Justice For Abby (33 page)

They cleared four rooms, stopping at the next open door. “Hold up,” Shane whispered, pointing to the bodies lying on the floor in pools of blood. One was the guard from out front.

“Two down,” Stone muttered.

Two gunshots, two bodies. Jerrod prayed this meant Abby was still alive.

They moved from the space, pausing, pointing their guns down the shadowy east hall, when a clatter from above caught their attention. Jerrod glanced at both of his men, nodding. They kept going, moving faster, skirting the filthy debris silently as they climbed the flight of stairs and continued down another long hall. They stopped when they came to an intersection.

“There,” Shane whispered.

Jerrod caught the same movement out the corner of his eye, his relief huge when he spotted Abby’s dangling sneakers, her hair streaming down the side of Dimitri’s arm as Dimitri carried her down the darkened hall toward another stairwell.

“We must hurry before we are found,” Dimitri’s voice echoed in a hissing whisper as he spoke to Victor and the other man who had been in the van, turning his body in a quick circle as he looked behind him.

Jerrod’s momentary relief vanished as Abby lay limp, her eyes closed, her head bleeding, her left jaw and cheekbone swollen with bruises. His finger danced on the trigger as a red haze filled his vision with a primal fury he’d never felt before.

“Keep it cool, Quinn,” Shane muttered. “No mistakes.”

He fought to pull himself together, taking several steadying breaths, knowing Shane was absolutely right.

“Someone is here. Let’s go,” Dimitri said, moving closer to the stairs, awkwardly tossing his weapon to Victor. “Aleksey, get the car. We’ll meet you out front.”

Stone gestured toward the grouping of old offices with inner connecting doors, signaling that he would head that way.

Jerrod and Shane nodded.

Stone wasted no time, disappearing around the corner. Moments later there was a clatter from the direction he headed, and Victor and the man named Aleksey stopped on the top step, pointing their guns.

“Who’s there?” Victor shouted.

“Keep going, Dimitri. Take her out. We will see to this,” Aleksey whispered.

“Help!” Abby opened her eyes, calling groggily. “Help—”

“Shut
up
!” Dimitri slapped at her, his big hand assaulting her bruised skin.

Jerrod steamed a breath out his nose, struggling to stay put when she cringed, whimpering. Dimitri would not hit her again, so help him.

The clatter of footsteps came again from further away.

Aleksey started forward. “I’ll go see—”

A shot rang out from Stone’s position, and blood bloomed along Aleksey’s lower pant leg as he screamed, losing his balance, falling down the first few steps of the stairwell before he caught himself.

Within seconds all hell broke loose as Victor and the injured man started firing toward Stone.

Shane took off in Stone’s direction, and Dimitri ran Jerrod’s way with Abby while she covered her head and slammed her eyes shut.

Jerrod pressed his back to the wall, waiting for Dimitri to turn the corner. He pointed his gun as Dimitri came into view. “Freeze!” Jerrod yelled, his eyes locking with Abby’s.

Dimtri stopped dead and took a step back.

“I said don’t move.”

“Jerrod,” Abby whispered from trembling lips among the madness of gunfire.

Jerrod looked at Dimitri as she struggled not to cry, needing to keep his concentration. “Let her go.”

Dimitri shook his head, smiling, backing closer to the huge grouping of windows behind him. “She will die first.”

“The only one who’s going to die is you, fucker. Now put her down.”

Dimtri dropped Abby to her feet, dragging her within inches of the broken glass, and grabbed for her chin.

Jerrod aimed, firing, skimming Dimitri’s right hip, full well knowing the bastard was planning to snap her neck.

Dimitri hollered, releasing Abby as he stumbled back.

Abby screamed, taking two steps before Dimitri grabbed her arm, pulling her body to his chest, using her as a shield.

“Now we will both die!” He yanked her off her feet, ready to dive out the second story window.

“Let me
go
!” Abby sent her elbow back, connecting with Dimitri’s face.

Dimtri’s grip loosened as he hollered, and blood fountained from his nose.

 “Run, Abigail!” Jerrod shouted, knowing if Dimitri grabbed hold this time she would end up on the pavement far below.

Out of nowhere Stone appeared in the silence Jerrod hadn’t noticed until now, sprinting forward, yanking Abby out of the way as Dimitri attempted to take hold of her for the second time. Stone pressed Abby into the wall with his body, shielding her as Jerrod opened fire. Shane’s shot followed almost simultaneously, the shocking jolts sending Dimitri crashing back through the window.

