Retribution Boxed Set (Books One and Two) (38 page)

Sam followed though he didn’t want to.

“What the hell is going on?” Noah whispered to
him.

“He’s lying.” Couldn’t the rest of these guys see
that?

“Whether he is or isn’t, we’ve got to do this by
the book.”

Sam stared at his partner, his anger at Paul
morphing into irritation at the guy next to him. His partner was supposed to
have his back, not question his intentions. “Then let’s do it.”

Mark left two men in the office to watch Paul and
the delivery guy while they conducted their search. Two hours later, the men
came up empty-handed.

“Ask for his shipping logs,” Sam said to Mark
after they had reconvened in the office.

“We’ve already reviewed them. Everything looks
clean.”

“It isn’t clean,” Sam said, pissed that Paul had
outsmarted him. “This prick’s a bastard that needs to be behind bars.”

“This is harassment,” Paul said to Mark. “You’ve
disrupted my business for more than two hours, for nothing.”

Harassment
? He could say that after what
he’d done to Janie? Something in Sam snapped, and he grabbed Paul by the shirt
collar and jerked him to his feet. “Listen douchebag—“

Then Noah and another guy were on him, pulling
him away from Paul. Sam wanted to deck them, too, but they held his arms and
escorted him from the office. Outside the office, he jerked away from them,
firing visual daggers at them instead.

“Sam,” Noah warned. “You’ve got to cool it down. Let’s
go outside. Mark can handle it from here.”

Sam stared at him for a moment, and then caved. He
turned and strode from the building, more angry than he could ever remember
being. He needed to maintain control, but the smirk on Castell’s face stole his
rationality.

Noah was directly behind him when he walked into
the misty air.

“Seriously, Sam. What the
hell
was that?”

Sam turned on him, but didn’t answer.

“You’re losing it. Who the hell is this guy to
you? Yeah, he assaulted a woman. Yeah, he’s most likely a dealer, but dude,
you’re taking this
way
too personal.”

Heated blood pounded through his brain, fighting
his attempt to control his emotions. “He’s nobody.”

Noah narrowed his gaze, studying him for several
seconds. “It’s the girl.”

“Fuck,” Sam exploded. “Would you quit saying
that?”

His partner didn’t seem the least bit affected by
his outburst. “You were different with her the night we brought her in. Then
you insisted we start investigating Castell.” He paused again as though piecing
together information. “Do you know where she is?” he said, his gaze lighting
with interest.

Sam prayed his own expression wasn’t so telling. “Why
the hell would you ask that?”

“She’s disappeared off the radar. Even her own
lawyer can’t locate her. And I just listed off the reasons I think you might
have given her a place to stay. So…do you?”

Noah had backed him into a corner, leaving him no
escape. “You’re screwed in the head, man.” He started walking back toward their
car. “I’ve got better things to do than argue this with you.”

“Yeah,” Noah said from behind him. “Like writing
a report on why we wasted the department’s resources this morning.”

“It’s not a waste,” Sam said as he fired up the
engine in his car. “He’s involved in something big. I just need to prove it.” He
turned to his partner. “Why the hell didn’t Mark bring a dog? This whole
department is fucked up.”

Paul waited until the last of the officers and
the delivery man left before he crumpled forward on his desk. “Motherfucker,”
he whispered, trying to catch his breath. The whole time the cops had been in
there, he’d had to maintain his composure, fearful they’d come across something
he and his men had missed.

Thank God Brent had spilled his guts in time for
them to do something about it, and double thanks to the gods that the cops
hadn’t brought dogs with them.

Someone was smiling down on him.

His cell rang, and he jumped. He glanced at the
screen, recognizing the name of one of his men. “Yeah,” he said as he held it
to his ear. His blood pressure spiked to the degree it had when the cops had
been there. “What the fuck do you mean you lost her? He paused as his man
imparted the rest of the news. “Shit. I hope the guys have left town. If Hardy
finds out they lost her, he’ll kill them himself.” There was no way it would
stay out of the news. He could only pray Hardy wouldn’t tie the shooting to him.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to offer up the information.

“A license plate is good,” he said, happy to get
something other than bad news. God had thrown him a bone. “Hardy said we could
use Clark. Get a hold of him, and give him the plate. Let me know what he
finds.”

It was damn obvious he was out of time and had to
do something quick, or he’d lose his head, too. “I hope to hell you have other
guys out looking for her. Yeah, yeah,” he said and hung up the phone, grabbing
his own keys.

No one wanted to find Janie Singleton as much as he
did.

*        *        *

Sam was still reeling from the aftereffects of
the botched raid and Noah’s attack on his character when he walked into the
precinct. He immediately caught the elevated tension in the air and the
constant chatter of his co-workers. He and Noah eyed each other before they
joined the fray.

“Something going down?” Sam asked a dispatcher.

“Shooting on Hawthorne. They’ve got the footage
on TV.”

