I nudge Chevy with my foot. “Listen to you being all decisive. Making decisions about stuff the club doesn’t even know about yet. It’s like you’re a whole new man.”
“I’m not playing when it comes to you and Razor. You’re both putting yourselves on the line. Least we can do is back you up.” Chevy takes in the small room and continues to speak before I can react and inform him that’s he avoiding what I said. “It’s smart.”
“What?”
“For the police to have a place like this. If someone is working for them and they’re being followed, then they can’t go into a police station. But someone visiting a run-down trailer in the middle of a hundred run-down trailers? It’s a good cover.”
“We also have houses in middle-class neighborhoods and a mansion in a fancier place. We chose this place because it’s closer to where you’re going.” Detective Barlow strolls in and, like always, he’s in a white button-down shirt. “How are you doing, Violet?”
“I’m good.” If good means on the verge of puking. “So how does this wiretapping thing work? What happens if they pat me down? Should I have worn something bulkier so they don’t see the wires and stuff?”
The good detective comes close to smiling and that unnerves me. This man is not the type who smiles. He rubs his knuckles against his jaw. “Did you bring what I asked?”
Yes, and I don’t like the idea of this being in anyone else’s hands beside me and my mother’s. I reach into my pocket and extract Dad’s watch. It’s old-school. A Rolex my grandfather gave my dad the day I was born. Gramps told my dad that he had become a real man that day—bringing a child into the world.
The detective reaches for it and I curl my fingers around it, then bring it to my chest. “What are you doing?”
“We have a professional in the next room who is going to open the watch and insert a mini voice recorder. Once we’re done, my guy will take out the recorder and return the watch to exactly how it is now.”
“I already lost this watch once and it broke my mom’s heart. She’s keeping it in the curio cabinet. Do you know what that means? It’s precious to her.” It means it’s her world.
“You wore this watch when you were kidnapped. They won’t question it being on you again. I put another piece of jewelry on you or a button that doesn’t quite match or anything else, they might jump to the right conclusion. This watch will give me the audio recording I need and will keep you safe.”
Handing him Dad’s watch. It’s like he asked me to cut off my leg.
“You’ll get it back,” he says.
I better or he’ll never be able to father children. With way more effort than it should take, I place Dad’s watch in the palm of his hand. The detective holds it with an air of reverence and that one slight gesture makes me feel slightly less like slitting my wrists.
I’m like a jack-in-the-box that has been sprung and I jump to my feet to pace the small room. Hands in my pockets, hands out of my pockets. Nausea in my stomach, knots in my throat. Vision clear, then fuzzy.
Hands on my hips and I’m spun into something very hard and very warm, and when I glance up, I’m met by the most beautiful dark eyes. “I’ve got you, Violet.”
I melt. Every inch of me a puddle on the floor. His hold on my hips tightens, and as if I weigh nothing, he sits me on the cleared-off section of the desk. The mischievous grin on his face is ghostly mirrored on mine as he settles between my legs.
“We’re in a police station,” I say.
“Police trailer,” he corrects. “We already kissed in the police station. Just seems wrong to not kiss here, too.”
My heart aches as I drink him in. Chevy. Broad-shouldered, a waterfall of muscle, dark hair, dark eyes, perfection and beauty and every cell within my body calls out to him. A sharp pang of regret causes me to close my eyes.
“Violet,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head that I don’t want to answer, but then fingers roughened by years of hard work raise my chin.
“Tell me.”
My mouth dries out and I swallow to help. “I regret not making love to you the other night.”
He tilts his head in understanding. “You weren’t ready and that’s okay. We’ll know when it’s the right time.”
I suck in my lower lip as the ends of my mouth bend down and tears prick my eyes. “What if that was the only time we had?” What if I mess this up and don’t make it out alive?
His body stiffens and he cups my face with both of his hands. “It’s not. We are going to have plenty of time. Do you hear me? We’re going to get through this. Next month, this will start to become a fleeting memory and I’ll have to actually fill out a college application.”
I laugh, but don’t know why. Maybe because that sounds so normal and normal seems so obscure. I place my hands on his chest, lightly fisting his shirt and bringing him closer. “Tell me that after this is all over, we’re going to have the most boring and normal life ever.”
Chevy brushes his fingers along my side, and where there had been lots of fear and anxiety in my blood, there are now warm fuzzies.
“I promise—we are going to be so fucking bored.”
My lips edge up at the idea that he’s playing along. “I want normal. I want high school parties where people sing bad karaoke. I want pie at midnight at the diner. I want to make out under the bleachers during basketball games.”
“That doesn’t sound boring, Violet. That last one sounded like a fantasy coming to life.”
Because I’m soaking in all that Chevy is, I ignore where we are and how we shouldn’t be doing any of this. My fingers slide down to the hem of his shirt and sneak underneath to touch the curves of his abs. He sucks in a breath and a thrill runs through me that I can do this to him.
“Tell me you want to go to college.”
