The Asset (11 page)

I put my hat and sunglasses back on. “Okay.”

We walked through the automated doors together. For a moment, we both stood there like petrified trees, blinded by the fluorescent lights. Neil stood between us, looking from Ash to me. I don’t know who was more nervous, Ash or me, but Ash’s eyes worked the place as if the grocery carts were piled with IEDs and the Taliban waited in ambush somewhere behind aisle three.

The muscles between my shoulders knotted into tight wads, but I offered my hand. Or did I need his hand to tap into his courage?

He seized my hand and clung to it with a grip that surprised me. “Let’s roll.”

It took a few minutes, but as we wandered down the aisles, Ash began to relax. Eventually, after we got a cart, so did I. The store was huge and full of interesting things. Hat low on my brow, sunglasses on, I enjoyed browsing, pushing the cart as Ash filled it with all sorts of stuff.

“Do you like oranges?” he said, grabbing a two-pound sack.

“I love oranges,” I said, “but I’m on ramen until I get paid next week.”

“Not while I’m around.” He dropped the sack in the cart.

I stared up and down the long cereal aisle. “They don’t have this many brands of cereal at Kailyn’s convenience store.”

“They don’t have these many choices in Afghanistan either.” He examined the boxes. “What do you think, Almond Clusters or Honey Bunches?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“Fuck it.” He dropped both boxes in the cart. “Let’s go see how many types of milk they can squeeze out of the same cow.”

It was a measure of our respective situations that two really screwed-up people could find such fun at the grocery store. On the leash, Neil trotted alongside, wagging his tail and sporting his red vest and his dog-at-work happy smile. We were at the register, checking out, when the display next to the magazine racks caught my attention.

Small red packets sat by the register in tidy rows. Botanical Incense, big bold letters announced at the front of the display. Catch the Rush
.
There was something familiar about the little red packets, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

I pulled one out of the rack. On the back, a yellow happy face with crossed-out eyes hovered above a line that said
not for human consumption
. I turned the packet around. The product was called Red Rush. The stylized
R
s in the name were reversed.

My fingertips burned as if singed. The packet fell out of my hand. A shot of adrenaline quickened my pulse. I couldn’t breathe. My knees rattled, my throat went dry, my stomach pitched and roiled. It was as if a black hole had opened beneath my feet. My hand went to the back of my neck, where the same inverted
R
had once been inked into my flesh. A patch of thickened skin was the only remnant of a time I wanted to forget. I’d hoped never to see that brand ever again.

“Lia?” Ash said. “Why are you upset?”

I squeaked. “Me?”

Ash gestured with his chin to the German shepherd, pressing his body against my legs. “If Neil thinks you’re upset then let me tell you, you’re upset.” He reached out and took my hands. “You’re shaking.”

“I...” A bomb had gone off in my mind. My capacity to think had been shattered. I gagged on the bile that surged up my throat. I wrenched my hands from Ash, squeezed between him and the register, and ran.

“Lia!”

I stumbled out of the store and made a straight line for the trash can in the parking lot. I barely made it. I retched like a drunk after a binge.

What should I do? What could I do? The fact that Red Rush was being sold as incense in a national supermarket chain meant that Red was in expansion mode once again.
Red
. How I hated to even think of his name. It felt like a knife stabbing at my brain.

I’d been forced to take Red Rush once, when it was but one of many of Red’s “prototypes.” He’d tied me down and strapped a mask over my nose and mouth. It’d been the last time he tried one of his prototypes on me. My heart raced in my chest as if it was about to explode. My blood pressure shot up and my head felt as if it was about to blow. My pupils had dilated until I could barely see. I’d suffered tremors, hallucinations and violent seizures that landed me in the hospital. Afterward, I’d been sick with nausea, vomiting and an excruciating migraine that wouldn’t let up for days.

Red Rush was most definitively not a harmless pack of botanical incense as marketed. It wasn’t a simple variation of marijuana either, but something much worse: a dangerous, powerful, addictive synthetic drug that enslaved its users, ruined lives and was responsible for accidental overdoses, many of which had resulted in deaths. The addictive nature of Red Rush guaranteed Red’s market share. I thought of the kids and families that could be destroyed. My stomach churned all over again.

I couldn’t stop it. Could I? I’d tried before and lost everything in the attempt.

Walk away. Don’t think about it. There was nothing I could do about it. Worry about surviving. Surely someone else could deal with this. If they figured it out before it was too late. If they could. I retched some more.

