Last True Hero (22 page)

He tenses his jaw, keeping his eyes on me. “I like seeing you talk about your job. It's something you're happy about.”

I mull that over, and his smile grows. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He's quiet for a few minutes, alternating between staring at me and strumming his fingertips on the table. I just wait. Finally, he asks. “Are you okay? After seeing Drake?”

Ah.
It all comes flooding back. The pain, the anxiety, the whirlpool of emotions that leave me hanging on for dear life. I'm teetering on the brink of a tearful, embarrassing breakdown, and I suddenly feel like if I start I may never be able to stop.

“I'm tired,” I choke out, pushing away from the booth. Grisham stands, too, his features full of concern. “I'll be in the car.”

He nods. “Berk—”

I throw a hand up at him, because I know one more understanding word from him may break me.

Then, just before the tears begin to fall and my heart starts to constrict, I turn and flee the restaurant.

I'm not over Dare Conners, my ex-Army Ranger. I might never be over him.

Grisham knows me well enough by now to realize I'm not up for company tonight. So he takes his dinner and makes it an early evening.

A minute or two after he leaves, there's a soft rap on the door, and I smile wryly as I pad over to open it.

“Grish, what'd you forget?” The words fade off my lips as I open the door.

I don't recognize the girl standing there. She's short, like me, with black spiky hair cut in a crazy-cute style and amber eyes. She stares at me, and I stare back.

“Um, hi? Can I help you?” I ask tentatively.

She shakes her head, as if shaking herself back into the moment. “Yes, I'm sorry to bother you. Can I use your cell phone? Mine died, and so did my car. I'm doing a walk of shame, and this is so embarrassing.”

The words tumble out of her mouth at a quick clip, and I smile sympathetically. Walk of shame, huh? Sucks to be her right now. I gesture inside the apartment. “Come on in.”

She takes a few steps over the threshold and stops. Huh. I guess we're not doing the warm and fuzzy thing. Okay, then. I head for the counter where my purse is lying, half of its contents scattered over the granite. Rooting through the mess until I find my phone, I turn.

Oh, this chick is stealthy. She's
right there
when I turn around. Weird. Smiling uncertainly, I hand her the phone. “Here you go. Can I get you—”

She cuts me off when her hand jerks into the air and I see the syringe. What the hell? My initial reaction is to open my mouth and ask a question.

I wish I had better reactions.

“I'm sorry, Berkeley,” she whispers, just before plunging the needle deep into my neck.

The point of contact feels immediately cold, and then the coldness spreads through my body faster than I would have thought possible. My last thought, before the floor rises up to meet me, is that I really wish Dare were here.

C
hase looks up as I pull the truck into the parking lot of the Brunswick County Sheriff's Department. “What the fuck is this, Dare? I thought you were done with me.”

I turn off the ignition and sit back against my seat, glancing at him. I was done. But he's the only brother I have, and it was damn near impossible for me to send him packing without trying one more thing. I'm attempting to get him to do the right thing.

“This is the plan. I waited for you to come up with one, you didn't. So we're going in there, and you're going to tell them everything. Then we're going to get an order of protection against Chavez, because it's smart to have a paper trail where shit like this is concerned. You're in my town now, Chase. I love you, but I can't protect you by myself.”

Chase's face reddens. “I'm not asking for protection, Dare! I asked for your help. All I need is the money.”

I shake my head. “That's not gonna do it, Chase, and you know it. The guy you described…just handing over some cash isn't going to get rid of him. Trust me. I want to help you, and this is the first step.”

He sighs and leans his head back against the seat. “Shit. I don't want to do this.”

I clap a hand on his shoulder and open the truck door. “I know. But sometimes we all gotta do shit we don't wanna do.”

Just as I'm preparing to step out of the truck, my phone rings. Distracted, I pull it out of my pocket and answer.

“Hello?”

Mea's voice on the other end of the line borders on frantic, and I'm immediately alert. “Dare!”

The rest of the words out of her mouth are a jumble of incoherence, and I bark into the phone. “Mea! Slow down. What happened? Is it Berkeley?”

My pulse races in my veins. Because,
Christ
, of course it's Berkeley. Why else would Mea be calling me?

“You need to come to our apartment right now, Dare. Berkeley's been—taken—and there's a note for you.”

My stomach sinks like I just swallowed a ton of stones. I can't remember a time in my life that I've ever felt this terrified. Dread is building up in my body, and my palms begin to sweat.
This isn't happening
.

Not to her.

“I'm on my way,” I growl into the phone before tossing it onto the console and slamming the truck door closed again. I glance at Chase, whose mouth is set in a firm line as he stares at me. “Change of plans.”

“What happened?”

