Authors: Elle Saint James
Tags: #Romance
“Are the mobsters who ordered the hit on Sasha still in contact with the assassin?”
“Possibly. There’s no way to know for sure. Of course, they are smart enough to never mention any names.”
“Okay. Spill it. What did your friend hear?”
“They just got a transmission from a phone located in the US. It was someone telling them that he’d reacquired a lost parcel in a neighboring state after a small piece of divine providence.”
“And you think it’s Barkova?”
Jake shrugged. “Only because the call came from the US. Although, it’s entirely possible that it has absolutely nothing to do with this case.”
“How could the assassin have found them? And with divine providence, no less? What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, but the caller also said the disposition of the parcel would be resolved before nightfall. The response to the caller was to contact them again with photographic proof that the package had finally been dispatched.”
“Sounds like someone’s going to die very soon and then get their picture taken. I wish I knew whether the scumbags were talking about Ava or someone else they were trying to get rid of.”
Clay glanced at his watch. “Nightfall is in less than an hour.”
Jake nodded. “Are they already on the road headed to us?”
“No. They were planning to leave after dark. But I’ll call them and get them on their way right now. Just in case.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed the burner phone number as he glanced down at the video still playing on his computer screen. An hour or so after the three of them had left Beverly’s Place in the minivan, a familiar man entered the restaurant and looked around the entrance area. In the film, the man headed toward the register to speak to the waitress. Clay paused and watched the footage as Declan’s phone rang and rang and rang. What the fuck? Why didn’t he pick up? Clay dialed again. Maybe they were still sleeping before the trip.
The guy in the film turned away from the waitress, and Clay got a better look at him. The man really looked very familiar. Clay hit the pause button to study his features and figure out where he’d seen the guy before. Meanwhile, Declan’s phone rang and rang and rang.
He hung up and dialed Troy’s number. It also rang and rang and rang.
A pang of unease centered in Clay’s gut. Something was wrong. He called the number listed for Jed’s Gas and Go. Also no answer.
Dialing Troy’s number and then Declan’s felt completely useless, but he kept doing it anyway. He muttered under his breath, “Come on. Come on. Come on. Pick up.”
As he listened to endless ringing, Clay cued up the footage from the scene at Ava’s house on another computer screen. He found the video he sought.
The four men still looked anguished as they witnessed the destruction of the work they’d done at Ava’s house, and the driver turned his face into the camera. Clay froze the frame.
“Son of a bitch. They’ve had her under surveillance for longer than you’ve been looking for her.”
“What?”
Clay took his phone back and pointed to the two men on the different video feeds. “On the left is the Beverly’s Place footage an hour after they left. See the guy there?”
“Yep.”
“Now look at the construction crew at Ava’s house the day after her house blew. That’s the same guy.”
“Yep.” Jake confirmed. “Same guy.” He turned suddenly to Clay. “You think it’s Barkova?”
“Yep.”
The phone rang in Clay’s hand. He looked at the number and then answered. “I just called you a dozen times, Declan. Where the hell have you been?”
A strange voice responded. “Your friends have unfortunately escaped me for now. But I’m on their trail. Thank you very kindly for your assistance.” The line went dead. The other phone number programmed into the disposable device the assassin now held was Troy’s. And unfortunately it would be easy to track them for anyone with connections, resources, and the necessary skill set. Barkova likely had all three.
Clay speed-dialed Troy’s number to tell him he’d have to discard it. The only good news he gleaned from the disturbing call was the stranger obviously hadn’t killed them yet, or he wouldn’t still be tracking them down. He resisted the sincere urge to call Declan’s phone again and get confirmation on the killer’s identity.
Ava was holding on to her sanity, but only barely. Declan’s head wound was bleeding all over her, all over the seat, and all over the floor. The small washcloth she’d found was saturated, and now every move he made, more blood dripped between her fingers, soaking into the light gray seat cushion and her shirt. The stains were likely never coming out.
The rain had stopped. Or they’d driven fast enough to leave it behind. Either way Ava was glad. She hated driving in the pouring-down rain during thunderstorms.
“You just threw our only phone out the window,” he said to Troy.
“Yes. Because you left yours at the cabin, and the prick chasing us has it, and Clay felt he likely had the capability to track us down using it. So I got rid of it.”
“Fuck.” Declan closed his eyes briefly. He opened them again. “Did Clay at least direct you to a closer place we can hide out?”
“No. He had a safe house several miles out of our way. I don’t want to drive out of the way, and we don’t have enough gas to get there anyway.”
Declan tried to sit up, but Ava forced him back. “You’re really bleeding. Lie back.”
“I’ll live.” But he closed his eyes and leaned against the seat as she’d asked.
Ava tugged at Troy’s shirtsleeve. “Stop at the nearest convenience store. At the very least we need some supplies to stop his bleeding.”
“I’ll see what I can do. It’s pretty quiet along this road.”
“And once you get to a place, you’ll have to park on the side where no one can see us and go in to get things. We can’t go in,” Ava said quietly.
He started to protest, glanced behind him at all the mess, and promptly cursed under his breath. “You’re right. The both of you look like you’ve escaped from a massacre at a slaughterhouse. Plus, you’re barefoot, and Declan’s not wearing a shirt or any shoes, either. They’ll never give you two any service.”
Declan murmured, “You’re so funny.”
Ava kept her hand pressed firmly on Declan’s wound even though it didn’t seem to help. Blood seeped through to her fingers. She searched out the window on the lonely road for any sign of life. Just as she was about to give up, Troy said, “There. I see lights.”
