Without Mercy, page 22
part #4 of Running with the Devil Series
When Dean saw Anto, he walked to him. They both crouched down. The silence was eerie. “Where’s Esma?” Dean asked.
“Don’t know,” Anto said. “Where the fuck is Marisol?”
Before Dean could answer, Esma’s soft voice filtered to them. “We’re here.” Followed by the two of them stepping up to the men and crouching down, Marisol next to Anto.
“How many?” Dean asked.
Esma raised her fingers. Two. “I think we got them all.”
“What the fuck happened to you?” Anto’s eyes swept Marisol as a bolt of rage knocked the breath out of him. Livid fingerprints on her neck marred her pale skin and her face was bruised.
Before Marisol could answer, Esma said, “Number three tried to choke her to death.”
Dean and Anto looked hard at Esma and Marisol threw the woman a small wan smile. Nothing else was said about it.
“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Anto said. “I think we circle back and grab their car before the cops show up here. As long as its windows are intact and there are no bullet holes, we can probably drive it out of Whistler without being noticed.” He searched the body as Dean picked up the dead man’s rifle. Just a wallet. He looked over Esma and she tossed him a set of keys.
Anto caught them and stood up. “Let’s go.” He led the way through trees to the dirt path. Both Esma and Marisol had to jog to keep up. There were no other signs of life and he hoped it stayed that way. Maybe the house up the trail was empty and his house blowing up was distracting enough to keep the cops from doing a sweep this far. One could hope. The doors to their attackers’ SUV were open and they slid wordlessly inside, Anto in the driver’s seat, Dean in the passenger seat and Esma and Marisol in the back. Anto dropped his duffle bag on the seat between the two women and then handed his rifle off to the little Turk. Dean followed suit with the rifle he’d picked up off the dead man. Esma tucked them all into the bag, along with her two newly-acquired rifles as Anto started the car and drove off in the direction they came.
They were all quiet for a few minutes, immersed in their own thoughts. Anto’s were dark and moody. Everyone was underdressed except Esma. For some reason she was fully dressed from her leather jacket to her leather boots. He hoped it was because she passed out in them and not some other fucking reason. He concentrated on his driving for a few minutes as he made his way out of Whistler.
“I got some things to say,” he rumbled, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “How’d we know those assholes were about to firebomb us?”
“I was outside,” Esma replied quickly. “Getting some air. Lucky, I guess, that they didn’t see me. Overheard them talking, went back inside and got Dean up.”
Anto grunted. “Slept in your clothes, did you?”
He saw Esma scowl in his rear-view mirror as she looked around at everyone. “Why’re you singling me out?”
“Because it’s pretty damn convenient that you’re the one that discovered the wrecking crew. After all, you were dead drunk last night. I wouldn’t have thought we’d see you for a week.”
“I was drunk. I passed out in my clothes. I woke up thirsty, needed some air so I wouldn’t hurl all over your state-of-the-art kitchen!”
“Bullshit!” Anto said.
She leaned forward, pushing her body into the space between the front seats, a small pout to her lips. “Dean put me to bed. I guess he’s too much of a gentleman to take them off. The last thing I remember from last night was Dean kissing me. Then nothing.”
It was Dean’s turn to scowl. “I didn’t fucking kiss you.”
Esma threw him a lopsided grin. “If you say so.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Anto roared. He wasn’t feeling the love. Esma flinched away from him, sitting back on her seat. “I don’t know who the fuck you are and how you found my home, but the minute you showed up, all hell broke loose!”
“Anto,” Marisol’s soft voice sliced through his anger and gently nudged his core. “She saved my life. Why would she do that if she wanted me dead?”
And Esma, apparently deciding not to shut the fuck up, added, “I had your back all the way, you ungrateful asshole.”
Marisol shushed her, “Stop while you’re ahead.”
Anto was not quite ready to let it go. “I want to know how you found my house in Whistler.” He hit the highway out of Whistler and picked up speed. He didn’t know where the fuck he was going, but he knew it was as far away from Whistler as he could get.
