Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series (43 page)

“People suck, dude,” the kid says.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one. But not all people. Not even the majority of people. Don’t let the bad turn you against the good.”

“But the bad is
real
bad
.”

I think of Jerome. The goon in Stephanie’s apartment. The three stooges from today. “Yeah. Their stink is loud, I agree with you on that.”

What can I say to this young man that I can believe for myself? “Put your energy on the one person you can control—yourself.
You
do good.
You
make a difference.
You
take charge of your attitude and your life.”

The kid swallows and nods. “Nice talkin’ to ya. I better head back home or my mom will be going crazy, ground me from the strip clubs.” His smirk is back.

“Can’t have that, can we?”

I walk him to his skateboard and he does a little kick and the thing flies up and into his hands. “You’re pretty good at that,” I say, meaning it.

“You ain’t seen nothin’. Been practicing the Double Lazer, almost got it down.” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Come by the station. Show me sometime?”

He smiles. “Yeah. I’ll do that. Check out that program too. Maybe talk about my sister a little more?” The last was said in a voice I could barely hear.

“Yeah. All of that. You just be careful in the meantime. Wear a helmet for God’s sake.”

The kid smirks and takes off. “Helmets are for pussies,” he calls over his shoulder as he does some kind of crazy jump and whirl thing.

I hold my breath, but he makes the landing perfectly.

I yell after him, “Courage and stupidity are kissing cousins.”

Unable to help myself, I laugh when he turns and flips me a double bird.

Chapter 14 - Jerome

She’s so close I can almost smell her. Smell the lotion she slathers on in defense of the desert heat. The shampoo she prefers. Best of all, I can almost smell her fear.

She will never again underestimate me. The power I hold over her life… and her death… will be forever etched in her mind. Wherever it is she ends up.

I pace my confines, like a tiger paces a cage. Headquarters, I like to call it. It’s a warehouse Anna owns in Northtown, North Las Vegas. What a shithole, right in the heart of crimeville. It’s one of several she possesses, or so she told me. I chose this one because it’s special; it contains an underground bunker, not easy to find in Nevada. It’s very interesting, all that Anna can dip her finger into. Her connections are extensive.

Right now, I’m underground in my office, the place I’ve practically slept in the past few days. The computer and servers the dumb fuck police have been looking for surround me; technology so advanced that men on the right side of the law will never see them or even know they exist.

My phone buzzes. I look at the screen:
ETA 7 minutes.

Perfectly on time, of course.

I step out of my office and turn down the long hallway. I pass door after door after door. This is a temporary ‘holding’ facility, very much like a prison. There are bars on the doors, but in this prison, the rooms are padded.

“Too many girls were dying from hurling themselves against the walls,” Anna had told me in explanation.

Each room contains a bed and a toilet and each has a drain in the center of the floor. When I’d asked about the drain, Anna had smirked. “Oh Jerome, darling. Think about it. There are varying tastes we cater to here. Easier to clean-up with a hose than a mop and bucket.”

Clean-up.

I hadn’t asked her about the drains again.

As I approach the third door from the end, I stop and peer through the bars. The bitch is inside, sitting on the cot, her face pressed against her knees. I know she heard me approach, but she doesn’t look up.

It pisses me off.

“Enjoying our fine accommodations? Anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?”

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say a word.

“You sure? I’m about to serve up an order of Stephanie a la mode. It’s a house favorite.”

Her head pops up and if looks could kill, I would have died a thousand deaths where I’m standing. “Liar. She’s being protected.”

That is funny. “Poor little Beth, hasn’t connected the dots yet. Not surprising. You never were that bright.”

She stands, walks over to the bars and fucking spits on me, most of it landing in my face. I don’t react. I just stick out my tongue and lick away the places I can touch.

Beth flinches, disgust washing over her face. “You’re crazy. Bona fide nuts.”

“Maybe. But who’s on this side of this cage and who’s on that side?”