“We'll find out when we get there.” My foot stomps down heavily on the gas.

The drive to Berkeley's apartment is a blur in my memory. I can't remember if I stopped for a single red light. Probably not. And by the time I'm finally running up the stairs of the building, the sweat is pouring down the back of my neck.

Someone took her
. Whoever had Berkeley wouldn't be breathing much longer.

As I burst through the door, Mea's tear-stained face is the first thing I see. I storm over to her. “Where's the note?”

“Easy, Dare.” Greta places a hand on my shoulder. “We called Drake. He should be here any minute, too. Do you want to wait for him?”

Mea whirls on her. “We don't have time to wait for anything! They have my best friend. We need to find her!”

“Have you called the police?” Chase sidles up beside me, placing his hand on my other shoulder. It's like everyone thinks I'm about to blow a fuse. Which could definitely fucking happen.

Mea, maybe reading my mind, hands over a folded piece of paper. Damn, she handled it. “Anyone else touch it?”

She shakes her head, sniffing. “No…just me.”

I grab a pen from the counter and gesture for her to drop the note on the shiny surface. Then I use the pen to slide the note in front of me. “Good.”

I scan the note.

As long as you're helping your brother get me my money, I thought I'd give you some incentive to move more quickly. Meet me at the address below in 24 hours. If you're late, your Berkeley will bleed.

The growl begins in my chest, and becomes a roar when it bursts from my throat. “Son of a
bitch
!”

The contents of the counter, including the note, go crashing to the floor as I sweep my arm across the top. Someone grips me from behind, but then I hear Drake's voice from the doorway.

“Let him go. He has a right to be pissed.”

I ignore Drake's voice as he enters and turn on my brother. “How does he know about me, Chase?”

Chase hangs his head. “I dropped a line to a friend back home, letting him know my brother was helping me out with the Chavez problem. I wanted Chavez to know I didn't just flake out on him.”

Drake slams the door behind him as he strides quickly over to where I'm standing, now quaking with unbridled fury. “What's the situation, Dare?”

I gesture blankly toward the note now lying on the floor. I'm inhaling deep breaths through my nose, and the room in front of me is taking on a red tinge.

Drake crouches, reads the note, and stands again. He glances at Chase. “Cops?”

Chase shakes his head. “We just got here. We haven't decided…what to do.” He turns to me, and there's real pain and regret in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, man. I fucked up.”

I can't look at Chase right now, can't deal with his apologies. So I turn to Drake. “We have to get her back, Drake. The asshole could hurt her. I can't…”

Trailing off, my legs give out and I crouch to the floor beside the note. I read it again and again. He didn't say anything about watching us, about knowing if we contact the cops. So maybe we can gather reinforcements. All I know for sure is that I'm going to that address tomorrow, and I'm walking out of there with Berkeley in my arms. It's up to Chavez whether he's alive when I'm done.

“Dare?” says Greta tentatively, somewhere behind me. “I think we should call my dad.”

The tension in the room is so thick it nearly chokes me. We're sitting in Greta's father's office. Greta informed us that her father owns a private security company and has many connections with the local law enforcement. He has a nondescript building overlooking the ocean, and his office contains one large wall of windows. He's sitting at his desk, appraising Drake, Chase, and I. We sit on a leather couch directly across from Police Detective Lawrence Henderson. Greta's father, Jacob Owen, studies us all with serious interest.

“So, Lawrence, you can see why I called you in on this. We need to be discreet. I'm sure if they smell cops, they'll kill Berkeley.”

I stiffen. “That's not going to happen, dammit.”

Detective Henderson shakes his head. “No, son, we're going to try to make sure it doesn't. You need to leave this to us. I can get a team—”

I interrupt him. “If you want a rogue ex-soldier out there, doing whatever the fuck I see fit, you go ahead and leave me out of this operation. Otherwise, I suggest you tell me exactly what's going to happen, and then I'll be the one going in to get my girl. The note was addressed to me. I'm not sitting on my hands on this, Detective.”

Drake nods, seconding my statement.

Detective Henderson sighs, scowling at me. Then, leaning forward on his elbows, he turns to Chase. “So you owe this Chavez money? That's why he's in my town?”

Chase, looking extremely uncomfortable, nods.

It's been about three hours since Berkeley was taken, and I still haven't been able to bring myself to say more than two words to Chase. He's my brother, sure, but it's his damn fault that the girl I gave my heart to is in danger. Everything I went through with Berkeley now seems like a distant, painful memory. All that matters now is that I get the chance to tell her that I love her. Because,
dammit
…I do.

“That, and I made a move on his girl.” Chase has been totally honest with both Jacob and Detective Henderson, which is good, because I would have beaten his ass if he left anything out.