“You had a laptop in your Vancouver house.”
“It was hidden.”
“Esma’s good at finding stuff – objects and people. It’s why Jackman keeps her breathing,” Dean snarled.
“I found the laptop, Anto. I’m happy to tell you how to hide things if you don’t want them found. Nothing much was on it except encrypted files. Nothing there either except a name. Hugh Medford.”
Anto scowled. “Traced it to Whistler. What’d you do, leave the laptop out on the table as an invitation to the assholes who shot us up?”
“I did not!” she barked red-faced and angry. “I brought it with me. It’s in my pack.”
“So a thief too,” he muttered. “If not you, how the fuck did they find us?” He said it out loud but to no one in particular. The little Turk was telling the truth. She’d saved Marisol’s life, not once, but twice today. Took over the care of her, made sure that she had Marisol’s back when Anto couldn’t.
Marisol said, “Maybe the doctor…”
Dean studied his hands. “Seems like he’s our only candidate. Unless they linked you to your mountain retreat.”
Anto rolled his tongue across his teeth. There was a little sheen of fuzz on them and while he wanted desperately to kiss Marisol, it would have to wait until after he brushed his teeth and also, stopped driving. “One way to find out,” he said, his anger ebbing as thoughts of Marisol made him horny. “Who’s got a phone?”
Silence. Then Esma, “I do, but it’s dead.”
“Fuck.” He slapped his hand on the steering wheel and took a deep breath to steady his irritation. Why couldn’t one fucking thing go right? Just one fucking thing. Was that too much to ask? “Okay, we’re going to have to stop. Turk, I’ll need you do some shopping. Do you think you can manage without stopping for a drink?”
Esma scowled at Anto, “Just because I may have drunk too much last night, doesn’t mean I drink regularly.”
Anto looked in the rear-view mirror and could swear he saw her nose growing. “We need something for Marisol other than my T-shirt. And some food.”
“Where’re we going?” Dean asked.
Anto hesitated. Michael Black wouldn’t like his office safehouse overrun by Jackman’s agents. But Michael wasn’t around to say so and Anto didn’t want to give up another of own hideouts. It was the smartest alternative anyway. Nothing to link back to Anto. “I have a safe place downtown, in an office building. The trick will be to get up to it without being seen. But it’s early, hopefully we can get there before the ants start their work.”
They arrived 40 minutes later and Anto used a key to unlock the secure, underground parking. Once inside, he parked the SUV in a guest parking space and got out. The rest followed suit, Esma hefting the duffle bag with a grunt. Neither man offered to help her. Anto walked to a car a few spaces over and reached under it, emerging with an access card. He was starting to feel better. Grinned at his dusty trio of merry man and women then led the way to the elevators. They made it to the 9th floor and into the office suite unnoticed.
Anto looked around in satisfaction. Michael’s office suite was one of four on this floor. It was tucked in the corner at the end of a long hall, no windows near the door to see inside. The door had no faceplate, just a number. 904. The suite was spare in furnishings, several near-empty offices and a boardroom with a cot. A large central area was scattered with a couple of desks, three small round tables and some chairs. The shades on the windows were closed, but enough light filtered through to cast dusky shadows.
Esma looked around. “Hope you aren’t using Hugh Medford to rent this place.” But the tone was approving.
“No,” Anto said. He turned to Marisol, who was standing near him, her expression hooded. “Use the bathroom and wash up a little. We’ll take turns.”
Marisol’s face warmed to him and as she brushed by him, she touched his fingers ever so lightly, but enough that he felt a tug at his groin. He took a couple of steadying breaths and then turned his attention to his comrades. “Esma, it’s too early to do any real shopping but there’s gotta be an open place around here for food. I could eat a horse.” He picked up the duffle bag from the middle of the floor where Esma had dropped it and placed it on a desk, opening an outside zipper and pulling out a bundle of cash. He peeled off some bills and handed them to the little Turk who stuffed them in her jean pocket. She picked up the access card next to the bag.
