Little Dove Page 3
I nearly tumbled down the slick hardwood as I skipped steps in my rush. Hitting the foyer, I wasn’t being careful, taking it slow, or checking my surroundings, and I didn’t care. My eyes were on the prize—the front door.
Throwing it open, I hauled ass off the porch and toward the road.
Like the backyard, there was a tall fence completely surrounding the massive property. An iron gate blocked the entrance of the winding drive. Knowing that would be easier to climb than the fence, I raced for it.
After a quick glance to confirm there was no secret button to easily open the gate, I tossed the water to the other side and squeezed my feet between the bars to climb the rattling metal. The decorative spears at the top scraped my belly and legs as I pulled myself over, but I didn’t care.
I was almost free.
Landing on the other side, I picked up the bottle and took a moment I didn’t have to glance around.
Nothing.
Just sprawling land with no buildings or houses I could run to or hide behind. The road was empty—not even the distant sound of traffic.
Picking a direction, I took off at full speed, pumping my legs until they ached. Rocks dug into my soles, my thin canvas shoes offering little cushioning.
But I didn’t slow.
I ran until my lungs burned and my vision began to tunnel. Only at the threat of passing out did I switch to a fast walk.
The stretch of empty desert was much bigger than I’d anticipated. There were no marked trails or people. I kept going, waiting to see buildings or a road in the horizon, but each step took me deeper into nothingness.
With no sounds of anyone following me—and there was no way those big guys could be silent—I slowed further. Even with my reduced pace, the sun beating down on me made sweat drip. I stopped to rest in the shade from a boulder but worried my scent would attract bugs.
Or worse.
As more time passed, my unease grew. I looked over my shoulder, but there was no sign of the house or road.
In front of me, to the sides, in back—desert.
I should’ve gone for the road.
But there was no turning back.
Maximo
Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the man sitting on the other side of my desk.
Mugsy Carmichael.
Or Ronald Carmichael, according to his birth certificate and license.
Stupid name change for a stupid man.
The longer we sat in silence, the more flop sweat dripped down his fat jowls and the more my limited patience drained.
I had four resorts to run—Moonlight, Sunrise, Star, and Nebula. I had meetings and emails and a shit-ton of headaches that came with running those four resorts. And I had a little dove to watch.
My gaze drifted to the blank security monitors that hung on the wall behind him just as he found his balls and spoke. “After we talked, Shamus McMillon, uh, disappeared.”
“Okay.” My face nor my voice gave anything away. And he was watching for confirmation that the two things were connected. Confirmation I’d killed him.
“His little girl is gone, too.”
Again, I gave away nothing. “Okay.”
Mugsy ran his hand through his black-dyed hair, the greasy pieces doing little to cover his ever-growing bald spot. “I know Shamus fucked up. He screwed you over—”
“He did?”
“Fine, we. I helped him, but only because he was about to lose everything. He’d gotten in bad—”
“I don’t give a shit what problems he had. I give a shit about getting fucked over by a cheat and a liar.”
“I said I’d make it up to you. I’m your eyes and ears. You’ll get first call about new fighters. Whatever else you want, I’ll do it.” He inhaled deeply, gathering his courage.
What a pussy.
“Juliet,” he started, saying the only thing that would interest me.
I played dumb. “Who?”
“Shamus’ little girl. She’s a sweet kid. A good kid.”
She was a tiny thing, but she was far from the pigtailed middle schooler Mugsy was trying to paint her as.
“What about her?”
Mugsy looked nervous, and I was beginning to think I’d have to disinfect the chair when he left. Or maybe just throw the thing out. I doubted the stench of sweat and B.O. would ever fade. “She had nothing to do with Shamus’ actions. She doesn’t deserve to be punished.”
“What are you insinuating?” I bit out.
“Nothing, nothing. I’m just saying, she’s gone, too.”
“If she has any sense in her head, she got as far from Shamus’ bullshit as she could.”
He hesitated, seeming to war with himself. “She has no other family. It was just her and Shamus. She’s only seventeen.”
I already knew that. Cole was finding out everything there was to know about Juliet, but it’d been a slow trickle. Shamus hadn’t kept meticulous records. No birth certificate, no school records, not even a damn tax return.
I’d only agreed to Mugsy’s meeting request on the off chance he had something useful to say for once in his pathetic life.
I should’ve known better.
Standing so fast my chair slammed into the wall behind me, I put my palms flat on my desk. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, but I’d reconsider your insinuation.”
“No, no. There’s no insinuation,” he backpedaled. “I’m just bringing up my concern so you can keep an ear out in case anyone has seen her.”
Liar.
Still glaring at him, my voice was even. “If you ever cross me again, I’ll make you pay. I don’t give a shit how noble you think your reasoning is, I’ll make you wish for death.”
“It’ll never happen again.”
My cell rang, but I didn’t look as I hit ignore. “And if you ever come into my office and even hint at an accusation, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to you. Are we clear?”
