The Next Thing: Bareknuckles Brotherhood Page 3

  The second thing that mattered was the hand that was wrapped around Miriam's arm. And that mattered more than anything else.

  Miriam glanced back over her shoulder and saw me out of the corner of her eye. I saw the eye widen, saw her mouth open as she tried to warn me away. "No —"

  The suited thug also opened his mouth. "Nothing for you here. Just —"

  But I was already launching myself at him. He was half a head taller than me, and fully forty pounds heavier. Between that and his obvious experience I knew that my best bet was to hit him hard and fast and hope that I surprised the hell out of him. I crossed the space between us in three long steps, my right fist looping up. I gave him the second best shot in my arsenal, swinging high and fast for all I was worth. The hook landed clean on his chin, just where I wanted it. A perfect knockout shot. Miriam let out a yelp. I’d didn’t get the same satisfaction from the man holding her.

  His head twitched to the side with the impact, and that was about it. He shook his head just a little bit and his lips peeled back in a grin. I saw hints of blood on his teeth.

  Then he let go of Miriam's arm and focused his attention on me.

  His left fist snapped out. Fuck, he was fast. I barely danced out of the way of the punch. I knew now that the only way I was going to stop this guy was if I hit him with everything I had. I flicked in the left jab. He was fast but not fast enough to get out of the way of that punch. His head snapped back just a little. Just enough that I knew I could slam home the overhand right and put him to sleep. I tried not to use that much very much. Without gloves, it poses a real danger of breaking my hand. But I've never hit anyone with that shot and had them get up to fight anymore. As my fist whistled in at him, the big man ducked down and slammed his shoulder into my midsection. My punch caught air and momentum pulled me off balance. He wrapped his arms around me and propelled both of us into the table behind me. We went down in a tangle of arms and legs and coffee shop furniture. I twisted to get out from under him, but his arms were like a vice. He held me down with one hand and raised the other way up high, balled into a hard, huge, brutal-looking fist. I knew if that thing dropped on my head, it would be lights out.

  There was a heavy pong, and he dropped his fist a fraction of an inch. His eyes glazed over and he half-turned, distracted. The hand that was knotted into my shirt, however, didn't loosen, and he snarled. Behind him, Miriam raised the frying pan again. When she brought it down on his head the second time, the sound practically echoed through the diner. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on top of me.

  I twisted out from under him. He was one heavy bastard. I grabbed hold of one of the chairs that had scattered from the table and only succeeded in pulling it down on top of me.

  Miriam reached down and took my hand, hauling me to my feet.

  She was strong. I liked that.

  "What—" I started.

  Her eyes were wide and she grabbed my shirt. “What are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “Jesus. You’re welcome.”

  Her eyes went from terrified to irritated in a flash. “Oh my god, Ryan, shut up.” She started to drag me toward the kitchen. "Come on, we have to go."

  I shook her off and knelt beside the large, unconscious man, rifling through his pockets. "We don’t need to go anywhere. Fuck this guy. We’re calling the cops." At last, in an inner breast pocket of his suit coat, I found his wallet. I pulled it out, half expecting there to be no ID inside. But there was. He must be a certified, true-blue civilian now, or whatever you call a full-time criminal.

  His driver’s license identified him as Felix Martel, of Long Island. I wouldn’t be surprised it that was fake, but at least it was something to call him.

  "You don't understand," Miriam said, her voice going up a register. She waved toward the window of the diner. I glanced that way and saw, through the window, a second man, dressed much like Martel, getting out of the Lexus. Unlike the first man, this one held a gun.

  I didn’t have to see it twice. Whatever was going on here was bigger than some prick trying to walk his check.

  I turned and followed her into the back. As we dashed through the kitchen, the short order guy came out of the restroom in the back.

  "What the fuck is going on out there?"

  Without letting go of me, Miriam waved at the door that we were headed toward. "John. Run!"

  John only gazed after us, bewildered.

  We barged through the door into the alley out back. Miriam wanted to keep running, but I had a different idea.

  “How many of these fuckers are after you?” I rummaged around in a pile of scrap, feeling the seconds tick away.

  She just made a small noise in the back of her throat.

  From inside the kitchen, I heard the sound of a gunshot. Then a pause. Then another shot.

  John should have run with us.

  “We don’t have much time. How many?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she stammered. “Normally only two, I think.”

  My searching fingers closed around something solid. I pulled it free of the scrap pile with a clatter, then pulled Miriam behind me

  I waited just outside the door. After a moment it opened. I stood out of sight as it swung slowly toward me. The man led with his gun first, which is smart if there's not somebody standing behind the door with a heavy steel pipe. In this case, it was not smart. Once his arm had cleared the door, I brought the pipe down hard on his wrist. There was a satisfying crack and a cry of pain. The gun went flying. He stumbled out into the alley. I didn't even give him a chance to look around. I brought the pipe down onto the back of his head and he crumbled up like a wet napkin.

