LUKE

 

I hadn’t pegged her to be a snorer, but boy was I wrong. Her nostrils flare as she takes in sharp inhale after sharp inhale, her mouth hanging open every step of the way. It’s not that it’s an unattractive quality—she has no control over the angry-sounding roars slipping out of her mouth. People snore. It’s a fact of life. I’ve been told that I can snore louder than a dragon on occasion, but that’s usually only when I’m very tired.

In that regard, she must be beyond tired. She had said as much earlier. She had said she was having trouble sleeping. The thing is though that she doesn’t look that tired. Sure, there are bags under her eyes and her face is a haunted pale color, but she’s remarkably beautiful—sexy, even—for a woman who hasn’t been sleeping much in weeks. If the shoes were reversed, I’d easily be mistaken for someone who should have been put into a nursing home by his children.

As carefully as I can, I retrieve my arm from around her warm body. She rustles slightly as my arm brushes her arm, but she’s too far in a deep sleep to be woken up easily. Once I’m free from holding her, I sit up in bed and stare down at her. Light filters into the room through the cracked door, highlighting her face in a pale yellow hue, just enough so that I can see how peaceful she looks while she sleeps.

When she’s awake, it’s easy to see her as an ice queen, but when she’s sleeping, it’s like she’s a different person. There’s an innocence in the way she looks at total peace, and that’s in despite of the snoring that’s being thrown from her throat.

The woman I see here before me is a woman I can trust. Unfortunately, I still have suspicions that her story doesn’t add up, and I’m hopefully about to find out why. I just hope that I don’t end up finding out that she’s the one who’s been sending me texts. I slide out of bed as quietly as I can, grab my shoes off the floor, and sneak out of the room, closing the door gently behind me.

 

# # #

 

I check the watch on my wrist as I approach the pawn shop. It’s now a little after midnight, but I had noticed earlier that there was a red neon-lit sign that specified the shop was open twenty-four hours a day.

I ready myself before pulling open the door by straightening my posture. I’m a military man, and I know how to make myself look a certain way. In this instance, I need to come off as if I’m in control.

The door creaks as I swing it open and step inside. The man of the hour is sitting on his stool behind the counter.

As soon as I see him, I think back to the first time I saw him, when he had his hands around Ella’s throat. I wanted to kill him back then, but I need to remain calm and measured in my approach. I’m looking for honesty, and I’m hoping he gives me just that without me having to bash his brains in. He’s got one black eye and a cracked nose all ready. Maybe I could do a favor and give him another black eye so at least they’d match.

He looks up to meet my gaze, and I’m not going to lie, I take great pleasure in watching his throat tense. He’s nervous, and he should be. Guys like him are punks. They think they’re big and bad until they’re confronted by someone like me. They can knock woman around all they want and still call themselves a man, but I don’t see a man at all. I see a little boy about to piss his pants, and it takes everything within me to refrain from chuckling.

He drops his hand underneath the counter, giving me no choice but to draw my gun from the holster. As quick as a flash of lightning, I’ve got my gun aimed squarely at his head. “You might want to think twice before you try something stupid.”

He swallows a nervous lump in his throat and slowly, very slowly, raises his hands in the air like this is a robbery or something. The only thing I plan on leaving here with though is information to help me figure out just what the hell is going on. My spider-sense is tingling, and it’s saying that this man has something to do with it.

“What do you want from me, man?” he questions, holding himself as still as possible. “I’m sorry for putting my hands on that girl.”

“That girl, huh?” I begin a slow, deliberate pace towards him until I reach the counter and poke the gun against his skull. “Is she just a girl, or do you know her?”

“I don’t know her.” He swallows again, his throat is the only part of his body moving. That and his lips. “But I think you have bigger fish to fry because I think that girl’s in trouble.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I quip. “Why was she here?”

“You know as much as I do man. She came here for a gun.”

“See, the funny thing is that I don’t buy that story. I don’t think a girl like her would show up to a random place like this, so I’m going to need you to be honest with me, or I’m going to pull the trigger.”

“I don’t know anything,” he growls, firm in his conviction. His eyes trail to the side and then past me.

I take a measured step backwards and take a quick glance over my shoulder to see a shadow passing by the filthy window with metal bars in it. I turn back to him and wave the gun towards the back room. “Let’s take this in the back.”

“Okay, man.” He nods and shifts sideways off the stool. His feet land against the hard surface, eliciting a creak from the old and decaying floors. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Nobody has to get hurt,” I say to him and then wave my gun again, gesturing for him to move. “As long as you answer my questions, then you’re going to live to see sunrise.”

So, here’s the thing, I have no intention of killing this man. That’s not who I am. Of course, I’ve taken many lives, but those were mostly overseas during my multiple tours in Iraq. The cost of taking a human life is great; it chips away at your soul until you’re not sure anything is left. This scumbag isn’t worth me losing a piece of my soul. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just beat him senseless.