Before he could respond, Ash stuck his head into my office. “Answer your phone.”
As he spoke, it started ringing again.
Picking it up, I saw it was Cole and connected the call. “Yeah?”
“She’s gone.”
My gut clenched. “What did you say?”
“She ran outside, cameras showed her heading east.”
I kept my cool, but just barely. I wanted to shove my phone down Mugsy’s throat to kill two pains in my ass at once.
“I’ll call you back.” I gave Mugsy my attention, needing him gone. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” he choked out.
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
He jumped up, and sure enough, a slick of back sweat clung to the chair.
Marco was waiting to escort our unwanted guest out.
Ash came in. “I’ll go—”
But I was already up and grabbing my shit.
Ash and I walked from my office as Marco and Carmichael boarded the public elevator. I scanned my thumb at my private one.
Once we were inside, I called Cole back. “How the hell did she get out?”
“She was screaming about her stomach hurting and said she needed help.”
“And so you opened the door and let her go?” I growled.
“No, I went to check on her and… Marco was right, she’s fast. She dodged me and locked me in. I had to call Freddy to let me out.”
“Fucking hell.”
That Juliet had kicked Marco’s ass at her house and then not only dodged Cole but locked him in the room was amusing. Or it would’ve been, had worry not sat heavy in my gut.
I should’ve been worried about myself since I’d added kidnapping to the murder she could pin on me.
But my concern was solely for Juliet.
My house was secluded, surrounded by nothing for miles. Going left she’d have some shade from boulders, brush, or Joshua trees, but there were no marked trails or paths to guide her. There were, however, coyotes, rattlesnakes, and the occasional
scorpion.
“I’m on my way. Start searching,” I said before hanging up.
I’d known her shy mouse act was just that—an act. I’d been waiting for her to try to make an escape or take revenge.
But her timing and sense of self-preservation were shit.
If I hadn’t left the house.
If I hadn’t turned off the monitors to deal with that dickhead.
If I hadn’t taken her in the first damn place.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Predator
Juliet
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I had no clue what time it was, but it was late.
And dark.
And cold.
And scary as fuck.
The patch of desert was not a patch. Nor was it a plot. It was never-ending—just desert followed by more desert surrounded by more desert.
My body ached to the bones, far beyond any exhaustion and soreness I’d ever experienced. Every step I forced wore on me like a mile. Even though I’d taken advantage of every hint of shade I’d come across, my skin was tight and painfully sunburned. And I was thirsty. So thirsty.
I wanted to go back.
But I kept moving because I had to run into civilization eventually.
I hoped.
Unable to see where I was going, my foot caught on a jagged rock. I tumbled forward, but my shoe was stuck, making my ankle twist painfully as I fell.
“Shit,” I hissed, tears of pain and frustration burning my eyes. “Ow, ow, ow.”
My shoe ripped and excruciating pain tore at my ankle, making me wonder if I’d broken it.
Using a boulder, I was able to stand, but as soon as I put weight on my foot, pain ripped up my leg and it gave out.
Left prone on the ground, the enormity of how badly I’d fucked up sank in. I was alone. No phone. No weapon. No food. Although I’d sipped at my water, it was long gone.
And no one would be looking for me because I had no one.
The monster and his goons likely knew I’d get lost and die, taking care of their problem without them having to lift a finger—or a gun.
I was stuck alone in the middle of the desert with bugs, wild animals, and God knew what else.
After a few minutes, I found out what else. Because as I sat, something moved over my foot.
No, it didn’t move.
It slithered.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
And stealthily.
I hadn’t even noticed it’d circled me until it was too late. Until I was surrounded by its long length.
Freezing, my breath caught in my lungs as I clenched my jaw to keep from screeching.
Even if I were uninjured, it was unlikely I could get away before the snake attacked. Being injured pretty much sealed it. How could I run if I couldn’t even stand?
I couldn’t.
Slow and cautious, I reached behind me for the jagged rock that’d gotten me into that mess. Once I had it, I felt for the sharpest point. I strained to see in the dark, but when I was fairly certain I saw the head, I slammed the rock down.
The snake let out a horrid, pained hiss and I let out a sobbed scream before hitting it again. And again. Even though my heart ached, I slammed the rock one last time, assuring it was dead.
Dropping the rock, I quickly scrambled away before scavengers came for both of us. Once I’d scooted enough to put some distance between me and my reptilian victim, I got control of my emotions as I racked my brain for a plan.
I couldn’t just sit around and wait. There was no rescue coming. An hour of rest wouldn’t make a difference to my ankle, but it would increase my chances of another predator discovering me.
And, that time, I might not be so lucky.
That left one option.
I had to crawl.
Moving slow, I ignored the coarse sand digging into my palms, the bugs relentlessly attacking, and the pain in my ankle. I wasn’t making good time, but I was moving, and that’s what mattered.