Abby’s ragged breathing filled the room as she broke out of Stone’s arms and rushed forward. “Jerrod. Oh god, Jerrod.”

He wrapped her up, holding her tight, breathing in shampoo and soot from her filthy clothing as she clung to him, shaking, sobbing. “It’s okay, Abby. It’s okay. They’re dead.” He looked from Stone to Shane as he slid down the wall on weak legs, pulling her into his lap.

They nodded their confirmation.

“You found me,” she muffled against his chest.

“I wasn’t leaving without you.” He murmured next to her ear and eased her back, needing to look at her, assessing her battered, tear-streaked face, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, running trembling fingers over dark purple bruising. “It’s over,” he said as much to her as himself.

“You found me,” she said again, kissing him, pulling herself close, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Come on.” He stood minutes later when he was certain his legs would hold him, picking her up, holding her tight, sure he might never let her go. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looked toward the window. “He’s dead?”

He nodded, catching sight of Victor and Aleksey sprawled on the stairs and in the hall.

“I want to go home.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “Let’s go home, Jerrod.”

He pressed his cheek to her hair. “Let’s go.”

Abby checked her makeup in the mirror, scrutinizing her
jaw and cheek, satisfied that the remains of her purplish-yellow bruising were well hidden. She touched the healing gash on her temple, examining the line of ugly scabs left from the butt of Dimitri’s gun. Unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do about that. Shrugging, she combed trembling fingers through the loose curls she’d twisted into the ends of her hair, trying her best to ignore the clutch of nerves sickening her stomach.

She glanced at the breakfast Jackson’s mother brought up to the guestroom, shuddering at the idea of eating the homemade cinnamon roll—her and Lex’s favorite, but not today. She didn’t have an appetite for cinnamony dough and warm gooey glaze, no matter how sweet the gesture. Carol had attempted to feed her from the moment they walked through the Matthews’ front door, but Abby’s appetite had been on the fritz since they boarded the plane from LA three days ago, heading back to Maryland.

Thank God they were staying on Kent Island surrounded by the gorgeous Chesapeake Bay and warm, friendly extended family. Being here with Jackson’s parents instead of in some sterile hotel had gone a long way to making her more at ease, but nothing could make today better. This was it. In less than two hours she would walk into Federal Court and face Lorenzo Cruz.

Jerrod knocked on the doorframe.

She gave his reflection a small smile. “Hey.”

He smiled back, walking into the bedroom. “Ready to go?”

Turning, she faced him, letting loose a shuddering breath as she smoothed down her fitted white blouse and tailored above-the-knee navy blue skirt. “As I’ll ever be.”

He stopped in front of her, resting his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, locking his arms around her waist. “You’re going to do great.” He kissed her lips.

“I hope so.” She adjusted his charcoal gray tie and fiddled with the collar of his button-down shirt. “There’s so much on the line. I need to get this right for Margret. Today is for her.”

“And for you.” He tapped his finger to her nose.

“And me and the others, even Shelby, but mostly for Margret. She should be here.” She looked down, still trying to cope with Margret’s sacrifice.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. “She loved you too.”

She nodded, overwhelmed by the guilt that had only compounded after Dimitri’s gloating rant. “And paid for it.”

“You would have done the same for her.”

A tear fell down her cheek. “Yes, but—”

“He never planned to let her walk away alive, Abigail.” He dried her cheek with his thumb.

Somewhere deep down she knew that. Jerrod had reminded her of the fact several times over the last week and a half, but her sorrow was no less. “I promised to save her. I didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “This—today—is the only way I can make that even a little bit right.

He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

She held on. “Me too.”

“Shane and Stone are ready whenever we are.”

“Just one more second.” She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest, savoring the comfort of being in his arms. “Okay.” She stepped back, bolstered by the embrace. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll be right there with you.” He took her hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “Right in the front seat of that courtroom. You don’t have to look at him while you testify.”

“Yes, I do.” This was her chance to finally put this chapter of her life away. “I’m going to look him right in the eyes while I twist the lock on his cell door.”

He smiled. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

He’d told her at least a dozen times a day while they were home in California. The feds as well as Ethan and Jackson had assured them both that risks were minimal now that all of the major known players in the ring were dead or behind bars, but neither she nor Jerrod had let the other out of their sight since he carried her out of the warehouse. “I think I remember you saying that.”

