Chapter Fifty-One

Suede didn’t join them in the living room after the chopper took off. While Chance and his brothers debated strategy for nailing Franks, he watched her take a basket of clothes down the hall to the laundry room, her eyes furtive. Suffering. All this talk about Franks had dragged up bad memories, and Chance needed to end the son-of-a-bitch to give Suede the peace she deserved.

Pagan had finally joined them and stood leaning over the back of the couch. He needed that bullet removed, but Pagan was no baby when it came to pain. As quickly as that bullet was out, Chance wanted him on Franks’ virtual trail.

Gallo had followed Suede down the hall and that was good. She needed her furry companion right now, plus Gallo wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d proved himself a hero today. Chance was proud of his dog.

By the time she returned, the basket was full of folded laundry, probably from another load, but she didn’t pause more than a couple seconds to say, “I left my cold weather gear in the basement. It needs to be washed. Do any of yours?”

“Sure,” Kruze piped up, but Chance disagreed. “We can wash our own things.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be long.”

He understood. When Suede was nervous, she needed to keep busy. “Come sit with us when you’re done. I want you to hear these plans.”

She nodded, but didn’t meet his gaze, and that hurt his heart. Damn Franks. He’d done this to her.

“Once I find him, I’m gone,” Pagan said the moment Suede was out of sight. “This one’s on me, Chance. I’ll end him and I’ll send pictures.”

“You want to bet Julio’s going to end Zapata before the day’s done?” Kruze interjected.

“He damn well should,” Pagan hissed. “Shit. I’d have offed him on sight if he hurt my woman.”

“You were right,” Chance admitted to Kruze. “Julio is one of the best.”

Kruze shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t sure for awhile. He’s good at what he does.”

“At what he did,” Chance corrected.

Silence reigned for a moment. “What a mess,” Pagan said at last. “Who the hell is Franks that he’s got this kind of power over men like Tennyson, York, and Patrone?”

“And Gonzales,” Kruze added.

“I need to get that round out of your ass,” Chance grunted as he pushed up from the couch. “Let’s get it done, then I need you to track that rat bastard down. We’ll end Franks, with or without Sullivan’s say-so.”

“Consider it done,” Pagan growled.

Kruze jumped to his feet. “I’ll get started on his paper trail. If there’s one, I’ll find it.”

“Where do you want to do this, your room or the clinic?” Chance asked Pagan.

He nodded at the west hallway. “Already took the first-aid kit to my room.”

Chance flicked on the light as he followed Pagan’s limp. Nothing happened. “Looks like I’ve got a short. Damn it.” Another thing to worry about. Light bulbs.

“Fix it later,” Pagan grumbled. “My butt cheek’s killing me.”

It took less than an hour to prep and perform that minor surgery. Another to give Pagan a couple shots, tetanus and antibiotics, then clean up. By the time Chance finished, Pagan looked gray and weary. “Why don’t you sleep for awhile, then we’ll start hunting Franks?”

Baby Brother rolled from his belly to his side, drowsy from the painkiller. “You might be right. Morning’s soon enough, isn’t it?”

“You bet. If you’re lucky, Suede will fix some of those blueberry pancakes for you.”

“And bacon,” Pagan hissed, his eyes already closed. “G’nite.”

“’Nite, brother.”

Chance had just cleared Pagan’s door when Kruze met him in the north hall, his eyes wide and his tanned face pale. “Chance.”

With that one word, acid hit Chance’s gut like a kick of nitrous. “What?”

“She’s gone. Suede’s gone and I can’t find Gallo. I’ve looked everywhere. The computer monitor was lit when I went to our office. The door was unlocked. I scanned the latest searches and I thought maybe you’d already been hunting Franks, so I dismissed them. But then I… I…” Lifting his arm, he swiped a hand through his hair. “I backtracked one of your searches, only they weren’t yours, not unless you’ve got a bank account in LA I don’t know about and some guy in Spokane who sells passports. I think Suede’s going after Mitchell Franks.”

“Like hell.” Chance raced downstairs. She couldn’t get far, not in this snow, but he couldn’t believe she’d taken Gallo. What’d she plan to do, let him loose when she’d gotten to where she was going, which had to be the valley. Or the nearest cab. Maybe a bus. Shit!

