I shut off the engine to my car and sit for a moment, my feet hurting, watching the sunset out of my windshield. Layers of pink and orange and navy make up the sky.
It was a bad idea to get the massage and pedicure before shopping. I had forgotten exactly how shopping with Lux is. It’s not a hobby of leisure at all. It’s a damn marathon race. If I had been smart, I would have done it last, but shopping doesn’t have a schedule or waiting list. I knew I needed to try the other activities first before the wait was too long.
I had never been to a full day spa before. I can still feel his fingers kneading deep into my muscles and the hot stones running down my spine. They even had a cutout for pregnant bellies. Badass business tactic. Appeal to the human bodies being used as a host, its energy supply being depleted by something that resembles a tiny alien.
I’ve discovered women in this state would probably pay in organs to get some relief from sciatic nerve mishaps and extra weight bearing down on the small body parts known as my feet. That kind of luxury was created for the privileged; something I’ve never been before.
I had no idea an Amex of certain colors held so much power. Whip out that piece of plastic and you become royalty. I tried not to look at the ungodly amount charged to that card that Kross was okay with paying as I signed the digital box.
I reach over and grab my purse from the passenger seat. A text message dings through the car speakers connected to my phone’s Bluetooth—the music still playing since I haven’t opened the driver’s side door—instantly making me smile.
Kross: Headed your way. See you in a few hours.
Before I can answer, another text comes through.
Kross: Put on something sexy. Leave the bottoms off.
I shiver; a contradiction to the fire burning in my cheeks.
Me: I’m not sure anything can be sexy with a half-deflated basketball underneath it. No panties—consider it done. I’ll try to wait up for you.
He quickly responds. My guess is he isn’t even on the plane yet.
Kross: That’s why I’m the one with the dick and not you.
I bite my bottom lip, already halfway to a grin.
Me: One that I have missed very much, might I add.
Kross: You’ll take that back when it’s done with you. I’m boarding. I better come home to new shit.
Me: Okay. Be safe. I love you.
Kross: I love you too. Both of you.
A tear falls down my cheek. He acknowledged her. I quickly swipe it away. We’re going to be okay. I’ve been worried how he would return with the extended separation. I wasn’t expecting his absence to be so long. Thoughts ran wild that he would change his mind once he was back to being alone and doing things he needed to do without anything slowing him down, but I was wrong to have those thoughts. We may have a crazy life—one that most wouldn’t understand—but things get a little better every day.
I hate thinking of what he did last night and to Chuck, deserved or not. It’s especially difficult to process that someone you spent a length of your life with now being dead, regardless of whether they were good for you or bad.
It took me a while to come to terms with the arms dealing. Murder, I’m still working on. Knowing that’s only a crack in the surface to what all he really does is hard to fathom. Sometimes it’s even painful to stomach.
I don’t think any human being with a conscience would be okay with their significant other taking a life so freely, but love isn’t judgmental, and it certainly isn’t controllable, so I somehow find a way to deal. On a good day, I feel like the devil’s lover. Kross is truly a scary man, and I don’t know the half of it.
I open the door and press the release to the trunk before getting out. I open the back as soon as I get to it, inspecting the damage I did with the help of Lux. “You’re going to come home to new shit all right; lots of pink.” At least I was smart enough to put the smaller bags inside of the bigger bags. I start sliding bag handles up each arm until I’m loaded down, my keys in hand. I pull the trunk down, maneuvering myself to get it latched before heading toward the house. I probably should have pulled into the garage, but the view was pretty spectacular. I’ll do it tomorrow.
I shove the key into the lock and turn it. At least the front door has a handle with a press down latch versus a knob. I don’t want to have to put stuff down and start the whole process over again.
I press on the latch with the outside of my fist and shove the door open with my hip before walking inside. I drop the bags at my feet and turn back around to shut the door and search for the light switch. It takes me a while to find this one in the dark, because we never use this door.
I scream when a set of hands touch my hips. “Kross?”
I’m forced against a body that I immediately know isn’t his based on the extra body fat alone, panic rising inside of me. I try to push myself forward, toward the wall with the switch to eliminate this darkness, but I’m gripped harder against him, my arms rendered useless by his, the pointed end of a nose running down the length of my neck. His hand rubs across my swollen belly, a wave of nausea building in my stomach. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just name it.”