As she headed to the door, Anto called after her. “I’m not kidding, Esma. Bring back a horse.”
Chapter Forty
Mari stepped out of the bathroom, her shoulder aching and her legs still shaky, but the fingerprints are her neck were fading rapidly and she thought maybe the shock was wearing off. Esma was gone, Dean was slouched in a chair, his hand covering his eyes and she could hear Anto in the boardroom, cursing loudly and banging about. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and studied Dean. He was a mystery to her. Obviously connected to Anto in a meaningful way, but also to Esma, who Anto hadn’t known until last night. Mari didn’t really understand the connection and there had been no opportunity for Anto to explain it to her.
This man, this Dean, was hard, in his stance, in his demeanor, in his words. There didn’t seem to be gentleness in him. Harder even than Anto, who knew how to tease, knew how to comfort. He opened his eyes and sought out hers. “Sit down before you fall down,” he grunted as he shifted in his chair.
Mari almost didn’t as she felt a twinge of fear. She didn’t really want to be alone with him, but she also didn’t want to run to Anto like a rabbit. She forced herself forward, dropping into a chair that was close enough that she didn’t offend, but still maintained some distance between them.
She folded her hands in front of her and looked down at her fingernails, picking at an imaginary hangnail. Then Dean startled her as he stood abruptly. “Gotta pee,” he explained and strode toward the bathroom. Mari let out an audible sigh of relief as the door closed. She got to her feet and walked to the room where Anto was. As she entered he looked up. He was on his knees, going through a trunk. Clothes and shoes were strewn over the floor, but when he saw her, his face cracked a grin and he held his arms open to her. She didn’t hesitate, she walked over, dropped to her knees and fell into him. He hugged her solidly, cradling her, rocking her.
“Marisol,” he said, his voice raw and unfiltered.
Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Mari wrapped both arms around his chest and clung to him. “Thank you, Anto. For all you’ve done. For who you are.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I wish I could tell you this was over. That you’re safe, but then I’d be lying.” He tightened his embrace. “I promise you I will find a way to end this.”
Mari felt her eyes water. “I just want to be with you, Anto. Without all of this hanging over us. I just want us to be together.” She looked up into his face. “In case this ends badly – “
“It won’t,” Anto said gruffly, seeing the sheen of tears in her eyes.
“In case it does. You need to know you mean everything to me. I love you so much it turns me inside out when I think of it.”
“Marisol – “ he started but Dean walked into the room and he stopped his next words.
“Bathroom’s free,” Dean said and Anto untangled himself from Mari as he stood up.
“Be right back,” he said to Mari and then turned to Dean. “Maybe you want to put a shirt on. There are some options here. See if anything in the trunk will fit your miniscule body. Michael has a few suits in a closet if you prefer the stick-up-your-ass approach to fashion.” Then he roared his laughter and Mari smiled broadly from her perch on the floor. It was a treasure to hear his laughter. It gave her heart happiness. Gave her hope that they would all survive this.
Anto left the room and Dean crouched down beside her, sifting through the clothes. He was so close, bare-chested, hard-muscled and scarred, like Anto but not as badly and without all the tattoos. She could smell his maleness, sweat, musk, salty. Was Esma in love with him? There was definitely a tension between the two of them. Maybe something once, but not now. She pulled a grey T-shirt towards her, shook it out and offered it to Dean.
“Maybe this? If these are all Anto’s clothes, you’ll have limited choices.”
Dean took the shirt from Mari and dropped it over his head. It hung on his wiry frame, but not horribly so. “How do I look?” he asked, his voice a little strained. Mari didn’t think he knew what to say to her anymore than she knew what to say to him.
She craned her neck and looked up at him with an appraising eye, one brow slightly lifted. “It’ll do.”
