Surviving the Storm, page 4
If I let her come back home that is.
As much as I hated the idea of bringing her with us, Garcia had a valid point. Leaving her locked in my hidden closet would only bring more suspicion on me if she was found later. Or if she managed to escape. It was better to have her with me, to be able to keep an eye on her, than take the chance.
Although I did like the idea of punishing her by leaving her there for the night. Maybe she'd remember who she married. Who she's supposed to be loyal to.
I saw the way Ayers was looking at her. He wants her, and I don't blame him. It was the way she was watching me, the look on her face when I had the gun pointed at him, that gave her away. She wants him just as much. That I won't allow.
She agreed to be mine. To a life with me. Whether she likes it or not, she's stuck with me until I decide otherwise.
"She's pissed at me. This is her way of rebelling, I'm sure."
Why am I downplaying this with my father? Of all people, he's the one I know I can count on. In fact, I need his help, so I'm going to have to divulge everything at some point.
Setting my briefcase on the edge of his desk, I clear my throat in an attempt to garner his full attention. His eyes flick between me and the briefcase a few times before he relaxes back in his chair.
"I need you to put this in the safe for me."
"What's in it?" he inquires, his attention shifting to the brown leather case.
"Sensitive material that could prove problematic should it land in the wrong hands."
"You're going to have to be more specific if you want me to help you. I'm guessing this could land me in trouble as well should someone look for it here."
My father is a smart man. Wise beyond his many years. How he was never elected into the Senate, I'll never know. His credentials are more impressive than mine. He's been the mayor for as long as I've been alive. Still, when it came to running for Senate, he failed.
It's his one failure in this lifetime. One my grandfather has never let him live down. One that continues to haunt him.
He's in the thick of it now. Running my campaign has brought him as close to having a Senate seat as he's ever going to get. He thrives on power, and I've given him full control.
But this… the contents of my briefcase, could change all that. If this fell into the wrong hands, the election would be over. I'd be hauled away in handcuffs. Stuck inside a cell.
That wouldn't last long, though. The people I work for would make sure I never made it to trial. I'd die in prison.
"Johnathan," my father says, leaning forward, waving his hand in front of my face. "I suggest you tell me what you've gotten yourself into so we can figure out how to fix it."
Fix it? I doubt this is fixable.
Still, I settle into the chair across from him and fill him in on all the details. Things I've never shared with anyone else. The words have never been uttered aloud.
I start with my involvement in the organization. How many women I've helped them smuggle into Mexico. Everything I know about the prostitution ring down to the key players I work with directly.
Then I tell him about Monica. What really happened. How it went down. Where she is now. Who has her.
Finally, Ayers’s persistence. His theories. The fact he was in my office earlier, trying to pry open my secret room. My concern they haven't closed Monica's case.
My father listens intently, nodding when appropriate. When I bring up Monica's name, his posture shifts ever so slightly. His eyes deceive him at the same time, widening in shock.
As my voice trails off, I expect him to speak up, to share his disappointment in me. Instead, he stands, moving to the opposite wall where I know he keeps his safe hidden behind an invisible panel. Once opened, he pulls out a stack of folders, closes the safe, and secures the door.
Dropping the stack on the desk in front of me, he takes his seat again and motions for me to look at the folders.
Reaching for the stack, my jaw drops open in shock when I realize what I'm looking at.
"Where did you get these?" I ask, shuffling rapidly through the files.
"They're mine."
My hand falters, causing a few folders to fall to the floor, papers scattering.
"Yours? How is that possible?"
"You work for me, Johnathan. You have since the beginning."
Staring at my father in disbelief, I realize everything I just told him he already knew. He's the reason the organization contacted me. He's the leader.
He's the one hiding Monica.
"This is a joke, right?"
"No, it's not. I had Mendez recruit you. I knew you'd fall in line. I even gave him the information to coerce you into working for us. With your stance on border patrol, I knew you'd fall in line. Not to mention the money. And we needed you. You were running around with all those girls. You needed to get serious, and if it meant letting you have a little fun before bringing us a new mark, so be it. You were still able to have your fun, but you were more cautious than before.
"No more pictures for the gossip magazines every week, a different girl on your arm. Without even realizing it, you became elusive to the photogs. You avoided them, made sure the girl was never seen with you. There was more at stake than your reputation. Instead of being a whore, you became the most eligible bachelor.
"Then you met Monica. By then you couldn't get out if you tried. To your credit, you still found the girls and kept up your end of the bargain, but you stopped fucking them first. You were in love with that girl, and I knew that meant you would eventually settle down. I started looking for your replacement. I was going to let you out, free and clear."
"Why didn't you?" I ask when he abruptly stops.
"She disappeared. You were back on the prowl immediately. If you were going to keep bringing in the girls, I wasn't going to stop you. Your numbers doubled. We were making more money than we had before. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth."
My numbers may have doubled, but I was miserable. Wanting Monica beneath me took all the fun out of fucking. Hell, half the time I didn't even get off, and if I wasn't going to get off, they sure as fuck weren't allowed to.
