She let go but stayed between them. “What is going on, Vince?”
The walk hadn’t cooled Vince’s temper, and he glared at Asher. “You sent her in to rescue me. Alone.”
“Bullshit. She was not alone. She had backup. I was there.”
“Really? Where?” Vince spread his palms wide and looked around as if he were dramatically reenacting the scene. “A couple of inept losers on the other side of the railroad tracks who couldn’t even subdue a dog? Ha. I’d hardly call that backup. She could’ve easily—easily—been killed or captured. You have no fucking idea what they would’ve done to her, but I do.”
“You’re calling me inept?”
“Actually, I think I just called you a loser.”
Asher flexed his fists.
Oh jeez. Not again.
Zara pointed a finger at both men. “Stop it. Both of you.”
“Believe me,” Asher said, not taking his eyes off of Vince. “I tried to talk her out of that hare-brained scheme of hers. And now that I’ve had the bloody misfortune of meeting you, I wish I’d have tried harder.”
Zara’s patience was wearing thin. “For your information, Vince, my brother did try to talk me out of it, but in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a big girl and can make my own decisions. I told him I was going with or without him. He had no choice but to throw together a quick plan. And you,” she said, turning to Asher, “you think my hare-brained idea was any less ridiculous than waiting months for the Iron Guild to make a decision on whether or not to help us?”
“It was the safer choice by far.” Asher crossed his arms over his chest.
Vince frowned. “The Iron Guild?”
“Yeah, we’re a group of warriors who—”
“I know what the Iron Guild is,” Vince said impatiently. “You asked them to help get me out? Why?”
“Because we help out our people,” Asher replied.
“I’m not one of your people.”
“But your mother is.” Asher laughed, his tone biting. “So is Zara. And for some reason that defies all logic, she seems to really be into you.”
Vince looked as though he was going to come to blows with her brother again, but instead, he spun on his heel and strode across the parking lot to the motorcycle he had borrowed from Rand.
He couldn’t just leave like that.
“Vince, wait!” she called after him.
Ignoring her plea, he revved the engine and took off in a spray of gravel. Zara stood and watched as he disappeared around the end of the building.
Asher brushed the dirt from his jeans and gave Conry a pat on the head.
“Why are you into an asshole like that?” he asked. “I mean, I get that he’s the father of your son, but come on.”
“He’s not an asshole.” How could she explain to her brother that Vince was complicated and just needed some time to sort out his new life? He’d suffered all sorts of trauma while at the Institute and, more than likely, was suffering from PTSD.
Asher flicked a few of his braids behind his shoulder. “Is the dude hung like a horse or something? Is that why you’re so into him?”
Now it was her turn to punch her brother. Right in the face.
CHAPTER 12
Asher sat at the table in the break room holding an icepack to his jaw.
Oh please.
It wasn’t like she’d hit him very hard. He was doing the ice-thing for the attention, and it seemed to be working, too. Melanie, the office manager, was the one who’d gotten him the ice, and a mechanic had grabbed a box of tissues in case his nose started bleeding.
After they left, he grinned at Zara as if he knew that she knew it was just an act.
Honestly, he hadn’t changed a bit since they were kids. A fact she found both comforting and maddening.
Behind him, the flat screen was still muted. However, it was on multichannel mode now and three vlogs shared the screen.
NWX was using the headline The Hunt for a Convict. SeaPac was calling it On the Run from the Law. And Birdie Lyons’ show was using Vince’s inmate photo grunged-up and stamped with the graphic, Deadly, Dangerous and Deranged.
Really?
How could Pacificans watch this garbage twenty-four-seven? It gave her a headache, and not just because they were talking about Vince.
She still couldn’t believe he’d picked a fight with her brother. Although Vince was totally and completely off base with his accusations, and she was upset with him for storming off on his motorcycle before they’d had a chance to work things out, she was humbled he cared so much about her safety and well being. Every time the front door opened, she popped her head out of the break room, hoping it was him.
Rand came in and poured himself a cup of coffee. “So you want to sell the car instead of painting it?”
Asher must have said something to him.
“I’m just not sure it’s worth the risk to keep it.” She pointed to the screen. “They’ve been talking and speculating about that car nonstop.”
“Will you be able to sell it and hide the ownership trail?” Asher asked.
Rand raised a brow. “Does a bear shit in the woods when there’s no one around to see him?”
Asher laughed then turned to Zara. “I say let him have the car.”
It would just be a matter of time until the news vlogs speculated that it might have been painted. They’d already been showing artists’ renditions of what Vince could look like now. “Okay.”
“Let me make a few calls and see what I can do,” Rand said, then headed back to his office. Zara assembled a plate of cupcakes and set them in front of Asher as an unspoken peace offering.
“Thanks.” He looked over all of them and started with the one that had the most sprinkles. “I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. That was uncalled for.”
Yeah, it was. Looking back on it now though, it secretly made her laugh.
“Next time I’ll try to have a ruler on hand, so you can measure yourselves to see who wins.”
Asher grinned, holding up the half-eaten cupcake as if he were toasting her with a glass of champagne. “Might makes right.”
