Lost for You (3 page)

“Come here and look.” He beckoned me to his side with his hand. “His GPS hasn’t pinged in over thirty-six hours. God knows how he got away with that without being noticed, but this definitely isn’t a coincidence.”

Then it dawned on me. “Fuck! I need to ring Shay and warn him. Thirty-six hours is long enough for Gibbons to get to Elle.”

The boss looked over at me, grinning like an idiot. “There’s my boy. I knew you had some fight in you. You ring Shay while I check travel bookings. If he’s left the state, I’ll soon know about it,” he mused, almost rubbing his hands in glee. The boss enjoyed this part of the game.

That was three days ago.

Gibbons turned up for his shift the next morning, acting completely normal. Only the boss and I know that he is compromised, so we decided not to rock the boat. We need to find out who he is working for before we confront him and, in the boss’ words, ‘throw out the trash.’ He’s not one to take something like this lying down.

He didn’t ask Gibbons why I’m back, so I’ve had to grin and bear it, acting like nothing is wrong. To be honest, it’s been the hardest three days of my life; being away from Elle and not even being able to contact her to let her know I’m okay. I’ve also had to keep my poker face on in front of Gibbons while the boss investigates him, trying to find evidence of who he’s working for, and any recent contact he’s had with anyone of interest. We think he has to be working for either Evans or Brimstone. My bet is on Brimstone. Evans is a lot of things, but he would never cross the boss man. The boss knows he is my father and their business may occasionally run in the same circles, but at the end of the day, even dear old dad wouldn’t risk my life.

I stayed in the apartment above HQ for three days until the boss sent me a text earlier tonight, telling me the plan. I was to get Elle to meet me out of town, somewhere totally unexpected and unpredictable. That’s why I picked the bandstand on the New Orleans’s waterfront. Elle has never been there, I’ve never been there, and by all accounts it is as public as can be while also being easy to escape from if need be. I’d even arranged a thirty minute window for tonight, getting Leo to cover my ass with Gibbons while I went off radar and called Elle from a payphone down the street. Everything was going to plan until I heard that gun shot.

I will spend the rest of my life making this up to Elle, and hunting down whoever fired that shot.

I will make sure she is never alone or put in danger ever again, if it’s the last thing I do

I’ve been walking for a mile along the I-85 out of Atlanta, hoping that a trucker will have mercy on me. Sure enough, an 18-wheeler pulls up a few moments later. Opening the cab door, I see a heavy set man wearing shorts and a plaid shirt grumbling at me to get in.

“Thanks for this, man. I’m heading to Charlotte if you’re going that way,” I say to him.

“Yup. Hop in. The name’s Frank,” he grunts as he puts the big rig in gear and pulls back out onto the road. I like Frank already; a man of few words. Right now, the last thing I want to do is talk.

Elle has been in surgery for two hours. I’ve been pacing the hospital’s family room waiting for any news. I had to lie and say I’m her fiancé. It was the only way I could get information about her status. It’ll take a bit of explaining when Brax gets here, but who cares. I want to be able to give him up to date information when he calls.

I still haven’t heard from him since his texts from Atlanta. All going well, he should be getting close to Charlotte now. I know it’s going to take him a good twelve hours to get here if he can get a car from Devon, but knowing how determined he is, he’ll drive through the night to get here. Nothing will stop him getting back to Elle. I just hope Devon comes through for him. Last time I saw him was nine years ago, and he wasn’t in a good place. Then he went inside which wouldn’t have done him any good.

I grab a coffee from the waiting room and snag a couch, making myself comfortable for the long night ahead of me. I can’t help thinking about how I failed Elle tonight. How on earth did the intruder get past me, let alone get into Elle’s apartment? Brax is going to chew my ass out once he gets over the shock and sees that Elle is going to be okay. Hell, she’d better come out of this okay. Brax will never forgive me if she doesn’t.

It’s now 6 a.m., and I’ve had a few hours of broken sleep on the dingy couch in the hospital waiting room. I’ve only had one update so far which was when the surgical nurse came and told me that they were still working to control the bleeding and stabilize her. It’s been five hours, and I’m starting to worry. I haven’t heard from Brax again either, but I’m hoping he is on his way back now. I had a missed called from Gibbons, but I don’t trust myself to talk to him right now.

Once Brax and I realized that Gibbons played us, I’d stopped taking his calls until Brax called me two days ago and told me of the plan he has to smoke him out. We think he’s working with Brimstone and has been relaying everything we tell him. Brax has been itching to get back, but until tonight we’ve had no firm plans, and now Elle being shot has thrown all those carefully laid out plans out the window. Brax was going to take her to our boss’ safe house in Kentucky and lay low until everything was squared away. Now I don’t have a clue what we’re going to do.