"But she didn't disappear, Johnathan," my father says before I can reply.
"Who has her?" I ask, knowing that if my father is at the head of the organization and he doesn't have her, he knows who does.
"That seems to be the million dollar question."
"What do you mean? I was told she was with the head of the organization. That's you. I know you don't have her, so who the fuck does?"
Anger is growing deep inside me. Did I think she was safe with a man that runs a sex trafficking operation? No, I didn't, but I knew where she was. I knew if I wanted to get to her, I could. All it would take is a phone call to set it up.
Seeing as how my father doesn't have her, and he's running the show, I'd like to know where the hell she is. Who the hell she's with. And who the fuck lied to me.
"Monica was never brought to us. There isn't even a file on her."
Popping open my briefcase, I pull out the file I have on Monica and toss it on the desk in front of my father.
"This is what I was given."
"By who?" my father asks after looking it over briefly.
"Garcia. He delivered her to Mendez."
As the words leave my mouth, I begin to question Garcia's loyalty. He's never given me a reason to before. He's been compliant with everything I've ever asked of him, almost too compliant now that I'm thinking about it. He never questions my requests. Does as he's told.
Hell, he's even shut out his partner, the one person he's supposed to be closest with. He's taken my side over his. He's more loyal to me than to him.
"Garcia's not your problem. It has to be Mendez. We've has the suspicion that someone's been looking into us for a few years now. My guess is that they flipped him."
Mendez.
That bastard. It makes me want to fuck up his face again.
"If he's working for the other side, how do we stop him from turning on both of us?"
"Both of us? Don't you mean turning on you? He has no idea who I am. No one does except you, and the only reason I told you is because your story wasn't adding up. If you hadn't told me about Monica, I never would have confessed to you. My identity is safe. Yours is not. Whatever you do, do it quick. If he's been hiding Monica for this long, you probably don't have much time before they come for you. I won't be able to bail you out of this, not if they have her."
Fuck!
I'm going to shoot Mendez right between the eyes. Right after he tells me where Monica is. I want to watch that bastard die. I want to see the life drain from his eyes. My face will be the last thing he sees.
And then, I'll finish what started all of this.
Visions of Monica's beautiful smile consume me. I didn't want her to die. I wanted her to live in shame every day, knowing that her betrayal was the reason she was where she was. I wanted her to suffer.
Since that didn't happen, death is the next best option.
I won't be able to kill her myself, though. Garcia's going to have to do it. As much as her betrayal hurt me, I still love her. I'll always love her.
A part of my heart will stop beating with hers.
A knock at the door clears the fog from my head. When I blink, I'm surprised to find moisture in the corner of my eyes.
Shoving the files back in my briefcase, my father slides it under his desk, out of sight, and calls for the visitor to enter.
Garcia slips through the door, closing it behind him.
"Driveway is clear. I have the limo out front, and I just gave Amelia a change of clothes."
Loyal. As always.
He's done exactly as I asked him to. He even grabbed Amelia a change of clothes without me having to say anything. He must have read the expression on my face in the car.
"Thank you, Garcia. Have a seat. We have something we need to talk about," I state, motioning to the chair next to me.
Looking between me and my father, a look of concern washes over his face briefly before Garcia moves to sit. His posture is rigid. I've never seen him nervous before.
"We have a small problem," I begin, turning in my chair so I'm facing him. "It's come to my attention that Monica never made it to her destination."
Garcia wrinkles his forehead in confusion, tilting his head to the side. A good sign that he's just as surprised as I was to hear.
"I believe Mendez has been compromised. In order to ensure my identity, and yours, remains anonymous, we need to remove him from the picture."
"With pleasure," Garcia replies quickly, jumping at the chance to engage with Mendez. Since day one, it's been obvious how much they hated each other.
"Actually, I'd like to be the one to do the honors, but I'd like you to set up the meeting. Tomorrow night. We'll take the first flight out in the morning."
Garcia nods in understanding.
"Do we know where she is?" he inquires when I don't continue.
"Not yet, but I guarantee he'll tell us when he begs for his life. And once we have her, I'll let you take the lead on that one."
A sinister smile slowly spreads across Garcia's face.
Six
Amelia
The moment I hear the front door open and close, a sense of relief washed over me. Katherine had been going on and on about some charity event she wants me to attend with her. As much as I love my mother in law, the last thing on my mind right now is attending some fancy dinner, talking to people I don't know.
All I can focus on is squeezing my best friend.
Now that Garcia is back, that dream is closer to becoming a reality.
As he walks into the kitchen, the first thing I notice is that he's dry aside from a few spots on his navy shirt. I'm assuming those are from walking inside just now. The wind and rain started to pick up here in the last ten minutes or so.
"Here," he says, dropping the bag I packed earlier at my feet. "Change and then we'll go."
What the hell is his problem? Garcia sounds like someone shoved a giant stick up his ass. Maybe the tree that fell.