Then double ‘shit!’ None of the light switches worked down here, and now he knew why the west hall lights weren’t working either. The main electrical panel was still open. Suede had cut the electricity to this section of the cabin, including the basement security door. “Why didn’t you tell me,” he hissed as he flung open the massive steel door and stared at the frigid world. “I’d have gone with you.”

One pair of snowshoes was missing from the hooks outside the rear exit. She hadn’t come down here to gather up their jackets for the laundry. She’d come down here to leave.

“Found Gallo. He’s in here,” Kruze muttered from the clinic door. “She leashed him to the exam table.”

Chance stalked to the clinic where Gallo lay surrounded with dog toys, a big rubber bone clasped in his mammoth paws, and a smile on his face. That meant Suede was alone.

“I’m going after her,” Chance growled as he one-eightied and jogged upstairs to command central. “Get hold of Woody. Need him here ten minutes ago.”

At his heels, Kruze made the call and muttered, “Yeah, the sooner the better. That long? No, do it. Just get here.”

While Chance fired up his laptop to dig into Suede’s hare-brained scheme, Kruze filled him in. “Woody said it’ll take thirty minutes at least. His bird’s cold and he needs to refuel, but he’ll be here.”

“Shit!” Chance hissed, torn between waiting on Woody and going after Suede on foot. Shocked didn’t begin to describe his state of mind. Pissed. Furious. Maybe a touch of pride that she’d done this. But shocked? Not. He should’ve known she wouldn’t let Franks get away with all he’d done to her and her family. He should’ve known she’d go after him.

“She’s got my pistol,” he told Kruze. “She’s going to kill him.”

“She’ll never get it past airport security.”

True, that. Suede was smart. Wherever she was headed, she planned to arm herself once she got there. Chance shifted gears. He wanted eyes on the sky, that bank in LA, and the guy in Spokane who sold illegal passports. Now!

While Kruze hammered at his keyboard, Chance did what he should’ve done days ago. It all came down to why York had chosen Chance’s parcel of land to end Suede’s life. Chance needed to know now what he hadn’t cared about before. Who the hell are my neighbors?

It took seconds to bring up Google Earth along with the county’s property assessment website. A little hacking know-how brought his corner of Montana into geographical relief, boundary lines and property owner’s names included. Bumping that information up against his boundaries identified his neighbors. He’d vetted this portion of Montana thoroughly when he’d bought this land, but hadn’t thought to double-check which properties, if any, had changed hands since. Now he knew. “That asshole’s my neighbor.”

“Be specific,” Kruze said without looking up. “I know lots of A-holes.”

“No wonder York dumped Suede here.”

“Who are you talking about?” Kruze barked, still intent on his search. “Which asshole’s your neighbor?”

Chance turned on his brother. “Mitchell Franks.”

*****

It took no time at all to catch a bus out of the little town in the valley. Apple Valley, how quaint. It smacked of all the things Suede had left behind. Warmth. Family. Love.

She was headed west to Spokane, Washington, now. Like Julio needed to end Zapata, she needed to end Franks. Chance would put himself at risk for her, but not this time. Her mean girl was back in the game and her plan was foolproof. Franks had taken too much this time, and Suede meant to tell him so, right before she shot his fucking head off.

Maneuvering through the snow was the hardest part of the trip into town. Dressed in the winter gear she’d used when she and Chance had confronted York, she’d borrowed a pair of snowshoes and sneaked out of the basement door while Chance was busy upstairs with his brothers. Poor sweet Gallo. She’d leashed him to a table leg in the clinic. That hurt as much as leaving Chance. Gallo had treats to keep him busy, but Chance would be angry.

He might never forgive her for this breach of trust, but she wouldn’t lose another person she loved to Franks, and yes, the loss of her mother now hurt like a knife lodged in her chest. Suede didn’t understand the grief that kept surfacing like waves, but that single thread she shared with her mother—of being murdered by bastards—now pulled her relentlessly onward. To do good. To finish what Franks had set in motion five years ago. To pay Chance back for all he’d done. Suede meant him to be proud of the gifts he’d given freely, not ashamed for saving her life.

As the wintery scenery rolled by her bus window, she smoothed her hands over her stomach to calm her jittery nerves. This was the right thing to do. It was.