He laughs in my ear. “There’s nothing you have that I want, sweetness,” he says, accent thick and non-American. He runs his hand down my pelvis, before squeezing hard between my legs. “Or maybe there is.”
Reflexively, I press my legs together, my heart pounding and my pulse raging in my ears. “Don’t. Please. Let me go.”
He laughs manically, removing his hand. “No can do. You see, Guzel, I’m a very powerful man. A man that gets what he wants, and I pay for my wants well. No one tells me no. No man has ever turned down my offer. For now, what I want is you. Let’s see just how much you’re worth to that gun-slinging boyfriend of yours. When he gives me what I want, I’ll give him you.”
My entire body goes on high alert. My adrenaline spikes and surges through every vessel in my body. All I can think about is protecting her. She’s not ready. I need to stay alive . . . for her. I begin to fight against him, trying to get to my cell phone. “Help! Somebody!”
He shoves me against the door, making it impossible to kick or move. His bodyweight is overpowering mine. His lips touch against my ear. I jerk away, crying into the empty house. Kross. The only one that can help me is on a plane. By the time he gets here, I could be in another country somewhere. “He shouldn’t have brought you to his business meeting. I knew there was something special about you when he sent you to the bar. I can certainly see the appeal. I’ve been watching you, and when I saw this . . .” He touches my belly again, making me feel dirty. “It confirmed you were even more valuable than I thought.” He licks up my neck. I scream out in disgust, putting every ounce of energy I can muster into fighting him off.
I run when I catch him off guard, gaining just enough space to get free, but he grabs my hair in his fist, jerking me backward until I am stumbling. He catches me before I hit the ground, pulling me against him again. “Don’t do that, Guzel. You wouldn’t want to hurt her, would you?” I freeze. “I need everyone unharmed to ensure this goes as planned.”
“He will kill you,” I breathe out, the stress taking over.
“Not if he wants you alive,” he seethes, and then a handkerchief is forced over my mouth, a strange smell dousing it. I scream again, kicking and jerking, but within seconds, everything is fading into nothingness, Kross’s face the last thing I see.
Kross
I grab the energy drink out of the cup holder and finish it off. It’s definitely not as effective as blow, but it gets the job done. I’m running on maybe an hour of sleep out of the last forty-eight, but I don’t plan on catching up tonight. Sleep is not in the plans for what I’m going to do to her when I get there, which will be in about ten minutes.
I turn on the last road before it hits nothing but wide-open countryside. I like my privacy and I paid well for it. The longer drive into the city than most people prefer proves it.
I turn into the drive, my headlights reflecting off the taillights of her car as I approach the house. It’s out of place; pulled up close to the closed garage off to the side, but not in it. Expensive cars shouldn’t be left out in the weather, making them easier to steal in the dead of night.
Fucking women. I pull up beside her and stop, shifting my truck into park, the garage door already opening as I get out. I take the spare key and shove myself inside, moving her car into the garage. At least she keeps it clean.
On the walk back to my truck the floodlight comes on as I pass the sensor. I grab the open door and go to get in my truck when something on the porch draws my attention. What the hell? The front door is cracked, but the lights are off. That’s not like her.
I kill the engine and get back out of my truck, before walking to the porch, turning on the flashlight to my cell phone along the way. I hold it up to the door, inspecting it to see that everything is how it should be. Nothing looks forced. I push it open, quickly turning on the light to shopping bags scattered all around the entry. Her purse is also there, lying on the floor with its contents spilling out, including her phone. Something isn’t right. She’s not a slob. I’ve lived with her long enough to know she at least moves shit away from the door. “Delta,” I shout. Fuck, maybe she was tired and just forgot to close the damn door.
I get no response. “Delta,” I holler louder. Still nothing. I slam the door and drop my keys on the entry table, before making my way through the dark house toward our bedroom. The second the light comes on I know she’s not here. The bed is made as if no one has been in it all day, but a large yellow envelope is sitting on top—one that looks familiar.
