Cruel Love Page 16

  Lilah holds up a hand, signaling for us to stop. I look ahead at the man rounding the house. As he disappears out of sight, Archer continues forward, but Lilah quickly stops him again. We duck down just as a second man appears from the far side of the house and Lilah points forward with an obvious annoyance on our part.

  “Wasps,” she whispers again as if that’s supposed to mean something to us. She rolls her eyes when we don’t get it. “They patrol in threes. When one exits, the other comes in. Leave no area unmanned for more than a second.”

  Archer nods. “So, we pull back? Call the others? Yes?”

  She tilts her head and smirks at him. “Well, aren’t you precious?”

  He sighs.

  “The security hub should be just beyond the porch,” I say, pointing forward. “Little gray box.”

  Lilah nods. “Okay, be right back.”

  Archer’s hands twitch as she exits the brush. My gut twinges with sympathy for him. I remember with perfect clarity every time Caleb used to rush into danger headfirst. Front row center. That’s my Caleb.

  I pat his shoulder in a show of support.

  The bushes surrounding us shake as a body slams to the ground beside me. I tumble back, biting my tongue to keep from shouting. A moist gurgling sound exhales from the man’s throat before he finally lays down in silent death.

  Lilah appears over us. “One down,” she says.

  I shake the jitters off as she bends down out of sight with us. Another man comes around the house a second later, missing her completely. She timed it all perfectly.

  She unclips the man’s vest and slides it off his giant arms, along with his knife and the pistol strapped to his side.

  “Is that Kevlar?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says as she throws it on over her shoulders.

  “Can I have it?”

  She chuckles. “You won’t need it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Nope.” She slides the knife into the holster clipped to her shoulder and attaches the sidearm to her hip. “When I say so, run for the hub.”

  I blink as she grabs my arm and pulls me up to my feet along with her. She shoves me forward onto the lawn and my guts sink as the other agent takes notice.

  Lilah, what the hell are you—

  “Hey!” she calls out to him as she nudges me. “We got a trespasser.”

  The agent hesitates a second, looking from me to her and back again. “I’ll call it in,” he says with suspicious eyes.

  He turns his back on us as he reaches for his radio.

  “Run,” Lilah says, letting me go.

  I take off, rushing straight past him.

  “Hey—”

  His voice stops, interrupted by a loud cracking noise. I don’t look back. I don’t even want to know what made that sound.

  I sprint forward on light feet toward the porch, slowing down as I near the corner just in case I run into anybody. If Lilah’s correct, then there’s a third guard out here somewhere and it’s only a matter of seconds before they show up.

  I reach the security hub and stop, turning back to check on the others. They arrive a few seconds behind me, Archer now carrying the other agent’s gear and tactical vest.

  “Can… can I have that one?” I ask.

  “No,” Lilah answers. “Get hacking.”

  Archer slides the vest on and offers me a shrug of apology.

  I reach into the front pocket of my bag for my set of lockpicks. Two years ago, this security hub was protected by nothing more than a cheap padlock, but it looks like they upgraded to something a little more on the titanium side. Still not much of a problem for me but it’s nice to think I might have inspired a criminal organization to up their game.

  A little twist here, a little torque there, and the lock pops open. I pull it off and slide the hub open, moving slowly to look for any tripwires, so to speak.

  “Be right back,” Lilah says as she slinks off around the porch.

  Wasp number three on its way, I assume, and hopefully with a vest for me.

  I keep my head down, inching my fingertips along the edge of the hub. I reach the end and slide it open the rest of the way.

  No tripwires. Just a slightly modified CX-22c, the same panel Fox had installed on his house back in Los Angeles.

  I grin and reach into my bag for my skeleton key.

  “What’s so funny?” Archer asks.

  “Just feeling pretty good about myself right now,” I say.

  “Don’t get too cocky, kid.”

  “You gotta admit…” I slide the keycard into the slot and plug it into my laptop. “I am one-in-a-million.”

  He chuckles and falls silent as Lilah appears again with a third vest in hand.

  “We in yet?” she asks.

  I glance at the splatter of blood along her cheek. “Not quite,” I say, reaching out to take the vest.

  She pulls it back. “Hack first.”

  I grunt softly and get back to work. Accessing their security camera network is, unfortunately, not as simple as plugging in my key and turning a lock. While my skeleton key narrows down the right combination of numbers to open the door, I have to cross some wires to get into their cameras.

  I pull a pocket knife out of my bag and shift my attention to the wires along the side of the hub. They think they’ve doubled their security by making them all black but — like all love stories — it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

  Lilah taps her foot impatiently. “What are you doing?” she asks as I slowly trim the wires back.

  “You ever hotwire a car?” I ask her.

  “Of course.”

  “Same principle,” I say. “You take this wire and that wire and you just…”

  I twist them together and a camera feed pops up on my screen.

  “I’m in,” I say, exhaling hard.

  Lilah leans over my shoulder. “Okay, Boss. Let’s see your face…”

  I can only access two at once, so I cycle through the cameras slowly as they make a connection. It’s a little nostalgic, to be honest. I walked these halls before as a stupid, idealistic kid. I had no idea what I was doing or what kind of danger I was really in. Hell, maybe I still don’t.

