In Her Sights (17 page)

He took the last few steps to meet her on the patio. “You
already fixed the problem with your friend?”

She smiled. “Mike is working on that right now. Arnold’s
girlfriend just dropped by and told me Arnold was missing.”

“We know that already.”

“According to her, he took off Tuesday afternoon. I’m
guessing he left shortly after he handed me the dagger. When did you notice him
gone?”

Clayton took a breath and thought back. They’d pulled so
many backgrounds relating to this in the last forty-eight hours. “The next day.
Livingston found flights for him to Jamaica. He left out of Monroe early
Wednesday morning, hopped to Dallas, and went on from there. As of then, there
was no return information. Livingston is keeping his finger on it to see if
anything pops up.”

“You would think, with something dangerous like this, he
would have taken his girlfriend with him.”

“Most men would.”

“From what I hear whispered at parties, most don’t consider
him a man.” She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’ve got to get back to the
kitchen.”

Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and bags were starting to
show under them. He lived off coffee when the hours were tough like this, but
so far he hadn’t seen her drink anything but water. He didn’t know how she was
still on her feet. “Hey, Lexie?”

“Yes?”

He opened his mouth, planning to tell her to get some rest
when she finished with her friend. That if he had any questions, they’d hold
over until tomorrow. Good sense thankfully returned and he thought better of it.
Telling a woman she looked worn down wasn’t one of his better ideas. “Good luck
with your friend.”

“Okay.” A smile tilted the corners of her lips up. “Thanks.
She’ll be okay.”

She walked away from him, and he found his breath. Something
he couldn’t explain, but when she first walked across that patio, in that light
purple dress, he…he didn’t know. Every time he’d seen her so far, there was
always this outside complication. Games and maneuvering and trying to figure
each other out.

Not that any of that was over, but for just a moment as she’d
come toward him, that’s all he’d seen. A woman walking toward him.

He knew what those feelings meant. He liked her. It was as simple
as that. Not a casual appreciation for someone, but he liked her. It was the
first time in a long while he had met a woman and wanted to know more. Not just
for the sake of the dagger and all that hanging over, but he was curious.

“You’ve got a look in your eye that I don’t think I’m going
to like.”

He blinked and looked at Reid, who had walked up. “Do not.”

“Bullshit.” Reid shook his head. “You might as well send her
flowers this afternoon with the dreamy way you’re looking at her.”

Now that was a stretch. “I’m just trying to keep her close
until I know more about her.”

“By the way you’re staring at her as she walked off, I’d say
you’re aiming to have her as close to you as a man can have a woman.”

Now, that wasn’t true at all. He was still trying to figure
the woman out, and that was no easy task. For now, he was just keeping her
close, as he said. Watching and seeing what he could figure out about her, and
nothing else. With her owning the building he worked in, they just got closer
for a long time. He’d save that for another time to tell Reid.

Chapter Sixteen

Hours later, Gen left with a perfectly baked pound cake to
tempt her husband. Clayton and his crew had departed. Her new system was
installed and fully functional. The sun had set. She had managed another nap,
and now it was time. Dressed in black with a cap covering all but her eyes and
mouth, she let herself in her upstairs office with Julia bidding her to be
careful. Lexie nodded and glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be back before you
know it.”

She pushed the wall shut and locked it in place. Rows of
shelving lined the long and narrow room. Weapons—from pistols to a few knives
and rifles—were all in their place, each cleaned, free of fingerprints, and
ready for use. Ammo lined the lower shelf and held boxes that were clearly
marked. Extra magazines were filled and waiting. It had taken years to build
the extensive collection.

Walking down the line, she traced the hard plastic case
containing her first rifle. A .308 that was broken down, waiting to be used. It
was her favorite weapon. Being perched far away while taking the shot was the
best way to get the job done. The biggest risk on those nights was maintaining
her cover.

For tonight she needed things fitted for close range just in
case. She loaded up on a hand gun, extra bullets, a knife, clipped her staff and
other accessories to her belt, and headed for the escape tunnel.

At the very end of the room, by the escape tunnel, she
grabbed one of the silver arrows. Using a marker, she wrote with her left hand
a date, location, and time. She pushed the arrow in the small, enclosed quiver
mounted on the black bow. While Artemis carried a silver bow, Lexie had to be
invisible in the shadows. With the bow secured across her shoulders, she headed
for the door at the back of the room.

It was time. Hand on the latch, she closed her eyes and took
a few precious moments to suck in a breath of air that was full of safety and
home. She released it in a long exhale. Even the simplest plans could end in a
nightmare, and this moment could be her last.

But only if they caught her. She pressed the latch down,
stepped on the top ladder rung and started down the long length. It was a three story descend just to reach ground level. Then another floor after that to be underground.
At the base of the ladder, she flipped the lights on, and fluorescents extended
down a long and narrow tube. She started jogging, cutting under the grounds of
her property to the guest house she owned next door. At the end of the tunnel,
there was a door similar to the one in her home. Once inside, she flicked on
lights to the underground garage.

A simple and unassuming black Mustang waited in the small
room. A common enough sports car. Parents often managed to get their hands on a
used one for their teenagers. Under the hood was where the common stopped. She
couldn’t even say if there were any Ford parts left, but she didn’t
need the mechanic lingo to stomp her foot on the gas to see if it would go. And
the car would most definitely go when she needed it to.

She slid in behind the wheel, put her bow and arrow to the
side, and cranked the engine. She tapped the garage button as the vibrations
rumbled through the car. The roof of the room dropped, parted and opened. The
lift raised her to the street-level garage of the guest home. With a tap of a
different garage opener, she opened the door and drove out, hitting the button
again to close everything back down as she drove away.

