Wicked Shadows (Steele Security Book 5) Page 20

  The thundering rumble of several motorcycles approaching at once drew Shadow to the door. Angry voices and loud threats streamed through the closed metal door. Shadow opened it and stood face-to-face with Headbanger. Nutcracker and Bonebreaker stood immediately behind him. All six eyes bore into the outsider, anger rolling off them in waves at finding him in the officers’ area.

  Shadow opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to give them room to pass. The first two stepped by him, and Nick stepped forward to take some of the cases of beer from Headbanger’s hands. Bonebreaker stopped directly in front of Shadow and glared at him menacingly. Instant suspicion lit his expression.

  “Who the fuck are you? The doorman?”

  “That’s me. The Devil’s Doorman.” He knew on one hand he was expected to be respectful to the officers and to every other lifelong member. His place among them was the lowest of the ranks, and they enjoyed reminding newbies of their place. On the other hand, it would take minimal effort for him to snap Bonebreaker’s neck and be done with him, so taking insults from him asked too much of Shadow’s patience.

  A stare down between the two brutes ensued, with neither man showing an ounce of weakness. Headbanger began laughing loudly, his booming voice filling the room and drawing their attention. “Looks like you have a new nickname, Shadow. You’re the Doorman now. Renegade told me all about you. Then you hit Spider’s radar, and he had our PI check you out immediately. Seems you’ve made quite an impression on our little club.”

  “All the more reason to suspect him,” Bonebreaker grumbled.

  “I told you to cut that shit out. I’ve known him for years. You’re doubting and disrespecting me when you question him. Why don’t you try questioning my loyalty to my face and see what happens?” Nick changed into his role of Renegade flawlessly, issuing his dare as a threat rather than a question. His glare taunted Bonebreaker to try him. His muscles tensed, and his hands curled into fists.

  “Fine. You’re responsible for him, then.” Bonebreaker stomped away, conceding to Renegade. Shadow noted to ask Nick about it later. There was obviously bad blood somewhere in their history.

  Nutcrusher, the VP, called for several of the sheep they kept at the clubhouse. “Get this food and beer ready for us,” he barked at the women when they entered the room. “We’re hungry and thirsty, so don’t take all damn day.”

  Shadow’s blood boiled over at how the girls were treated. They took women who’d already had a hard life and used them in any and every way. Some of them admittedly volunteered for the position, feeling like they were part of a larger family and protected by the nature of the club. The members could abuse them, but no one else could.

  The thought of the same men having their hands on Elle made Shadow the most lethal man in the world. He couldn’t find her soon enough. Every minute that passed added another vision of horrible acts Elle had to endure.

  When the women finished with the food, they delivered heaping plates and chilled beer to the table. Headbanger told everyone to take their seats and gave Shadow the rare opportunity to join them.

  “You’re here because you obviously built quite a network before you were sent off. You trusted the wrong person. Bone did the same once. Now he trusts no one.”

  “It only takes one mistake for the house of cards to fall.” Shadow’s cryptic reply had a purpose. Showing his distrust of others gave him and Bone something in common. “What is it you’re looking to acquire?”

  “We have a list of things.” Bone sat back in his chair and continued. “Are you not good enough to get more than one piece?”

  “I’m good enough to get whatever I set my sights on.”

  “All right, boys. Enough.” Headbanger’s brows furrowed when he slammed his fist on the table. “We’ll meet your contact and decide if he’s good enough ourselves.”

  “Then there’s no reason for us to continue this conversation. My contact is just that—mine. He deals with me. If you don’t want to work through me, find your own supply chain.” Shadow crumpled his napkin and threw it on his plate of half-eaten food. “Thanks for lunch. You can send me a bill for it. You know where to find me.”

  He stood, pushing his chair back with the force of his movement, and turned to leave.

  “You’re right, Renegade. He is a stubborn one.” Headbanger chuckled, his laughter reaching his eyes and mixing with the malice. The combination only revealed the madness he hid underneath his calm exterior. “Sit down, Doorman. We’re extending an honorary lifelong member position to you. We’ve never done this before, but you bring an advantage we need at the moment. You’ll still have to go through our initiation process.”

  “I can take whatever you dish out.” If it means I’ll get Elle back.

  Headbanger motioned to the chair. “Sit down. Let’s discuss the specifics before we arrange your initiation tonight. You may not be able to speak for a while after we’re done with you.”

  Spider burst through the door, breathing heavily from running. He was late to an officers’ meeting, and that didn’t go without punishment in their paramilitary rank and order. “Sorry about that, Headbanger. Had to take care of an issue at the country club, and it took longer than I thought.”

  “Everyone okay up there?”

  “Yeah. Except I had to move one to the old clubhouse. Bitch was a troublemaker, so she had to be reminded who’s in charge. Now she knows not to fuck with me.”

  “Did you leave a mark on her face?” Headbanger put his palms on the table, ready to push up and lunge at Spider.

  “No, boss. Didn’t have to do that. She slept the whole trip down.”

  “You’d better have a good excuse for taking a risk like that this late in the game. The pressure hasn’t let up at all. Everyone is still talking about it. You said you had that under control, too.”