The thought makes me want to giggle, but I don't. I should have expected him to be salty toward me. He works for Johnathan, not me. His loyalty lies elsewhere.
He disappears around the corner before I can reply, a scowl on his face per usual.
"Thank you for the coffee," I say to Katherine as I gather the bag. "I'm going to change so we can get going."
"Of course, dear. If you want to use my bathroom, you're welcome to. There's a brush and makeup in the top right-hand drawer. A blow-dryer and curling iron under the sink. Feel free to use anything you like."
Her kind words are lost among the back-handed insults she tosses in there. I don't look that bad. I should walk out of here looking like this to prove a point. I won't, but the fact I could isn't lost on me.
Slipping back into the same bathroom I did earlier, I set the bag on the toilet and unzip it. Sitting on top of my clothes is a note.
There's a gun under your blouse. The safety is on, but it's loaded. Tuck it in the back of your pants once you’re dressed. Keep it hidden and only use it if it becomes necessary.
What the fuck?
Slowly lifting my blouse from the bag, I find a pistol folded into my pants. Picking the gun up slowly with one hand, I'm surprised to find it's heavier than I expected. I’ve handled guns before but I don’t remember them weighing this much. Especially a gun this small.
It takes a minute but eventually I locate the safety and ensure it's on before setting the gun on the sink while I change.
The feel of the cool metal against the base of my back is nauseating. Yes, I've held a gun before, shot a gun before. I've still never liked them, and after having one pointed at me earlier, having one hidden beneath my clothes right now leaves me with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Did Garcia put it there? Or was it Ayers before he left?
It appears to be similar to the kind of gun they issue to police officers, at least as far as I can tell from the search I did on my phone. It had to be one of them.
But why?
Ayers leaving it would make sense, but I didn't pack the bag until after he left. So, unless he went back to the house and assumed I would get the bag at some point in time, it wasn't him.
That leaves Garcia.
But he works for Johnathan.
Does he think I'm in trouble? That I need to be able to protect myself? If that's the case, he knows something I don't, which worries me more than having to carry a gun.
Knocking on the door to Heath's office, my hand trembles.
"Come in," I hear Heath call.
Three sets of eyes are on me the moment I step inside, each of them telling a different story. Heath appears to be the most relaxed. Johnathan looks as if he's ready for a fight. And Garcia has an indifferent look on his face. The same look he normally has.
"I'm ready to go when you are," I state, keeping my focus on Johnathan and my back to the door. There was a coat in the bag as well, and I slipped it on before leaving the bathroom in hopes that it would better hide the gun, but I still worry it'll be discovered.
"We'll be out in a minute," Johnathan says, dismissing me with the wave of his hand.
Backing out of the room, I chance a glance in Garcia's direction. He gives me a slight nod and returns his focus to Heath.
There's no doubt in my mind now where this gun came from. A part of me was hoping it wasn't Garcia. I wanted it to be Micah. He said he was going to protect me. It would have made more sense coming from him.
The fact it was Garcia causes a shiver to run up my spine, the gun shifting slightly.
Johnathan scared the shit out of me earlier. I have a feeling it was only the beginning of everything. I'm more worried now than I've ever been in my life. Probably because I don't know who or what to be scared of. I can't prepare for whatever's coming.
That's the worst part of all.
It could be anything or anyone. I'll have to keep my guard up at all times. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and pray I make it out of this unscathed.
* * *
Johnathan's mood is shit as Garcia carefully navigates toward the city. He stares at his phone most of the ride, cursing under his breath every so often.
As we pull up in front of the hotel, I contemplate telling him about Beth. I sent her a text letting her know where we were headed before we left the house. I also told her to act surprised to run into me. A 'happy accident' is how I put it. Her reply was concerning, but she agreed to play along as soon as I promised to tell her everything once we were alone.
The streets are empty as we make our way along the sidewalk and through the revolving door of the hotel. Once safely in the lobby, Garcia takes the lead, checking us into our suite and carrying our luggage to the elevator. I didn't notice Johnathan had his own bag until I saw Garcia sling it over his shoulder.
Three of the four elevators are out of order. This annoys Johnathan when he realizes we have to wait for the only working one to come back down from the tenth floor.
I'm scanning the lobby as casually as possible for Beth while we wait but don't spot her. I'm going to have to sneak into the bathroom and text her as soon as we're in the room otherwise my only option to see her will be to confess to Johnathan that she's here. His shitty mood will only get worse.
The elevator dings, announcing its arrival. As the door slide open, a familiar face comes into view.
Beth.
Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, her smile grows when she spots me.
"Amelia!" she hollers, leaping out of the elevator, plowing past Johnathan, and pulling me into her arms.
"Beth. I'm so excited to see you. What are you doing here?" I ask, my excitement masking my surprise.
"I came to town to find you, but then the storm blew in. I've been trapped in the hotel all damn day. I was just about to go in search of food. Come with me," she demands.
Looking over her shoulder at Johnathan, there's a look of shock mixed with hatred that I don't understand. He never met Beth. How can you not like someone you don't know?
