Poughkeepsie (43 page)

Mouse backhanded the dirt bag in a move eerily reminiscent of the one that had freed him from his shame so many years ago. He grabbed the asshole by the throat. “Don’t make that mistake again, fuckbag.”

Beckett lifted an eyebrow at the man in Mouse’s grasp. “Last time you’ll make fun of his voice, huh?”

Mouse shook his head and locked eyes with Beckett. “He can make fun of my voice all he wants, but if he ever calls you stupid again, I’ll eat his brains for breakfast.”

Beckett nodded. Mouse nodded back. The moment held a pact only those two men would recognize. Without a word, Mouse became Beckett’s bodyguard.

Mouse got his high school diploma and began helping Beckett with his finances. He tried not to think about his Grandma’s opinion of whores and drugs. He could only believe in the pattern he’d learned from Beckett—a pattern of respect and kindness.

Mouse learned quickly about the three brothers, and he remembered clearly the state his boss had been in when they buried the body of his last foster father. Mouse would be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped Beckett would consider him a brother too. So many times he’d looked on as Beckett wrapped his wrist around Cole’s or Blake’s arm and wished he had a tattoo as well. But he resigned himself to being a help to Beckett, keeping him alive and out of jail.

To celebrate five years of protecting his defender, Mouse had made a discreet visit to Chaos. As he laid his head on the dirty bunk in Chaos’s shed, he’d made a silent wish that someday he could show Beckett his tattoo.

An employee disrupted Mouse’s reverie. “Can I help you?”

Jo-Ann Fabrics appeared again around him.

“Thanks, no. I’m all good.” Mouse slung his grandmother’s treasured knitting sack over his shoulder.

The vibrating phone alerted him to a text from the boss.

Merkin’s a traitor, kidnapped Cole. Find Blake, keep him safe.
Trust no 1. ~Eve

Mouse dropped his merchandise and swiftly left the store. He hopped in his new hearse and had his laptop open before he’d closed the driver’s door. He pulled up the GPS tracker he and Merkin had installed on everyone’s phones.

Eve—or at least her phone—was off-grid. Merkin was speeding along Route 9, and Beckett was headed south on Franklin Road. He raged at Merkin’s deception. Mouse had never been totally thrilled about Merkin. There was something off, something about his demeanor that reminded Mouse of Billy from the good ol’ days of getting the crap tortured out of him every day. Merkin would die a painful death if Mouse got to him first.

35

And Me

L
IVIA
H
ELD
T
HE
D
OOR
handle with one hand and braced the other on the dash board. Her father was usually a sensible driver, but now Livia discovered his well-honed high-speed skills. In her near-panic over Kyle’s unknown condition she kept forgetting to breathe.

When the police radio crackled to life, John listened for a moment, then translated the cop speak for Livia. “They’re at a fire and saying there’s ammo in a building—that mall where Beckett Taylor conducts his…
business
.”

John gave Livia a withering look as he bottomed out the cruiser in the drainage ditch at the entrance to the hospital. When he pulled up to the ER, Livia was out before the car came to a stop. She headed straight for the closest check-in window.

John, on the other hand, busted right on through the swinging doors. “Kyle! Kyle McHugh!” he yelled.

Livia hesitated only a moment before she followed her father. He was armed, after all. He went from one curtain to another, sliding them aside with a noisy swoosh. He would look at the patient and move on, not bothering to put the curtains and their flimsy privacy back in place.

A pretty, brown-haired nurse stepped in front of the rampaging John. “Officer McHugh, Kyle’s in a room, not behind a curtain. Please come with me.” She kept talking as they moved down the hall. “I’m Nurse Susan Weiss. I spoke to you on the phone. Kyle’s doing fine. She arrived unconscious, and we’re monitoring her. We ran a tox screen to see why she’s unconscious, and she just got back from an MRI to double check for any head injuries. Her vitals are great.”

John stared at the nurse like he could burn all his worries into her face.

“She’s still unconscious, but the doctor thinks she’ll be coming out of it soon,” she finished as they arrived.

She opened the heavy hospital-room door and pulled back the curtain. Kyle seemed so small in the bed. An IV stand and a heart monitor that beeped with assuring regularity stood at her bedside, along with a doctor.

“Dr. Hartt, this is Officer McHugh and Livia, his daughter.” She touched John’s arm. “Dr. Hartt’s the best we have. Kyle’s in amazing hands.” Susan then busied herself with Kyle’s IV.

John stared at his daughter and choked back a sob. Livia felt tears hit her eyes at the sound of her father’s emotion. They both moved to Kyle’s bedside. John held her elbow, carefully avoiding the IV needle taped to her hand.

Livia smoothed back her sister’s hair and murmured, “Hey, I’m here.”

Kyle had a red rash around her nose and mouth that had been dressed with salve.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Ted Hartt. Kyle’s under the influence of some form of an inhaled anesthetic,” the doctor began. “Under different circumstances I might think she’d overdosed, but the paramedics on the scene felt she’d been attacked. There were signs of a serious struggle at the church.”

John looked confused, but Livia could feel her anger brewing.
Cole did this to her?

“The people who live in the building next door witnessed a group of men leaving the church. A woman named…” Dr. Hartt consulted a sheet of paper fastened to his clipboard. “Bea Florentine had an aide wheel her to the church and found your daughter. She said their multiple calls to police were not taken seriously.”

Bea. Sweet Bea was so brave to enter the church.

Another nurse popped in and handed Dr. Hartt an MRI film and a folder. He placed the MRI results on a light-up display.

“The MRI is clean,” he said after a moment. He opened the folder. “Looks like she was exposed to a chloroform-based chemical.”