  Miriam’s breath came in quick gasps, warm on my neck. Even now, with two armed thugs after her and me somehow wrapped up in the middle, I couldn’t help but think she was sexy as hell.

  “What do we do now?” She said.

  I thought about the man inside, and how he might already be up and moving. If he was, he wouldn’t be coming after us with empty hands this time. I searched this second man, finding his ID in the same location Martel had kept his own. These guys were nothing if not unoriginal. But they would probably call it being “consistent”.

  George Bassett. George lived in New Jersey. Probably liked reading books and taking long walks on the beach with his dog. At least, that’s what his dating profile would say.

  Time to leave. I took Miriam’s hand and looked into her eyes with what I hoped was something like confidence.

  "Now we run."

  We took off down the alley, hands gripping tightly so we wouldn’t be separated. I slowed just long enough to bend down and retrieve the second man's gun. I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into, but I'd be damned if I was going to navigate this new territory unarmed.

  The alley behind The Lazy Spoon also ran behind the plumbing supply store next door to it. The next building was The Exchange. We came to the end of the alley and out onto the sidewalk that fronted the street next to the bookstore. I motioned for Miriam to stay where she was and I edged around the front of the store. The black Lexus was still in the parking lot at The Lazy Spoon. The two men in suits were apparently still picking themselves up off the floor, but I didn't trust that it would take them long to get back out the door. I waved to Miriam and together we ran to my truck.

  When I slid the key into the ignition, I experienced one of those terrifying dream-moments when I just knew that the motor wouldn’t turn over.

  “You my baby,” I whispered. It felt like a mantra in my mouth, a talisman. “Be good now, baby.” I turned the key. As it had every other time I had turned the key, the engine roared to life. I let out a breath I had not even realized I was holding, and threw the truck in gear. The rear tires sprayed gravel as we peeled out of the parking lot.

  * * *

  Into His Lap

  Miriam / Emma

  I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart pounded in my ears and my lungs ke
pt heaving, breathing in short, gasping bursts. I felt dizzy and stars swam in my vision.

  Ryan put a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Easy now. You’re hyperventilating.” Panicked as I was, his hand on me felt good, reassuring. “Just take a deep breath, like this,” he drew in a huge lungful of air, and I tried to follow his lead. I only partially succeeded. “And blow it out like this,” he continued. “Now do it again.”

  After he led me through the cycle a few more times, my vision was clear and my breathing slowed to something like its normal tempo.

  But I was still freaking out.

  How did they find me? That was the burning question. I was hidden. I was safe. This shouldn’t have happened.

  And oh, god, now I’d gotten Ryan involved in my mess, and we were both in danger. He hadn’t done anything to deserve the kinds of things that could happen to him if he stayed near me.

  Why hadn’t he just stayed out of the diner? Why had I gone out with him in the first place? I should have followed the rules.

  He glanced at me, checking to see if I was under control.

  “Who the fuck were those guys?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to look at him, so I just stared out the somewhat dirty windshield as we turned off a side street and onto the frontage road.

  “I don’t know.”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Bullshit. Five minutes ago you told me there were ‘normally only two’ of them. You know who they are. So who?”

  The floorboard vibrated as we merged onto Interstate 20.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Now he turned fully toward me, his face drawing tight with anger.

  “I just saved your ass—”

  “I saved you, too!” I said, getting angry myself. My pulse pounded in my ears, and some detached part of my mind wondered if my face was getting as red as Ryan’s.

  He seemed taken aback by that. I could see him considering the truth behind my words.

  “Fair enough,” he said finally. “You saved my ass.” He waved a finger my way. “But my ass wouldn’t have needed saving if I hadn’t already been trying to save your ass.”

  How could he be so infuriating even now? I looked around the cab of the truck.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Something to hit you with, you prick!”

  “I’m a prick? I’m not the guy that was trying to abduct you, or whatever the hell those guys were doing. But I’m the prick.”

  There was something wounded in his voice that made me sorry I had said it. And he was right. He had taken on the guy in the diner as soon as he saw my danger, without a moment’s hesitation. I couldn’t help remembering the look on his face as he went after the guy. He didn’t have the expression of a man facing down a large, dangerous opponent. He had looked like a lion as it attacked a zebra: confident and swift, assured of victory.

  Of course, he hadn’t quite achieved that victory. But the visual was still sexy as hell.

  And I almost told him. Very nearly just spilled the truth behind everything that had just happened.

  I shook my head. It would be selfish. He had already gotten too involved, seen too much. I had to get rid of him as quickly as I could, or Ryan Calder would most likely wind up dead. The thought of him lying bleeding on the ground somewhere made my throat hurt.

  I needed to make a phone call, and I realized that I had left my phone under the counter at The Lazy Spoon. “Fuck.”

  “What’s the matter, Oh Miss Ingratitude?”

  Great. “I’m not ungrateful, I just—”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” He exited the freeway and we were back on a side road.

  “I need to borrow your phone.”

  He blew out a long breath. It sounded like a sigh that turned into a barked laugh at the end.