Sam shifted his gaze to the nearby television. As
the reporter continued to give the latest information, amateur footage ran in
the background. The shot showed a woman in the distance running across the
Hawthorne Bridge. His chest tightened. She looked like she could have been
Janie. As the shot panned back to the row of cars waiting to cross the bridge,
he realized the bridge was lifting as she’d crossed it. He stared at the screen.
A few cars back from the front of the line, he recognized  Christian’s one-of-a-kind
Mustang. Several people were out of their cars crowded around one man.

Christian.

The weight of the world crashed in on him.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, pushing people out of
the way. “I’m taking some personal time,” he said to Noah as he passed.

More than one co-worker watched him with widened
eyes, but he didn’t have time to explain or make up a story. He had to get to
Janie.

*        *        *

Janie slowed to a walk after she’d made it
several blocks past the bridge. She wished she could slow her heartbeat as
easily. She heard the sirens, but tried to pretend she hadn’t been involved in
what summoned them. Running definitely made her more conspicuous. No one
noticed a walker as much. On second thought, she ducked into an alley and
pulled the cap from her hair, stuffing it into her bag. She tried to fluff her
hair as much as she could, and then she removed her jacket and tucked it into her
bag as well. At first glance, she wouldn’t look like the girl on the bridge.

Besides Castell’s men, she had no idea who might
be looking for her. Christian eventually, when he could escape the bridge
traffic. Maybe the cops. It couldn’t look very good to be running away after
shots were fired.
She
knew she was running from the shooter, but would
everyone else?

Another siren sounded, and she slipped farther
down the alley, putting as much distance as she could between her and the
public. She
had
to get off the streets. She was too much of a target.

She scooted between two garbage bins and for the
first time since the shooting, tried to catch her breath. A stack of cardboard
boxes had been flattened and bundled, and rested against the side of the
building. Meant for recycling, she assumed. Exhausted physically and
emotionally, she dragged the stack of boxes between the two bins and sat down.

The shelter of the large metal containers gave
her a moment’s rest. She closed her eyes and inhaled a huge breath. Dear God. A
horn honked and startled her, but then all was quiet again.

She still had her life, thank God. It killed her
not knowing Christian’s status. She pulled out her phone only to realize she
didn’t have his number.

But she had Sam’s. She hit redial only to have it
go to voicemail again. Her anger spiked. Where the hell was he? On some secret
raid that he couldn’t tell her about? It stung that she’d asked him to be
honest with her the previous night and he’d still withheld information. He’d
known as she’d lain curled against him what he’d planned for today. And he
chose not to say anything.

She shut her eyes as frustrated tears burned
through her lashes. Maybe she shouldn’t try to call him again. Maybe she should
catch the first bus out of town and not look back. She did have all her
important documents and a decent amount of money on her.

She tried it on for size, but the thought didn’t
sit well with her. If she left, the judge would ultimately put out a warrant
for her failure to appear. Or worse, the case would go to trial, and she’d be
found guilty because she didn’t appear to defend herself.

Neither of those were a good idea. It would be
bad enough hiding from Paul. He could only reach so far. The justice system had
far bigger claws.

She wiped her eyes. She could always call Eliana.
Her attorney would certainly help her find a place to stay and help her
navigate her way through the justice system.

But she couldn’t protect her from Paul.

No. As mad as she was at Sam, she wouldn’t walk
away from him. Her parents hadn’t been worth the fight and neither had Paul,
but something made her think Sam might be.

She grasped her knees, pulling them to her chest
and rested her head. All she could do now was wait. Eventually, he’d check his
phone.

*        *        *

Sam turned on his phone as he raced for his car. The
second he had reception his phone rang. Ryan. He answered and listened as his
friend relayed the details of what had gone down.

“What the
fuck
do you mean, Christian lost
her? Fear frosted his veins.

“She made it across the bridge, but they shot him
in the leg. There was no way he could go after her.”

“She’s still out there…alone? How long has it
been?”

“Over an hour, man. I’ve been searching, been
trying to call you.”

“We raided Castell’s warehouse. I had to have my
phone off.”

“Check to see if she’s called you then. None of
us have her number.”

He jerked the phone away from his head as though
it burned him and pulled down the information bar. Thirty missed calls. Most of
them from Ryan. One from Christian…and three from an unknown number.

It had to be Janie. “I think I got her.”

He didn’t wait for Ryan to respond before he
disconnected and hit redial on the unknown number.

“Sam?” she answered, her voice sounding scared
and uncertain.

His heart sweated blood in relief. “God, Janie.” She
was alive. “Are you okay? Where are you? He couldn’t get his words out fast
enough.

“I’m hiding. Between two buildings. I didn’t know
where was safe.”

“Stay there. Stay hidden. I’m coming to get you. What
street are you on?”

“I’m not sure. I just ran and didn’t think to
look. I must be a couple of blocks off Hawthorne. I passed a print shop not
long before I found this alley.”

