Surviving the Storm, page 8
The challenge in them.
What I didn't know was that he wasn't challenging me. I was his challenge to conquer. And he did. I let him. I gave myself to him. That first night and every night since.
My mind, body, soul, and eventually my heart.
I wish I could erase it all. Go back to that night and warn myself what was to come. To look past what the naked eye saw and look deeper. Into his soul. To do the Google search I talked myself out of.
Knowledge is power, and I denied myself the chance to make an informed decision. I thought it would alter my impression of him. I was right. I'd like to think I would have proceeded with more caution than I did.
Footsteps outside the car interrupt my thoughts of what might have been. When I looking out the windows, I don't see anyone on either side, but I scoot to the middle in case someone opens the doors. The footsteps grow louder until they sound like they’re right outside the door, but still, no one appears.
My head is on a swivel at this point, looking left then right and back again over and over. When my phone vibrates in my back pocket, startling me, I scream loudly, the door opening at the same moment.
Eleven
Johnathan
This should be quick. In and out. Get the information I need, let him think we're still on the same side, and then one to the chest and one to the head.
The gangs in this part of town have the same MO. It's one of the many reasons we set up shop here to begin with. Even the cops don't like to come down here.
We were originally going to leave the body here. It wouldn't be found for days, and once it was no one would want to draw attention to the area by reporting it. If he really is working with the FBI, they’d be the ones to come looking for him.
Then again, if they find him, they might be able to connect his murder to me. We can't have that, so we'll have to take him with us. Garcia can do the heavy lifting.
"Are you sure you want to leave her out there alone? This isn't the best neighborhood, you know," Garcia says as we walk through the open door at the back of the building.
Mendez's goons are nowhere to be found. Either he heeded Garcia's warning or they're with him in his office. For his sake, and theirs, let's hope he gave them the day off. Two fewer bodies to bury.
"She'll be fine," I state, rounding the corner and approaching Mendez's office. The door is closed, and when I reach for the handle, I find it locked. "What the fuck? He knew we were on our way, right?"
"I confirmed we were on our way as soon as we landed."
"Then where the hell is he?"
Without answering, Garcia pulls his phone from his pocket and puts it to his ear. His face is stoic as he pulls it away seconds later and shakes his head. "Voicemail. It didn't even ring."
"He's in the wind. He must have known we were onto him."
That fucks up our entire plan. Two hours of strategizing every move we were going to make, right down to where we were going to bury his body.
Every conversation I've had with him the last few months, every comment he's ever made, is on replay in my mind. He had to have given himself away at some point. Given me a clue as to who he really was. What did I miss?
"We need to focus on finding Monica. Mendez will show himself at some point, and when he does, we'll take care of him then. He can't hide forever." Running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to calm down, I find myself tugging on the strands, my breaking point inching closer and closer.
Garcia nods his acceptance and falls in next to me as I turn back to the car. As we're about to exit the building, I notice two men across the street, working under the hood of a car that wasn't there when we arrived, and I stop short.
"What?" Garcia inquires when I step back inside the doorway.
"Those two," I say, nodding in the direction of the men. "That's an odd place to fix a car, don't you think?"
Garcia observes them for a few minutes before replying. "Neither of them looked in this direction. Both have tools in their hands, and they seem to be focused on something. I agree it's out of the ordinary, but they're both dressed in street clothes and it appears they're partially in the middle of the road. I'm guessing they broke down after we came inside."
Am I becoming paranoid?
"So you don't think we're being followed? Set up?"
"If we are, I don't think they have anything to do with it. I'll keep an eye on them as we drive away. If they suddenly fix their car and drive off, that's a different story."
It's times like these when I value Garcia's skills as a cop. More than that, his loyalty to me. He's always been straight with me, even when it's not something I want to hear. Just another reason he's my choice to replace the missing Mendez.
As we approach the back of the limo, I watch Amelia scoot to the middle seat, her head on a constant swivel. She must have heard our footsteps and freaked out. Garcia pulls the keys from his pocket, about to unlock the doors, but I stop him. I shuffle left and then right a few times before coming to a stop.
Panic must be rising in her chest.
She's vulnerable right now. Unable to defend herself. In the middle of a gang war zone and she doesn't even know it. If she did, that panic would be multiplied.
When I grin at Garcia, he shakes his head in disapproval and then unlocks the doors. Amelia's body goes still as she stares out her window, waiting for someone to approach.
"You take all the fun out of the little things, you know that," I snarl at Garcia before he opens my door.
I would have danced behind the car for a few more minutes before getting in. I love watching her squirm. I prefer it when she's beneath me, naked, and I'm deep inside her. Usually she's begging me for something, to move, to press harder, deeper, but I'll take making her squirm from fear if that's all I can get right now.
Amelia slides into her seat, pressing her body against the door, as I slide in next to her. Once we're on the move, I glance out the back window and keep an eye on the two men and their broken car. Neither glances in our direction, continuing to work under their hood until we're three blocks away and finally turn the corner.