She hugged curves as she drove from the center of Melville
to Gillette, careful to watch traffic signs. All the glass on her car was
special order, reflecting light off the surface of the windows to protect her
image from traffic lights and other security mounted along the street. The only
thing she had to do was avoid being pulled over for speeding. Not that she
couldn’t outrun a police car if she needed to or that she didn’t have places
around the county to hide, but the less attention, the better.

She drove through the narrow and deserted streets of
Gillette and pulled into a private parking garage that was secured with a key
code. While these street gangs weren’t rich, with all the fighting they did
amongst each other, both had key-coded garages for their cars and other items
they wanted to keep hidden. It enabled her to hide more efficiently with a
private, rented spot of her own.

She checked her arrow to make sure her note hadn’t smudged
and nodded at the still-spiky letters.

Direct. No frills. It had taken months of tedious practice
to master that skill.

Saturday. 3. dark. You know where. -Artemis

The meeting location was the spot where, years ago, they had
found their leader after she’d taken him down. The deserted park wasn’t used by
anyone when the sun was down. It was centered around a lot of buildings and
offered a lot of exits.

She concentrated most of her time on cleaning this part of
town, but with the gangs still alive and well, it was difficult. Things were
possible, though, since Lexie could poor money into the area while Artemis took
care of the nuisances.

She grabbed her bow and arrow and secured it across her
chest. Using the ladder on the far side of the wall, she climbed to the roof, and jumped across the narrow alley that was wide enough for bicycles and
little else. She climbed down from the next building and stuck to the shadows
as she moved.

The house was in a rundown neighborhood. It appeared just as
old as the others, except it reeked of trouble. If the satellite dishes stuck
to the side in the poor neighborhood didn’t give it away, then the occasional
person passing the windows every two minutes did.

She set the arrow, drew the string back, and steadied her
aim. The tip of the arrow lined up with her mark, and she released. Before she
could even get turned around, the thunk of the arrow smacked the door in the
quiet night.

Within seconds, the door would be opened, the note read, and
they would be out with guns, looking. She didn’t hang around. Afraid of her or
not, if they had a chance to kill her, they would take it in a moment. No need
to become a moving target in the middle of a neighborhood. At the first chance,
she crossed a street heading back to her car and sprinted through the dark
silence of the night to get back home.

She parked with no problems under the guest house, jogged
the trip through the underground tunnel, and walked into her office. She placed
weapons along an empty shelf on the opposite wall. Even though they weren’t
used, she would thoroughly clean them before using them again. Each bullet
wiped back down and then stored in their spot. Lexie stripped, dropped
everything she wore in the small basket by the door, and slipped on a robe that
had been folded over the back of her chair.

At some point, Alex would see that her car was refilled with
gas and Julia would see that her clothes would be washed, folded, and placed
back in her office. They worked for her, but this part of her life was more
than a job for all of them.

They all had a bad home life and all they wanted was some
normalcy. Somehow protecting people from the bad guys gave them that normalcy.
Or at least brought them all some peace.

Alex and Julia had raised her as their own daughter better
than her mother or father had ever thought about. Dad cheated on Mom with every
skirt passing his way, and Mom was too proud to admit she had made such a
terrible mistake in marriage.

Through each and every fight, as they yelled and then spent
days sulking, it was Julia and Alex who tended to her, checked homework,
punished her for misbehavior. They tucked her in at night and read stories
about princesses being rescued. Tried to do what her parents wouldn’t.

All Lexie had ever wanted from her parents was to be noticed.
They never gave it to her. Never said they loved her. There were no pats on the
head from them or comments that she’d done a good job. She didn’t need that
approval anymore. Seeing a victim crying with relief during an interview after
killing the attacker the night before was all the
‘atta girl
Lexie
needed.

She fetched the juice and sandwich Mike had placed in the
small refrigerator some time earlier. She sat on the balcony off her bedroom in
the quiet night, enjoyed the soft breeze, and ate while everyone else crawled
in bed for a few more hours.

After finishing, she started toward bed, but a knot formed
at the base of her neck. It wasn’t a crick from sitting wrong. It was a
frustrating wad of memories that, for some reason, backed up in her neck. She faced
the large doors of her bedroom, not seeing them. Instead, she imagined her
parents’ bedroom from that morning years ago. She lowered her head and glanced at
her bed.

For a moment, she closed her eyes. Pretended she would crawl
in, pull the covers up, and drift to sleep in moments. Reality smacked hard,
though, and there would be no sleep. Just the frustrating tossing and turning.
An ache in her head that would spread restlessness through her limbs. For years,
she had fought these memories and the fear.

After all she accomplished and became in her life, she was
afraid of her parents’ bedroom. An unrealistic fear, but she always imagined if
her parents’ killer came back for her, he’d be waiting in that room for her to
open the door.

If she never went there again, she’d be safe. Thoughts of a
terrified girl had latched on and she’d never been able to shake them.

She swallowed and faced her bedroom doors. Again, she saw
that knob of her parents’ room. All she had to do was turn it then there’d they
be. Bloodied and butchered. There would be the stiff, metallic scent. The air
coming through the opened window would smell faintly of banana muffins.

The rest was a flash in her head. Nothing but nightmares
that had rooted in her memories and never let go. Her throat tightened as a
cloaked figure stood over their bodies. He wore a black mask and black clothes.
There was no color to him, no jewelry, not a mark of any kind. He just stood
over them with a big bloodied knife in his hand as he crocked his finger at her
to come forward.

Sweat pebbled across her upper lip. Heat flushed on the back
of her neck. She reached out and put her hand to the cool window pane. For a
moment, she just breathed. Concentrated on the spring flowers blowing in the
wind and tried to forget the banana scent in the air.

One by one, the memories loosened the choking hold from her
throat. There would be no man hiding on the other side and waiting to take her.