I spotted Ash and Neil making their way toward me. I wiped my mouth and tried to suppress my emotions. I’d already paid the price. It wasn’t my fight anymore.

Neil shoved his head into my hands. Petting the dog calmed my nerves. Ash parked the shopping cart next to the truck and met me by the trash cans.

He queried me with a grim stare. “What the hell happened back there?”

“My stomach,” I said. “I think I ate too much.”

“You didn’t eat that much,” he said. “Can you walk?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“And I’m Peter Pan, high on Tinker Bell’s dust.” He offered his arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.” But I took his arm.

“You’re such an awful liar.”

Ash unlocked the truck’s door and lifted me up to the seat. He grabbed a Gatorade from the grocery bags, opened it and handed it to me. I sipped on the Gatorade, nursing my queasy stomach while he loaded the groceries. My nerves were shot.

“Lia,” he said once we were back on the road. “What happened back there?”

“Nothing,” I said.

I curled up on the seat and closed my eyes, if only to escape his probing gaze. I leaned my head against the window and pretended to sleep. It wasn’t easy. For the entire hour-and-a-half drive, I kept seeing Red’s brand as if it had been seared inside my eyelids.

Chapter Seven

When we returned to the cottage, I stuffed the milk in the fridge, the vegetables in the pantry and the fresh fruit in a basket. I was about done when I spotted something at the bottom of one of the empty bags. With two squeamish fingers, I lifted up the little packet marked with the inverted
R
and set it down on the counter. How on earth had my nightmare followed me home?

“You dropped it on the conveyor belt,” Ash said, stacking a set of steaks in the freezer. “I thought you wanted it.”

“Oh, no—well—I guess...”

If nothing else, the glaring red packet on my kitchen counter was a sign. The entire ride home, I’d tried to convince myself that Red Rush wasn’t my problem anymore. But I failed, probably because I’d been brought up right and taught to care about other human beings. I couldn’t justify other people’s suffering with my puny excuse for a life.

I waited until Ash went upstairs. Reluctantly, I found an envelope and addressed it to the one person I knew who could raise the alarm.
This is it
, I wrote on the red packet.
I warned you this would happen. Do something about it.

I dropped the packet in the envelope and sealed it. I added a postage stamp, but left the return address blank. I might be reckless, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d have to drive across state lines before I could mail the warning and, even then, I’d have to take precautions to ensure that the envelope couldn’t be traced back to me. The whole thing was a huge, dangerous gamble that increased the odds against me. But how could I just stand by in silence when so many innocent people—kids especially—stood to lose from Red’s machinations?

“What are you doing?”

I jumped three feet in the air.

Ash leaned against the threshold, watching me.

I dropped the envelope in my purse and picked up my keys. “Going to work.”

“I thought you didn’t start until later today.”

“Mario needs me early.”

“Is that so?” Ash cocked his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Maybe you ought to skip work tonight. You’ve had a long day and you were sick earlier.”

“I’m fine,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

My cheeks were on fire as I mumbled a rushed farewell and bolted to my car. I drove as fast and far as my clunker could go. Two hours and seventeen minutes later, somewhere around the neighborhood of Cheyenne, Wyoming, I pulled into a rural subdivision, found an isolated postal pavilion and dropped the envelope in the mailbox. At least I could breathe a little easier now. With my mission accomplished, I rushed back to Copperhill.

By the time I got to Mario’s, it was already past seven and the bar was in full swing. Gas crews from three states had gathered at Copperhill for the night and Charlie Nowak showed up to add to my bruise collection. It was my turn to close, so I was relieved when it was time to lock up around 2:00 a.m.

When I turned the ignition, the car wouldn’t start. To be fair, it was a 1980 Chevy Citation, way past its expiration point and I’d added too many new miles to an odometer that didn’t even turn anymore. I’d bought the car at an auction for two hundred and eight dollars cash. If it had been headed for the scrap pile back then, it was beyond scrap now, more like total crap. It had never run well, but lately, it really wanted to go to car heaven.

I slapped the wheel and groaned. “Oh, come on.”

I popped open the hood and got out. I took off my shoe, banged it against the carburetor and slipped it back on. As if my troubles weren’t enough, Charlie Nowak’s truck pulled into the parking lot. Two of his drunken buddies slumped in the vehicle as Charlie climbed out and stumbled crookedly across the asphalt.

I slammed the hood down and dove for the door, but Charlie beat me there.

“Does our little Lia need help?” He slurred, pulling up his pants. “I can help, yes I can.”