“Let’s go toss away that key.”

She nodded. “The sooner the better.” Despite the flutters of apprehension for the day ahead, she was craving the small slice of normal she’d sampled while they stayed at the farm. Eventually she and Jerrod would be comfortable with her being out on her own. Finally they would have their chance to move on. “Wait.” She pulled on his hand.

“What?”

She cupped his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his, then the healing wounds on his temple, taking the comfort he was always willing to give and giving her fare share in return. Her testimony wouldn’t be easy on either of them. “I love you too.”

“Quinn.” Shane stopped in the doorway, decked out in a dark suit and tie similar to Jerrod’s. “We should go.”

“We’re ready.” He took her hand, holding it while they walked downstairs to the kitchen.

“There you are, honey.” Carol stood in her jeans and sweater, pulling Abby into a hug.

Abby returned her warm embrace. “Here I am.” Jackson’s mother—Mom to everyone who knew her—had always been so kind. She’d loved coming to the island when Lex and Jackson brought her during their college breaks all those years ago. The house was as beautiful and soothing as Carol and George Matthews were themselves.

“Did you have any luck with your breakfast?”

Abby eased away, shaking her head guiltily. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just not hungry.”

“Of course you’re not, sweetheart,” she cooed as she pressed a kiss to Abby’s injured cheek and stepped back to grab the small thermos and paper sack. “Here’s some honeyed tea and a few graham crackers for the road. I want you to nibble and sip. A little bit of sweet will help settle your stomach.”

Abby took the items handed to her. “Thank you.”

“Promise you’ll try.”

“I will.”

“Today will be difficult, but you’ll do just fine. You’re my spitfire, Abby Harris. You remember that.”

“I will.”

“All right. Go on now, and kick some butt the way I know you can.”

Abby smiled, loving Carol even more.

Carol hugged her again quickly. “George and Stone are waiting in the garage. Here you go, Jerrod.” She handed over another bag. “Rolls and lots of napkins for you boys for the ride.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Car—Mom.”

She winked. “You’re welcome.”

Shane opened the door leading to the garage. Abby walked out to the Escalade with Jerrod at her side, sliding into the backseat next to Stone. Shane took the passenger’s seat while George pulled out of the garage—her team for the last three days, minus George—men she and Jerrod both trusted, men Jerrod would be working with on a regular basis now that her security would lessen and Shane would join Ethan Cooke Security.

She pulled her sunglasses from her purse, putting them on as the mid-morning sun shone bright, glistening on the choppy waters of the bay too brackish to freeze in the cool February temperatures.

“Looks like a good day to get this done,” Jerrod said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled and opened the bag Carol had given her, nibbling at the cracker as she’d promised she would.

The SUV remained quiet while they drove over the Bay Bridge and several more miles to the United States District Courthouse in Baltimore. Abby leaned against Jerrod, staring out at the city she called home during her not-so-long-ago college days. It felt like years since she’d been carefree and on her own, but really it had only been months. The Escalade passed the fabric store she’d practically lived in and the café she’d stopped at regularly for tea, then she spotted the restaurant she and Renzo had eaten at on more than one occasion and sat up, looking away, understanding that she could never live here again.

Los Angeles was where she wanted to be. Jerrod would be there with her, and Alexa and her career. Despite the complications of the past several weeks, the
Escape
line was still ready to roll. She and Lily had gone over the designs she’d drawn while in Manhattan, picking and choosing what they would use for Fashion Week, tirelessly sewing, fitting, and resewing into the wee hours of the morning for much of the eight days she and Jerrod had been home. There was too much to look forward to to dwell on the now. Today would officially mark the first day of her new beginning.

She came to attention, swallowing as George slowed and pulled up to the curb by the courthouse. Dozens of reporters waited with their microphones and news cameras.

“Great,” she murmured, remembering the similar swarms as she and Jerrod made their jaunt through Regan International back in July.

“Just look down and walk,” Jerrod said. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

Stone got out first, wasting little time, then Shane, who opened Jerrod’s door. Jerrod stepped out, giving her a nod to come forward as Shane stepped closer in front of her. Jerrod wrapped an arm around her waist and Stone flanked them from the back, touching a quick hand to both their shoulders, signaling for them to move through the pandemonium as the press swooped in.

“Ms. Harris, is this the first time you’ve seen your kidnapper since your rescue?”

“What do you plan to say to the man who held you captive?”