I follow him into the backroom, ducking through the long black curtains. He holds his hands above his head as he guides me just past the place I had assaulted him earlier. I’m met with instant flashbacks of seeing Ella fighting to breathe while this son of a bitch had his hands around her throat. Rage courses through my veins, and I have to steady myself and remind myself why I’m here.

He pivots on his feet to face me and finally drops his hands. He’s shaking scared, which is hilarious considering the fact that this pawn shop is a front for all sorts of illegal, black-market activity. This man has probably dealt with some of the absolute worst people in this city, or hell in this world, and he’s terrified of me. I’m just a good guy with a gun. I can’t say the same for the next guy who walks through those same doors looking for a gun.

I drag a stool from between two racks and take a seat. I lower my gun just enough so that it’s no longer in his face—it’ll give him a sense of security and might just make him open up more than if I was openly being hostile, still holding the gun in his face. Don’t be mistaken though, the gun is still aimed squarely at him. And if he’s like any other man I know, he’d rather take a bullet to the head than where the gun’s currently aimed at.

“We’re going to have a simple conversation, you and I.” I wave the gun towards another stool parked directly behind him. “Take a seat and let’s begin.”

He doesn’t hesitate, falling backwards onto the stool to meet me at eye level.

“Let me just get this disclaimer out of the way. I was born with an innate gift for sensing bullshit.” I hook my eyes at him. “You’ve got three strikes, and when you run out of chances, you’re going to take a cap to the knee. Do you understand?”

He nods but doesn’t say a word. I take this nonverbal cue as a verbal confirmation that he understands that I’m being serious. Sweat forms where his hair cuts against his forehead, and I think to myself, Hell, this might be easier than I thought it’d be.

“Do you know Ella?” I begin the interrogation with the simplest question.

“I just met her today,” he lies straight through his damned teeth.

I cock the gun and lower my aim to his kneecap. “Remember what I said about bullshit? Well, that’s your first strike. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Do you—?”

“Yes,” he interrupts me with an impassioned plea hitched across his lips. “I know her.”

“How?”

“Come on, man,” he begs. “Don’t make me do this.”

“I’ll consider that strike two.” I shrug my shoulders with apathy. “You’re really not off to a good start.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “We used to date.”

I have a hard time believing that, even though I sense that he’s telling the truth. There’s just something about the fact that he’s one strike away from losing a kneecap that makes me think he’s finally playing along. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You asked me for the truth, so I’m giving it to you.” He exhales and drops his head. “It was a long time ago, and to be honest, I don’t know her anymore and she doesn’t know me, so it was a surprise when she showed up here earlier. But she knew of my illicit activities so someone must have told her.”

“Is that all you know?”

“She’s in some deep shit, man.” He narrows his eyes in on me. “Some real deep shit, and I don’t know how this is all going to play out, but if I were you, I wouldn’t leave her alone right now.”

I climb to my feet and aim the gun at his head. I grip the butt of the gun real tight and push it right between his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No, no, no.” He flinches, closes his eyes tightly. “I swear, man. It’s just the word on the street that she’s in some deep shit.”

“How deep?” I sigh and drop the gun to my side, taking a measured step back so that he doesn’t have the chance to do anything he’s going to live to regret.

“You’re going to have to ask her that question because I don’t know specifics.” He pushes his hair out of his face. “She might say she doesn’t know what’s going on, but deep down she knows. She has to know because people don’t find themselves running from someone for no reason.”

Yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking. “Today’s your lucky day. You get to live”

He nods and swallows roughly before I turn my back on him with the intention of leaving this shop behind and never stepping foot back inside. I’ve gotten what I came here for, but…

“One last question,” I say, cocking my head over my shoulder. “Do you think you got what you deserved?”

“Wh… What do you mean?”

“Earlier, when I came here and you had your hands on her.” I twist to face him fully. “Did you get what you deserved?”

“Yes,” he spits out, nods his head. “Absolutely.”

“I see.” I chew into my bottom lip, fighting an internal battle to not knock the shit out of him one last time. It’s a battle I lose, and before I can even force myself to change my mind, I’m backhanding him in the face with the barrel of the gun. He stumbles backwards into a floor-to-ceiling metal shelf and then falls onto the floor. “You deserve so much more than that, and I promise that’s just what you’re going to get if you ever lay your hands on a woman again.” He just stares at me, blood trickling out of his nose. It looks like he’s about to zone out, so I decide to give him a helpful little hint. “You should probably go to the doctor and get your head checked for a concussion.”

And then I leave him there to think about his choices. Armed with new information, I’m one step closer to finding out the truth, but something tells me I still have a long way to go to figure it out.

 

# # #

 

My feet land against the asphalt as I close the car door behind me. I’m mulling all the endless possibilities in my mind and trying to figure out the best angle to approach Ella once she’s awake. Now that I know she used to date that creep back at the pawn shop, I can use that as leverage to try and get her to open up about her past.

But something suspicious catches my eyes when I look up. The front door of her home is cracked open and I know for sure that I closed it when I left. I’m a careful guy. I whip my gun out of the holster and race forward. Adrenaline gets the best of me, so I’m not thinking clearly or strategically. I just kick the door all the way open with one foot and rush inside.