“I want to go to college.” His hands wander a bit lower and in a rapid movement he shifts me so that my body is sweetly pressed to his.
“Tell me we’re going to go to the same college.”
Chevy lowers his head and his lips whisper against mine as he speaks. “We’re going to go to the same college.”
The electricity building between us enters my veins as liquid fire. “Tell me you’ll never leave me again.”
“Never.” And he brings his lips to mine.
I open for Chevy—my mouth, my arms, my heart, my soul. It all belongs to him. I pour all that I am into this kiss and leave nothing behind. I revel in the perfect way that our lips move, the pleasing goose bumps that form along my skin as his fingertips glide along my thighs.
Everything about Chevy is heat and strength and every nip, every touch brings on a glorious spinning in my head. In this moment, I want more, I need more, but then there’s a clearing of a throat and the warmth I’m experiencing this time is in my cheeks.
Chevy kisses my forehead, hugs me close and then helps me off the desk. He keeps an arm around my shoulders as we face the detective.
“Do you need a few minutes or are we good to go over how today’s going to play out?” the detective asks.
Part of me wonders if he’s teasing, but he appears as serious as ever. Guess I’m about to walk into the valley of the shadow of death for him and he probably thinks the least he can do is let me kiss my boyfriend.
“We’re good,” I say.
“Then let’s go over the plan.”
CHEVY
I SQUEEZE VIOLET’S hand and she gives me a faint smile as she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. The moment reminds me a lot of when I put her into the bathroom when we were kidnapped. Like then, I feel like barricading the door and keeping her locked in until I can confirm she’s safe.
The detective is in the room Violet and I have been in and he’s going over the backup plans to the b
ackup plans with the two undercover agents who will be in the vicinity of the house where the exchange is taking place.
I pull out my cell and text: Only two police officers watching her and they will be down the street. They won’t have live feed because they’re scared the Riot will have equipment to detect bugs. She’s only wearing a recorder that they’ll listen to later. Understand what they’re doing, but this means we won’t have ears on the situation if it goes bad. They feel there are only two routes to leave the meeting place, and if they take Violet, they can stop it. I’m concerned about the Riot taking her, but I’m more concerned about what happens when she’s alone. Violet won’t tell me where the meeting place is. She figured out I’d tell you.
Razor and Oz are in a restaurant a few miles from here. The detective doesn’t trust me on not following, so he and I will be hanging here when Violet leaves. I can’t tell them what cars to follow or what direction they went. The moment Violet walks out of this trailer, we’ll be blind.
Razor: She figured it out because she knows us. I need you to lift the cell of one of the people going. Crack open the back and on the sim card is a 15 digit number called the IMEI. Get me that and I can track his cell.
Lifting cells. I’ve been doing it since I knew what a cell phone was and I’ve been lifting them off bikers to piss them off for years. Can’t say I’ve ever lifted one from a police officer before, but there’s a first time for everything.
Not as concerned on getting my hands on the cell as returning it. That’s when life gets tricky.
I watch the men as they talk. The cell that looks the easiest to lift would be from the guy with the black hair. His phone is half poking out of his back pocket. The guy with the blond hair also has his cell in his back pocket, but it’s dug deep. That’s a hell of a pick, but possibly doable. No way in hell I’m going for the detective. He sees too much. Knows too much. He’d probably pull a gun on me if I get within three inches of him.
To narrow it down, I shift my weight, scraping my knuckles against the wall in the hallway, and watch. It’s not a loud or sudden movement. Very subtle. The detective and guy with black hair both pause with the sound, but keep going. Blond-hair guy doesn’t react to it at all.
He’s my target.
Water runs in the bathroom. The knob turns and Violet emerges. She slides her hand along her jeans with nerves and blows out an unsteady stream of air. “I’ll take someone up on that water.”
Bingo. Blond volunteers and I don’t move from the door, but only angle my body so he can get through the doorway in the tight, cramped space I created. He slides by, his body hitting parts of my arm. Fingers shoot out, snatch his cell and then I’m entering the bathroom.
Door closed, I pop the cell out of its safety case, crack open the back, and using my own cell, I text Razor the IMEI number. My cell vibrates.
Razor: Got it. Is the phone turned on?
I push on the screen and it comes to life. Me: Yes
Razor: Good. Get it back on his body. I’ll start tracking now.
Me: We are only there as eyes and ears. That’s it. I gave my word that we’d let Violet play this out. Eyes and ears only. Do you got me?
Razor: Loud and clear. You’re starting to get as bossy as Oz.
I’ll take that as a compliment.
I flush the toilet for pretense, turn on the water as I pocket my cell and palm the police officer’s phone. I return to the office, but this time I lean my body half in the office and rest my other shoulder on the hallway wall so that there is room to go around without having to touch me.
