Brother's Keeper I: Declan Read online

  “Driving.” His smug response and expressionless demeanor had her on edge, wondering if she made the right choice.

  “Wh-what about your car?”

  “It’s being picked up.” His eyes never left the road; his jaw was clenched and tense.

  “By who.” She was genuinely curious. If she was being abducted, she would have to try and get away at some point, and knowing who all the players were would benefit her later. All of the late-night crime shows she watched, waiting for her husband to come home, were paying off. Irony at its best.

  If looks could kill, he was the reaper. Unamused, and highly agitated by her questions, he finally turned to her with a sharp tone, “Don’t worry about it.”

  Why wouldn’t he look at her? It was like it pained him to do so, and it was out of pure irritation that he finally did with his last response. His disposition was cold and oddly focused. He was thinking, plotting, and that had her worried. She had perceived him as a man of few words in the two or so years she had known him, but she never knew him to be so short and insolent – it was ticking her off.

  “What’s going on? Where are we going?” There are several levels of emotion people go through when they are exposed to traumatic events. Lydia was past shock and fear, heading right into angry and ballsy. “Why won’t you look at me? Too much for you because you’re going to kill me, too?”

  Enough was enough. Her sassy and demanding spoiled attitude raked his last nerve. Pulling into a dark, empty parking lot, he stopped the car and turned to her.

  “Are you done now? Can I talk?” he asked.

  “No. No, I’m not. What the hell is going on? Where are you taking me, and why the hell did you think you weren’t going to make it out of the Police Station alive?” With her back to the car door, she crossed her arms and shot him her best intimidating glare as a challenge.

  “Because the police station is the worst place you could’ve gone! Esteban own’s that place. Lucky for you, we put on a pretty good show, and they aren’t likely to run to him – especially since they let you go. That’s a fucking death wish.” He paused a moment, took a deep breath and was ready for the big reveal. “I’m undercover – an agent for a branch of the government you’ve never heard of and nobody recognizes – we don’t exist. You may have just blown the case and ruined two years of work.”

  “Un…undercover? Why? You live in my home, work for my husband. Who exactly are you building a case against?” There it was again - her crime shows and more irony. Two years gathering evidence, undercover with agents that didn’t exist as far as the rest of the world was concerned? She knew this was big – bigger than big – and didn’t want to believe a word of it. More of the missing pieces were about to fall into place – the reason her husband was always gone. She already didn’t like what she was hearing.

  “Drugs, trafficking, arms dealing, money laundering, and murder. You know, like the one you just stumbled upon while on a nosey escapade dressed like an expensive hooker?” She didn’t need to fear him, and he would make that clear, but she didn’t need to like him either. Keeping her at arm’s length and afraid of her husband would make his job easier.

  Grabbing her chest in a breathy huff assured him that he had called the dislike part, and it was in full swing. “Excuse me? What is with you and that, asshole cop? This is a very expensive, very couture dress that I bought for my husband who stood me up for a date with murder! You should know that expensive hookers don’t wear designer anything; they’re just cheap knock off’s.”

  “Well, how is that very couture dress workin’ for ya? I’d say the cheap knock of has a better chance at getting lucky, and making a dime or two while at it. I mean if you had to dress that way to begin with, just to get your husband’s attention…”

  Frenzied indignation fueled her with enough courage to raise her open hand to him, but he caught her wrist before the slap landed. “That…would be a bad idea.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “You’re spoiled.”

  Tears welled, making her eyes glassy, noticeable even in the dark. He didn’t do the crying girl thing, certainly didn’t do emotions, and here he was with one about to spill over. Shit.

  “Look, Lydia. We don’t have to like each other, but we have to work together. Truce? At least for now?”

  “I just don’t understand.” It seemed she was past the anger stage and heading straight to rock bottom sadness. “I just…I just wanted to save my marriage. Your case…it’s Esteban.”

  Not a question but a statement. How could she not put two and two together after what she saw? Her world was crashing down around her, and she didn’t even know the half of it. She was just a case to him. That’s all she could be, but somehow, he felt a little bad for her. He was human after all, and she and her baby boy had been a part of his life for some time now – there was bound to be some feelings involved.

  “It’s actually good that you don’t understand. It means you don’t know anything about his dealings. He is a murderer, deeply involved in sex trafficking, dealing arms, drugs, you name it. Lydia, we have been watching him longer than you’ve known him. I’m not the first agent undercover…I’m just the only one still here. He is the worst of the worst, and the sooner you wrap your mind around that, the sooner we move on with our lives.”

  In a weak pleading voice, full of sorrow and very little confidence, she tried to make it all go away. Change the truth that was staring her in the face. “My hu-husband is in real estate – he’s a developer.”

  “Damn it, Lydee.” He used her nickname, hoping it would get her attention, and he could get through to her. Frustrated, he turned from her, running his hand through his hair before he turned to her again, tossing his thumb behind him. “Did that look like real estate back there? Dead bodies, torture, grown men pissing themselves?”