My paranoia doesn't fade as Garcia steers the limo onto the highway and in the direction of downtown. The hotel will be our first stop. He needs a place to set up and start digging deeper into Mendez’s and Monica's whereabouts. I need a shower and a few hours of sleep while he works.
And maybe a roll in the sheets with my wife. Those ropes will come in handy later should she resist my advances. Let's see if she's ready to play nice yet.
Gently placing my hand on her shoulder to get her attention, Amelia's head whips in my direction but she doesn't flinch like last time.
"What?"
Her anger is still firmly in place.
"I'm going to untie you now. I need you to turn away from me so I have better access to your hands."
Turning away from me, Amelia thrusts her hands in my direction without another word. After she's freed of her restraints, I take a chance and run my hand up her inner thigh. When I chance a glance in her direction, I'm met with a look of disgust.
The only way I'm getting inside her later is if I use the restraints. Some men might shy away from the idea. Right now, it's spurring me on. I can feel my dick getting hard just thinking about it.
Shifting slightly in my seat to alleviate the pressure, I remove my hand from her thigh and press the down button for the privacy glass a little harder than necessary. As soon as the back of Garcia's head comes into view, I begin barking orders at him.
"Pick up the pace. We have work to do."
His only reply is the force created as he slams his foot down on the gas pedal, pushing me against the seat.
I'm over this shit-show of a day already. Mendez has signed his own death warrant. Monica's still in the wind. Amelia's pissed, and I'm not in the mood to coddle her.
I want to blame my father, but I know it's not his fault entirely. Sure, he's the reason I'm involved in this shit. I wasn't given a choice to participate. My life and career were threatened. All because he knew I would fall in line.
In hindsight, I could have resisted. Fought harder. Chosen to not become involved with the organization. Hell, I could have turned them in to the authorities.
The money was too tempting. The sex kept me going. And now… now my only option is to eliminate everyone standing in my way.
Garcia's about the only person not on my hit list.
I pull my phone from my pocket, then shoot my father a text.
ME: Meeting didn't happen. He was a no show. Going to try and hunt him down when we get to the hotel. Any idea where we should start looking?
DAD: Don't text me again about this. I'll call you shortly.
Of course. Leave no trace, no evidence. He doesn't want to be incriminated. He's willing to let me take the fall for everything, and if we don't find Mendez soon, that's what's going to happen.
Deleting the text, I toss my phone on the seat next to me and stare out the window. We're only a few blocks from the hotel. The urge to close my eyes is overwhelming. My head has been pounding since I woke up this morning. The thought of crawling in bed sounds more and more appealing the closer we get.
Taking a sharp right, Garcia winds between buildings and pulls up to the back entrance of the hotel. There's a short, brunette woman in a black suit waiting by the door when the car comes to a stop.
"Is our room ready?" I ask Garcia as I step out into the morning sun.
"It should be. I called them on our way to the airport and made arrangements."
"Good. We'll set up in the living room. Don't forget to bring your laptop."
Reaching back inside to help Amelia out of the car, she pushes my hand aside and steps out, attempting to slide past me without our bodies touching.
Not going to happen. We're in public, and that means she has a part to play.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her close and whisper in her ear. "Don't forget to smile. You're playing the loving wife, remember?"
There's a note of warning in my voice. She can be as cold and hateful towards me as she wants when we're behind closed doors. Out in public, where anyone could be watching, her only job is to appear happy and in love. And if she can't make that happen, I'll have to consider keeping her locked away.
Kissing me on the cheek, Amelia's reply brings a smile to my face. "Through thickness and thin, good times and bad." I'm about to turn so I can capture her lips when she finishes her sentiment. "Until death do us part."
When I pull back, she's smiling at me. To the average observer, she appears to be a happily married woman. A woman who loves her husband.
But I can see what's lurking beneath the surface. The idea of my death is the reason for her smile.
If she only knew her time on this Earth was going to be much shorter than mine.
"Senator Lang. We're so happy you've chosen to stay with us."
The short brunette interrupts our loving moment. Probably for the best. If given the option, I'd have stared into Amelia's eyes the entire time I planned her demise.
"I've alerted the kitchen that you've arrived, and they've begun preparing your breakfast," she continues as I turn toward her, shifting Amelia's body with mine.
Following her into the hotel and through the maze of hallways, the perky woman continues to rattle on about food and bedding while she escorts us to the penthouse. It's the longest five minutes of my life. Her voice increases in pitch the more she speaks, grating on me like nails on a chalkboard. By the time we reach our room, I want to slam the door in her face, but she's not finished.
"We have you down for an indefinite stay with us. Do you know how long you'll be in town? I didn't notice any upcoming events scheduled for you until the night of the election."
She did her research. Normally, I'd be delighted. In this instance, I wish she hadn't.
