No, it was better if I could just get the fuck out of there before anyone knew what had happened. If we could disappear without anyone the wiser, we’d be in the clear. We could leave all of this shit behind us.
I hated the idea of starting over somewhere new, but I’d do it. I could work anywhere. Most of my business was military, but I could find a different place to set up shop. The east coast had a ton of bases, and I could probably find somewhere cheaper to live than San Diego anyway. North Carolina was on the coast, and I was pretty sure that I could find a place there for a lot less than I was spending to live here. I had plenty of cash, and I could easily sell my condo.
I let myself fall down that rabbit hole, planning long-term instead of thinking about the fact that we were stuck in a closet, and I had no idea when help would come or if they’d be there before we were found. Dying inside that closet was not an option. I wouldn’t even let myself think about it.
Eventually, my mind traveled back to what I’d need to do if someone came in that door looking for us. My .38 had six rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. Assuming that I hit what I was aiming at, I’d have a good chance if there were less than four men in the house. Ideally, I could take another weapon off of someone, but I couldn’t count on that. I’d be working one-handed, because there was no way I could leave the baby behind.
My plans were interrupted when a small, hungry mouth started rooting around against my neck. She’d held out longer than I’d thought she would, but she was impatient as hell as I tried to get us situated. Making shushing noises, I bounced her as I searched the bag for supplies. If she started screaming, we were fucked.
Just as she started to eat, I heard a sound in the bedroom outside the closet. I strained, trying to figure out what it was as I slid my hand into my purse and grabbed my pistol.
By the time the closet door opened and the light came on, I was ready. Through the small gap in the coats, I stared at the spot in front of us, lifted the .38, and waited.
Chapter 2
Mark
I didn’t sleep well. Years in the military and working as a private contractor afterward meant I’d seen more than my fair share of shit that liked to replay behind my eyelids when I closed them. I’d gotten used to it for the most part, figured out ways to shut my mind down enough that I could get the rest I needed. On the worst nights, I found myself replaying memories of long blonde hair, tanned limbs, breathy sighs and hoarse groans, using good memories to replace the bad. Most of the time, I didn’t even feel guilty about it. I hadn’t been able to use any of my tricks when I’d climbed into bed that night, though, so I’d gotten dressed and headed out to the garage. Something was churning in my gut and I had no idea why, but I’d learned not to ignore the feeling, not even for fantasies of a lover I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.
I set my phone face up next to me on the bench as I got to work polishing an old bike frame. I’d probably sell this particular piece, since I had no interest in completely rebuilding the bike, but I still got satisfaction out of restoring it. Working with my hands centered me and cleared my head in a way nothing else did. I just wished I had more time for it.
When my phone finally rang, I wasn’t even surprised. What did surprise me was the unknown number that scrolled across the screen. Normally, I wouldn’t have answered it, telemarketers irritated the hell out of me, but there was no way I was going to miss that call.
“Eastwood,” I answered, tucking the phone between my shoulder and face so I could wipe off my hands.
“Woody,” the caller replied. It had been a long fucking time since I’d heard that familiar rasp.
I hadn’t left Oregon on good terms with Casper’s family, especially his older daughter Cecilia, but we’d crossed paths a few times when I’d been out to visit. It was impossible to avoid each other at the clubhouse, and while I’d left that life behind, I hadn’t lost the respect I had for the men who’d stepped in and helped raise me after my father died. Whenever I was in Oregon, I tried to stop by and say hello. They deserved that much. I hadn’t actually spoken to Casper in years, though, and as soon as I heard his voice, I knew there was only one reason he’d be calling.
“Is she okay?” I asked, getting up from the bench. Ignoring the frame I’d been working on, I went straight to the house, locking the garage behind me as he started to speak.
“Won’t ask how you know I’m calling about Cecilia,” he replied drolly. “She called me a couple hours ago, said she’s hidin’ in a house that just got shot up. Doesn’t know how many men are there, doesn’t know if they’ve left, doesn’t know shit, just that she’s in a fuckin’ closet scared outta her mind.”
“She told you she was scared?” I asked as nausea burned in my stomach.
“Hell, no,” he said grimly. “But I know my kid. We’re on our way down—”
“Everyone?” I asked as I jogged down the hallway to my bedroom, where I kept the gun safe.
“Just me, Farrah and Cam,” Casper replied. “CeeCee didn’t want everyone knowin’, so we’ve kept it between us. We need the boys, I’ll let them know. Far as I can tell, any of the heavy liftin’ will have to be done by someone else because we won’t get there until tomorrow.” He didn’t sound happy about that fact, and I couldn’t blame him. Urgency thrummed under my skin and she wasn’t my kid.
“That’s where I come in,” I said as I started pulling gear out of the safe.
“That’s where you come in,” he confirmed. “You in town?”
“Just got in two days ago,” I replied. “Good timing.”
“Yeah, no shit,” he said with a huff. “And thank fuck for that. I tried my other contacts—one’s in the wind and the other is vacationing in fuckin’ Tahoe.”
“I got this,” I muttered. “Where’s she at?”
“She dropped a fuckin’ dot on her phone. You know what that means?”
“A pin?” I asked, surprised that I could feel amused and fucking frantic at the same time.
“Yeah. That. Sent it to Cam’s phone. He’ll send it to you.”
“That works,” I said as I stripped out of my jeans and flannel.
“You got back up?” he asked. “If you don’t, I can probably scramble some boys—just none that I’d be willing to lead the pack, if you know what I mean.”
I knew exactly what he meant, and I had no interest in having shitbird dumbfucks at my back.
“I’ve got a team,” I replied.
“Figures.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“She’s gonna be trigger-happy and ridin’ the edge,” he warned. “I let her know someone’s on the way, but you better fuckin’ announce yourself so she doesn’t shoot you.” He paused before muttering, “No promises that she doesn’t shoot anyway.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I replied, silently acknowledging the truth in his words. “I’ll let you know when we’re headed that way. Should take less than an hour.”