Her face changes, becomes beseeching. Ah. She’s about to beg. I’m rewarded with, “Please. Don’t do this. I swear I’ll never tell. Ever.” Cue the tears. There they are. No matter how bad-assed a person thinks they are, in the face of brutal reality, they are no more than sniveling cowards.

Broken.

Pathetic.

Cowards.

“I’ll help you get better.”

Interesting, she’s changing tactics. Let’s see where this little road leads.

“I know something bad happened to you when you were a little boy…”

She squeals as I reach through the bars and snag her face in my hand. “Shut up!” I scream at her.

She tries to pull her face away, but I pinch her jaw tighter. I reach my other hand through the bars and circle those fingers around her throat.

“You know nothing. You are nothing. You are only what I say you are, do you hear me?” Her face grows redder and redder. She tries to nod.

I push her back and she takes huge gulps of air. “You really do need to learn your manners, Beth. Where you’re going, a smart mouth will get you killed. Or worse. Not killed.”

That shuts her up.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket:
ETA 2 minutes.

“Better get going.”

She opens her mouth to say something and I hold up a single finger. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Her mouth closes and she turns her back to me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something about her ass, how it seems a little bit wider than it used to. I hold back. I really don’t have to stoop to that level. Besides, I like a little meat on my women. I’ve not had my turn with her yet.

Whistling, I walk down the hallway and up the flight of steps. They’re the only things I don’t like about this building. Why Anna hasn’t had an elevator installed, I’ll never know.

Getting out of the bunker is another issue I have. Waiting for the damn stone door to slide open. It pisses me off every time I have to wait. A full seventeen seconds—I know because I’ve counted—for the antiquated pulley system to get the thing open. If Anna makes as much money as she says she does, why doesn’t she do something about this?

I scoff. She’ll probably be having me pay for the updates. That’s most likely how the bitch got so wealthy—she simply ropes men into paying for everything.

Men like me. How many others?

The thought stops me. Not for the first time. I’m not that stupid.

I’ve been banned from asking personal questions. I guess her age to be mid-thirties, but it’s hard to tell. She could be much older. She has that ‘wise soul’ thing about her even though she looks young and relatively fresh.

I don’t know the number of men she’s been with. I don’t know when she became sexually active. I don’t know where she grew up or anything about her past.

I do know that Anna Alkaev didn’t exist until sixteen years ago.

I do know that Anna loses her Russian accent sometimes.

I do know that the account numbers she has me wire money to change nearly every time she has a request.

I do know that she drives me crazy.

I do know that she makes me sane.

I do know I love her.

I do know that I hate her in ways I can’t explain.

Ha!

I’m a poet.

Finally, the fucking door is open and I step out into a huge cavern of a building that smells like last week’s Chinese left overs. To my left an oversized garage door rumbles to life, the door sliding up into the ceiling.

A black van drives in. She’s here! My heart rate begins to sprint.

Chapter 15 - Ken

As my truck pulls away from the curb on the back of the flatbed, for the first time I realize I’m stranded. I figured one of the guys would give me a ride back to the station, but they’re still working the case, interviewing possible witnesses, or have been called away for another assignment.

The huge number of grocery bags are at my feet; the ice cream must be liquid sugar in the carton. I’ll buy more tomorrow, pay for it out-of-pocket if I have to. The beef stew meat is probably ruined too.

I realize I’m focusing my attention on the groceries because it’s the only thing that makes sense right now. Why did Jerome order this hit on me? It must have been him because of the connection with the bomb threat. This wasn’t random, but well thought out.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Steph and check on her. Damn. The battery’s dead. How the hell did that happen? It was half full just an hour ago. Freakin’ disposable. I look around to see who has a phone I could bum.

Just then, Ellen Grimes and Bill Ramsen, the feds on the case, pull up in front of me. I stick out a thumb like a hitchhiker. Grimes smirks and opens the door. “Lucky day for you, seems we’re going in the same direction.”

“Never thought these words would leave my mouth, but I’m glad to see you two. I’m stranded. My phone’s dead. Could use a little help right about now.”

“Hear you’ve had a bad day,” Ramsen says as he walks around his car.

“Could have been worse,” I say.

