Promises After Dark (After Dark #3) (28 page)

“Baby, you gotta get on piggy back. Grab around my neck.” She sat down on her haunches, and after Jillian’s arms were around her neck, she hoisted her up on her back. More adept on her third try, she climbed up quickly and had soon pulled herself and Jillian over the top of the wagon. It was dirty inside, and the dust made Jillian cough. Angel tried to wave the dust away from her face, but it was useless.

“Bean, sit down, okay?” Angel said softly. She put her finger to her lips to tell the little girl to be quiet. Angel stood in the wagon; the top of it was over her head. She stood on tiptoe and looked around the barn. There were glass windows on the sides opposite the doors, and one of them was broken. There were two large doors, used to bring farm equipment in or out, next to the regular door that she’d brought Jillian through. With both of them closed, she’d be able to hear if anyone came in. There was another wagon—the flatbed variety—at the back and it had something black lying on top of it. Angel knew it would be filthy, but it looked like a tarp that could be used as a cover.

She squatted down by Jillian. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly. “Stay here.” Angel climbed out of the wagon, holding on with her arms then swinging her left leg up, she used it to pull up until she was sitting on top of the wagon. It was easily eight feet to the floor of the barn, but she hopped down then hurried over to the other wagon.

Lifting the edge slightly, she was assaulted with a horrible stench. She turned her head in revulsion. She gagged, coughing violently as her stomach lurched, and she lost the small amount of banana she’d eaten, vomiting on the barn floor. “What the fuck?” she muttered. Her eyes were watering from the stench and throwing up. The tarp was sticky and stiff, and Angel didn’t want to think about why, but one thing was sure: they couldn’t use it as a cover.

She left it and hurried back to Jillian. When she’d climbed back inside the wagon, she sat down beside her. The wagon was shaped like a funnel with what looked like a hinged door closure at the bottom, which served to empty the grain from the wagon. Angel and Jillian were at the mercy of the slope and sitting in the middle. Angel straightened her legs and used them for leverage to hold them up against the side and away from the pitchfork and ice pick, that wanted to slide down to the concave center as well. She pulled Jillian on her lap and took the banana out of her pocket. “Are you hungry?” she whispered.

Jillian shook her head, and Angel put it away.

“I’z scared of those mean mans.” Sad blue eyes looked into Angel’s face. “Is Mama coming?”

“No, baby. But Zander will.” She wrapped her arms around Jillian and rested her chin against her head. It was slightly warmer in the wagon, huddled together as they were, but it was still chilly. “Zander will find us.” Angel knew it in her soul; no doubt, Alex wouldn’t stop until he found them. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

“When, Anga?” Her little voice was soft, as if she realized the need to keep as silent as possible. It was scary. They were still so close to Mark Swanson and his goons. Far from home free, but the smart thing to do was to hide—and wait. “When will Zander come?”

“I don’t know for sure, Bean.” Angel’s faith in Alex was unshakable, and she would hold on to it, and the little girl on her lap, for dear life. “But he
will
. I promise.”

*****

The phone finder app led Alex and Kyle to a sparsely populated area of the Ozark Mountains soth of Springfield and at least 300 miles southeast of Joplin. There wasn’t much around, and as they’d gotten closer, the GPS lead to an unpaved path that carved through the woods, winding away from the road. It was apparent to both of them the road would lead directly to their objective, with little chance of an offshoot road to hide Alex’s Audi, and driving in directly would mean losing their element of surprise.

The location posed several other problems. They’d have to walk in, so making a fast escape with Angel and Jillian would be impossible. There was no way of knowing the distance off any main road or how long it would take to walk in. It was getting dark, and the sooner they got in there, the better. And lastly, they’d only have one weapon each. They shoved what extra ammunition they could into their coat pockets, and Kyle slid his knife into his boot.

It was dreary, and though they had on coats and the stocking caps Kyle had brought, it was still cold. The hat was irritating Alex, rolled up as it was so his face wouldn’t be covered. It itched and he pushed it off, discarding it impatiently. They followed along the road, though back under the cover of the trees. They moved swiftly, not speaking, adrenaline and determination keeping them warm and alert. When the roof of an old farmhouse came into view, Alex motioned for Kyle to continue as he was while he moved to the opposite side of the road.