  There wasn’t an easy way to say it other than just to say it – and he did – even if it hurt her to hear. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he did need her to hurt for entirely different reasons. She needed to be ready for what was to come, stay strong, and not falter. Her life depended on it. His life depended on it. Jason took this case, knowing full well what was on the line and the danger he faced, but she didn’t. She was an innocent victim in all of this. A victim who needed to want to fight back to stay alive and help him close his case.

  “You are now in full protective custody. You are a primary material witness in a federal case against Esteban Ricardo Valdez. You can, and will, help put him away and save lives by doing so. The only way we do that is to get out of here and not look back. Understand?”

  “Get out of here?” Her posture stiffened at that idea. There was one missing piece, her infant son. “I can’t go without Jax. I’m not leaving my baby with that man.”

  An overwhelming heat rushed him when he laid a hand on hers, attempting to calm her. Her cold rigid response was the icy backlash he needed to stay on track and not give that sensation a second thought. “We are going to get him now, but you have to trust me and do exactly as I say. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

  She nodded, “Yes, then what?”

  “Then we run.”

  Jason pulled back onto the road, watching his mirrors, taking odd turns, until he was certain they weren’t being followed or on police radar. Finally pulling into the mansion, he parked out front and followed her inside as her bodyguard, hopeful she could stick to the plan he had just laid out.

  With her cellphone to her ear, Lydia went on a loud rant as she made her way through the house. Anyone in earshot was sure to believe that it was her sister on the other end of the dead phone with this performance of a lifetime. She went on to say that she just needed a few days to get her head right. She made a point to say Jason was driving her and Jax to the airport and would be traveling with them. It all sounded legitimate. She finished by saying she would return and talk to Esteban, but she was just too hurt right now because he stood her up for dinner again. Jason had to appla
ud her – every eye in the place was on her, taking in every detail.

  The real seller was when she brought up the new dress, just for him, and how it went to waste because she could never wear it again. Bad memories and mojo cursed it. Completely superficial, and completely Lydia. The tantrum was real, and her tears genuine because she truly was wounded by Esteban’s actions, just not those the staff was being made privy to.

  Just before entering her bedroom, she brought her fake call to an end, and then the real work began. Jason turned on the T.V. and the sink in the bathroom to drown out their voices just in case the room was bugged.

  He grabbed her shoulders and took her in; she was weak, defeated, and exhausted. “You did good. It’s working. We need to work fast now and get the hell out of here. You grab Jax and just what he needs for the night. I’ll grab a bag for you.”

  “For me? You are not packing for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…you aren’t riffling through, you know.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know, and we don’t have time for this shit.”

  “My underwear, Jason. Okay? My underwear!”

  “Christ, Lydia. It’s just underwear! I’ve seen underwear before!”

  “Well…not my underwear. I won’t be able to wear them, knowing you have seen them. It’s weird!”

  He tossed an overnight bag her way. “Will you please pack your underwear then?”

  Bag in hand, she rushed to her closet, and he could hear drawers opening and closing quickly. He went to the doorway, ready to get the show on the road, and interrupted her looking around at all that was hanging in there, lost in thought.

  “You can’t take any of it. I’m sorry. Are you done with…ya know?”

  With a tearful nod, she handed the bag back to him and went to her son’s adjoining room to gather his things. Jason finished her packing, which left her sick to her stomach, afraid she was going to be wearing mismatched designers and seasons for however long this was supposed to last.

  In only a handful of minutes, he was behind her in the baby’s nursery, carefully buckling the little guy into his car seat, so as not to wake him.

  “Do you have everything?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to take, how long we’ll be gone; will it be hot or cold?” she cried.

  “Just what he needs for the next 24 hours. Diapers, food, and a change of clothes.”

  “Why only…”

  “Trust me – remember?” He gently stroked the baby’s forehead when he started to fuss, calming him back into a peaceful slumber. Something that didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Then we’re…ready.”

  They were almost to the finish line. Jason had thrown their small bags into a large suitcase to support the ruse. In order to get the hell out of dodge, however, Lydia had a final performance – a note. The staff wandering the property that time of night was mostly made up of muscle and only a single night maid who was currently distracted by the muscle.

  Lydia left a note in Esteban’s office saying she was hurt, leaving for a few days, and they could talk when she returned. She told him not to worry, that she had the baby, and Jason was escorting them. They had to sell it and sell it good if they were going to get away with this. Lydia had to write the three words that used to come so easily but now riled her stomach with the simple thought. She needed him to believe her, and these were the three words to seal the deal. I love you.

  LEAVING THE MANSION was a weight off their shoulders – they were one step closer to being out of Esteban’s reach. Heading west, Jason did just as he did before, watched the mirrors, took extra turns, even backtracking on the freeway a time or two, literally driving in circles.

  “This isn’t the way to the airport. We are getting further and further away in the wrong direction. Won’t that give them time to get there before we do?” she asked, full of concern.

  “Just making sure they aren’t following us. If they are, I want them headed the wrong way before we lose them.”

