Devil May Care: Boxed Set (43 page)

It was surprisingly easy. My mother had been a show girl once upon a time, back in the seventies when it was a big deal to be a show girl and it meant you probably had some dealings with the underbelly of Sin City. I never asked her too much about it, but there were a couple of drunken, slurring stories of how you couldn’t trust men and how they were always going to use you and lose you. As a teen, I’d worked hard to ignore her words and suppress the things she was trying to stir within me. First I had tried to do this by avoiding
all
men. If I never got overly attached to anyone in the romantic sense, then I could hardly get caught up in the stupidity and heartache of it. Then, when that didn’t work, I decided I would just try to date a certain
type
of boy. The sweet kind, with good manners and upbringing and preferably with a lot of money so I would be taken care of and not have to worry about all of the bills my mom kept getting in the mail.

But that didn’t work either. Instead, I found myself attracted to all the wrong boys. I didn’t know why—and I still didn’t today—but even when they
seemed
like the good kind from the outside, they would always turn out to be creeps. The same kind of creeps every time.

That was when I finally started listening to my mom as she rambled on about how love fucked up her life. Maybe I didn’t really think she had any useful advice, but I tried to hear her out. It was difficult when so much of what she was saying was filled and slurred by alcohol. She would lose her train of thought, pick up another, then decide that everything she’d just said was pointless. Then, turning around again, she would tell me that I was beautiful and some prince charming would whisk me away into storybook town.

I was about seventeen at this point and knew full and well that there was no such place as storybook town, nor had there ever been. Besides, I knew if I gave her a few minutes, she would drop the prince charming crap and come back full circle to tell me that all men were even in the end, and I should know better than to trust the likes of them with anything beyond a dulled butter knife.

Sometimes it was hard growing up with my mom, but it got harder when my dad finally decided he wanted to hang around.

Dad was special in a lot of ways, but I never say any of them. He was good-looking and charming, but beyond those qualities, I didn’t know him very well. Just well enough to know that I didn’t like him very much and that I thought my mother could do
so
much better. I never did decide whether or not that impression was true, but I had always liked to think it was. Dad was the kind of guy who enjoyed the idea of being a dad more than he enjoyed being a dad. The same went for husband, though I doubted he much cared for that title
at all
. He was a sleaze ball car salesman, so the whole “I’m family oriented” thing helped his customers to trust him. Which they definitely shouldn’t have. He was the sort of guy who would sell a family of five a rotting piece of junk that would guzzle gas and every bit of their expendable income and then when they brought it back to complain, he’d deny that he was responsible in any way. In fact, he’d probably spin a pretty convincing lie to tell them how it was all
their
fault that it was like that.

That was how he got a hold of mom in the first place. He was a real character.

About the only good thing about him was that he spent a lot of time out of
my
hair. Having a kid around was good for pictures on his office desk and barbeques in the backyard, work parties, and promotions, otherwise he didn’t want to even so much as see me, much less interact with me.

I wasn’t stupid, I knew how much worse it could have been for me growing up. So I took the good with the bad and was just grateful he wasn’t one of those dads who did something terrible to his daughters. Something that you couldn’t take back or erase even after years of therapy after the fact.

Unfortunately, I did see him enough to know how much he hurt my mother. For all her flaws—the addiction to plastic surgery and booze there at the end, not to mention her obsession with glamour, her youth and looks, and the hormonal outbursts she’d always been prone to—she was a real softy on the inside. A sensitive soul who only wanted
one
man. Well, at least one man at a time. But that was what my dear old daddy just couldn’t manage. Loyalty.

I wondered if that was because he couldn’t control my mom. The idea was a little out there, maybe, and came sort of unbidden from a place of fear and hurt on my part, but now that I’d encountered it, I didn’t think I could let it go.