Detective Henderson abruptly stands. “This can be our home base. I'm going to make a call, and get a team working on this. We'll get her back.” He pats my shoulder kindly on his way to the door.

I lean back on the leather and scrub my hands over my face. My chest gets tighter with every hour that passes and I don't have eyes on her. I'm used to missions being planned out perfectly, and then planned out again. Right now, I feel so fucking blind I want to yell, or hit something. Or both.

“We'll get Berkeley back, Dare,” says Drake quietly. “I'm with you, man.”

Chase nods. “Me, too.”

I look at my brother for the first time in hours. “You better be right.”

Pacing and thinking, I pass the half hour until Henderson returns. Neither of which are helping Berkeley right now. But at the moment, everything else is out of my hands.

It's been a long time since I felt this helpless. I became a soldier so I'd never have to feel that way again.

The door silently swings open and in walks Henderson with two guys I recognize instantly as brothers.

Henderson nods in my direction first. “Teague, Shaw, this is Dare Conners. He's ex-army, like you guys. Conners, these guys are with me. Jeremy Teague and Ronin Shaw are plainclothes detectives with our department. They've been briefed on the situation, and we have some men out scouting the location now.”

I nod at the two newcomers, but my ears prick at the words Henderson just uttered. “They're being discreet, right? I don't want Chavez sniffing them out. If he suspects anything…”

I don't want to finish that sentence. I just want reassurances that Henderson and his team know their shit, and then I want to get my hands dirty. If I have to spend another minute sitting and waiting, I'll lose my goddamn mind.

Henderson nods. “We're discreet. We wanted to know the lay of the land. Everybody listen up, I have some intel for you.”

We all take seats and lean in, Jacob, leaning over his desksteeples his fingers as he takes in Henderson's words.

“The address is a bar/restaurant in a seedy area near downtown Wilmington. The place can gather a crowd late at night, and he asked for you to show up in the evening. I'm not liking the odds that civilians will be present.”

I nod, my forehead creasing as my concentration level rises. He's speaking to me in a language I understand fully. I want to talk strategies and tactics, and I want to know as much information as I can about the place where Berkeley is being held. It's all I can do not to walk out and show up at the address myself, early, but I know that's not in Berkeley's best interests.

“We won't send you in blind,” continues Henderson. “We'll make sure we can hear everything that's going on, and if we can get eyes in there we will.”

“What about me?” asks Chase. He leans forward, meeting first my eyes, then Henderson's. “I'm the one who got him and Berkeley into this mess. I want to go in there with him.”

Drake snorts under his breath, and I glance his way before leveling my gaze at Chase. “What can you tell us about how Chavez usually operates?”

“He's known in my area as being ruthless. That's how he got to the status he's at. He's no dummy, and he doesn't care about shit except the money someone owes him.”

“From what we've gathered in our research,” Jacob breaks in, “he has one prior conviction, about nine years ago. He spent six years in prison, but since then he's kept his nose squeaky clean. On the outside.”

“What was his conviction for?” For me, information is like a lifeline. I grab ahold of it and soak it up. Being briefed keeps me from focusing on the emotion side of this situation. It keeps the worry for what Berkeley's going through right now from creeping in. And it keeps the rage boiling inside me at bay. As long as I think of this situation like any other rescue I've attempted, I can bring Berkeley home safely.

But there are no promises guaranteed to the people who took her that they'll come out of this unscathed.

“Drug trafficking, resisting arrest, and conspiracy to commit murder.” Henderson's answer isn't exactly music to my ears.

I turn to Chase. “I think if Chavez sees you, it'll wind him up. I don't want that. Not with Berkeley in the potential crossfire.”

Chase frowns. “You don't want me with you?”

Rubbing a hand through my hair, I shrug. “It's not a matter of what I want, Chase. It's a matter of procedure, and the best way to go about getting her out of there alive. And unhurt. And I need training and experience on my side. That's not you. What about Shay?”

His eyes shutter. “I haven't been able to get ahold of her. I need to find out whether Chavez brought her with him, or whether he left her in Florida.”

I nod. “You work on that.”

I turn my eyes to first Jacob, and then Henderson. “Drake goes in with me, because he has the same skills that I do. I trust him. And I want your best by my side as well.” My gaze darts over to Teague and Shaw. They both nod in return.

Henderson rubs his hands together and leans forward. “Okay, then. We'll have a map of the interior shortly, and within the next couple of hours we'll find out how many men are inside, and try to pinpoint the exact area of the building they've got Berkeley. The plan will depend on that intel. Get some rest until then, boys.”

We all nod, but I know I'll never rest until I have the girl I love in my arms again.