Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) (15 page)

We put one foot in front of the other and walked on.

Eighteen

I slid my phone into my back pocket and inched toward the melody. I approached the edge of the platform, which was now about two inches above my head. Vance crouched behind me, his height for once in his life leaving him at a disadvantage. I removed my goggles, placing them next to my boots, and stood on tiptoes to peek over the ledge.

The room was deep but narrow. Oliver was in a chair shoved back in the left corner.  In the right corner were two makeshift cots, and a small lantern glowed on the floor. Oliver’s head sagged. His arms and legs were bound behind his back, but his body moved as he drew in steady breaths—he was alive. 

A folding table sat in the middle of the room with stray bags of fast food scattered about, and a rogue French fry was left to dehydrate in the open air. That explained why the rat had been so close; he’d smelled dinner.

Two men sat side by side opposite Oliver. The one deepest into the room tilted his chair back against the wall, lifting the front two legs off the floor. The other was hunched forward in his seat, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He took a deep draw, and the paper glowed orange down to the filter before he squished it under his sole. He exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke while both men stared into their phones, distracted and unaware.

They weren’t average street thugs. Their dark washed jeans, nice haircuts, and expensive shoes gave them away. I didn’t see any weapons, but guessed the bulge on the waistband of the smoker to be a gun. 

I ducked my head and turned to Vance, telling him everything I knew with my hands and mouthing as much as I could, taking advantage of the music that would conceal my voice. Vance nodded. We crept below the ledge, closer to the wall where the men sat.

I had to go first. I was too short to easily get into the room myself. Vance would have to hoist me onto the ledge, and then he’d follow. I glanced up one more time to verify no one had moved. I put my fingertips on the concrete and put my boot in the center of Vance’s interlaced fingers. He lifted me quickly and soundlessly.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man who’d been hunched forward sprang from his chair and smacked his counterpart on the chest. “Ray! Shut that fucking song off.”

Ray’s chair slammed to the ground. “Fuck, Bobby! It’s a good song, damn.” He stood, saw me, and stared back at Bobby for instruction after turning off the music.

Upon closer inspection, I recognized Ray’s face from the crowd on Oliver’s set. I moved forward with my weapon drawn as Vance raised himself into the room behind me. “You have something of ours and we’ve come to get him,” I said, moving my gun toward Bobby first and then to Ray.

Bobby reached into his waistband.

Vance withdrew his gun. “Hands! Show us your hands!”

He stopped reaching but showed no hands. “We’re not showing you anything. You guys cops? Where are your badges?”

“Put your hands up!” I ordered.

I observed them. Bobby was less distressed than Ray, whose pulse throbbed visibly in his neck and whose breathing rate had doubled since his feet hit the pavement. He was the more dangerous of the two—skittish. And skittish equaled unpredictable. I crept toward Oliver.

For each step I took, Vance followed, walking around both men in an arc, neither man offering any sign of submission. I closed in on Oliver. His face had seen better days. His right eye was swollen and red, the corner of his mouth crusted with blood.

“Last time, hands! I wanna see them!” Vance shouted. “I’d rather not kill anyone today.”

“We aren’t showing you anything until you show us your badges.” Bobby cocked a wry smile. His legs were spread wide, and he was ready to lunge. “He’s worth millions. You think we’re just going to hand him over to the first person waving a gun in our faces?” He shook his head. “Did that bitch pay you to come here?”

“That’s not your concern.” Vance inched closer to them as I crept closer to Oliver.

Bobby spoke over his shoulder to Ray. “Knew we couldn’t trust her.”

“Look, we’re walking out of here with him. You can let us do that and live, or you can die. Your choice.” Vance’s boots shuffled and stopped when he was standing in front of them.

Bobby laughed and turned to his friend. “This fuckin’ guy, do you hear him? He’s got some balls. He the one you got the other day in the park?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. Got my knife dirty. How’s that head, princess? Couldn’t take a hint, could ya?” He took a couple steps my way, but I’d almost made it to Oliver’s side.

Bobby turned back to Vance. “Cut ya good, did he?”

“Take one more step toward her and you’re dead.” The calmness of Vance’s voice sent a chill through me.

“You can’t just shoot us, we aren’t even armed.” Bobby stared at Ray out of the corner of his eye. Ray leapt toward the table and reached for something underneath one of the bags of garbage.

“Vance!” I dove toward Ray but was a moment too late. A shot was fired and another and another. I dropped to the ground and scrambled toward Oliver shielding his body with mine.

Oliver sprang to life, yanking on his fastened wrists. “What’s going on?” His words slurred together.

When no more shots were fired, I released my hold on him. I patted his knee and assessed him. He was unharmed. I checked myself. I hadn’t been hit either. “It’s okay. We’re here to get you out. Vance?”

I turned, and Ray dropped to his knees. His chin smacked the edge of the table before his face planted on the concrete. Blood collected under his body and began to trickle away in a thin stream. He was dead.

“I’m cool,” Vance answered.

The room was still as I loosened the ties around Oliver’s ankles. “You got the other one?”

Vance’s boots shuffled on the floor somewhere behind me. “Yeah, I got him.” I took my eyes off Oliver to locate Vance’s feet.

He was checking Bobby’s pulse. Crouching, he peered under the table. “You good?”

“I’m fine. Is he dead?”

“Still has a pulse, but he’s not looking good. Get Oliver out of here.”

I worked on the final tie holding Oliver’s hands behind his back. He rubbed his wrists and blinked. I helped him from his chair and wrapped my arm around his waist.

“How’d you know where I was?” he asked.

“The tracking chip in your wallet.”

He released a drowsy laugh. “Guess it was a thing good… good thing I convinced you… let you guys convince me to keep that.”