Dad couldn’t keep a hold of Mom, so he fooled around on her?
I didn’t know if that was true, but it fit with what I was feeling right then, so I was happy to run with it. It made everything sound more reasonable, rather than simply it being a
me
thing.
I
just picked bad men.
I
was just that unlucky.
I
just had terrible taste.

If it was the whole dad thing, then maybe it wasn’t just me. Maybe it was
all
men.

I shuddered involuntarily at the thought. I didn’t care for my idea, but I had to admit it sounded plausible. I snuck a glance at the man up front, but I could still only see a small portion of his face. This time I caught part of his cheek and noticed a large, dark colored freckle.

The car began to slow down suddenly, making me frown. “Uh, are we almost there?” I wasn’t really familiar with the area, so it was possible that amidst all my brooding and worry, we’d hit the huge airport already. But I didn’t think so. Especially given the ungodly traffic Rome and I had encountered when we first got into L.A. Thinking of Rome made me scowl.

The man glanced back at me in the mirror. He sounded chipper as he said, “No, we’re still a ways, but I gotta make a living, you know? If it’s alright with you, I’d like to pick up another passenger. I recognize him; he’s local, so he won’t bug you. Hate to make him wait…”

I bit my lip. I really didn’t want to, but the cabbie seemed unconcerned, and if the guy was local, then he probably wouldn’t be traveling far. With a sigh, I nodded. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine. How much farther to LAX?”

The cab came to a halt along the street and picked up a man who was standing along the side of the road. I didn’t get a good look at him, because he was already sliding in almost before the car even came to a stop. I frowned and was about to comment about the guy’s eagerness, when he slammed the car door shut and swiveled around to face me. The words, whatever I’d been about to say, froze in my throat, lodged there halfway as fear rose up along my spine and filled my body. I didn’t recognize the man, but I didn’t have to to be afraid, because he was holding a gun and it was aimed right at my head.

Rome

She was gone and I wasn’t sure how to get her back. Worse still, she didn’t have her cell phone to call
.
Which irked me to no end. The cell phone had started the whole damn thing and I wasn’t so stupid as to miss the irony of her not having it now and me needing it.

“Shit.”

I was standing on the sidewalk staring at the busy street, debating my options. I’d only just barely missed her—that damn cab might as well have been waiting for her, it picked her up so fast—and knew that there was a chance I might catch up to the cab if I jumped into my car right now and drove like a maniac. Unfortunately, it was a really slim chance, given the traffic, how little I knew of the area, and the fact that I didn’t know where she was going. Not to mention how many damn cabs there seemed to be in this place.

Besides, even if I did catch her, what would I do?

“Hey, get out of the car now, against your will, so that I can explain how not controlling and abusive I am?” No, it didn’t sound even the least bit convincing. Not even to my own ears. And it didn’t matter that I’d gotten rid of her phone for the best of reasons. Fact of the matter was I still was guilty of what she was accusing me of, which was going to make it a lot harder to convince her that I was one of the good guys.

Assuming that I was.

I frowned, cursing once again as I turned back towards the motel. I needed to think things through and come up with a plan. Catching her didn’t mean shit if I couldn’t convince her that I wasn’t the kind of asshole she thought I was.

And I really hoped that I wasn’t.

I crossed the parking lot, ignoring the older couple who was loading or unloading suitcases from the trunk of their little car. They were arguing about not looking at me or butting into other people’s business, which told me that they had definitely caught the whole “my wife just got into a taxi and drove as far away from me as she could get” scene. It wasn’t very comforting, but I ignored them with willpower and headed up the stairs.

When I got to the room, I grabbed a slice of cold pizza, even though I wasn’t in the slightest bit hungry. I bit into it and chewed, not tasting a thing, as I considered my options.

The first one was my least favorite and I dismissed it even as I considered it. I knew myself well enough to know that I’d never go through with it. Letting her go. Things had shifted for me over the course of the last week and I didn’t know if I liked the change or not, but I knew that I couldn’t undo it simply by wishing things could go back. It meant that I felt a burning desire to keep Olivia near to me. It meant that some part of me
liked
being married, even if it was just some shotgun Vegas wedding and the woman only thought it was for the sake of inheriting whatever I had on me. It meant that I was seriously considering settling down and I wanted to do it with
her
.