Always pushing.
Always fighting.
Always trying to survive.
I was so damn tired of it.
Why did I run?
Lost, scared, and in pain, a sob ripped through me as regret clawed at my chest.
I left behind a gorgeous room, three delicious meals a day, and zero responsibility… for what? To make it on my own like I always have? To barely survive?
Because I wasn’t here by choice, being homeless was somehow better?
Shaking my head, I reminded myself that I didn’t know what they’d planned to do to me. They could’ve been traffickers or pimps—a huge industry in Vegas. I wasn’t sure why they’d have fed me and set me up in a beautiful room, but who knew how monsters worked.
And he was a monster. A murderer.
It didn’t matter that Shamus was an asshole who’d been horrible to me.
It didn’t matter he’d deserved worse than a quick death.
All that mattered was Maximo was capable of murder, and that meant I needed to get away.
Right?
I only made it a short distance on my hands and knees before a cramp tightened my stomach, stealing my breath and ability to move. I rolled to sit on my ass, keeping an eye on my surroundings.
I’m gonna die out here.
Alone.
Always alone.
Once my cramp subsided, I started crawling again.
But not forward.
No, I crawled in the direction I’d come from. Toward where I wanted to be. For all I knew, I was going sideways, heading farther into the desert, but I didn’t care.
My arms shook with the strain of supporting my weight. My cuts were coated in sand, burning and tearing at the already painful wounds. My skin was covered in itchy bug bites. My sides hurt, my knees felt like they were going to shatter, and my clenched stomach was set to a constant growl.
I’d kill for one of Mr. Freddy’s trays right now.
Using the image of a fluffy omelet and coffee to drive me on, I started crawling faster until I reached the small patch of Joshua trees I’d rested by earlier.
I’m going the right way. Maybe I’ll actually survive the night.
My progress was cut off suddenly when my knee came down on something sharp. It pierced my already raw skin, stabbing in so deep, it felt like it embedded in bone
“Shit,” I hissed. I fought to be strong, but each time I put weight on it, the pain grew. I sat on my ass and pulled my muddy leggings up. With no light to see, I ran my hand over my knee but nothing was there. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something below the surface, though.
I couldn’t walk.
I couldn’t crawl.
I couldn’t do anything.
Just a little breather. Then I’ll find a way to keep going. I’ll drag myself if I have to.
Hugging my bent legs, I rested my cheek on my non-injured knee. I gave my vigilant eyes a break, allowing them to close as I inhaled deep.
And because I was so still, I heard it.
A roar.
It faded, but it wasn’t silent for long.
The snap of a twig.
The rustle of brush.
Something’s here.
My stomach dropped, and I froze in terrified indecision. Did I crawl? Did I try to run, further injuring my ankle and likely making a lot of noise that would alert them? Or did I stay still, allowing whatever predator was out there to track my scent and be done with it?
I didn’t know, but I had to try something. Anything.
Hands to the ground, I worked to push myself to my feet, but I didn’t even get the chance to test my bad ankle because my legs gave out.
I barely choked back my pained cry.
The sounds grew closer, and my eyes scanned for the predator.
Surprise and relief flooded me when I saw a dim light just before it cleared the shadows.
Maximo.
“You came,” I forced out through the lump in my throat.
I pointed to my foot. “I twisted my ankle.”
“Let me see.” Grabbing my calf, he began to straighten my leg, but pain zipped up the muscle, and I tucked it close. “Juliet.”
I didn’t even know he knew my name.
At his firm tone, I bit my lip and let him extend my leg and gently touch the swollen joint. His shadowed expression was thunderous, but his voice was soft when he chided, “What did you do to yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” I said reflexively.
He stood and handed me the flashlight. I waited for him to pull me up, but instead, he lifted me in his arms.
Since I didn’t want him to trip while hefting me around—not to mention, I was filthy and smelled—I insisted, “I can walk.”
I think.
He didn’t respond verbally, just shot me a quick look before his gaze returned to where he was stepping.
“Really, I only need a little help,” I tried again.
“No.”
“But—”
“Juliet.” His tone was filled with warning again, as if that were the only way he could say my name.
I held my tongue for as long as possible before muttering, “I really should’ve gone for the road.”
Maximo stopped, and I worried he’d dump me on the ground. Since he was more than a foot taller than me, it wouldn’t be a short fall. Instead, he tightened his hold and aimed his glower my way. “That route is harsher. You’d have been walking for miles with no trees or boulders to offer shade. You wouldn’t have made it far before passing out from heatstroke.” He adjusted me in his arms as he began walking again. “Or worse.”
“Oh.”
He made a noncommittal grunt.
After a few more minutes of tense silence, we reached a waiting four-wheeler. He set me down before grabbing the side pack and handing me two sandwiches and a bottle of water. “Eat.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I dug into the PB&J like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted because, right then, it was. I polished off both and the glorious water within minutes.