"I'm in town on personal business," I reply, sharing a look with Garcia. "We'll be here no more than a few days. Just visiting my wife's family."
Amelia lets out a puff of disapproving laughter only loud enough for me to hear.
"I'll inform the front desk. Should you need to stay longer, please let us know."
Garcia escorts her out as I sink into the plush couch. It wraps itself around my body, causing me to let out an audible sigh. If I close my eyes, I'll fall asleep within minutes, and as tempting as that sounds, there's no time for sleep right now. I had been hoping to sleep once we arrive at the hotel but thanks to Mendez’s disappearing act, that isn’t an option anymore.
Addressing Amelia, I say, "Garcia and I need to have a private meeting. Why don't you take a bath and relax." She stares blankly at me for a few beats before leaving the room.
Garcia removes his laptop from the bag he had slung over his shoulder and sets it on the coffee table between us. Powering it up, neither of us speaks until we hear the water turn on in the bathroom.
"Once we find Mendez and Monica, I'll need you to take care of Amelia for me," I state plainly as I watch the tiny circle on his computer screen spin round and round while it boots up.
"After the election, right?"
Her absence could impact the results of the election. Her disappearance could raise questions and concerns. An investigation will be opened, and I'll be the primary suspect. Just like last time, there will be no evidence, though. Nothing to tie me to my missing wife.
I'll play the concerned husband. I'll grieve her loss when they find her body.
Because this time, there has to be a body found.
Otherwise, speculation will run wild. Her death will not sully my good name. It will not ruin my career. In fact, it'll have the opposite effect if I can help it.
Twelve
Amelia
After turning the faucet on full blast, I close the drain and begin filling the tub with hot water. Steam immediately begins to fill the bathroom. I lock the door, then pull my phone from my pocket and text Beth.
ME: At the hotel.
BETH: I know. We're tracking your movements.
I don't know how to respond to that. How long have they been tracking me? Why? I'm assuming it's been for my protection, but at the same time, it would have been nice to know.
BETH: Don't freak out. Garcia slipped a tracker in the bag yesterday.
That makes sense. He was the one who brought me the bag, and now that I know he's actually on my side, I have a different view on the things he does, the way he acts.
ME: Where are you?
BETH: We should be landing in half an hour. To the hotel in an hour. We'll be in the room next to yours.
ME: What do I do?
BETH: Nothing. Just play nice for now.
ME: He tied me up and left me in the limo when he went in for his meeting.
BETH: Garcia told me. That wasn't supposed to happen. It was a last-minute decision on Lang’s part. He’s paranoid.
Wiping the screen of my phone to remove the thin layer of mist that's formed on it, I reread Beth's words. She keeps saying I’m going to be fine, that she’s going to end this, but how can she? She can’t stop him from tying me up any more than she can stop him from wrapping his hands around my throat again.
Garcia could, but then his cover would be blown.
What the hell am I doing?
I should pack my shit up and walk out of here. Go to my parents’ house. He would find me there, but at least I'd be safe. My father would shoot him on sight, especially after I tell him what's been going on.
ME: I want out. I want to leave.
BETH: And you will. Just a little longer. I promise.
Her promises feel empty. I know they can't let me leave until they have the evidence they need on Johnathan. That could take a day or a month. I'm not willing to do this much longer.
ME: Two days, Beth. I'm serious. If you guys can't get what you need in the next two days, I'm out. I'm leaving.
BETH: I'll do my best.
I don't bother to reply to her message, deleting our conversation before shutting the water off and undressing. The water burns my skin as I step into the tub, but I don't stop until I'm seated and the water is just below my chin, covering the bruises Johnathan left on my neck.
Resting my head against the back of the tub until the water turns cool against my skin, I think about all the warning signs I've missed over the past few months.
The lies.
His odd work hours.
Not being allowed in his office.
The rumors about him and Gina that I should have been more concerned about.
His father suggesting we push the wedding sooner.
The fact he had a reason for everything and anything I questioned him on.
Micah slipping into my hotel room before the wedding.
That conversation has been on repeat for a while now. Everything he said that morning makes sense now.
Our conversation on the beach.
Every encounter with him has more meaning than it ever has before.
The way he is always looking at me.
There's no denying the desire in his stare. There's something else, though. Something I couldn't pinpoint until now.
Need.
For redemption? To save me?
As much as I want to think it's a passing attraction, it's more than that. He's suffering from the loss of his sister, desperately searching for answers.
And he could see what was happening before I did. He knows who Johnathan really is, or at least he thinks he does. And he wanted to save me from the same fate his sister suffered.
Once this is all over, once he has Monica back in his life, I'm going to have to make it a point to thank him. He may not have been able to save me the way he wanted to, but he tried, and for that he deserves a proper thank you. It’s the least I can do.
I can picture it now.
Showing up at the police station. Asking to speak with him. The look of relief on his face when he sees I'm safe and sound.