The door out front opened again, but before she could check to see if it was Vince or not, she heard the heavy thud of boot steps coming down the hallway. He swept into the doorway as if he owned it, his muscular frame filling up the space. His face was ruddy from being windblown. A sweat mark from his helmet creased his forehead and there were mud stains on the lower part of his jeans.
She inwardly sighed. She’d take a rough-edged working man with muscles and tats who looked out for his woman, no matter the cost, over a pretty boy in suit any day of the week.
Speaking of which…
He grabbed the back of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head, giving her a peek-a-boo view of his well-defined abs and a few of his tattoos.
“Hey,” she said, as casually as she could. She didn’t want to make a big deal about him storming off.
He cast her a dangerously sexy glance. Zara’s heart pounded, and she found it extremely hard to stay calm when all she wanted to do was jump into his arms and kiss the hell out of him.
Vince strode over to where Asher was sitting and extended his hand. “I appreciate what you did. Sorry for the outburst.” His tone was gruff, but sincere. It wasn’t easy for a man like him to admit when he was wrong.
If he wasn’t careful, she was going to jump him right here.
Asher shook his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’d have done the same thing, actually. I tend to lose my shit when Olivia’s safety is involved, so I get it.”
Conry growled at Vince. He, for one, didn’t forgive that easily.
Asher patted him on the head. “It’s okay, boy. We’re cool.” But Conry continued to glare at Vince.
Vince frowned and looked at the icepack. “What’s that for? I was pissed, but I would’ve remembered hitting you in the face.”
Asher jerked his chin in Zara’s direction. “Ask her.”
Yeah, I’m a badass and don’t you forget it.
“Because he bugs the ever-living crap out of me sometimes, that’s why.”
Asher threw his head back and laughed. “Sibling affection. Isn’t it grand?”
Amusement sparkled in Vince’s eyes, as if he couldn’t wait to find out what the punch was all about.
“Even though I’ve not known Olivia for long,” Zara said to Asher, “I’m pretty sure she would’ve approved of my actions.”
“So, speaking of siblings and my sister,” Vince said, walking over to the counter and opening up the cupcake container. “How is she doing? I…I really miss her.”
Zara had a small private moment. She loved that he sought out her food.
“As well as can be expected, considering that she’s shacking up with the likes of me.” Asher laughed again. Guffawed, actually.
Zara snorted. The guy was his own biggest fan.
“What?” Asher asked, narrowing his gaze at her.
“Nothing.” She was glad her brother was so happy…even if he was mildly irritating.
As the men talked amongst themselves, Zara noticed the screen again.
Birdie Lyons was looking as flamboyantly outlandish as she had when Zara had seen her in person at the museum. She wore another fascinator, but this one was royal blue. It was perched on the edge of her head, practically defying the laws of gravity. The woman must use all sorts of pins and spray just to keep it from sliding off.
She was broadcasting from the back seat of a moving car—from the looks of it, a limo—and speaking into a hand held camera, making the viewer feel as if they were riding along with her.
“That woman is nuts,” Asher said, grabbing the remote. “But so entertaining.”
The only thing entertaining about Birdie was her clothes.
Before she could stop him, he’d made Birdie’s face full screen and unmuted the sound.
“…coming to you from a top secret location near New Seattle. We’ve just gotten a lead in the case of deranged convict, Vince Crawford, who injured three innocent men—one critically—when he escaped from the maximum security prison at the Institute just days ago. Our sources have confirmed that he had help from the outside, and we believe we know the identity of the individual who may have helped him. She—yes, my friends,” Birdie said conspiratorially, pulling the camera in closer, “I said she. We’re heading to her house now, and you’re coming with to see it with your own eyes.
“So…are they a modern day Bonnie and Clyde? You tell me, folks. We’ve reported on several strong-arm thefts in the area. Or could they be star-crossed lovers, pining for each other but unable to be together until she released him from his shackles? Or—” Birdie held up a manicured finger “—is she a prison bunny? If you tuned in yesterday, you saw our exposé on Vincent Crawford. Women have been writing to him for years, even though it was highly unlikely he would ever be released. These women…”
Zara had heard enough. “Can you turn it off? I’m sick of hearing that bitch’s lies.”
She retrieved the now-empty plate of cupcakes and started to turn away, but something in the background behind Birdie caught her attention. The limo was passing a white steepled church that looked a lot like St. Michael’s, the Catholic church in her town. She couldn’t tell for sure, however, because Vince’s prison photo was super-imposed in the corner of the screen. Birdie hadn’t said what city she was in, only that she was near New Seattle.
Asher put his feet on the table and grabbed the remote. “Are you two packed? What do you need to do before we can get out of here?
“Hold on.” Zara stepped closer to the screen, her heart pounding. “I want to see this for a sec.”
Asher rolled his eyes. “First she hates her, now she loves her.”
Zara ignored him.
In that slightly British accent of hers, Birdie was still talking about Vince and those so-called prison bunnies, but Zara wasn’t listening any more. In fact, she could hardly breathe.