“It’s late, Charlie.” I edged around him. “Go home.”

“If you come home with me,” he said, “I can help you out really well.”

“Charlie,” I said, “You’re a nasty drunk. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you try anything, I might have to.”

Charlie’s cackles echoed in the night. “You? Hurt me? That’s hilarious. Let’s be friends, Lia. Let’s be real close friends. I can take you home and show you my baseball cap collection. I think you’d like my basement.”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The word
basement
threatened to push me over some proverbial cliff. I clutched my keychain and clenched my fist. I’d decided long ago that I would never be a victim again.

“Be decent, Charlie,” I said. “Step out of my way.”

“Sure.” He opened the driver’s side door and, giving his friends in the truck the thumbs-up, stepped away. “Whatever you say.”

As I went to get in the car, he lunged. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned me against the side of the car with his body.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He planted a slobbering kiss in the vicinity of my mouth, reeking of stale beer and cigarettes. “Girls like you play hard to get, but you’re no frigid bitch. I told my friends. There’s a real woman under that hide and I’m gonna skin her out tonight.”

“Get off me.” I struggled against his bulk. “Let me go, right now!”

“This ass, these boobs.” His free hand rubbed all over me, pulling and squeezing. “Come on, honey. I’m gonna give you what you need.”

I glanced at the truck, hoping his friends would come to my aid or at least try to talk some sense into Charlie. No such luck. They were as drunk as him, if not worse, hollering obscenities out the window.

Charlie doubled me in size and weight, but he was drunk and panic lent me the strength to claim my real estate. Drawing on Ash’s training, I planted one foot forward and smashed my knee against Charlie’s groin.

He bent over and hollered. In that instant, I turned my wrists and snatched them out of his hand. I found the small tube hanging from my key chain, flipped the safety switch and squeezed.

The pepper spray hit him fully on the face. He stumbled, enraged, and groped for me blindly. I dove into my car, shut and locked the door, and turned the ignition.

“Please, God. Please.”

The clunker rattled to life and I stepped on the accelerator. The wheels spun on the blacktop, then gained traction. The sounds of my frantic breath filled my ears as the staggering drunk grew small in my rearview mirror. A new bruise formed on my wrists, where Charlie had clutched too hard.

I forced myself to breathe and pay attention to the road. I didn’t want to end up in a ditch tonight. Why did stuff like this happen to me? Did I have a target painted on my forehead? Had I been born just to be someone’s victim?

Breathe and cope. I couldn’t afford to think like this. It was the emotional response that could sink me for good. I pushed back on the black hole that threatened to swallow me. No panic, no hysterics. I tried to still my shaking hands. It had been a long day and I was exhausted, but I was alive and basically unhurt. My safety measures had worked, Ash’s training paid off and the pepper spray had done its job.

The car conked out for good at the bottom of the cottage’s driveway. No amount of pleading and banging could revive it. I trekked uphill under the freezing rain for half a mile. By the time I got to the cottage I was exhausted, sore and drenched.

I went around to the barn and checked on the animals. They were settled for the night. Neil met me at the door with a happy
woof
, but not even the handsome dog could cheer me up.

It was frigid downstairs.

“What now?” I muttered to myself.

“Is that you, Lia?” Ash called out from his room at the top of the stairs.

“The one and only,” I said. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

I took off my muddy shoes and stomped down the cellar’s rickety steps. The ancient furnace had given up just in time to welcome the first epic freeze of the season.

I groaned. “Give me a break.”

I filled up a basket with firewood from the back porch, climbed the stairs and peeked into Ash’s room. He lay on his bed, propped up on the pillows, working on his laptop.

“What the hell happened to you?” He motioned me in and set his computer aside. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back. And you’re really late. I was worried.”

“Car broke down.” I set a log in the hearth and stoked the fire.

“Christ,” he said. “Does that happen often?”

“Too often if you ask me.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

I stared at him for a moment then told him the truth. “It didn’t occur to me.”

The hurt in his eyes reactivated the churn in my stomach.

“You know I’m cleared to drive,” he said. “Hell, for all you know, I could’ve been in the neighborhood.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t need any help.” I wiped my hand on my pants and made my way to the door. I hesitated. Anxiety squeezed my chest, but he needed to know. “The other day, a guy showed up at Mario’s. He was looking for you.”

“I know,” he said.

I gawked. “You do?”

He nodded.

“What did he want?” I asked, curious.