“I think I know where you are. I can be there in
five minutes. Just hang on.”

Again, Sam wished he’d had the forethought to
grab a cruiser instead of his personal vehicle. A siren would have gotten him
there in three minutes, and at this point in time, he didn’t care who had eyes
on him. He needed Janie to be safe.

He made her keep the phone line open while he
drove, though neither of them said anything. He could hear her breathing,
couldn’t imagine what kind of hell she’d been through that day.

“I’m close now. Come out of the alley so I can
see you,” he said as he turned the corner and drew up next to the copy and
shipping store. He continued slowly past it, and then spotted her blond head
peeking from between two buildings. He sped up and then slammed on the brakes
when he reached her, barely shoving his transmission into park before he jumped
out of his car.

She opened her arms as he reached her, tears
running down her face. He crushed her in his embrace, hugging her so tight that
he lifted her off her feet. “Thank God,” he whispered. “Thank God.”

“I didn’t know what to do, Sam,” she said when he
pulled away. “They were shooting at us. We tried to get out of downtown, but we
got stopped by the bridge. I was so scared…I just ran.”

He took her face between his hands and kissed her
hard. “You did good. Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll talk on the way home.”
He held her tight against him until he’d helped her safely into the car. He
glanced around, surveying their surroundings. When nothing seemed out of place,
he climbed in his car and headed home.

*        *        *

Awkwardness and silence filled the car as Sam
drove Janie home. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know
where to start. Apparently, he was having a difficult time, too.

Finally, he broke the stillness. “I’m so sorry,
Janie. I should have done a better job.”

She frowned at his words. “It wasn’t
your
fault. I’m the one who asked Christian to drive me to the bank.” Seeing Sam had
shaken her thoughts and churned emotion to the surface, and she’d forgotten the
one thing she needed to know. “Is he okay?”

Sam tapped his fingers on the gearshift, his
troubled thoughts evident. “He caught a bullet in the thigh. Not much more than
a surface wound, so I think he’ll live.”

“Shot? Oh, God.” It sickened her to think he’d
been hurt because of her.

“Don’t feel too sorry for him.”

She was shocked at the anger echoing in his voice.
“It’s not his fault, either. He did a great job of protecting me.”

Sam slid a sideways glance at her. “
He lost
you
.”

“We were ambushed, Sam. There was no way we could
have known someone would be watching my bank. I didn’t think Paul even knew I
had an account there.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “He must have had
some suspicion or found something at the apartment.”

“Maybe I left something behind.” As soon as she’d
said the words, she remembered. Her secret little box she kept in the top of
the closet. She’d totally forgotten about it the night she’d grabbed her stuff
and left. “You can’t be mad at Christian.”

“I am. If there wasn’t a bullet hole in his leg,
I’d put one there.”

She rounded on him, his anger resurrecting hers. “At
least he didn’t lie to me.”

Guilt colored his features. “I didn’t lie.”

“God, Sam, you’ve spent so much time living two
lives and hiding one from the other, that you can’t even remember how to tell
the truth. Do you not see the problem with that?”

He stared at the windshield, but didn’t respond.

“Lying by omission is just as bad. Last night
after we made love, I told you how important it was that you were honest with
me. You said you’d tell me the truth, yet the whole time you were withholding
more information.”

“It was confidential information on a drug raid
that was scheduled to take place today. Men’s lives were at stake. I couldn’t
tell you.”

She compressed her lips. While that was
technically true, she didn’t believe that was his only reason for holding back.
She couldn’t keep her silence. “A drug raid that involved
Paul
.”

“I still couldn’t have told you.”

“So, you’re going to sit there and say you have
to follow the rules, when clearly you’ve broken many of them?”

He pulled into his garage and shut off the engine.
When he turned to her, harsh lines etched the corners of his eyes. “Besides the
guys in our organization, you are the one person I would think who could
understand why we do what we do. Your life was threatened, and yet you have to
go to court to defend yourself. Every day, I try to ensure that criminals are
properly punished through the justice system. It’s a great system. But it
doesn’t always work. What then? Is it okay that child molesters run free so
they can shatter some other child’s life? Is it okay for a man to beat his wife
and then walk away to continue his life while hers has been taken, not only
from her, but from those who loved her?”

His personal pain became more evident with each
word he spoke, and each word was like a bullet to her heart. The man next to
her was trying to do the best he could for those around him. He was willing to
sacrifice his livelihood, even his freedom to protect people.

She’d had no right to judge him. “You’re a hero,”
she whispered.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath and looked
away. “I’m no fucking hero.” He got out of the car and slammed the door.

She hurried after him, but couldn’t catch up
before he walked into his room and shut the door. He’d purposefully put space
between them, like she’d always put physical or emotional distance between her
and the people who should have loved her but didn’t.

She’d always wished her parents would have come
after her, would have apologized and let her know they’d cared. They hadn’t. She
wouldn’t make the same mistake.