I immediately hear a struggle and then see a man on top of Ella on the opposite side of the couch. He’s wearing a ski mask over his head and his hands are forced around her throat

“Ella,” I scream, alerting both her and her attacker. They both whip their heads to look at me, but the man can’t be bothered to do anything about me, which is strange because if I were him, I’d deal with the man with the gun first.

Two hands grab me from my back and before I know it, I’m thrown to the ground, my face cracking against the hardwood floors. My gun scatters across the floor and underneath the first of two couches. I flip over onto my back just in time to launch a kick against my attacker’s stomach. He fumbles backwards, loses his footing, and falls down onto the loveseat.

I jump to my feet and ready my fists just as he forces himself back to his feet. He rushes towards me, but I’m too quick for him. As he’s charging me, I spin away from him and hook one arm around his neck before throwing him to the floor. His back lands with a crack and an audible groan is thrown from his throat.

From behind me, Ella screams and it steals all of my attention. I rush forward, jump onto the couch and then jump off the back of it. I land on the man’s back and am able to throw him off of her. He rolls against the oversized windows and then shuffles himself to his feet.

Ella scoots herself backwards along the floor and away from her attacker. I stand in between her and him, serving as her literal bodyguard as I ready my fists for battle. He lunges forward and throws a fist, but I duck out of the way. He overshoots and dives right onto the floor in front of Ella.

“Not so fast,” I grunt out, dropping to grab him by the throat and then dragging him backwards. His feet kick against the floor as I hold him firmly in place. My eyes search the room for the other man, and I notice the front door swinging.

Damn coward. “Your friend left you,” I say, taunting the man as I tighten my grip on his throat. The ultimate goal is to knock him out so that when he wakes up, I can get answers from him.

A security alarm begins to blare, piercing straight through my ears. I cock my head to search for where the noise is coming from. I only have my head turned for a good second, but it’s enough for the man to make his move. He proves to be more flexible than I could have calculated and manages to land a kick squarely against my face from a sitting position.

I drop backwards, loosening my grip on his throat just enough for him to be able to scuttle away. As I force myself to my feet, I notice Ella giving chase to the man. She follows him out the doorway and out onto the grass. I scream for her, “Ella, stop!”

But I’m not sure she can hear me over the screaming security alarm. I grind my teeth as I finally climb back to my feet. I race out of the house, down the steps, and down the sidewalk. At the end of the street, Ella takes a sharp turn and disappears out of my sight and around a house. I push myself to run faster, but by the time I reach the end of the road, I race around the corner and see her still running in the near distance.

Without thinking twice, I continue chasing her all the while realizing I’ve lost track of both men and they could be anywhere right now. I come to a standstill just behind Ella as she comes to a stop too and twists around to face me. Her white pajamas are contrasted against the night sky. She locks her eyes with me and swallows a gulp. I scan the area with my eyes as I approach her.

A dog barks from behind a closed-in fence nearby.

She’s breathing heavy, her chest heaving. She drags one palm through her hair and then holds it firmly against her forehead. “He’s gone.” She fights to catch her breath and then whispers, “I tried to catch him, but he’s gone.”

I want to comfort her. I want to make this all go away, but this situation is quickly spiraling out of control, and if I’m going to keep her safe, then I need some concrete answers and I need them now. “What the hell is going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” She answers my question with a question, and I’m stunned at the nerve she must possess to try and turn this around on me.

“You literally are crazy.” I take a step back and point at her squarely with one finger. “How the hell am I supposed to know that when you don’t even know?”

“Stop pretending!” she screams, her lips trembling out of fear or frustration or a potent combination of both. “Stop pretending that you’re not getting the same type of mysterious phone calls and texts!”

My blood runs cold. I cock my head, perplexed. “How do you know that?”

She bats her eyes away first and then meets me again. “Because I can see it written all over your face. You have some kind of interest in this case that extends beyond the want or need to protect a perfect stranger.”

“I don’t buy that,” I say lowly, out of breath, but I’m too distracted to continue by my phone ringing in my pocket.

I continue to make total eye contact with her, as I reach for my phone and answer it. It’s Marcus.

“Yeah?”

“Okay Luke, I got answers, but I don’t think you want to hear them.”

“About what?” I question, all the while continuing to fight to catch my breath. My chest heaves with each forced exhale.

“It’s about the letters.”

My eyes zero in on Ella, as I realize that I’m probably about to find out something about her that’s going to change everything I think about her. “Just tell me what the hell you know.”

“I was able to piece together four sets of fingerprints…”

“And?”

“They were yours, a girl named Kara Jean—”

“Yeah,” I nod, “that’s Ella’s best friend.”

“Ella Gold wasn’t a match,” he says and then pauses. “But there’s an Ella Stone.”

I nod again and shelve that piece of knowledge for later. “Who else?”

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this…”

“Just answer the damn question,” I seethe, running out of patience and with a low tolerance for bullshit. “And tell me now.”

“It’s Dom…”