Chapter Twenty-Four
“It can’t be,” Cassie whispered as she pulled the newspaper from where she’d tucked it under her arm.
But it was.
Joshua Mosely’s face with a blue crayon beard stared back at her—the same bearded face that etched itself into her memory that night at La Femme.
U.S. senatorial candidate Joshua Mosely.
Her jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God.”
Was it possible Joshua Mosely was a customer at La Femme? What the press and Mosely’s political opponents wouldn’t do to get hold of a story like this.
Another memory fell into place.
Mosely had been at La Femme six months prior to the raid, she was sure of it. She’d remembered him even then. Both times he’d stayed only ten or fifteen minutes, too short a time to have paid for any of the girls, but both times he’d definitely been in the back rooms. And he’d made Rod Manici nervous as hell.
Another farfetched possibility clicked.
Was he checking out La Femme? The way the owner of a company might walk in unannounced to make sure his establishment was being run properly.
Dom had said Manici wasn’t the real owner.
Is Mosely?
Did Mosely hire Methopolis to kill her?
Cassie paused on the sidewalk outside the Nest, staring again at the newspaper, still not sure of her theory. It was too preposterous. An unbelievable conspiracy.
To all outward appearances, Mosely had a lucrative construction business. But what if he supplemented it with undeclared cash proceeds squirreled away in a discreet bank account in the Cayman Islands?
The same account Manici got paid from.
It would explain everything, like why someone would want to kill her even though she had Manici cold on the undercover recordings. It wasn’t because of Manici, and it wasn’t because of the recordings. It was because she’d seen him. She’d seen Joshua Mosely. Only her live—as in not dead—testimony could tie him to La Femme.
Manici could have, but he was dead. How convenient.
Even if Mosely was only a customer at La Femme, his presence in an establishment that sold drugs and peddled underage girls for sex would ruin his bid for the senate. Might not land him in jail, but it would certainly ruin his phony reputation.
Holy crap!
A man walked briskly toward her, head down. Something about the man’s gait, his sense of purpose as he bore down on her, had Cassie suddenly on edge. He wore a beard, she noted with growing tension. And his hands were in his jacket pockets.
A jacket in this heat?
Cassie let the newspaper fall to the sidewalk and eased her hand toward her purse, readying to grab her gun.
The man picked up his pace. As he began to pass her, Cassie let out a relieved breath. Then he raised his head, and she realized too late that he wasn’t just any bearded man.
He was the bearded man.
Joshua Mosely.
Before she could get inside her bag, he grabbed her arm and shoved a gun against her ribs.
“Don’t even try it, Detective.”
Two small girls skipped past them holding ice cream cones, blissfully unaware of the evil that had descended on Hopewell Springs. They giggled and waved to Cassie before stopping to sit on a nearby bench and lick their cones.
“I’ll kill those girls.” Mosely’s tone was as cold as his eyes.
Cassie’s pulse beat wildly in her throat. Slowly, she let her hand fall away from her bag.
“That’s a good, obedient woman,” Mosely hissed, then rammed the gun harder into her side. She winced as the blunt metal butt of the gun jabbed her ribs. “Now, drop the bag.”
As she obeyed, it was impossible not to see the hatred in Mosely’s eyes. His lips curled, baring his teeth like a snarling animal.
An animal that wanted to kill her.
“I see you remember me, Detective Yates, although that was hardly my most photogenic moment,” he said, glancing at the newspaper lying on the ground. He tucked his gun between his chest and her back and propelled her toward a green sedan parked at the curb. “I thought one day you might figure it out.”
He twisted her arm to the point that pain radiated from her elbow, and she gasped. There were several moves she could try, but all it would take was a second for the bastard to make good on his promise and shoot those sweet little girls.
“Does that hurt?” He chuckled, his breath hot against her ear. “Good.”
The sick sonofabitch enjoyed inflicting pain.
“This is nothing compared to what I have planned for you later.” Mosely kept urging her forward to the driver’s side door of the green sedan. “Get in,” he ordered.
Her heart beat harder and faster.
Think, Cass. Think!
If she let him take her, she might very well be one dead cop. But she had no choice. Lives were at stake.
“You drive.” He shoved Cassie inside the car and leaned forward, pointing the gun at her. “Don’t do anything to attract attention.” A sick smile twisted his lips as he tipped his head toward the little girls then slammed the driver’s side door shut.
Cassie gripped the steering wheel tightly, anger nearly consuming her at the danger she’d selfishly inflicted on this quiet, beautiful little town.
Mosely’s public persona was a myth, an alter ego he’d created to achieve his goals and get elected. That man didn’t exist. The true Joshua Mosely was a depraved killer bent on destroying anything that got in his way. Right now, she was his number one obstruction.
A hot blast of air blew into the car as he opened the passenger door and got in. He yanked the door shut, and the gun reappeared in his hand below the level of the dashboard. He pointed it at her chest.