Alex had been in touch with his parents, Becca, and the hospital while they were still driving. Cole was out of surgery, and though still in serious condition, was alive. It was a huge relief. Now, Alex’s insides were on fire in anxious anticipation. His mind was sharp, his focus clear on what needed to be done. This place was so fucking secluded and deserted, the house in a serious state of disrepair; it wasn’t likely anyone had been here in years. Alex was certain it was why Mark Swanson picked it. Maybe his family owned it, maybe the mob did. His promise to Standish dictated the need to find out.

The Camden County Sheriff’s department had located the rented SUV abandoned in a wooded area two hours northeast of where they were now. At least, they’d found something, and it was being dusted for prints. They were on the hunt. Alex had received a call from Kenneth, and though he’d let it go to voicemail, it held valuable information. He was glad they were actually working the case, though his subconscious told him it would make things more difficult. In his gut, Alex knew it would be a fight to the death, and law enforcement involvement would, create more questions and red tape.

Within a few hundred yards of the house, Alex could see no evidence of any vehicles.

“Fuck,” he muttered. The phone finder led them in this direction, but the unincorporated roads made it uncertain at best. It was the general area, but what if this was just an old abandoned farmhouse? Or, what if they’d moved their hideout? This would have been a wild goose chase.

There was a barn on the property, and Alex pointed toward the barn, silently telling Kyle to check inside. Maybe the vehicles would be inside.

He would’ve never imagined he’d be faced with something this dangerous or desperate. Alex was decidedly calm. He was resolved. He’d leave with Angel and Jillian, or they’d all get killed. There was nothing in between those two options that he’d consider. It was all or nothing. It was the way he lived his life, the way his relationship with Angel had been from day one: all or nothing.

Leaning with his back against a tree, which hid him from view of the house, Alex breathed out through his nose and closed his eyes to center himself. His father’s semi-automatic was comfortable in his right hand, and he wanted it to be a precaution, but he knew it was more. He didn’t want to need it because the guns could be traced. The situation was too unknown to know what would be required, and what could comfortably be told to the authorities, but only a moron would go in without being armed. But, he’d keep it as clean as possible.

Alex watched Kyle go behind him in the direction of the barn before he made a crouched run toward the house. There was a covered porch, the walls screened-in on all sides. The screens were dirty, the house almost falling apart, the paint almost non-existent, worn away by decades of wind and weather. Hopefully, the filthy screens would inhibit a good view of anyone approaching through the yard. The yard that was little more than overgrown weeds.

Alex crept up the steps and pressed his back to the wall beside the door. He reached across and wiggled the doorknob. His heart was now thudding uncomfortably in his chest. Surprised to find the door open, he turned the knob slowly, careful to keep silent, then pushed the door open with his fingertips.

He looked in cautiously. There were no sounds. Not one. The place smelled foul—old and moldy.

The place was a complete dump, the furnishings out of date and run down. It was probably infested with vermin. If this had existed within in the city limits, it probably would have been condemned. Plaster was falling away from the slats on the ceilings and walls, and several of the lights were free-hanging bulbs that were rigged up. No, this wasn’t a posh hideout.

Alex walked through the house, and though he found no one, there were ashtrays with fresh butts in them, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a dirty fry pan and trash scattered around proved that people had been here recently. Very recently.

Alex noticed a half-open door off the kitchen, and it took effort to push it open because it scraped on the floor. The stairs led down, and Alex stopped as dread flooded him. This would be the basement in the video. This is where she was. But now, there was no sound.

“Angel?” Alex called softly. There was no answer. Would he find her downstairs? The video was taken in a basement. “Angel!” he called again, louder, panic clamping down on his heart and lungs. There was dim light coming up the stairs. He had to know either way, but his heart raced as he made his way cautiously down the stairs. He took three steps down and his eyes landed on the cot in the middle of the room. On the floor in front of it lay the lifeless body of a man. Alex had a brief moment of horror at seeing the still form until it registered that it wasn’t Angel. Though he didn’t make a sound, his free hand landed on his chest as his heart lurched.