  One agent in the kitchen. Two in the living room. An empty study.

  No Boss.

  “What about the second floor?” Lilah asks.

  “It’s coming…” I say.

  The stairwell pops up and we watch as an agent slowly climbs the stairs. I click over to the next camera and see the agent as he enters the second floor hallway. Then, the first bedroom. A second bedroom. A bathroom. All empty.

  Finally, the master bedroom. The angle shows the edge of an open en suite door. A woman stands before a mirror in black pants and a tight, white blouse. She slowly glides into the bedroom and sits down on the bed, leaning over to zip up her knee-high boots. Long, jet-black hair tumbles to one side of her head, giving us a full view of her face.

  Myra.

  A rock settles in my gut.

  “Boxcar.” Lilah’s eyes twist into angry slits. “Get me into that house.”

  “Lilah,” Archer says. “Calm down.”

  I shake off the chill in my spine. Four digits found. Just need two more.

  “Give me thirty seconds,” I say.

  Lilah leans in. “Either you find me a way inside right now or I’ll climb through the Boxcar-shaped hole I make in the wall.”

  “Still gonna need thirty seconds.”

  Archer grabs her wrist. “Lilah, please don’t—”

  “Don’t what?” she spits at him. “Don’t kill the bitch who murdered my brother? You can’t be serious.”

  “Don’t lose your head,” he says.

  Lilah yanks her hand free. “Archer, do not get in my way.”

  He takes a defeated step back.

  “You got thirty seconds,” she growls at me.

  “Only need twenty,” I murmur.

  “You said thirty.”

&n
bsp; “Ten seconds ago.”

  She seethes with impatience but goes quiet, anxiously staring over my shoulder as my key does its job. It usually doesn’t take this long. They obviously put in place a few extra layers of security after the last time I broke in here but it’s no more sophisticated than before. Either they’re getting lazier or I’m getting smarter. I know which one I’d prefer.

  The last digit lights up and the panel glows a bright green.

  I lean over and reach into my bag.

  “What are you doing now?” Lilah asks.

  I grab a mini black pouch from the inner pocket. “I can guide you through the house from here,” I say, pulling out two over-the-ear receivers. I turn them on, and they pair quickly to my laptop. “Put it in and say something.”

  Lilah takes the receiver from my palm and slides it over her right ear. “Something,” she says.

  The volume bar jumps on my screen.

  “Perfect.” I point to the side door. “I’ll keep an eye on the agents. You can get in through there.”

  She pauses. “Right now?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  Lilah slowly walks over and turns the knob. She pushes the door open an inch, still expecting an alarm but it’s completely silent.

  She cracks a smile and throws me the vest. “A-plus, Boxcar,” she says.

  “Thank you.”

  Archer lingers back with me as she tiptoes inside.

  I slide the vest on and nudge his arm. “You should go with her,” I say. “Back her up.”

  He glances around nervously. “What about you?” he asks.

  “If I sever the connection now, it’ll probably set off every alarm in the system. The element of surprise is all we’ve got, and we can’t lose it.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “No,” I answer truthfully. “But if you have to tell this story one day, make me sound cool, all right?”

  He pats my shoulder. “All right, mate.”

  I stand still, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, as he rushes inside to catch up with Lilah.

  My heart pounds in my ears. My stomach twists in knots.

  This is a bad idea.

  Caleb would blow her lid if she knew I was doing this. She’s been my bodyguard since day one but she’s not here. I have to focus on what I can control.

  “Okay, Bart,” I say to myself. “This is what you’re good at.”

  I stick the other receiver in my ear. I cycle through the security cameras, tapping the arrow keys quickly until I find Lilah and Archer slinking down the hallway. I hit the arrows faster until I find the sitting room camera ahead of them.

  Two men relax on the couch, watching television with their backs to the hallway.

  “Two in the next room,” I say.

  “I see ‘em,” Lilah whispers.

  I cycle through the feeds to check for more of them and find one sitting at the kitchen counter with a sandwich. “Next closest is in the kitchen. He’s alone for now—”

  The screen returns to the sitting area as Lilah plunges her knife into one of their chests. The other man doesn’t budge. He’s already bleeding to death from his neck.

  Yeesh.

  I skip back to the kitchen’s camera again. The man there reaches for the gun in his belt and cranes his neck out into the hall.

  “Uhh…” I twitch. “Kitchen guy—”

  He falls to his knees and spins away, revealing Lilah’s knife sticking out of his forehead.

  “Never mind.”

  “Where’s Myra now?” Lilah asks me.

  I jump back to the second floor cameras again to find Myra, skipping past the stairwell and the bedrooms to get to the master bedroom.

  She’s gone.

  “Boxcar?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answer her. “Hold on.”

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  I ignore her as panic rises in my chest.

  Where did she go?

  I mutter curses under my breath as I cycle through the feeds again. Archer and Lilah have gone back to the hallway, making their way toward the stairwell. I skip ahead, eyes twitching for anything. A shadow, a reflection. Anything that will pinpoint Myra’s location again.