“Start the car and drive out of here. Slowly,” he warned as she turned the key. “If you gun it or do anything to attract attention, I’ll roll down my window and open fire on the town. I’m betting your ingrained sense of dedication to the job—to protect and serve—will keep you in line.”
The look on the man’s face said it all. He really would kill innocent people just to piss her off. Then he’d kill her anyway. Resigned, at least for the moment, she started the car.
Mosely motioned with the butt of the gun. “Head north out of town.”
Cassie did as he said and pulled away from the curb. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Mike’s Explorer speeding down the road, followed closely by Dom’s black Crown Vic. She took her foot off the gas. There had to be a way to signal them.
“Don’t slow down!” Mosely jammed the gun into her ribs. “See those kids?” He hit the button to lower his window as three boys pedaled their bicycles twenty yards ahead. “Pull anything stupid and I’ll shoot them.”
Obediently, Cassie lowered her foot to the gas pedal, praying this wouldn’t be her last day on earth.
As they drove north, storefronts quickly gave way to a few houses dotting the rural road. Soon they would be so far outside of town help would be too far away.
Mosely angled himself toward her. “You cost me a great deal of time, money, and aggravation, Detective Yates.”
“Forgive me if I don’t apologize.” She cast him a derogatory look. “That’s what they pay me for.”
“Paid you for. Past tense. After today, you won’t be pulling in a salary anywhere.”
Mosely leaned forward and cranked the air conditioner.
“My lifelong plans nearly crashed and burned the night cops raided La Femme,” he continued with venom in his voice. “At first I thought I was lucky, then I realized you could identify me. The idea that a bitch like you could destroy everything I’ve devoted my life to is simply unacceptable.”
At the touch of his fingers on her neck, she pulled away. Mosely yanked off the scarf and threw it to the floor.
“Your neck should have been snapped long ago. Contract hit my ass. A waste of money. The only thing that incompetent hit man got me was your location. Imagine my joy at seeing your heroic actions immortalized in print. Sloppy, Detective. Very sloppy. Then my joy was shot to hell when I googled the Hopewell Springs Gazette this morning to find the police shot my fucking hit man.” Mosely pounded the passenger window with his fist. “Now I have to risk exposure and do the damn job myself. Me, a U.S. senatorial candidate, for Christ’s sake.”
Hoping to stall for time and give Mosely something else to think about, she began asking questions. What did she have to lose?
“You’re the real owner of La Femme, aren’t you?”
“I’ve owned La Femme for over a decade,” he admitted with obvious pride in his voice. “I turned it from a miserable, worthless dive into a profitable business. These days, no one can ascend to a position of political power without serious cash. Income from my legitimate construction business could only take me so far. I needed the income La Femme and Manici anonymously provided.”
Cassie stole another glance at the landscape now covered by field after field of crops. No houses.
No witnesses.
“So Manici was your employee, a witness who could reveal you as the real owner of La Femme. That’s why you had him murdered.”
Mosely snickered. “In exchange for a regular salary and fringe benefits, Manici agreed to be the owner of La Femme in name only.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose in disgust. By fringe benefits, Mosely meant the underage girls.
“Does my choice of income offend you? Although I do understand. I personally would never touch the filthy whores. They were a means to an end, nothing more.”
What. An. Asshole.
Mosely puffed out his chest. “You and everyone else should be applauding me. I worked my way up from nothing, while my competition has old money to back them in their political aspirations, fancy family names with which to buy positions of power. Without La Femme and its unreported tax-free income, my rich, pampered rivals will win.”
She scowled at him. “But in reality you’re nothing but a fraud. A criminal peddling yourself as a self-made man, exactly what the public is screaming for.”
“Precisely.” He smiled as the rolling fields of crops gave way to sparse stands of tall trees. “I’m surprised you’re so well-versed in political issues.”
“What else do cops talk about over coffee and donuts?”
“You have an admirable sense of humor for a woman about to die.”
Ironic that he would take such pride in telling her, the one person who could send his sick plan crashing to the ground. Then again, he could never brag to anyone else or he’d have to kill them.
“I went to La Femme twice a year to make sure Manici wasn’t stealing from me and to check on the product, of course.”
“Of course,” she said with a sarcastic edge.
“You’re nothing more than an insolent slut,” he growled. “All women are. But perhaps you can fill a void. With all the recent campaigning, I’ve neglected my own needs. Maybe I’ll fuck you before I kill you. It would serve you right, considering all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
Another check mark on the guy’s sicko list. Rapist.
Still harboring the hope that help would somehow catch up with her, Cassie pressed on with her questions.
“So money from La Femme is cleaned first through your account in the Cayman Islands, isn’t it?” she said, worrying as the trees became denser the farther they got from town.