At the Spokane airport, she paid the cab out of the funds in her now depleted personal bank account, as well as the one York had set up for her. As odd as their relationship was, he’d always made certain she had one hundred thousand dollars at her disposal. She’d withdrawn every last cent while in Apple Valley and kissed her dreams of a happy life with Chance goodbye. He deserved better, and maybe someday, he’d find that special lady who could give it to him. It surely wasn’t her.

Suede didn’t expect to survive this confrontation, and that was okay. A tear eked out of the corner of her eye, but she dashed it off her cheek so it wouldn’t attract others. The darn things worked on gravity. They only needed one to prime the ducts. Franks. That was her sole mission now and she would not fail.

The flight to Costa Rica was pricier than she’d expected, but okay. She only needed a one-way ticket. Off the southeastern shore of the country, on the Caribbean-side near Puerto Veijo De Talamanca, several tiny islands lay, some only a couple acres of isolation, others large enough to have been small countries. That was where Mitchell Franks was. She knew it.

He was probably sitting on his beach, laughing at all he’d gotten away with. Well, not for long. She hadn’t brought a weapon with her, but she had enough cash. Guns were plentiful on the streets of Puerto Veijo. Housing was cheap in Puerto Veijo, and people were poor. She knew a few of those poor people. They’d help her, and soon Mitchell Franks would be as dead as her mother.

Oddly, that didn’t bring the peace she expected. Her heart ached. No. It was breaking. She’d never loved anyone the way she’d loved Chance, and it hurt, physically hurt, to be separated from him now. She couldn’t catch a deep enough breath, and she honestly thought she might be having a heart attack. Who was she kidding to be so brave all of a sudden?

The grief he’d told her would surely come had arrived. Her feelings for her mother hadn’t mattered before, but they mattered now. But what had gone wrong between Vera and Franks? Was her death his attempt to get back at the Governor? Was he that cruel?

“May I get you a blanket?” the kindly flight attendant asked.

Suede looked up into the soft brown eyes of a pretty Hispanic woman. They were the same deep, chocolate brown as Julio’s. He, his wife and son had suffered at Zapata’s hands, and all because Mitchell Franks was the wicked spider at the center of this treacherous web. He’d ruled not only Zapata, but Governor Tennyson and two evil Colombian drug lords as well. Yet here she was, going after a powerful man.

Suede’s resolve turned to concrete. She could do this. She would do this.

“Yes, thank you, I am a little cold,” she told the attendant. And I’m not turning back until Franks is dead.

Hours later, the flight touched down in the Costa Rican city of Puerto Limón. Since the only items to her name were the essentials she’d purchased prior to this self-appointed mission, Suede carried one small suitcase off the plane and half a bottle of water. The cash she’d withdrawn in Montana was concealed in a wallet beneath her baggy shirt, along with the passport she’d bought illegally in Spokane. That was right, Spokane. Thanks to her exciting life with Lionel York, she knew how to circumvent the law when needed.

Disguised beneath Jackie O dark glasses, one of Chance’s blue baseball caps, his baggy shirt, and plenty of ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude, she ambled out of the Jetway tunnel, popping bubble gum and with a burner phone stuck to her ear like the majority of her generation.

After passing through customs and only sweating up a tiny storm over that illegal passport she’d paid a bundle for, she caught a cab to the bus station, then boarded the bus to Puerto Viejo, sixty some miles south on the coast. From there, she had no idea how to get out to Franks’ island, but she wasn’t worried. Puerto Viejo was known for its surfing, nightlife, and college-aged men and boys. She had money and looks. She’d be on that island in no time.

Suede opted for a room at the Otel del Sol, Hotel of the Sun, where she’d previously spent a few days. York had left her there while he traveled for business, which she now knew meant drugs. What a world I lived in, she thought. I thought I had it all, but all I had was ignorance to fall for every trap laid for me. Never again.

Her room faced east as if Karma were one step ahead, giving her a final view of the beautiful Caribbean where she’d most likely die. But first things, first.

Suede had only hours to procure a weapon and a boat for hire. She showered and wrapped her wet hair in a braid, then wound it high and tight to fit under Chance’s cap while she prowled the streets and back alleys. She had one shot at killing Mitch. She intended to make him love her first. Well, at least lust for her.