  “Why don’t we just use our head start and get out of here? Isn’t the jet ready?”

  “We aren’t taking the jet. Well, that jet anyway.”

  Surprise, and what was probably concern, had her hot and off guard. “What? Why not? We can be out of here faster! I left a note; he knows I’m leaving. It makes sense to take the jet.”

  “We aren’t running away and disappearing using his jet! We may as well text him directions!” It wasn’t like him to be so condescending, but it also wasn’t like her to be dense. She was quite the opposite actually. He chalked it up to raw nerves and fear. “He probably won’t even realize you are gone or see the note for a while yet, and by the time he does, we’ll be in the wind.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Then my family jet! I can make a call; it wouldn’t take long…”

  “Lydia,” he interrupted, “we can’t use that for the same reason we can’t use his jet, our cell phones, credit cards, and so on. He can trace everything. Going into hiding means we disappear altogether, no bread crumbs for them to follow. We’re using a different jet, different airport all together. One that doesn’t exist as far as civilians are concerned. The less you know, right now, the safer you and Jax are.”

  Holding up her cell phone, she was quiet while she reconciled all that he just said. Hiding, secret airports, untraceable – that meant they really did have to disappear completely. Panic was returning, threatening to take hold again. How the hell was she supposed to live? No money, no resources, no connections. She had a son to feed and diaper – how would she do all of that with nothing?

  “Hey,” he soothed, grabbing her hand, the one still holding her cell phone, “it’s going to be okay. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to either of you, okay? Everything is taken care of; you just have to trust me.”

  For the first time all night, she smiled. It was weak, it wasn’t full of joy, but it was sincere. She believed him and trusted him. They were still alive, and it was thanks to him. A glimpse of the nice guy she had come to know was looking back at her and gave her an encouraging nod.

  “Where are we going from here then?” she asked, resting their hands on the center console between them.

  “New York first. We need to get Trinity.” He squeezed her hand to remind her he had this, they were safe, for now, and that he promised to protect them.

  She sat up straighter in her seat until she felt him squeeze, a silent reminder that she needed. “Why are we going to Trinity? I didn’t really call her; you said not to call her. Did I screw up. Is she okay? I need to call her – she has no clue.”

  “She’s fine. And you weren’t supposed to call her, nor will you. The less she knows, the safer she is. Esteban will use her as leverage to get to you if we don’t get to her first. She’s part of the plan, Lydee. He can’t reach her; my people are on it.” He used her nickname again, something he didn’t do often, and he wasn’t sure why he had been using it all night. He’d deal with that later – it was too personal and needed to stop.

  “What if she isn’t there?”

  “She is.” He answered.

  “How do you know?” Lydia didn’t like being out of the loop. She was usually the one holding the reigns, one hundred percent in charge. These half-assed, less you know, the better, bullshit answers were starting to irritate her.

  “I know,” he shot back, aware that he was pissing her off, but clearly, not giving two craps about it.

  In an ear-piercing silence, she wondered what he meant, how he knew, and considered it along with all that she did know so far. It didn’t take long at all for her to figure it out.

  “Oh, my God! You’re watching her,” she guessed, sliding as far to the right in her seat as possible in order to gain every inch of distance from him as she could. “How do I even know you’re safe? You were right there, watching those men die. I just got in a car with you, with my son no less, when you’re no better than those men! What have I done? How can I tru
st you?”

  He looked at her, saw the fear gripping her as the tears began to fall again. For some reason, her words hurt. He wasn’t trying to make friends with her, but he certainly didn’t want her to think he was like those men. He was anything but. He loathed what they were, what they did, and what they stood for.

  The only reason he could tolerate and live with what he was exposed to was the knowing – knowing that he was going to put an end to them. It literally made him sick knowing she may think of him in such a way – associated him with monsters – or that he could hurt her. He could never hurt her; she was the only reason he stayed to begin with. But he couldn’t tell her that.

  “You can trust me because I got you out of there before anyone else saw you. You can trust me because I got you out of the Police Station before they ID’d you and sold you out to those men. You can trust me because if Esteban figures this out, who I am, what I am…I’m dead, but not before he kills everyone I love first.”

  Relaxing in her seat, his words sunk in. He had as much to lose as she did, if not more. She could trust him; he was risking everything for her when he could have just sent her away, and Esteban would be none the wiser. But he stayed with her, ran with her. That had to mean something, but what?

  Silence, in that moment was as painful as the words she knew she delivered with a punch. Accusing him of being like Esteban and his people had to hurt, and for that, she felt badly. She would find a way to make it right when she knew what right was again.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” she began.

  Jason cut her off before she could finish. He didn’t need apologies, just cooperation. “It’s fine.”

  Emotions were high; her world was turned upside down in a matter of hours. Outbursts were to be expected, she supposed, even if they didn’t help. Being in the absolute dark was making it hard to wrap her mind around the few details she had – she needed more – deserved more. Perhaps they would help her cope.