I stare at it, the possibilities mapping out in my mind. Nothing fucking happened in my house, on my property. I have cameras everywhere. There’s no way. My phone would have alerted me . . . unless, the plane. No. That’s too fucking convenient. I back out of the room, before storming every inch of the house, each room coming up short. The house is cleaner than when I left it.
I end up back inside my bedroom, arms crossed over my chest, staring at that motherfucking envelope. Minutes pass as every plausible explanation for her absence plays out. My foot inches forward, and before the clock changes to the next minute, I’m picking it up, inspecting it. Either the same envelope I left for pickup all those weeks ago has sprouted limbs and walked here or someone put it there. I open it, finding the same burner cell phone inside.
I pull it out, the instructions labeled on the front with a sticky note. As ordered, I place the call and hold the phone to my ear, the all-consuming rage running rampant in my body to the point that I can’t think. It rings twice before the line picks up. “I’ve been expecting your call, Mr. Brannon.”
“Where is she?”
“I’m afraid that’s not how this works. This will go my way. I tried your way.”
“I’m not stealing a classified military grade missile for you. I gave you contacts for other dealers that’d jump on the offer.”
“Those other dealers don’t have the reputation that you do. I’ve been led to believe that you can get anything. I was informed you were the man that doesn’t put anything in front of a job.”
“That was before. No one forces a job on me. I don’t take orders. Now tell me, where the fuck is she?”
A ripping sound comes through the phone, followed by her scream. My fist locks. A level of wrath I’ve never experienced takes over. “Please don’t touch me. Not again,” she cries, and every ounce of blood in my body runs cold.
“Tell him, Guzel. Tell him to save you.”
She cries louder. “Kross, do whatever it takes. Save her.”
“Bring me the missile and I’ll deliver the girl . . . or should I say both.”
“You remove so much as a hair on her fucking head and I’ll send your head to your family.”
“The instructions are in the envelope. Don’t disappoint me or I’ll send her to the Lions’ den. She is appetizing. My boys will have fun devouring her.”
He disconnects the call.
I pull my phone out of my pocket as I rush through the house toward the basement. A few rings and he picks up, his voice groggy. “Yeah.”
“You remember that favor you owe me?”
He’s silent for a few seconds.
“Since your girl is in bed with you, I’m going to say that you do. It’s time to collect.”
“What is it? Do you know what time it is? Some of us go to sleep at normal times when we aren’t on a job . . .”
“They took her. You got your girl. I’m going to get mine. I could probably take them myself, but I’d be wasting unnecessary time.”
“Fucking slow down. Who took her?”
“Who is that? Took who?” Lux says in the background.
“Kross,” he barks into the phone. “Time wasted is distance they gain. Who?”
“I turned down a job. A big one. I’m not usually one to be picky over the details. Millions are millions, but the accent, the dress, the type of missile he’s wanting—it didn’t feel right. Too much terrorist shit is going on already. Paranoia is high. People are scared. Government is overly cautious. Crime is my game, dealing is my way, but I’m not into treason. Then the pregnancy happened. I said no. Apparently, he’s pissed off and figured out my weak spot. I made an amateur mistake.”
“Shit. How many are we looking at?”
“I don’t know.” I run down the stairs until I’m in the basement. I uncover and punch in the key code to my underground vault; the one Delta hasn’t even been in. It’s for an emergency—end of time type shit. It’s loaded down. Every square inch is covered with weapons and ammo from small caliber to big. It’s enough to make it through a fucking zombie apocalypse.
Lux is whisper-shouting things in the background, panic in her voice. I stare straight ahead, mesmerized at its glory. “Why do you seem so calm? Your girl has been abducted. I’d be losing my shit.”
I grab a silencer. “I was bred to kill. Shown violence from an early age. Raised up to hate. Revenge is fun. Panic ensues mistakes. My rage is released with body count. He crossed the wrong bastard. I’m going for his head; won’t stop until he’s dead.” I glance at the sniper rifles only granted to the best. “You think Chevy wants a break from your boring domesticated lifestyle? I need a sniper.”
“I’ll bring him. We’ll meet you there. I need an hour.”
“This is war, Kaston. Leave your morals at home. Bring the fucking rain.”