“You may have discovered the existence of my hidden account,” he answered, “but without you around there will be no one to link me to it. The Cayman government won’t provide any information to American police, and even if they did, that account is buried under so many shell companies it would take a magician to figure out where the cash actually winds up.”
Mosely laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “That money has supported my endeavors for over a decade. You see, achieving the position of U.S. senator will only be the beginning of my lifelong dream. I’m so close I can taste it. It’s the flavor of power. The power to effect change, to bend men’s wills. To dictate what will happen to the great state of New Jersey. When—not if—I achieve my goal, vast power will be mine for the taking. Who knows where it may lead? Perhaps one day…to the White House.”
She raised her eyebrows, unable to contain her disbelief. Then she genuinely laughed. “You’re off your rocker.”
He smacked her on the jaw so hard her head hit the side window. Pain lanced through her jaw and her skull. The vehicle rocked as she struggled to keep it from veering into a ditch.
“That’ll teach you not to laugh at me, bitch.”
Between flashes of rage and pain, Cassie blew out short breaths to gain her composure. Mosely was out of his freaking mind.
The more time she spent sitting next to this asshole, the more determined she became to find a way out. No way could he be allowed to run loose in the world, let alone in a position of political authority. The man was a murdering, power-hungry psycho.
They’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes, and the landscape had gotten more and more unpopulated. What is he waiting for? She checked her rearview mirror constantly, but the only thing following them was empty pavement. Now they were surrounded on both sides by thick forest. Time was not on her side. Mike, Dom, and Gray would know she was missing by now, but they’d have no idea where Mosely was taking her—or even what kind of car she was in.
Cassie drew in a breath filled with sweat and Mosely’s expensive aftershave. She curled her fingers around the steering wheel until her nails bit into her palm. Nearly plowing headfirst into Mike’s Explorer last week gave her an idea, and there was no reason to delay. She could do this. It was her only chance at getting out of this alive.
Or committing suicide.
Now or never.
She stomped on the gas pedal and wrenched the steering wheel hard left, aiming for the nearest tree.
“What the fuck?” Mosely’s shout was so close to her ear, she could feel his breath on her face. He grabbed the steering wheel and tried to jerk it to the right. “Brake, damn you!”
Cassie locked her hands around the wheel, fighting for control. Mosely pummeled her fingers with the butt of his gun, but she didn’t let go.
The tree filled her view as the car veered toward it. Cassie braced for impact.
Metal crunched. Glass shattered. The hood blew open.
Cassie was thrown forward. Her forehead rammed into something hard.
An explosion—the air bag deploying. The back of her head slammed into the headrest. With a whoosh, the air bag deflated. Her vision blurred.
The car rocked and creaked as it settled onto the ground. Then silence.
She blinked until her vision cleared. The windshield had cracked in a spider web pattern but remained intact. Her chest hurt. Her face ached. Pain splintered through her head. Something warm trickled down her forehead. Blood. She winced as her fingers made contact with the growing goose egg above her left eye.
Mosely lay slumped against the passenger side door, not moving. Like her, he also hadn’t been wearing a seat belt. Blood flowed from a deep gash on the side of his head and from both nostrils. If she wasn’t mistaken, his nose was broken.
She heard a soft thud. Mosely’s gun now rested between his feet on the floor. She leaned forward and stretched her arm as far as it would go. Her wrist grazed the top of Mosely’s thigh.
Almost. Have. It.
Her fingertips contacted the cold metal gun barrel. Another inch and she could grab it.
Steely fingers clamped onto her wrist. She screamed, as much from the shock as from pain. When she looked up, Mosely grinned. Blood smeared his teeth.
“Not a chance, you stupid bitch.”
He hauled her over the console between them. She screamed again as hard plastic rammed into her already injured ribs.
Mosely laughed, looking every bit the crazed killer he was. He pulled her to sit on his lap. His face was barely an inch from hers.
“Go ahead. Scream again. No one can hear you.”
Beneath all that pricey aftershave, his breath stank, and Cassie swallowed to keep from retching.
With his free hand, Mosely stuck the gun inside his belt. He shoved open the passenger door and dragged her out with him. More blood trickled down her forehead into her eyes. She had to squint to make out the car. Or what was left of it.
The sedan was a crumpled mass of green metal, its front end wrapped around a three-foot-wide oak tree. Smoke spiraled from beneath the car’s hood, and the engine hissed as water bubbled onto the ground from the busted radiator.
Mosely released Cassie’s wrist so suddenly, she nearly fell. She wiped the blood from her face and eyes so she could see better.
But not in time to avoid the large fist coming at her.
Pain exploded in her jaw. She hit the dirt hard and grunted as the wind was knocked out of her lungs. She opened her eyes, seeing nothing but blackness. Dirt clogged her nose, and she could taste it on her tongue. She lay on the ground, gasping for air. More pain shot from her jaw to every part of her head that didn’t already smart like hell.