Violet’s in the chair the blond abandoned and she’s listening intently and nodding along to Barlow’s instructions again. They’ve gone over it a hundred times, and I’m fine with them going over it a hundred more.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the blond returning down the hallway. I keep my eyes and posture turned on Violet. He’s got to think I don’t know he exists. Because the opening to enter is wide, he doesn’t shrink away from me.
In a movement so fast that I’m not even aware I’m moving, I use my foot to edge a box an inch in his direction and he stumbles on it. I react, grabbing his arm to help keep him from landing on the floor, and slip his cell into his back pocket, and as I help right him, I use the hand that had the cell to pat his back. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He glances down to the box full of paper to be recycled and kicks it out of the way. “Cramped spaces.”
“I get it. I share a tight two-bedroom condo with my mom.”
Violet glances up at me, oblivious to all that just took place. I wink at her for reassurance and she brightens before returning her attention to the detective.
She’s leaving in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes.
God help the souls of the Riot if she’s not back in my arms in an hour.
Violet
DROP THE NAMES Justin and Skull at least once, confirm with them what they are going to do with the account numbers, give them the account numbers, leave. The police will confirm I’m not being tailed, and the Riot will go off and hopefully try to use the account numbers the police tech people are now monitoring. Once the Riot do start to manipulate the accounts, the police swoop in, take the hard drives and make arrests.
It’s simple. Simple, simple, simple.
Except I’m the one who is sticking my neck on the chopping block and the Riot love to chop with their sharp, shiny knives.
I expected the Riot to choose a warehouse, because that’s what happens on TV. I also expected wires taped to me, but it turns out I’m wrong on both counts. The Riot chose a pick-your-own-goldfish fish store.
A fish store.
It’s beyond odd.
A bell dings when I enter, and if it wasn’t for the fact I’m scared to death, I’d probably be captivated by all the beautifully designed tanks that house hundreds of colorful fish. There’s a girl behind the counter, college age maybe, with dyed purple hair. She looks up from her book and gives a salesperson smile. “Hi, can I help you?”
“I’m here to meet Justin and Skull.” Points for me. I already dropped their names in the first words I spoke.
She hops down from her stool. “Wow, I haven’t heard anyone call him Justin in a while. They’re in the back and told me someone would be looking for them. Follow me.”
I do and we weave past the filled tanks to the supply area. To the left I spot a few frogs. “Do they own this place?”
“Yep. Skull loves fish. Sometimes he’ll come in and just sit and stare at them and not say a word to anyone.”
Creepy, but whatever floats his boat.
She knocks on a door and after a gruff “Come in” she opens it and waves her arm for me to walk in. Justin sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and from behind the desk, Skull’s working on a computer.
“Hey!” Justin smiles like we’re old friends. “Have a seat. Dad and I were just talking business.”
Who to kill next? How they should break into my house next time? “Okay.”
“Thanks, Cindy.” Justin winks. “Close the door behind you when you leave and make sure we’re not bothered for a bit.”
She sort of does this weird bustle of happiness at his attention and shuts the door with Broadway flare.
Justin stands and he takes out some sort of device. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to sweep you for bugs.”
“Paranoid much?” I say.
“Well, you did talk to the police. Arms out, please. This won’t take but a second.”
“To be fair, I only talked to the police because you kidnapped me.” I work hard to keep my breathing steady even though my pulse pounds in my ears. Justin slowly moves his black device up and around my body.
Jake Barlow explained this would happen and that this is why we were r
ecording only and not transmitting the conversation live for the detective to hear. He said the Riot would be searching for radio waves or something like that.
“Talking to the police, being around the police,” I continue even though I’m aware if I’m busted these might be my last words. “Those things sort of happen when you take someone against their will.”
“She’s clean,” he says to his father, then back to me. “Yeah, I see your point. As a side note, we’re going to need you to recant your statement from the police, refuse to testify, something like that. Try to convince your boyfriend to do the same. We’re going to do some work from our side, but we need those charges on our guys dropped.”
My fingers curl because I want to kill him. “I thought you said they were going against your orders and deserved jail.”
“They were, but they’ve served some time in lockup, since they weren’t granted bail, and they are now ready to accept responsibility for their actions and have agreed not to disobey.”
“Disobey, like not point a gun and shoot it at me.”
“Like that. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ve heard you’ve had a rough time with your knee.”
Yep, and it’ll hurt some more if I kick the crap out of him. “You know you’re going to hell, right?”
“Sure do. By the way, it’s not healthy to hold grudges.”
I drop into the seat and move my wrist so that the recording device is pointed in their direction. The office looks like any other office. It’s not formal and warm like my father’s, but it’s full of papers and stacks of folders and boxes. There are calendars on the wall and used coffee cups on the desk and many, many crumbs of something eaten hopefully recently.
“Sorry for the delay, I just finished paying an invoice and now I’ve got to finish this order. What type of fish do you like, Violet?” Skull asks while he keeps his eyes peeled to the screen. “Maybe we can stock it in your honor.”
“Personally, I like mine deep fried and with ketchup.”