“Vance, he’s not all here. I might need your help getting him down.”

“I’m fine,” Oliver offered.

I patted his stomach as we ambled toward the edge of the platform. Bobby had been rolled on his back. His chest rose and fell slowly. He’d been shot in the lower abdomen, and blood dripped from the side of his mouth.

I walked Oliver to the edge of the platform and made sure he stopped before stepping off. “Can you sit down and slide off?”

He blinked and swallowed, swaying with his arms extended. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

Vance came to Oliver’s side and helped him sit before he went head first into the tracks. Vance hopped down, lifted his arms up, and lowered me to the ground. He grabbed Oliver under his forearms and assisted with his descent.

“I’m not crazy about leaving you here,” I said.

Vance hopped back onto the platform and squatted next to Bobby again. He pulled his phone out. “Go. What’s gonna happen now? The damage is done.”

“How’re you going to explain this?”

“Tell the truth. They were both reaching and were going to shoot me at the same time. It was self-defense.” He searched in his pocket and tossed me the keys to the Rover. “I’ll call the cops, Camille, and everyone else. Just go. Get him to a safe house. That’s all I want you to worry about.”

“Okay.”

“Why do we have to go to a safe house? I want to go home.” Oliver wobbled a bit at my side and caught himself against the wall.

“I know you do,” I said. “But we need to make sure those were the only two men involved in this before we take you home. Given what just went down, we have to be certain.

I grabbed my goggles off the ground and slid them over my eyes. Vance’s voice echoed in the distance as he phoned the incident in. Oliver and I walked down the black tunnel, his arm draped over my shoulder.

“I can’t see anything,” he said.

“I can. Just follow my lead. We have a little ways to walk until we reach the doors to the outside. For now, there’s nothing but gravel under your feet.”

“Okay.”

Another rat ran across the tracks in front of me, and I shuddered. I quickened my pace and pulled Oliver. We hustled the rest of the way to the doors, and I escorted him through, helping him up the grassy embankment.

“The car’s just down the road there. Can you make it that far?” I pointed to the Range Rover. “I can bring the car to you if you want to wait here.”

“I’m Oliver Pierce, damn it. I’ve been blown up, stabbed, and shot more times than I can count.” He chuckled. “I can make it, no problem. My eyes are still a little blurry, though.”

“How’s your stomach?”

“It’s okay. I’ve felt worse.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes while we made our way to the car.

I secured him in the front seat after watching him fumble with uncooperative fingers attempting to fasten his seatbelt. We left Vance to sort out the mayhem left in our wake, and I hated everything about it. Each street I turned down took us farther away from the city and farther away from Vance.

As I drove along the interstate, terrible thoughts consumed me. What might happen if there’d been three men instead of two? Someone could have snuck up on Vance and shot him in the back. He could have been dying as I stared through the windshield. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d done nothing. I called Commander Rivas. After giving him a quick report, he promised to check on Vance, which helped set my mind slightly more at ease.

I continued north of the city. A few miles up the road, I took my exit and headed into a residential area. Deep into a quiet neighborhood, I turned onto a dead end street and parked on a cul de sac, stopping in front of a small gray house with white shutters.

“We’re here,” I said. “We can go in and get comfortable for the night. You can shower and change clothes if you’d like. I need to make some phone calls.”

He sat quietly before reaching for my hand on the steering wheel. “I’m incredibly grateful for what you and your partner did today. I can’t thank you enough.”

I covered his hand with my other and squeezed. “You should thank Camille actually.”

“Camille?” He pulled his hand away and laid it on his lap.

I nodded. “She negotiated with the men who took you. She was dead set on us finding you so this didn’t get splashed all over the morning news.”

His brows shot up. “Really?”

“What’d you think? She’d leave you to die?” I laughed a little.

He shrugged. “Well, with how things have been going lately, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“She wanted you back, safe and sound.” I smiled. “Now, let’s get inside and get you cleaned up.”

At the door to the house, I punched in a six digit security code on the lock hanging from the doorknob. The light on the pad beeped and went from red to green.

The interior was a far cry from the lap of luxury Oliver was used to, but there was a comfortable couch, a basic kitchen stocked with nonperishable items, running water, and a bathroom with clean towels.

“I can make something to eat if you’d like.”

He clutched his abdomen. “I’m not sure I can stomach any food just yet. You think they have any antacids in this place?”

I grimaced. “I’m not sure. We might only have the basics like aspirin and Tylenol. Let me go check.” I went upstairs and rooted through the bathroom medicine cabinet and the hall closet but came up empty. Downstairs, Oliver sat on the couch. “I’m sorry, there isn’t anything.”

He groaned. “That’s okay. I’ll have to stick it out.” He paused. “Unless, you could run out and get some? You could lock me in or something. I may have understated how miserable I am.”

I shook my head. “I can’t leave you alone. It’s too risky.”

His gaze shifted downward. “Oh… I understand.”

I crossed my arms and brought my hand to my mouth, tapping my lips. “Just a second. Let me make a quick call.” I took my phone from my pocket and dialed Greyson’s number.

“Di, my lady! What’s happenin’?” Greyson asked.

“Hey, I need a favor. You think you could help me out?”

“Probably. What do you need?”

“I’m at the safe house on Bayberry. You live near here, right?”

“Yeah, just down the road, more or less.”

“I need to run out to grab something. Can you cover for me? Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, no problem.” He grunted, and I pictured him getting off a comfortable couch. “I can be there in about five. Cool?”

“Yes. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it. Sit tight. Be right there.”

I slipped my phone into my back pocket. “Okay, one of the guys working for you tomorrow is on his way over. I’ll run to the store when he gets here.”