Once upon a time not so long ago, I would have just shrugged my shoulders, washed my hands of the whole thing, and walked off to find some other chick to fuck. It wasn’t that complicated, which was why I liked it. But Olivia had me wound so tight that I couldn’t just let her go anymore.

Moreover, she was still in danger. At least, that was what I kept telling myself. I had to get her back, because she was in real danger without me.

I finished my pizza, not necessarily feeling better, but thinking a little clearer for the extra fuel. I stood and jerked my shirt up over my head, letting it fall to the floor, then shirked my jeans, too. Leaving a pile of clothing behind me, I went to the bathroom and started the water. It was still a little humid and there was a used towel slung over the top of the door, telling me that Olivia had already showered.

My body shivered pleasurably as I thought of her standing beneath the spray, naked and glistening.

Forcing the thoughts out of my mind, I stepped under the water and washed the day’s grime away.

So I knew that just walking away from Olivia wasn’t an option. I poured a small dime sized drop of shampoo into my palm, then worked it through my hair as I thought. I couldn’t ignore what Dagger had told me about Olivia always being in danger so long as she was with me, but my own mind continued to press against the idea. It argued that she already was in danger, which had happened by accident, and now I was protecting her. And she needed that protection.

It was a rationalization, but it also kind of sounded right, so I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I’d already decided that I couldn’t leave her, so I pushed the uncertainty away and moved forward to my next option.

Which was trying to catch her.

There were a few fundamental problems with this plan of attack. The main one being I wasn’t sure where she was going. Home, to her apartment and job, I had to assume, but she had to know that she was still in danger. So maybe there was somewhere else she would go when things got bad. Family? Friends? She had parents somewhere, though I supposed they could have been dead. Maybe an old college friend—had she even gone to college?

Frowning, I realized there was a lot I didn’t know about Olivia.

I didn’t bother with conditioner in my hair, though it was dry outside and the water was hard. I just didn’t like fussing with it and wasn’t going to let it just sit there on my scalp while it did its thing with my just standing there like an idiot. No thank you. I had things to do.

Brushing my teeth, I vowed that I’d learn more about Olivia and her family and her past. I wanted to know everything and would make a point to discover things about her, even if only in short bursts and broken pieces.

I spit into the tub, rinsing it down the drain.

I didn’t know where she might go, that much was true. Maybe back home, maybe not. But I did know that she didn’t have a car and was relying on a taxi. Which meant she’d have to get out of town somehow. A taxi would be too expensive and I was pretty sure most of them wouldn’t cross state lines. That left either catching a bus or a plane. Although a bus would be cheaper, I had a feeling she’d take a plane. More expensive, but she’d get to wherever she was going a hell of a lot faster. And I got the impression that she wanted to put some serious distance between me and her.

Which was a problem I was going to have to address whenever I did manage to catch up with her. Earning her trust back wasn’t going to be easy, that much I could guess. But maybe if I was upfront with her and could get her to a place where she would just
listen
to what I had to say, there was a chance that we could go back to…well, whatever we were.

Husband and wife?
I thought wryly.

I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying off quickly. My hair was wet and clung to my skin, but I kept it out of my eyes at least. I grabbed fresh clothes, dressing quickly, and shoved the others back into my bag. Doing a quick sweep of the room, I was about to leave when something occurred to me.

If Olivia was headed to the airport then the closest and biggest one would be LAX. Which was good, because with traffic the way it had been, it would take her a while to get there. But it was good for another reason, too. It could tell me how long I had before she’d be gone.