  “I left mine at my work.” He glanced over. “Don’t tell me. You did too.”

  I nodded.

  He turned the wheel hard, swerving through an intersection. It threw me almost into his lap.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  He looked at me as if I was the crazy one. “I’m taking you to a phone.”

  “Do you mind if we both survive to make it there?”

  We were in a commercial area. Bakeries and boutiques flashed by outside my window. In another time, in another life, I would have loved to stop and explore the shops. But now I just wanted to find a hole and hide.

  Ryan’s voice was tight. “You know, you were pretty bitchy to me this morning.”

  I had been.

  “I didn’t deserve that.”

  He didn’t.

  “Funny thing is, in the end, that probably saved your life. I was only coming back to tell you off about it.” The turn signal started clicking and we turned onto an alley. He parked behind a brick building.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He pushed open his door. “Whatever.”

  I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I got out silently and followed him up a flight of stairs built onto the back of the building. It took a moment for me to recognize that we were at his apartment. The last time I had been here had been at night, and I had been paying much more attention to his fine ass than to the location.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” I said.

  He unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Well, this is the closest place I know that’s safe. And I have a landline.” He tossed me a cordless phone from the kitchen counter. “Make your phone call.”

  “Do you have some place I can talk…privately?”

  “More secrets? Cool.” His tone said it was anything but cool. He jerked his chin. “Bedroom’s that way.”

  I was somewhat uncomfortable going into the bedroom. The last time I was here, the circumstances were much different. That time had been exciting, but not in a being-hunted-by-mobsters kind of way. Now I was anxious and didn’t want to think about that bed, or Ryan’s thick shoulders, or running my fingernails over his incredible abs, or about his—

  I dialed the number I had memorized. The line clicked open on the second ring.

  “Castillo here.”

  “This is Miriam Everett. They found me.”

  * * *

  Over The Girl

  Ryan

  I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands. Should I turn on the TV? Make a sandwich? Punch a hole in the wall? Miriam was in my bedroom for a while, long enough for me to calm down a bit and to think about her being in my bedroom. A laugh tickled the back of my throat. To think, only an hour ago I would have fought a bear to get her in my bedroom again. Then I realized that I practically had fought a bear, and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

  She came out of the bedroom a walked down the hall. Lit from behind by the light through my bedroom window, I could almost imagine she belonged here, that she was barefoot and smiling at me. Then she handed me my phone and said, “Thank you.”

  I put the phone back in its cradle. I couldn’t keep the cold out of my voice. “What now?”

  Miriam looked uncomfortable and tugged at a strand of red hair.

  “I’ve got a ride coming for me.”

  I nodded. “And what then?”

  She bit her lip. “And then I’m going for a ride.”

  “I won’t see you again, will I?”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s better this way.” She nodded, as if to herself.

  My stomach flip-flopped. “If you say so.” I motioned to the sofa. “You can wait here if you want. I won’t bother you.”

  “I’m meeting the him out on the street. I told him I’d wait there.”

  “It’s none of my business, I guess, but ‘him’ who?”

  She opened her mouth, and for just a moment I could feel that she almost told me.

  But then her face closed up again.

  “My…handler.”

  Whatever that meant.

  My apartment had two doors that led outside: one in th
e back, that we had come in, and one in the front. “If you go through that door,” I pointed to the front door, “the stairs take you down to the street. You won’t have to walk through the alley.”

  “Okay.” She took a step toward me. When she looked up at me, her eyes were shining. “Thanks. For everything.” Her lip trembled, just slightly, and I almost took her in my arms. Almost kissed the top of her head and whispered that everything was going to be all right. And maybe it would have been. One Marine against two mysterious operatives with head trauma. I gave myself good odds.

  But before I said any of that, she walked around me, her fingertips trailing down my arm, and then she was out the door.

  Her footsteps on the stairs sounded so light. So small. I went to the window and saw her walk out of the building and stand by the curb. I hadn’t realized until that moment that she still wore her blue apron. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at that.

  I glanced up the street, and the smile froze on my face. Two blocks up, a black Lexus with blackout windows turned off a side street and onto my road. In that bright blue apron she was impossible not to recognize. The car accelerated and blew through a stop sign. Miriam was looking the other way and didn’t see it.

  No time to shout, to tell her to run.

  I checked my waistband. The gun was still there.

  I pulled it and ran out the door, pounding down the stairs two at a time. From outside, there was a squeal of tires followed by Miriam’s cry of alarm. The door at the bottom of the stairs thudded against the side of the building when I kicked it open.

  The Lexus sat askew in the street, slanting in toward the sidewalk. The passenger side front door was open. Felix Martel was on the sidewalk. His arm was wrapped around Miriam and he wrestled her toward the car. She hollered and kicked at his legs, but if they were anything like his jaw that wouldn’t faze him much. But if she hadn’t been fighting and making noise, he probably would have heard me kick open the door.

  I thought about shooting him right then, but they were too close together and it had been too long since I’d fired a weapon. I wouldn’t risk hitting Miriam.