“Heard that too. Damn lucky you had your partner with you and he was carrying.”

“Damn straight. I hope you all don’t give him hell; everything he did was in self-defense.”

“No,” Grimes shakes her head. “He’ll be fine. His permit was legit and we have a dozen witnesses who confirm the shooting was necessary.”

“I owe him my life,” I told her.

Grimes smiles. “I’m sure in your line of work you’ll be paying him back soon enough. In the meantime, take him out for a nice steak dinner.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Ramsen got down to business. “We need to sit down, talk through a few things, see if we can piece all of this together.”

I look around. One man is mowing his lawn. A couple of kids are playing hoops in their driveway. Life has gone on in this quiet neighborhood that had been disrupted just a little while ago.

“Yeah. Let’s sit down. But can we do it at the station?”

Grimes’ lips curve up a little. “Sure. Let’s get you loaded up.”

“Before we do, can you try calling Steph for me? I’m worried about her. Be nice to check in.”

Grimes pulls out her phone while Ramsen and I load everything into the back of his Suburban. “Voice mail,” Grimes says. A second later, she leaves a message: “Stephanie, this is Agent Grimes. Please call me back at this number as quickly as possible. You’ll need to use the encryption sequence we showed you.”

We all climb into the car. Maybe she’s in the shower, or taking a nap. I open my mouth to ask Grimes to call again. Reading my mind, Grimes picks up the phone and hits re-dial. This time I can hear Steph’s voice: ‘Hi, thanks for calling, you’ve…’ Grimes hangs up.

“We’ll give her ten minutes and try again. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll have the agents on duty check in on her.” She turns in the seat to look back at me. “Sound good?”

I want to tell her to do that now, but she’s probably right. Ten minutes. I can do that. I lift my chin in a half nod.

Back at the station, the guys unload everything while I run into the bathroom to hit a sixty second shower and change clothes. My shirt is drenched and I smell like a rotting hippo. I hit the high spots and am in the captain’s office in two minutes flat. I stick my phone on a charger, willing it to juice up to see if Steph has tried to call.

There, I find the agents and the captain huddled around his computer. “Ken, come on in,” Captain Frank says. “We’re watching the street camera out front, reviewing the shooting that took place here.” He gives me a hard look, a ‘we’ll talk about all this later’ look. He’s going to give me hell for going after the car. I don’t blame him. In hindsight, it was pretty crazy. But as I stand there watching myself roll across the driveway to avoid the blast that breaks through the concrete, I know I’d do it again.

“Has Steph called back?”

Grimes looks at her phone and shakes her head.

“Can you go ahead and call?” My unease is growing by the second.

“Sure.” She pulls out her phone and then shakes her head. She punches in more numbers, waits and says, “Jerry, it’s Ellen. I need you to check on Miss Vonnegut please.” She listens. “Already done that, she isn’t answering.” Pause. “Yeah. Call me back. Thanks.” Pause. “Yeah. Now.”

I stand and pace the room, unable to continue the torture of sitting still. “Do you all have any idea who those guys were?”

Ramsen shakes his head. “Not yet. The Impala was stolen, plates stripped off. The phone was a burner. No ID on the dead guy or the one in custody. So far the one we tagged isn’t talking.”

“Can I have a word with him? Alone?” I ask, loving the idea of getting my hands on the fucker.

The captain steps in. “You need to focus on keeping your ass out of trouble or I’ll be having a word with you. Alone.”

I owe the cap an apology. “I screwed up back there, Cap. Sorry about that. I just couldn’t let them get away.”

“Truth be told, I’d have done the same thing. But you gotta think before you act, son. You damn near got yourself and Gage killed.”

I wish he was yelling at me, kicking chairs and throwing things. The gentle tone is as sharp as a knife, cutting through my consciousness.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“I know what it just was,” he interrupts me. “It was just stupid, which I guess is how you’ve been trained. You run into burning buildings when everyone else is running away. It’s instinct by now to charge into the action. As a department, we need to do a better job of helping you guys see the difference between being foolish and being brave.”