“Back up,” Shane said as they pushed their way up the steps into the courthouse, leaving the reporters and their questions behind.

“Whew,” Abby said, loosening her death grip around Jerrod’s waist as she pulled off her sunglasses, trying to relax her shoulders.

“How are you holding up?” Jerrod asked.

“I’m okay.” But, as she stepped through the metal detector and the inevitable drew near, she worried what her reaction to Renzo would be.

“Come on.” He took her hand as they started up the stairs.

Her heart began to hammer, and the cold sweat started with each step closer to the courtroom and her captor. “Jerrod.” She jerked on his hand as they reached the second floor and moved into the small room where they would wait for her to be called.

He stopped. “I’m right here with you.”

“I know.” She stepped closer to him, leaning against his solid body. “What if—what if I can’t do this?” she asked on a trembling whisper. “What if we’ve come all this way and I can’t?”

He slid a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have no doubt that you
can
. You’re tossing away those keys, remember?”

And that’s what she needed to remember. If she didn’t do this, Lorenzo might go free.
I just want to go home, Abby.
She couldn’t let down Margret, herself, or the hundreds of others deserving justice. Licking her dry lips, she nodded. “I remember.”

Someone knocked on the door to the small room.

Stone stepped forward, his hand on his weapon, opening an inch. “Yeah.”

“We’re ready for Ms. Harris.”

“Thank you.”

She held Jerrod’s gaze as her hands grew clammy. “God. Okay. God,” she repeated, smoothing down her skirt as her pulse throbbed in her throat. “I need to go. Right now. I need to do this while I can.”

“Let’s go.” Jerrod walked out by her side, with Stone following. Shane stayed behind, keeping an eye on who entered the room after them. They made their way through the next door, and Lorenzo turned in his chair at the defense’s table, his eyes locking with hers.

She paused mid-step, burying her repulsion, studying him as he did the same with a smirk on his face. He seemed different. His smooth good looks had turned chubby. He appeared older, as if his time locked away had been a strain. Good.

She moved further into the room as Blondie stepped down from the stand to the bailiff waiting with handcuffs, ready to lead her away. She too looked awful in her ill-fitting skirt and gray roots showing. She glanced Abby’s way, glared, and looked away. Blondie would get out of prison eventually with her last-minute plea bargain, but she would spend the next fifteen to twenty in the penitentiary, which wasn’t long enough.

She glanced up, meeting Renzo’s stare for the second time. Even with the distance between them and his not-so-fit appearance, he evoked a primal fear that made her want to run.

“Abigail,” Jerrod whispered next to her ear.

She turned her head, looking into Jerrod’s calm, steady eyes.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. Never again.”

She nodded.

“The prosecution calls Abigail Harris to the stand.”

She swallowed as her crackers threatened to make a second appearance and focused on the silent support of Jerrod’s squeeze against her fingers, ready to do what needed to be done.

Prosecutor Bitner gave her a nod as she walked to the stand.

“Place your hand on the Bible,” the bailiff said.

She did as she was told, glancing at Jerrod.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

She looked into Renzo’s eyes. “Yes I do.”

~~~~

“What happened next, Ms. Harris?” Prosecutor Bitner asked.

“He threw me to the bed.”

Jerrod fisted his hands at his side as Abby’s voice trembled. She’d been to hell and back over the last two and a half hours, answering question after question, reliving her worst moments in the stash house and strip clubs for dozens of strangers packed into the courtroom to hear. She’d shared—in minute detail—the horrors of her ‘bookkeeping’ requirements, strip routines in seedy bars, and lap dances in filthy backrooms, holding herself together through it all.

Over the months they’d lived together, he thought Abby had confided the majority of her ordeal, but as he sat on the uncomfortable wooden bench, listening, waiting for the grilling to end, he realized there was so much more to her horrible story. The fact that she woke everyday determined to not only function but thrive was a testament to her admirable inner strength.

He reached up to rub at the back of his aching neck, stopping as she looked in his direction. The last thing she needed was to sense his tension; right now she needed his strength. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, and she continued with her explanation for the jury. His gaze traveled to the bastard sitting smugly in the defendant’s chair. Even though bailiffs stood within arm’s reach and Stone sat inches behind Lorenzo on the opposite bench, the slime bag was still too close to Abby. The fucker deserved to rot in his cell for the rest of his life. After Abby’s testimony, he would. She was kicking ass.