Tymber Dalton - Safe Harbor

He couldn’t deny the satisfied thrill when he pressed the gun’s muzzle to her temple and she stiffened.

“Hello, Clarisse.”

She didn’t speak. He pressed harder. “Aren’t you going to say hello? Where the hell are your manners?”

“Hello, Bryan.”

“Here’s how this works. You come with me, quietly. Otherwise, I kill you and him and that other guy when he shows up. You’ve totally fucked my life. Well, I’m fucking yours. I want my goddamned money.”

“It was my money.”

He enjoyed her hiss of pain as he grabbed her arm with his other hand and squeezed, his fingers digging in. “Wrong. It’s my money. I worked hard for it, and I want it, you fucking cunt. With lots of interest. I need it to start over. Then after I have a final goodbye with you, I’ll go and you’ll never see me again.”

Clarisse felt numb. She realized for the first time she wasn’t scared of Bryan for herself—she was scared for Mac. And for Sully.

“I’ll go with you. Just…please don’t hurt him.”

“I already got my pound of flesh out of him. Give me your cell phone.”

She handed it over, and he quickly figured out how to turn it off.

He jammed it into his pocket before he roughly dragged her to her feet and propelled her toward the door. Then he pulled an envelope out of the medical supply tote he carried tossed it on the bed. He stuck the gun in his right lab coat pocket, but he didn’t let go of it. He carried the tote in his left hand.

When he stepped close behind her, she had to suppress the urge to scream. “Turn left,” he quietly ordered. “Walk in front of me, to the first hallway on the right and turn there. There’s a stairwell on the left.

That’s where we’re going.”

Feeling more numb than scared, she complied, wanting Bryan as far away from Mac and Sully as she could draw him. She didn’t care if he killed her. Sully had tried to keep the truth from her, but she’d heard the doctors talking with him. There were no guarantees that Mac would ever wake up. Or if he did, he might be little more than bedridden, barely cognizant, for the rest of his life. They couldn’t evaluate the extent of his brain injuries until more healing had taken place from the initial trauma.

But if Bryan tried to kill her, she damn sure would take her pound of flesh in retaliation first, if given half a chance.

Sully and Jason returned to Mac’s bedside ten minutes later. No news. The asshole had taken huge cash withdrawals on his credit cards in Ohio, a payday advance loan for five hundred dollars, and had disappeared off the face of the fucking planet. None of his family had heard from him. The BOLO had produced no leads, and his car hadn’t been spotted.

Sully worried when he didn’t see Clarisse sitting next to Mac’s bed, but figured she’d gone to use the restroom because her purse still sat on the floor under his bed where she usually left it. He stood in the cubicle doorway with Jason and kept his gaze focused on the bathrooms. When she still didn’t return, he walked down the hall. The ladies’ room was a single bathroom, no stalls, like the men’s room.

He tried the knob and found it unlocked and unoccupied.

Fear twisted his gut. She wouldn’t have left without him or without telling him where she went.

Without her purse.

He returned to the cubicle. Jason stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

Sully shook his head and looked around for Mac’s nurse. “Have you seen Clarisse?”

“Yeah, she left a little after you did. She was talking with a lab tech.”

“Lab tech?” Jason and Sully exchanged a glance. To comfort himself more than anything, he walked over to Mac’s side.

That’s when he spotted the envelope. On the front was printed one word: Nicoletto .

Adrenaline spiked his system. His hand trembled as he reached for it. He exchanged another glance with Jason. Fuck protocol, he knew who left it. Fingerprints be damned. The note was printed on a computer.

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit tight and wait for me to get in touch with you. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. Much. Play this lone wolf or you’ll never find her body. I’ll contact you later. Be ready with one hundred grand in cash if you want her back in one piece. You know the drill. Don’t forget, I do too.

Color drained from Sully’s face as he handed it to Jason.

Jason scanned it. “Fuck!” He reached for his radio but Sully put a hand over his and shook his head. He grabbed Jason and dragged him from the room into a conference room where he closed and locked the door behind them.

“You can’t call in help!”

“Sully, you know the rules. I have to get an alert out on this!”

“He’ll kill her.”

“He’ll kill her regardless! We’re wasting time! He’s out for blood.

He damn near killed Mac!”

“He will kill her, Jayce. He’s probably already out of the hospital with her.” His hands shook as he sat in one of the chairs. “We can’t report this.”

“Listen to yourself! This isn’t one of your fucking books! You can’t seriously think you can handle this.”

“You’ll help me.”

Jason slowly shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight, Sul.

We have to go by the numbers.”

Sully’s jaw clenched. “You’re two years past vested. What are they going to do, fire you? You can retire. You were going to in a couple of years anyway. You’ll still get your pension and bennies.

You and me, we can catch this son of a bitch.”

“Um, yeah, then the fucker gets off at trial and you and I are cellmates in Raiford with some of our past collars. Great fucking plan.

No thanks.”

Sully turned a hard gaze on Jason. “There won’t be a trial.”

“Listen to yourself! You’re a cop, man! You’re sworn to protect and to serve, not play Dirty Harry!”

“Either help me or stay the fuck out of my way, Jayce. There are no alternatives. This guy is a cop, he knows what we know, but we have the advantage of home turf. We can take him out and you know he fucking deserves it. It’s not a question of needing DNA for a sure conviction. If we go through channels, we lose time and maneuverability and he’ll kill her anyway. He knows he’s going down, and he’s willing to take as many of us with him as he can.”

“Fuck!” Jason paced, running a hand through his hair. He stood for a long moment at the far end of the room, then turned on Sully.

“You’re asking a lot.”

“I’m not asking anything. Help me, or forget you know anything.

You won’t hurt my feelings unless you get in my fucking way.”

He studied Sully’s face, knew the look well, the resolute determination.

Sagging, he nodded. “I’ll help, only because I don’t want to be a pallbearer at your funeral.”

Sully stood. “Then let’s go. We’ll need your vest.”

Clarisse huddled in the passenger seat. She refused to cry, refused to sniffle or beg or plead. He’d gone totally shithouse rat crazy. She sensed if she lost her composure it would only egg him on and get her killed faster.

When she shifted position, her feet bumped against several empty beer bottles littering the floor of the front seat. Great, he was drinking again, too. She didn’t know where he picked up the beater car with Virginia plates, but it sounded like it wasn’t too far from its final date with a junkyard. He wove through traffic in downtown St. Pete. She thought he might take I-275, but he stuck to secondary roads, constantly checking his mirrors. He didn’t speak and she didn’t bother trying to reason with him.