Was this one of Swanson’s men? And, how did he end up dead?
Alex went down further so he was able to check around the square room and get a closer look at the body. He was a greasy, dirty man in his early twenties, his lifeless eyes staring blankly from his bony face. He looked almost emaciated, like he could have been an addict or ill.

Alex nudged the body with his foot, pushing him over to see what killed him. A trickle of blood coming from one nostril was the only visible injury. No sign of Angel. Where was she? Now, he was consumed with a new worry; how would he track her? What if Swanson had her phone, but Angel wasn’t in the same place? His stomach tightened and his heart fell. He felt like the bottom dropped out from beneath him.

A sudden pain, intense and explosive, burst in his head and light flashed behind his eyes. Alex started to fall, his legs buckling beneath him as he fell to his knees then fully to the floor. His eyes blurred and everything went black.

*****

When Alex came to, he was sitting down, and his head lolled forward. He couldn’t move. When his mind cleared, he registered that his feet were tied to the legs of a chair and his arms behind is back, bound at the wrists. He couldn’t move them at all; when he tried, ropes cut into his elbows, as well. He was immobilized.

His head throbbed so painfully, as if the top of it would fly off with each beat of his heart. His eyes fluttered and tried to focus; his ears registered someone yelling from the floor above him.

“Boss, she’s got the brat; she couldn’t have gone far.” The voice was gruff and had an uneducated lilt. Alex blinked again. He was looking at his lap and trying to lift his head to search for the sound.

“Find her!
Now!
”

That voice, Alex recognized. Mark Swanson’s voice came from the kitchen above him. And his words gave him hope. Angel was gone. She’d at least managed to escape the house. She had to be the one who killed the kid still lying on the floor where he’d fallen by the cot.

The chair he was attached to was positioned off to one side, the stairs directly in front of him. Alex shook his head to clear it even though it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. He had to get out of here, and he had to find Angel and Jillian. The chair was wooden and, like everything else in the house, very old. It wasn’t anchored to the floor. Alex wiggled his ass in the seat to determine if it was solid or if it had any give. It creaked, indicating it wasn’t that strong, but even if he could stand up, the way his ankles were tied prevented him from being able to walk or back up enough to ram the chair into the cinderblock walls of the basement.

If he wanted it broken, he would have to tip the chair over and hope crashing it to the ground would be enough to shatter the wood. Logically, it would be better to wait until he was sure the second man left the house because the loud crash would alert those upstairs. His biceps and triceps bulged and strained as he tried to pull his hands free of the ropes, but there was little give. He grunted as he pulled harder, the ropes burning into his skin. “Fuck!”
he murmured softly, frustration threatening to explode his heart.

Ten seconds after the front door to the house slammed, Mark Swanson was coming down the stairs, carrying Alex’s gun. He was smiling sadistically, enjoying Alex’s helpless position.

Alex glared at him viciously.

“Well, well, well,” Swanson murmured, patting the barrel of the gun on the palm of his left hand. “I admit you surprised me, Avery.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Alex shot back sarcastically.

“You’re hardly in a position to make insults.”

“Fuck you,” Alex spat.

Swanson lifted the gun and used the butt to deliver a vicious blow across Alex’s jaw. His head snapped back with such force, the chair wobbled. Pain exploded again, his neck twisted, and he could taste the saltiness of blood in his mouth.

“See… If I were you, I’d cooperate.”

Alex spit a mixture of blood and saliva on the floor. “It seems you’ve lost your bargaining chip.” He gave a low chuckle that only served to infuriate Swanson further.

“My guy is going to find her, then I’m going to have a little fun with her.”

It took effort, but Alex’s mouth twisted mockingly. “Dream on, dumb ass. Isn’t one dead body enough for you? Angel isn’t exactly a damsel in distress.”

Alex had to keep Swanson distracted, but his mind was flooded with concern for Angel. He could feign bravado, but he was scared shitless. He wondered if Kyle found her and Jillian, and if not, could she get away from the man Swanson had sent after her. He’d been knocked out from behind, so he hadn’t seen him.