Vince stepped closer and laid a hand on her wrist, his face masked in concern. “Zara?”
“Yeah, Z-boo, what’s wrong?” Asher asked, frowning.
Her lungs squeezed further, and she wordlessly pointed at the screen. Vince and Asher stared at it, then turned back to Zara.
“What?” they said in unison.
Birdie’s limo was driving past another building now. A school this time. And although she didn’t see a sign in the background, Zara knew exactly what school they were passing.
“That’s where Darius goes to school,” she choked. “She’s in my neighborhood. She’s going to my house.”
Oh my God, my baby.
Asher barked out orders. “Phone. I need a phone. Someone get me a goddamn phone.”
Zara produced hers from her pocket, but Vince was the one who snatched it out of her hands.
“What’s my sister’s number?” His voice was icy calm.
“The army,” Zara said breathlessly. “What if they’re listening in?”
“Fuck the army. What’s the number?”
She punched it in and turned on the speakerphone. Olivia picked up on the first ring.
“Get the hell out of there,” Asher said through gritted teeth. “They’re—”
“I’m one step ahead of you, babe,” Olivia said. “Saw an unmarked van parked at the end of the road this morning. Had a feeling something was up, so I kept D home today in case we needed to make a move. And we did. I was going to call…there…once I knew you’d arrived.”
“He’s with you?” Zara wanted to hear Olivia say again that her baby was safe.
“Yep. Right in front of me. He’s got headphones on and he’s playing a video game.”
Her knees turned into rubber bands. Vince must’ve noticed because he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her.
“Without telling us where you are, can you tell us where you are?” Asher asked.
Ah, Zara thought, in case the army was listening.
Olivia understood as well. “We’re far from town at the place where D celebrated his seventh birthday.”
Far from town? Zara was confused. If she was remembering correctly, they’d celebrated Darius’s birthday that year at a local bowling alley. In town.
“Are you sure it was his seventh birthday, because—”
“Absolutely positive,” Olivia said, not letting her finish. “You made cupcakes with bright blue frosting that stained the kids’ fingers. Someone here got really pissed off about it.”
Zara’s eyes went wide.
“Remember?” Olivia asked.
How did she—? Oh, Olivia must’ve asked Darius in preparation for this conversation to throw off anyone who may be listening.
“Yes, I remember,” Zara said softly, the sound of her heartbeat drowning out her words.
Vince squeezed her shoulder and then gently angled her face up toward his. “So you know where they’re at?”
She nodded.
“Baby, hang on,” Asher said to Olivia. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Mr. Piccolo had been furious when he found several handprints of blue frosting on the walls leading to the arcade. He’d also claimed he found blue frosting in the finger holes of some of the bowling balls and said he should’ve charged her a damage deposit. She’d apologized profusely and tried to clean up the mess, but he’d shooed her away.
The call ended and both men looked pointedly at Zara.
“Well?”
Zara took a deep breath, trying not to freak out. “They’re at Piccolo Pete’s. It’s a pizza parlor and bowling alley. And it’s located in town. Literally only a few miles from my house.”
“Are you sure about this?” Asher asked. “Olivia said they were far away.”
“She lied.”
***
Piccolo Pete’s was located at the end of a strip mall with a wooded hill behind it. Vince had driven the Harl
ey with Zara pressed up behind him as they followed Asher in his truck. He could tell how worried she was, which stirred his protective feelings for her and Darius even more. He didn’t care what the fuck he had to do to keep them safe—he’d do it.
They arrived in her hometown just after dark. Despite the other roadblocks having been lifted, the army was still checking cars and identification out on the main highway, but Zara knew of some back roads and got them there without incident.
They parked on a street above the hill, made their way on foot through the woods and were now standing next to a wall of Dumpsters behind the bowling alley.
Because Vince and presumably Zara were wanted by the authorities, they couldn’t risk being seen in public, so Asher was going in to retrieve Olivia and Darius on his own. They’d considered calling her and telling her to come around back with Darius, but they couldn’t take the chance with the phone again. It was Asher’s belief that the new checkpoint was a result of that call being monitored.
Vince shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a piece of trash.
“Chill, bro,” Asher said, clapping a hand on Vince’s back. “I’ll get them. Don’t worry.”
Vince couldn’t remember feeling so powerless in his entire life. He clenched his fists and told himself not to punch one of the Dumpsters in front of him, even though that was exactly what he wanted to do.
“That’s my son in there.”
“And my woman. Do you think I’m going to let anything happen to them? Not a stinking chance. I’ll be in and out in a flash. Trust me.”
Zara touched a cool hand to his cheek. “Darius hasn’t met you yet anyway. He’s not likely to go with you. At least, he’d better not.”
Logically, he knew it made the most sense for Asher to go in alone, but emotionally, it pissed him the hell off. It didn’t feel right to sit back and let someone else handle this. His son’s welfare was his responsibility.
As soon as Asher left, Zara stepped in front of Vince, unzipped his coat, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
The tension in his neck and shoulders immediately abated. She was warm and smelled so good. He tucked her head under his chin and held onto her.