He thumped down on his ass beside her and pulled a pair of runners towards him, measuring the soles against the bottoms of his feet. He shook his head and tossed them back on the pile. He scrutinized Mari. “You remind a little of my girlfriend, Kelsie.” He said it so abruptly that she was taken by surprise. Then he added, “Except she fucking hates Anto. She’d kill him herself if she could get her hands on him.”
“Why does she hate him?” Mari had to know.
“He kidnapped her, roughed her up pretty good and dislocated her finger.” He grinned at the memory. Mari felt the blood drain from her face and Dean must have noticed because he added, “Don’t worry. He did it to save her life and mine. She doesn’t know that though.” He squeezed her lightly on the shoulder as he stood up. “I’m gonna go see if Michael has some shoes that will fit but don’t make me look too pretty.”
Mari dropped her eyes to the floor. Like her, she thought. Anto kidnapped Dean’s girlfriend to save her life. What else has he done? Killed two men in the short time she’d known him. Both to save her life. Is that what he did? Killed people as a way to solve a problem. Did she just tell this man she loved him? She didn’t even know him, not really. And she didn’t understand him. Her heart squeezed in her chest. It knew though, it knew everything. She sighed as she stood up and walked back into the main office area. She wondered what was next.
It turned out to be a good thought because next was food, and lots of it. Esma had found a store with a bakery. Fresh bread, pastries, jams, cheeses, and butter littered the table along with two roasted chickens that Mari shredded in the kitchen. Anto made a pot of coffee and served them all a mug as they sat around eating like medieval warriors with knives and fingers. Mari couldn’t remember when she ate last and neither could her stomach. The mingling of chicken and fresh baking made her mouth water and she ate until she was stuffed.
While they ate, they talked. Mostly Anto and Dean. Mari had little to offer, so foreign was this world to her and Esma concentrated on her eating, sometimes throwing out a brief thought, but otherwise she listened and chewed. When they were done, Anto poured another round of coffee and they sat back and sipped.
Dean asked, “What now, Anto?”
Anto placed his cup on the table and leaned forward on his arms. “This is what I think. I have to know that Savisin can be trusted.”
Dean snorted and Anto looked at him sharply. “Your problem is that you underestimate the man, Dean. That’s how you ended up with a bullet in you.”
“And the shit beat out of me, brother.”
Anto didn’t rise to the bait, merely nodded and said, “You’re welcome, brother. But that’s irrelevant to this conversation.” He took a swallow of his coffee then set the cup down again, flattening his hand on the table and spreading his fingers out. Mari stared at his fingers, losing focus on the conversation, remembering how they’d touched her, gently at times, bruising at other times. Always with purpose. Heat stroked her pussy and she caught sight of Esma’s knowing grin. She felt herself flush. The French fry was reading her mind.
She shifted her eyes from Esma to Anto, whose focus was on Dean. “It could be Jackman, sending Esma out here, having her followed or you, for that matter.” Mari was having trouble making sense of the conversation. Who was Jackman? They threw his name around carelessly in front of her, but she didn’t know his role and she was afraid to ask.
Dean’s upper lip curled, his words like shards of glass, targeting Anto. “Why the fuck would he do that? They weren’t just shooting at your girlfriend in the woods. They were aiming for the lot of us. Jackman could maybe afford to lose one of us, but not all three.”
“You mean, not you.”
Dean shrugged, not disagreeing. Instead he casually said, “Are you sure you’re not turned, Anto?”
Anto slammed his fist on the table, causing the plates to rattle, his coffee to spill. He stood up, looming over them. “You’re questioning my fucking loyalty, Copeland. I risked everything for you, and for that matter your other brother-in-arms, Michael. I’m walking a fucking tightrope, making sure Jackson gets his daily dose of niblets. And every motherfucking time I turn around, my loyalty is questioned!”
Mari let out a soft breath as she kept her eyes lowered to the table. Anto was intimidating most of the time, but she didn’t know he could get this angry. Did he truly not realize how terrifying he was? She looked over at Esma, who was watching the interplay. Her face mirrored Mari’s thoughts, but her intelligent brown eyes were drinking in everything, filing it away.