Using the landline in the room, I dialed the number for LAX, kindly listed next to a bunch of other courtesy numbers, including the police, the pizza place, and the front desk, which was just zero. I got an automatic voice answering machine, so played with the keypad for about twenty minutes before getting the information I needed, only to discover that the next flight, thanks to overbooking and delays, leaving for Vegas wasn’t until midnight that night.

It didn’t tell me if she was headed back to Nevada or not, but if she was, I’d have some time. And if she wasn’t…well, I’d deal with that later.

Reaching for my bag, I was startled when I heard it ring suddenly. I frowned until I remembered that I’d left my phone in my pants pocket. The phone kept ringing and I had to drag everything out frantically in order to get it in time. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking, it obviously wouldn’t be Olivia since she didn’t have a phone and probably didn’t even remember my number. When I finally found it, I froze as I stared at the screen. I recognized the caller instantly.

Jacob.

I answered the call and before I could even say hello, his voice came through, low and smug. Not the way I ever wanted to hear Jacob’s voice. “Give it up, rat,” he told me, as much of an order as I’d ever been given. “Give it up, or your new sweetie pie wife eats a bullet. Don’t try me.”

Gritting my teeth, I tried to stay calm. I tried to keep the room and my entire world from spinning like a top on a glass floor. “Where is she? What have you done with—” But I didn’t get to finish. The line went dead and I tried not to think about how everything I had considered as far as getting Olivia back went hadn’t been anywhere near close enough to the truth.

I let my hand carrying the cell phone fall to my side. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I was shaking, but I was. Badly. And a trickle of cold sweat slipped down the middle of my back along my spine. I felt sick, nauseous, and weak, and so full of dread that the pizza was trying to come back up.

Was this fear? Real, true fear? Something I hadn’t encountered since I was a little kid and the fact that I was going to get thrown to the wolves at every new foster home I got dropped into was slowly but surely sinking in. As an adult, hell, as a teenager, I hadn’t really been afraid of things. What was the point? The worst had already happened to me and I’d survived it just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what I’d thought.

But now there was something worse than the beatings I’d received as a child or the instability of wayward half homes. Something worse than risking my life for stupid shit that didn’t matter.

It was losing Olivia, and I had just done that.

I all but fell into the chair at the desk, nearly missing it because I was uncoordinated and unsteady thanks to that phone call.

I took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I told myself that she was okay. Maybe not indefinitely, but, for now, she was fine. They needed her alive, because that was the only real leverage they had over me. If she died, they knew I’d never stop.

That thought helped ease my sudden and overwhelming panic a little. I didn’t feel great about the situation, but knowing that she was alive did a lot to help me think the rest through.

Going after Olivia the first time had been about repaying me for my betrayal of Axel, something I’d been deemed guilty of without being proven. But this was different. This was about scaring me off of something. The fact that Jacob was desperate enough to kidnap Olivia—something he’d have to die for—meant that I was close to something. And knowing Jacob, that something was information. The wrong kind for him and the right kind for me.

I frowned. I wasn’t any happier about Olivia being kidnapped and I definitely didn’t feel good about Jacob having followed us here, but he must have. How else would he have known where to pick up Olivia? We could have gone anywhere. We could have jerked up towards Oregon and Washington. Or we could have gone south, heading to the border and Mexico. The fact that he knew we were here suggested one of two things, I realized slowly.

Option one: they followed us the entire way without me knowing. It seemed the most obvious one at first, but as I thought about it, I couldn’t help but wonder. Something about it didn’t sit right with me. I’d taken them through a wild ride to end up here and I hadn’t noticed they were behind me at any point in time. Not impossible, but difficult. Assuming they managed it, why not get close enough to jump us before we finally crashed off at this motel?

Why wait until Olivia was alone to pick her up in the first place?

Unless I considered option two: they knew we were coming here.

As soon as I thought it, I knew it was right. They picked up Olivia to threaten me off of something. Something that was specific to this area—something they knew was here all along. Or maybe it was
someone.

“Dagger,” I breathed.