According to the nurses, Elle will be in hospital for at least two to three weeks and will require breathing rehabilitation after she’s discharged because she had a collapsed lung from the bullet. I hope Brax gets here soon. I know he’ll want to be here when she wakes up. God, she’d better wake up!

Where did I go wrong? Who is the shooter? What on earth are the police going to do about this whole thing?

I’ve already been told to go down to the station to make a statement, but I’m putting it off because I know how it will go. How do I know Miss Halliwell? What was I doing in her apartment? Why didn’t I secure the shooter? Who do I work for? All questions I have to look forward to, but they’ll be a piece of cake compared to the grilling I’ll get from Brax. I know I let him and Elle down. In all the years that we’ve known each other, I’ve never once disappointed him. If Elle doesn’t come through this, I know that Brax will never get over it. Believe me; losing the love of your life is not something you can just get over.

C’mon, Brax. Let me know where you are.

I check for any new text messages from Brax, then look up to see the scrub nurse standing in the doorway with a slight smile on her face.

“She’s coming out of surgery now. She lost a lot of blood, but they were able to stop the bleeding and reinflate the punctured lung. She’s got a long road to recovery ahead of her, but she is going to be okay, barring any complications. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you so much. Can someone please let me know when I can see her?” I ask. I need to see her breathing again. I have an image embedded in my brain of her pale and lifeless body lying in the back of the ambulance. Then she coded, and they’d had to resuscitate her. I need to feel her pulse to believe that she is truly alive so that I can get that image out of my head.

“Sure thing. It’ll be awhile. We’ve got to do regular checks while she’s on the ventilator and unconscious. I’ll have to get the doctor to come and talk to you about the recovery process and what to expect, but once we’ve got her settled into intensive care, I’ll send someone down to get you.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” I reply, breathing out a huge sigh of relief.

I bow my head in silent prayer, thanking God for hearing my plea and sparing Elle and Brax. If only I could be certain that we’re in the clear now. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this may only be the beginning.

Frank ended up being a pretty cool dude. He was a bit standoffish at first, but he was soon chatting away to me like I was his long lost buddy. He shared stories of life on the road, doing long haul trips up to New York and back, and the sights he has seen. We also talked about being in the military as he was in the Army in his younger days.

He dropped me off about half an hour ago on the outskirts of Charlotte, North Carolina. I pull my phone out, texting Devon.

Brax: Got dropped off at Charlotte Douglas International. Can you come get me?

I wait for a good ten minutes before I get a reply.

Devon: Hail a cab and meet me at the Time Warner Arena in the city. We’ll take off straight from there.

Brax: What do you mean we?

Devon: You didn’t think I was gonna let you go alone, did ya?

Brax: I dunno, dude. I just wanna get there ASAP.

Devon: I know. Who better than a petty crim with experience outrunning the police?

Brax: Touché. See you in half an hour.

Devon: More like fifteen. I’m starting the car now.

I grab a cab from outside the terminal and soon enough I’m standing in the middle of Charlotte, outside the Cable Arena, waiting for Devon to pick me up.

It’s been nine years since I last saw him; before the Army, and before my father got his hooks into him, effectively derailing his life. Devon was powerless to resist Evans. The pull of easy women, fast cash, and rising through the ranks was all too appealing. The fantasy was shattered when Devon was framed for money laundering and assault. I know three years inside will have changed him, but I won’t know how much until I see him in front of me. He’s always been a smart ass, though. Must be something in the Evans’ genes.

I see a white Dodge Ram pickup truck pull up beside me, with a familiar scruffy man sitting behind the wheel. I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder and open the passenger door, sliding onto the beige vinyl seat and slamming the door closed behind me.

“Hey, Brax. Long time no see,” he murmurs cautiously. I don’t blame the guy. I represent everything he wished he had the strength to do; go up against the might of Michael Evans.

“You’re telling me, brother. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself,” I remark with a grin.

I look him over. He’s got cloudy blue eyes, a couple of shades darker than mine, brown hair that sticks up at the top. It looks like he’s just had a woman’s hands running through it all night long. He has a smattering of stubble across his cheeks and top lip that makes him look rough around the edges. I’m sure that’s the look he’s going for, rugged and scary.

Devon laughs. “Yeah, well it seems keeping on the straight and narrow can be just as lucrative. Working during a construction boom works just as well too.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” I say mournfully. “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Enough of the sappy shit. Let’s get on the road and get you back to your girl. What’s her name?” he says as he turns the wheel, pulling back out into the slowly building traffic.

I check the clock on the dash and realize that it’s been five hours since Elle was shot. I haven’t heard from Shay again. I need to hear that she’s okay, or at least going to be.