A mile later he pulled to the right-side parking lot of a dilapidated gas station touting that it was open twenty-four hours in neon letters and numbers.
Troy grabbed some money from the glove box envelope Clay had sent with the two phones they no longer had. “Stay down. I’ll be right back.”
Ava crouched a little lower but kept firm pressure on Declan’s wound. Impatient beyond words, she got a little restless. She wriggled around trying to find a comfortable place and found none.
“Relax,” Declan whispered. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not convinced of that. Besides. I’m not sure
I’ll
be fine.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“The man who clobbered you in the head? His name is Diego. He was someone I trusted. He did the bulk of the work on my home. He fooled me into believing he was a struggling contractor. I feel foolish.”
Declan shrugged. “Don’t. He’s good at his job.”
“And his true profession is murderer, right?”
“Yes. It would seem so.”
“I just don’t get it. Why would anyone care if I’m alive or dead?”
Declan remained quiet for a long spell before saying, “I care. Troy cares, too.”
Ava pressed her lips to his mouth. “You’re just weak from blood loss. Plus, I figure that at this very moment in time you’re just picturing me in a sexy nurse’s outfit. Am I right?”
He grinned at her like a mischievous schoolboy. “My god, you can read minds just like Troy.”
The door opened suddenly, startling her. “You took forever.”
“Sorry. I was trying not to be in a hurry while purchasing ample first aid supplies to patch up a bloody head wound.” He handed her two plastic bags filled with various first aid supplies. She dug through one-handed to find what she needed to better stanch the blood, clean the wound, and put a pressure bandage around his head. This was the first time she’d ever used what little she’d learned in nursing school all those years ago.
“Did you get another disposable phone?”
“No. They didn’t have any. Among other things. They should rename this place the inconvenient store.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because unfortunately, the gas pumps are also broken and won’t be fixed for a couple days, so I couldn’t get us any more gas. How much farther to this ranch of yours, Declan?”
“Fifty or sixty miles, I’d say.”
Troy started the engine. “I hope you’re right because that’s about how much gas we have left. Then we’re going to have to get out and push.”
* * * *
Troy drove forty-seven miles before the gas tank’s empty light came on. Two miles later Declan directed him off the road to a recently graveled road several feet from a chained gate. A large white realty sign was affixed to the fence to the left of the gate, displaying the name of a perky-looking young woman promising to sell her client’s properties in less than ninety days or forgo her commission.
Beneath an iron archway centered by a large metal W in a thick circle of iron, he and Ava got the van through the gate and put the chain back in place.
He drove slowly along the narrow road as Declan guided him to a barn several hundred feet from the ranch house.
“There’s no other place nearby to hide the van,” Declan said.
Troy climbed a small incline to a flat straightaway, headed toward the barn’s massive doors. The van sputtered several times along the way. Then the engine coughed twice and died. Their vehicle rolled to a stop fifty feet from the barn door. Together he and Ava pushed the van the rest of the way into the barn as Declan steered. Ava gathered the supplies Troy had purchased at the convenience store. They shut the big barn doors again, and then headed down the slope to the modest ranch house.
On Troy’s right, four modest-sized outbuildings stood like soldiers in a row, lining the edge of the land between the big barn on the slope and the ranch house where they were headed for shelter. Likely the squat buildings were old bunkhouses, farm equipment buildings, and tack sheds for the cowboys and hired help working the land and the animals.
There was a history here with deep roots that Troy had never experienced. He knew all about Declan’s childhood on this ranch. Just as Declan knew about his complete lack of family or any roots from anywhere. And perhaps that was why he was more apt to want to take a chance on permanence with a woman to share between them. Why Ava was so appealing as the first real contender. With no discernible history of his own, it was up to him to make one. He wanted Ava. Now he just had to convince Declan she was their one.
A thunderous clap of noise in the distance suddenly shook the night. Several flashes of lightning lit up the sky, and the storm they’d outrun a few hours ago had caught up. The sound of wooden chimes suddenly filled the air, getting louder and more raucous as they approached the house.
The scent of ozone and coming rain filled his nostrils. Without saying anything the three of them all started moving faster toward the house. By the time they reached the back stoop, big splotches of rain had begun to fall.
Glancing to the right of the stoop, Troy noticed a large old dilapidated set of wooden storm doors a few feet away against the foundation of the house. There was a sturdy new padlock barring entry now, but he briefly pondered how many times Declan and his family had been driven down there by bad weather. A homey picture of family life he’d never experienced, but on some level longed for.
Turning away from his musings, he asked Declan, “How will we get in the house?”
In an amused tone, he responded, “I have a key hidden, naturally.”
“Naturally. So is it hidden in a fake rock?” Troy asked, skepticism rife in his tone. He searched the area for any plastic rocks completely out of place on a Kansas ranch.
“Nothing so obvious.” On a large hook attached to the outside door frame was a large set of wooden wind chimes waving in the wind. Declan reached a hand carefully into the center tube. He extracted a key, and that key got them inside. Declan returned it to the chime as they entered.
Expecting the abandoned scent of musty air and dust bunnies, Troy was surprised to instead smell a clean home with a hint of warm vanilla in the background. Like sugar cookies had just been baked in the oven. His stomach rumbled, reminding him they hadn’t eaten in a while.
Ava walked along behind them from the back screened-in porch to a kitchen. “How long since you’ve been here?” The scent of vanilla got stronger the closer they got to the kitchen.
A loud crack of thunder shook the house, and a sudden deluge of rain came down as if with a fury battering the rooftop. Repeated flashes of lightning lit the interior rooms, guiding them through the house without needing to turn on any lamps.