  “I’m working on a new plan to draw attention away.”

  “Your schemes and excuses will get you in a lot of trouble one day, Spider.”

  Under the table, Shadow’s knuckles turned white from curling his fists so tight. His facial expression remained passive, indifferent. Too much interest in anything other than why they’d brought him in would get both Elle and him killed. Spider’s comments had sealed his fate, though. He’d be the first to die. Painfully. The moment Elle was safe. Shadow had already made that decision.

  18

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Everyone knows what to do, right?” Elle whispered, her lips barely moving, as if she were a ventriloquist.

  “Yes,” came three hushed replies, their voices shaky.

  Every day for a week, each one had a specific area of the house to roam, to check for information, to find a way out. Something—anything—that wasn’t locked down and could be used to fight back. The kitchen was open to them, but every knife was in a locked drawer. The drinking glasses were plastic—and not very effective for self-defense.

  All exterior doors were locked and guarded by the hired thugs. The inside rooms were monitored by a recording system. Elle had seen the monitors once when the butler opened the door. She’d gone back to her bedroom and searched high and low for a camera in there, but she didn’t find one. She wanted inside that room to see where the camera blind spots were or where there were no guards. The need to have access to the one room with a view to the whole house kept her awake at night.

  She’d seen him go into the room earlier and decided she and the other ladies had officially outstayed their welcome. It was time for the four of them to get out together. True to his word, their captor had ensured their stay was comfortable and none of them had been harmed. As much as she hated to admit it, that was the very thing that worried her the most. The ladies were being kept in pristine condition for a very specific reason—and she knew that reason would be worse than death.

  Elle had tried to explain her fear in depth to the others. While Katrina and Beth were visibly upset and afraid, they appeared to grasp the urgency of their escape better than
Carrie. After witnessing what their captor was capable of doing, Carrie was even more afraid of escaping than remaining in his custody. Keeping him placated. Elle was concerned what continued captivity would do to Carrie. She’d already been there the longest—alone for many weeks.

  Though Elle was taking a big gamble with their lives, Carrie’s mental status was the exact reason why Elle chose her for their elaborate scheme. It gave Carrie a specific task, something to focus on that would help her friends as much as it would help herself. To remind her she had a say in what others could do to her, and she had a right to a happy life.

  “Carrie, remember what we agreed to do. Just like we practiced. Okay?” Elle grasped Carrie’s arm and squeezed it gently. The terrified glint in Carrie’s gaze cleared enough to seal their sisterly bond.

  “Okay,” she agreed, nodding her head. “I can do this.”

  “That’s right—because you’re a damn good actress. This will work.”

  Using every trick and tactic she’d learning in acting classes, Elle drew in a deep breath, stood tall, and showed Carrie her most confident stance. “We are all getting out of here together—and as soon as possible.”

  “Let’s do this. We’re in this together, and we’re getting out of this together. Places, everyone. This may be our only chance to pull this off,” Carrie replied.

  Beth waited in her bedroom, and Elle walked past the door to the monitors to wait in the kitchen. She’d sat on the barstool every day staring out the window to establish a pattern no one would question when they were ready to make their move. When they heard the lock on the door turn, Carrie and Katrina rose from their seats and hurried across the room, banking on the fact that he had his back turned to the monitors.

  Elle rose from her place in the kitchen and prepared to rush to the door before it closed behind him. Timing was everything. One second too late could mean certain death for one or all of them. On Carrie’s cue, Elle sprinted down the short hall between the kitchen and the monitoring room.

  “Help! Oh, my God, someone help us! She’s dying!” Carrie shrieked. Her voice held genuine fear, though not for Katrina’s fake condition. “Help us!”

  The butler flew out of the room, leaving the door standing open in his haste. “What the hell happened? What did you do?”

  “I only handed her some crackers. She ate one and said she felt funny. So I was taking her back to her room. She just collapsed.”

  “Why do I smell peanut butter?”

  “I had some with my crackers. What does that matter? Help her!”

  “I’m trying to,” he growled. “She has a severe peanut allergy. If you just ate it and didn’t wash your hands, you’ve now put her into anaphylactic shock.”

  Elle quickly checked each monitor, identifying where all the cameras and guards were located. She kept one monitor on the scene outside the door, her gaze returning to it every few seconds to ensure the situation was still under control. With a few clicks on the computer, she found a way to scroll through all the views quickly. Her heart raced and tears of joy sprang to her eyes when she found their way out.

  Just as quickly, her heart stopped and she felt as if she’d been punched in the gut when a familiar face filled the screen.

  The scary, evil man in St. Lucia who smiled at her and made her skin crawl.

  The one she was certain Devon knew.

  The one who didn’t belong there.

  The one watching them when the man died right in front of her, when she thought she’d seen Devon stab the back of the dead man’s neck.

  There was no way his presence at her palatial prison was a coincidence.

  “Does this mean Devon is involved?” She shook her head from side to side, disbelieving how far her thoughts had strayed from the possible and probable. “But, still…”

  “She’s coming to—look!” Carrie yelled loud enough for Elle to hear her through the door had she not seen the cue on the screen. “Katrina, are you okay?”

