Chapter 26
Let Me
Caleb
I’M NOT SURE whether I pity her, hate her, or love her.
Love her.
What the fuck?
I don’t even know her. It has to be some kind of PTSD. Maybe because I couldn’t get to her sooner last night or maybe because I allowed her to put herself through that charade for him.
I should have busted in.
Stopped him.
Him.
Enrique Cruz.
The man I can’t wait to ruin.
The thing is, Gemma is with Cruz, and she’s got an ulterior motive for being with him. A reason for succumbing to this sick fuck’s needs. It must be something big for her to put herself through the humiliation of it all.
I want to know what it is.
Need to know why.
I’ve been walking for hours, wasting time, fighting with myself not to do what I’m about to do.
After Smith interrogated me for hours about what happened in Mexico, Cruz laid into me about leaving Gemma alone. After ordering me out of his sight, I thought he was firing me until he shouted a thank you for keeping Gemma safe and that I was to return Sunday at midnight.
I have to assume he’ll be watching over her himself or he’ll have one of his guards do so.
So, with way too many hours to count until I can get back to her, I go against everything I know is right and break protocol to make contact with the team.
To tell them Gemma is Cleo and find out what they learned about her. She’s become a pawn in this operation, and I hate like fuck that we have to use her.
Pushing open the door of the small office in Ocean Beach that serves as the team’s cover for the security office, I’m surprised to find it empty.
The team has evacuated. Then again, it isn’t really a surprise. Of course they would have cleared out after my run-in with Cleo. After all, chances were good we’d been burned and the asset wouldn’t be returning, so why stick around.
The asset.
I can’t believe the asset is Gemma.
Calling in for a meet would sound an alarm to the higher ups I don’t want to do deal with, so it looks like I’ll have to wait for the scheduled meet-up.
Closing the door behind me, I head toward the old abandoned cigar warehouse.
I shouldn’t go there, but I’m going to.
With little effort, I’m able to break into Cleo’s storage unit. Yes, it is definitely off-limits, but that was before. Now that I know who Cleo is, everything is different.
What I’m doing isn’t technically breaking in. I’m looking for clues. Sure, I know I don’t have a warrant, and that anything found won’t be admissible, but I’m not looking for evidence anyway. I’m searching for something to help me understand Gemma.
Inside there are dozens of wrapped paintings and not a single one has been unpackaged to be admired. These must be the purchases that were made to outbid Cruz.
Why?
Why would she want to piss him off like that?
I know she’s purchased way more than are in here. I also know she’s sold the ones she purchased to Cruz for way more than she paid.
Why?
For the money?
She seems to have unlimited access to money already.
For vengeance?
Over what?
Scratching my head, I glance around.
There’s a laptop computer on a stack of crates with a cell phone beside it. Both are plugged in and both have passcodes I have no way of breaking. When I make contact with the guys, I’ll let them know and Drum can hack into both if I can prove plausible cause.
Moving on, I spot a trunk over in the corner. It’s locked, but I’m able to pick it fairly easily. The lid opens with a creak. Carefully fumbling through the contents, I find what seems to be mementos—old birthday cards, china, and some pictures. Flipping through the pictures, I can identify Gemma as a child immediately. She’s standing with a boy and who I assume are her parents.
There’s nothing else in the trunk. However, beside it is a cot and crates of water and food with clothing too.
A bunker.
It’s like an escape route.
A back-up plan.
While sitting on the cot, I shine my flashlight on one of the stacks of paintings and see an easel behind them.
I’ve seen the one her room but have to wonder why she has one here.
Getting to my feet, I cross the space and drag the object out. On the display, I find a number of unfinished drawings of a heart. Some of the sketches are shaded pink like the tattoo I saw on her shoulder, some are charcoal only, some are mere etches, but not a single one is finished.
Closing the place up, I can’t help but wonder what the drawings are for.
Did she sketch them?
Are they meant to represent her heart?
Was it broken?
Is she hoping to put it back together?
And how does Cruz fit into the picture?
None of which I know the answer to, but all of which I plan to find out.
Sooner than later.
Preferably before she gets herself killed . . . and me too.