?”

He hesitated. I could see he had something on his mind and when he mumbled a quick “nope,” I knew for a fact he wasn’t telling me something.

“Why do I get to call my dad all of a sudden?”

“If you don’t want to…” He rose to stand.

“No. Of course, I want to, but I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Come on, make the call, tell him you’re okay. The sooner he testifies, the sooner this is done and the sooner we can stop running.”

“You know we’ll never really be able to stop running, don’t you? I mean, I don’t fool myself with the naive idea that once my dad’s testified and Randall is behind bars where he belongs, that he’ll just call it good and live out his days locked away in a prison in peace. That’s not how he works. That’s not how this will work. You and I will be on the run for the rest of our lives, Lake.”

Lake ran a hand through his hair and walked to the door. “I know that, Lily. Now get up.”

I finished the coffee and set the mug down before standing. There was a lot going on in my mind too. Questions I’d been able to keep at bay but that still nagged at me. “What’s going to happen afterward?”

He looked at me, exhaled, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I mean, after my dad testifies. What are we… what are you going to do?”

He stared at me for a long minute, and I couldn’t make sense of why this was so important. Why I felt so anxious waiting on his answer.

“I’ll disappear, like you will, if you’re smart.”