  “Where is she, Boxcar?” Lilah asks again.

  “I can’t see her,” I say. “Must be a blind spot or—”

  A shiver crawls down my neck, connected to the barrel of a gun.

  “Don’t move.”

  Her voice turns my blood cold.

  “Put the laptop down and turn around. Slowly.”

  I do as she says and raise my hands.

  Myra stands behind me with two other agents dressed in black. She squints at me for a moment before her lips curl in recognition.

  “Hey…” She tilts her head. “I know you.”

  I look from her to the men standing behind her, holding my breath. “Yeah…”

  She lowers the gun to her side. “Well, this is…” Her laugh shakes her sides. “Neat.”

  “Cough if she’s out there, Boxcar,” Lilah says in my ear.

  I cough twice.

  Myra snatches the receiver from my ear. She holds it to her own and smiles. “Is that you, Lilah?” She giggles. “How nice of you to make my job so much easier…”

  She listens for another moment with wicked, curling lips before nudging the man beside her. He steps forward around her and grabs my vest, forcing me to stand up as he searches me. He quickly finds the revolver tucked into my belt. I mourn the loss of my wife’s good luck charm. He pops open the cylinder and dumps the golden bullets into his palm.

  Myra yanks my cables out of the security box, severing any connection it had. “Take him out and shoot him,” she says as she forces the receiver deeper into her ear. “Don’t take too long — and don’t leave him too close to the house. I don’t want his corpse stinking up my herb garden.”

  His middle-aged eyes shift back to me before he slides a single bullet into the cylinder and closes it. “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  He grabs me by the scruff of my shirt and shoves me toward the woods.

  “Hands up,” the man says, jabbing the gun into my back. “Put ‘em on your head.”

  I entwine my fingers behind my neck as I march into the woods.

  I’m sorry, Caleb.

  I’ve never been the praying type, but I whisper one to myself anyway.

  I’m sorry I screwed up and got caught.

  I’m sorry I’ll never get to meet our baby.

  I’m so fucking sorry I was a shitty husband.

  Fuck, I’m just sorry…

  I’m not sure how far or how long we walk. Dark clouds hover overhead, blocking out the sun. My ears pound with every stomp of the man’s boots behind me.

  “Stop,” he finally says.

  I slow down. Everything stops. Bugs go silent. The cold breeze falls away. I smell a storm in the air. There are worse places to die, I suppose.

  I close my eyes and wait for the bullet.

  “Where did you get this?”

  I frown. “Get what?”

  “This gun,” he says. “Where did you get it?”

  I furrow my brow. This guy is about to kill me and he’s wondering where he can get an old fucking revolver?

  “Just keep it, man,” I say. “It’s all yours.”

  He grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him. His eyes are dark and green. He wears a heavy scar down his forehead that ends along the upper bridge of his nose.

  “Where did you get this gun?” he repeats.

  I shrug in confusion. “It’s my wife’s,” I answer.

  “Your wife’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s her name?”

  What?

  Why the fuck does he care?

  What makes him think I’d tell him anyway?

  Why hasn’t he killed me yet? Not that I’m complaining but I’d rather just get it over with…

  “Her name,” he growls again. He
burrows the gun under my chin, digging the barrel in until it hurts. “What is your wife’s name?”

  I flinch. “Caleb.”

  He blinks and takes a quick step back as he lowers the gun to his side. “You’re Bartholomew Carson?” he asks in disbelief.

  I search my memory, trying to pinpoint where I must know him from, but I don’t. I don’t know this man, but he sure seems to know me.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  His shoulders droop. “You?”

  A rush of familiarity twinges my gut. I take a closer look at his green eyes and his stiff brown hair and that stare of impatience laced with curiosity and — holy shit.

  I know who he is.

  But it’s not possible.

  He points the gun at me again.

  “Wait—!” I cover my face with my hands.

  The gunshot echoes through the trees and I brace myself for pain. I wait to feel that cold rush of blood spilling out of me. Hopefully, it’s quick. Maybe he’ll put me down fast with a second bullet in my forehead.

  But I don’t feel it.

  I open my eyes again as he lowers his arm from above his head. He barely looks at me as he pops open the cylinder and calmly reloads each chamber. Once he’s done, he closes it and holds the gun out for me to take.

  “Go home to your wife,” he says. “Never come back here again.”

  My hand extends on its own and he drops the gun into my weak grip. The smoking barrel feels hot against my palm, but I don’t dare let it slip.

  The man turns around and starts walking back to the house.

  “Wait…” I swallow. “Who are you?”

  He pauses his stride and glances back. “If you’re as smart as you’re supposed to be, you’ll figure that out.”

  Fuck me.

  I hold my breath to stop the bile from taking over my throat.

  “Go home,” he says again, bowing his head as he walks away.

  “Hold on.” I raise a hand, my heart racing. “Don’t… Don’t go in there.”

  “Why not?” he asks, humoring me.

  “Because that’s Lilah Hart in there,” I answer. “And I’m pretty sure she’s not going to let anyone out alive.”