“Cole. Cole. COLE!” Kyle’s eyes snapped open. They searched the room and seemed to register none of it. Finally, she found Livia next to her and delivered her desperate message. “Cole! They kidnapped Cole. Cole!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Livia said, her own panic rising. “I’ll find him.”

John began grilling the doctor about the paramedics involved. Now that his daughters were safe, he seemed to shift into policeman mode. He wanted to know who did this to Kyle and exactly what had happened.

Livia stood back as her sister began to vomit. The nurse closest to John grabbed a bedpan with the reflexes of a pro basketball player. She had it under Kyle’s mouth before she could do any damage to the blankets.

Livia backed up as Kyle tried again to yell something about Cole. She clawed frantically and tried to pull out her IV. Dr. Hartt gave terse instructions for a sedative, which Nurse Susan delivered. Kyle fell asleep again, her mouth open in the middle of saying Cole’s name.

Livia put her hand on Susan’s arm while she still stood close. “Ms. Weiss, was Kyle okay
everywhere
else?”

Susan nodded quickly. “She showed no sexual trauma.” The nurse patted Livia’s arm. “And please call me Susan.”

Livia bit her lip and continued murmuring to Susan, ignoring the bustling men in the room. “Tell me what effect this chloroform is having on my sister, please.”

Susan looked at Livia with kind eyes. “Kyle’s going to be fine. The vomiting is to be expected. She’ll have a headache, but assuming she has no allergic reactions or underlying problems, I’d imagine she’ll go home within a day or so.” Susan looked back at the patient.

Livia felt relief wash over her. Kyle would be fine, if she’d just stay put. But Cole, wherever he was, was in serious trouble. Livia had to tell Beckett.
Blake. Oh God.
Her pocket began ringing.

“Please take that outside,” Susan said.

Livia walked obediently down the hall, but when she pulled out her phone there was no call—just a text from a number she didn’t recognize:

Livia, this is Mouse. Where r you? Is Blake with u?
U stole a mask from me (Just so u know it’s really me)

Livia texted back quickly:

I was going to meet him @ train station. But I’m @ hospital
with Dad and Kyle. She said Cole was kidnapped. She is ok.

Mouse’s response was alarming:

Cole was taken. Beckett knows. We have traitors in the group.
Stay put. Tell ur father 2 keep u next 2 him. I’ll find Blake.

Livia put a hand over her mouth and leaned against the wall. All hell was breaking loose, and Blake was out in the open, hurt. It was all her fault. From Kyle’s room she heard her father trying again to get a detailed description of what his daughter had been through. Livia took comfort in the fact that the doctor’s last name was Hartt.
Is that common?

She’d just have to wait for Mouse to find Blake. Would he even be at the train station? Livia felt a sudden chill.
I wouldn’t be there if the situation was reversed
.

Livia considered explaining what was going on to her father, but she knew he would handcuff her to Kyle’s bed and stand with his gun pointed at the door, frisking anyone that walked through it. She couldn’t add any more stress to his night—not if she could quickly solve this problem on her own.

When the idea hit her, she felt a certain kinship with Beckett.
Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Livia returned to Kyle’s room long enough to lift her father’s keys from the nightstand. After surveying the bustling activity, she knew she could slip out unnoticed. She needed to get to Blake. Quickly. Safely. She blew a kiss in her sleeping sister’s direction.

Livia ran down the hall and out of the ER. The police cruiser was still just where they’d left it, lights blazing. At least her dad had turned off the motor and locked the doors. Livia hopped in and left the lights on as she accelerated out of the parking lot.

She drove to the train station. This would be hard to explain later, but right now it was perfect. She tore into the parking lot and stopped right in front of the stairs. Livia was taking them three at a time before she realized she was out of the car.

Blake wasn’t there. She tried not to feel hopeless as she stared at his empty spot. She knew for sure he’d heard what she said to her father. She felt a crack in the place where she kept him in her heart. She walked over to his favorite spot, as if somehow he might materialize, and noticed a familiar stone. She stubbed her fingers as she grabbed it from the cement. It was the rock from Blake’s pocket.
B+L

She put it to her lips and tried to imagine what finding it here meant. Had he left it in anger? Had he been kidnapped like Cole and left it as some sort of sign she was supposed to understand?

She turned to trudge back up the steps. She might as well wait for Mouse and tell him what she’d found. Her cell phone made an ominous beep. Low battery.
Damn it!

Livia looked to the sky in anguish and saw a glow in the distance, just past Firefly Park. She began to run. When she reached the car she turned off the cruiser’s emergency lights. There was definitely a hazy orange hovering in the trees.
In the woods
. It hit her like a punch in the teeth.
Our spot in the woods. His clearing is on fire
.

Livia jumped back in the police car. She punched the buttons of her phone, only to hear the jingle of it shutting down. She picked up the police radio instead.

“Hello? This is Livia McHugh. I need police assistance at Firefly Park!” She listened as the dispatchers’ voices overlapped each other. They seemed to completely disregard her in their buzz over the recent explosions.

Livia looked around, surveying her options, and felt like throwing up when she saw Chris’s Beast parked in the lot with stupid Dave’s crappy little black car next to it.

Livia drove the cruiser right up on the grass and tried one last time to make contact with the rest of the world. “Send cops to Firefly Park,” she ordered. “There’s been another explosion.”
Maybe…but I definitely need help out here!

The idea of walking into the dark woods was not appealing. She looked in the car to see if her dad had anything worth bringing along. Peeking out from under the driver’s seat was Kyle’s favorite weapon. A Mag light! She dragged it out and hefted its comforting weight in her hands.
A Chris-basher.

She felt a trickle of courage like an IV straight from Kyle. Livia ran for the woods, ducked under the fence, and turned the flashlight on the underbrush. She moved quickly, trying not to speculate about what she might find at the clearing.