“If you have to know, he’s an old skipper of mine. We have a business together and he wants me to become active in it.”

“HowHHowqHowHow do you feel about that?” I said, leaning against the threshold.

“It’d be an interesting job—you know—if I couldn’t do what I did before.”

“That’s great, Ash. You’re keeping your options open.”

“He wanted to meet me again tonight. I drove all the way over to Mario’s, but then...” He paused and fisted his hands. “Why the hell would anybody want me to work with them if I can’t even muster the balls to walk into a fucking bar?”

He was really upset with himself. For a moment, I forgot about my lousy night. I went over to the bed, sat down next to him and uncurled his fist.

“He wants you because you’re excellent at what you do.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re getting better every day. You just have to be patient with yourself.”

“You’re right.” He intertwined his big fingers between my smaller ones. “I’ll get better. I have to. Thanks, Lia.”

“For what?” I said.

“For teaching me patience.”

He brought my hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against my knuckles. The contact was slight, sweet and brief and yet my brain went into default. Total meltdown. My body, on the other hand came online with a burst of electricity. A switch flipped inside me. I was utterly and completely tuned in to him.

His eyebrows dipped when he noticed the bruises on my wrists. “What happened?”

“I’m just clumsy.” I reclaimed my hand and, face burning, made for the door. No question about it, I was in a bolting mood again. “The fire should last you through the night. It’s a cold one out there.”

“Lia?” He hesitated. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“About what happened tonight,” he said. “About those bruises on your wrists. About anything, everything or just some things.”

I stood at the threshold for a moment, keenly aware of him. What would it be like to put my day into words and free the emotions trapped so deep inside me?

Disaster.

If I opened my heart, Red would know. He would find us. Ash would die.

“No, thanks.”

I went to my room and closed the door, suppressing the tsunami of tears that wanted to burst out of the bottom of my being. There was no point in talking about anything. I’d been on my own for so long that I didn’t count on anyone else. Couldn’t. Trust had been wrung out of my DNA. I didn’t want to depend on anyone and that included Ash, who’d move on from my life as soon as Gunny Watkins decided he was fit to be on his own.

* * *

In the nightmare, I lay naked on the cold cement floor of Charlie Nowak’s basement, staked to the ground and unable to move while Charlie—wearing only a baseball cap from his collection—squashed me beneath his heft.

“This ass, these boobs.” He groped me with harsh hands. “He’s caught your scent, bitch, and he’s coming for you.”

I tried not to feel, not to care—the only way I knew to survive—but I was freezing and couldn’t stop shivering. My soul ached and my bones crumpled beneath the man’s crushing weight. There weren’t enough steel plates, pins and wires to repair the damage. Broken as I was, no miracle of science could keep me together. And yet I held on, because someone, somewhere, was calling my name.

“You won’t get away this time around,” Charlie said. “He’s coming, right now, and he’s gonna teach you a new level of pain.”

The basement around me transformed into a meticulously landscaped garden crisscrossed by a river. The sound of artificial cascades muted the sobs escaping my throat. I lay facedown on the terrace’s warm limestone floors. A vindictive presence weighted me down, a savage whose malevolence dwarfed Charlie’s drunken stunts. Even without seeing him, I knew who he was.

I wrenched my neck and spotted the face that terrorized my life, the harmonious features that masked the workings of a putrid mind. He sat on my back and, forcing my forehead against the floor, stabbed the nape of my neck with the sharpened bone needles he preferred.

He chiseled at my spine, tapping directly into my nerves. He laughed every time I flinched in pain. From the corner of my eye, I could see him dip the needles into a rich pool of red pigment sloshing at the bottom of a wooden saucer. Red. It wasn’t only his name. It was his favorite color too. The pigment was mixed with fresh blood. My blood.

“Did you think you could escape me?” His caw-like laughter was the sound of my life gone wrong. “You’re such a fool. This time around, I’m gonna mark you mine for good.”

It didn’t matter that I’d gone to great lengths to remove his brand from my body. The needles savaged my skin. Blood dripped down my back and pooled over the limestone. I cried and begged and yet he wouldn’t stop. The inverted
R
replicated over my body like a gruesome virus.

“It’s a nightmare,” a calm voice said. “You can stop it, Lia. You just have to wake up.”

The voice fueled my inner strength. In the nightmare, I broke the ropes around my wrists, bucked from under my captor and ran, following the sound of my name. I darted out of the garden, through Charlie’s stark basement and up the stairs, barreling through an open door I hadn’t seen before.