This was no way to die. On the ground at the feet of a killer.
Survive.
“You worthless whore!” Mosely shouted. “That’s for being such a pain in my ass. For nearly ruining my dream.”
Cassie listened until she was certain he was standing right over her, breathing heavily. She closed her hands around as much loose soil as she could hold.
Mosely snarled. “You women are all the same. You think by spreading your legs, jiggling your tits, and—”
She hurled handfuls of dirt into Mosely’s face.
“Fuck!” He flung his hands—including the one now holding the gun—to his face.
She rammed the heel of her hand into his solar plexus. He grunted and doubled over, still gripping the gun. His chest heaved as he sucked in air.
“Take that, asshole,” she hissed.
Mosely fell to his knees, still struggling to breathe.
Cassie balled her hand. “This is for my dog.” She slammed her fist into his jaw.
Mosely slumped to the ground on his side. “Bitch, bitch, bitch!” He held the gun out in front of him and pulled the trigger.
Cassie threw herself to the ground as Mosely kept firing, whipping his arm in every direction. Gunfire echoed all around her. One, two, three shots. Could be as many as six more rounds in the gun, by her count.
Krav Maga won’t stop bullets.
Time to haul ass.
She scrambled to her feet and bolted into the woods, running faster than she’d ever run in her life.
Low-hanging branches whipped her face, stinging her skin. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she dodged tree after tree. She stumbled over a rock and nearly fell.
Cassie ran deeper into the darkness of the woods, having no clue in what direction she was headed. After what seemed like minutes, she stopped to catch her breath. Sweat dripped from her brow into her eyes. She swiped it away and braced her palms on her thighs.
“Keep moving, Yates.” She headed in what she hoped was the direction away from where she’d left Mosely.
Footsteps pounded in the dirt.
Something crashed into her side, knocking her flat on her back. The air left her lungs, leaving her struggling to breathe.
Mosely clamped his hand over her wrists and wrenched her arms above her head. He slapped her face again and again with his other hand. Her cheeks stung and her eyes watered.
She struggled to free herself, but his grip was too strong.
“Who’s in control now?” Unbridled rage radiated from the gray depths of his eyes. Blood spewed from his mouth and splattered onto her face as he leaned closer. “Answer me!”
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut and went limp. Conserve your strength. Catch him off guard.
“That’s better.” He eased his grip, but his tone was still laced with fury. “Because of what you did back there, I’m going to have a little fun before I kill you.” He grabbed her breast and squeezed.
No fucking way.
Cassie bucked off the ground and rammed her head squarely into Mosely’s forehead.
He yelped and released her hands.
The blow had Cassie seeing stars. The moment her vision cleared, she shoved at Mosely’s chest until he rolled off her. She scrambled away on her hands and knees. Rocks bit into her shins. Pine needles jabbed her palms.
A hand clamped around her ankle. “You need my permission to leave, bitch.”
Her legs were yanked out from under her, and she fell flat on her face and chest. Mosely dragged her backward over the uneven ground. Rocks rammed into her ribs. She flailed her arms, searching for a handhold.
He kept dragging her, laughing the whole time. “Now this is fun.”
The force of being dragged on her stomach rode her shirt up to her neck. Sharp pine needles and twigs scraped and bit into the tender flesh of her belly and breasts. She tried to kick free, but her legs were stretched tight.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” He flipped her onto her back, then kneeled between her outstretched legs. She dug her heels and elbows into the ground and began backing away.
“Not so fast.” He grabbed her ankles and pulled until the insides of her thighs pressed against his knees. “Now you’re mine.” He slithered his hands up her stomach to her breasts.
Cassie yelled and tried to rise, but he planted his hand in the center of her chest and pushed her down.
He laughed. “Yeah, baby. Scream. It turns me on.”
Scream, hell. “No one lays hands on me without permission.”
She stretched her arms wide and with every remaining ounce of strength, pulled them together, boxing Mosely’s ears with such force he roared.
Cassie kicked both her feet into his groin. He fell onto his back, moaning, clutching the side of his head with one hand, his groin with the other.
Not seeing Mosely’s gun anywhere, she lunged for the only weapon available—a large rock. She raised it high over her head. Mosely reached behind his back. A shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees glinted off the gun in his hand.
Cassie smashed the rock down on his head with everything she had. He slumped to the ground. She raised the rock again, ready to pound it onto the bastard’s skull a second time. Only he was no longer moving.
There was blood everywhere. Mosely’s head, his face. Blood dripped from the rock in her hands onto her shirt.
“Cassie!”
She’d know that voice anywhere.
Mike.
People crashed through the trees, shouting. She let the bloody rock slip from her hands to the ground. The last thing she saw was Mike’s handsome, worried face as she collapsed into his arms.