  “What? What happened?” Her eyes fluttered open and darted between the two people hovering over her.

  “You fainted—passed out cold. I thought you were dying.” Carrie wiped tears from her cheeks and sniffled. “You scared me to death. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “My blood sugar must’ve dropped too low. It does that sometimes and I get the shakes, but I’ve only passed out once before. I didn’t recognize the signs this time.”

  They helped Katrina sit up, the butler watching her closely for signs of any other problems. Katrina glanced over his shoulder and saw Elle watching them. Relief washed over her with the knowledge they’d given her enough time to get out of the room without being seen.

  “Katrina, what can I do? What can I get you?” Elle asked, joining the commotion.

  “Some orange juice would be great. Thank you, Elle.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need the doctor?” the butler asked, genuine concern filling his tone.

  We’re under his watch, and apparently, he’ll be held responsible if anything happens, Elle thought as she poured the juice. Interesting.

  “I’m sure,” Katrina replied, taking the plastic cup from Elle. She sipped the juice, giving an Oscar-worthy performance and holding his full attention with the most mundane scene ever written. “I feel better already. Maybe I’ll just relax on the couch in here for a few minutes.”

  He helped her onto the couch and went out of his way to make her comfortable. Pillows, a blanket, and more juice as a precaution. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes. I thought for sure you’d been exposed to peanuts.”

  “No, nothing like that. I wouldn’t be breathing if I had. No need to worry about me now.”

  “We’ll stay with her for a while.” Carrie sat beside her, still playing the guilt-ridden, despondent friend.

  “Was it worth it?” Katrina whispered when he’d left them alone.

  “Definitely,” Elle replied. “We have a plan.”

  Elle and Carrie helped Katrina up to take her back to her room. Elle glanced over at the room she’d just left and saw the door had been shut. The narrow window of opportunity she’d been given wasn’t lost on her, nor was the slim chance of success they’d have to escape. But she’d take that chance and make it count for all it was worth. If she died trying, at least her death would be for a noble reason. Rolling over and being a good little doormat was never her style anyway.

  Beth joined them in Katrina’s room, anxious to hear what Elle had found. “Great performances, ladies. That’s why you make the big bucks and I do your makeup. Let’s hear it, Elle. How do we get out of here?”

  “We have to go through the basement.”

  “No.” Carrie’s stern tone mixed with her clenched fists, and she shook her head in vehement rejection.

  “I don’t want to go back down there either, but it’s our best option. There are no active cameras in that room—only in the stairwell down and outside the outer door. They must specifically activate the cameras down there. And with us up here, there’s no reason to. Plus, I may have taken them offline completely while I was in there.

  “That door leads to a separate driveway on the back of the house. There’s a smaller gate at the back of the brick fence. We can climb it and get out. We’ll have to run like hell once we get out the door. I say we do it at night when we won’t be seen as easily.”

  “Yes. Let’s go tonight. We’re pushing our luck more and more the longer we stay here,” Katrina agreed.

  “I’m in. Tonight, it is. I’m ready to get home,” Beth added.

  All eyes turned to Carrie and waited for her assent. “Okay, I can do this.”

  When the house was silent late that night, they each left their rooms at different times in case anyone was watching the monitors. They made their way to the kitchen and listened for anyone else stirring. When Elle was satisfied they hadn’t been seen, she led the group down the back stairs to the basement door.

  “How do we get past the
door without making noise and alerting the entire house what we’re doing?” Beth asked.

  Elle pulled a key from her pocket. “I stole this from their control room.” She slid the key into the lock and said a silent prayer. The tumblers disengaged, and the knob turned in her hand. Like a shot in the dark, the foursome sprinted across the basement, now void of all the eerie black plastic that covered it before.

  The door leading outside was easily unlocked from the inside; the owner obviously didn’t consider his captives would make it that far. Elle threw the door open, and they dashed across the lush, green grass behind the house. Their adrenaline was at an all-time high—the gate to freedom was in view, glowing like a beacon in the pale moonlight, illuminating their path.

  Freedom was almost within their reach when the yard was lit up by floodlights that seemed to come from everywhere. Angry male voices shouted orders and four-wheelers skidded to a halt between them and the gate. Men jumped off and rushed at them, much like a linebacker targets a quarterback to stop the play. The four women scattered, running in different directions to draw attention and give the others a chance to escape. If only one got free, the rest would be saved.

  Screams filled the night, echoing on the breeze as they were corralled and caught one by one. All four were brought together by a host of clean-cut guards in uniforms mixed with scary men dressed all in black, wearing leather vests, and sporting long beards and shaggy hair. The thugs’ presence was a direct contradiction to their palatial prison, exactly how the man in St. Lucia appeared to be out of his element at the überposh resort.

  As they were forced to their knees with their hands behind their backs, their reactions were as varied as the women themselves. Carrie bowed her head and cried, knowing one of them had to die for their actions. Katrina was terrified of the dozens of men leering at her. Beth’s gaze kept returning to the gate as she calculated the odds of actually making it to it and over it without getting caught.