Havoc by Shannon McKenna

23

Cait sprawled in her chair, exhausted, cake plates scattered around on the table. Her feet ached and burned in those damned shoes.

Demi, Elisa, and Fi all sat with her. Fi was slightly drunk, and uncharacteristically emotional. She reached across the table, grabbing Cait’s hand.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Mace is like my little brother. Having you with him just makes it all complete. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way in my life. Like things were complete, and exactly the way they should be. I can hardly believe it.”

“I feel that way, too,” Cait said. “It’s been wonderful getting to know you guys. In spite of Kimball, and all the weird stuff.”

“I never had really close women friends, at least not any who were as tough as I am,” Fiona confided. “I tried to make friends, but I always felt like I was light years away from them, even if I really liked them. Like my cousin Patti. She was so sweet, and I loved her, but she lived in another universe. No clue how bad things could get. How cruel people could be. They killed her, before she could learn to defend herself.” She bit her lip. “Aw shit, and now I’m making myself cry.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cait said.

Fiona sniffed, hard. “But you guys are different. Safer to love, if that makes any sort of sense. I wish Patti could’ve seen me here tonight. She’d be so happy to see me married to a hot, sexy guy who loves me. Dressed in a fancy outfit, wearing heels, dancing to club music, like she always wanted. You guys are the first women friends that I can relate to like this. You’ve seen hell with your own eyes. I’m sorry you had to see it, but at least I don’t feel so alone.”

“I feel exactly the same way,” Elisa said.

“Same,” Cait added.

Spontaneously, at the same moment, they all reached out around the table, and clasped hands, in a circle. An emotional moment. Wet eyes, shaking lips, runny mascara.

“Well,” Demi said, after a moment. “Yet another thing to be grateful for. The sisterhood of badass bitches. Proud to be one of you, ladies.”

Cait laughed through her tears. “Me, too.”

A slow, romantic ballad began to play. “Hey,” Eric spoke up from behind them. “Can I borrow my wife? This is one of our songs.”

Demi stood up, beaming at him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Fiona scoffed. “All sappy songs are your songs.”

“Guilty as charged,” Demi said cheerfully. “But I’ll be back to finish…oh no.”

Demi’s face changed. Her smile vanished, her eyes widened, and she clutched the back of the chair and leaned forward, her face gone ashen. “Oh shit, shit, shit.”

“What?” Eric was around the table in a flash, supporting her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Not good. My blood pressure just did a nosedive. And I think I’m bleeding. No. I’m…I’m definitely bleeding. Oh, fuck.”

Eric swept her up into his arms. “Granger Valley Hospital is better, but Shaw’s Crossing Medical Center is closer. Got a preference?”

Demi didn’t answer. Her head lolled back. She’d fainted.

“I’ll go with you,” Fiona said. “Come on!”

“Can I help?” Cait asked. “Shall I come with you to the—”

“No. Tell the others that we’re going to the Medical Center.” Eric strode away swiftly, Demi in his arms and Fiona hustling beside him.

Cait and Elisa looked at each other. “I’ll tell Nate,” Elisa said.

“I’ll find Mace,” Cait said.

But Mace was nowhere to be found. She wandered through the dancing crowd, scanning for him, spotted Clint, and made for him. “Clint! Have you seen Mace?”

“Yes, I was just with him,” Clint said.

“You heard about Demi?” she asked.

“Yes.” Clint’s voice was curt. “Here he is now.”

Yes, there he was, coming toward her, with the strangest look on his face. She would’ve expected him to look worried, but he looked…angry. Eyes-ablaze anger.

Then again some guys had a limited emotional repertoire, so they just channeled any and all painful emotions into anger. But she hadn’t taken Mace for one of those.

He seized her arm, pulling her away from Clint. “We need to talk.”

“Well, sure, whenever you want. But what’s up with Demi? Have you heard any news from the—”

“Never mind Demi.”

That shocked her. “Excuse me? Never mind Demi? What the hell kind of thing is that to say?”

“Demi’s not your problem anymore.” Mace pulled her along, his grip tight. “Come on in here. We need to talk in private.”

“Mace, do not manhandle me!” She tried to wrench her arm away, in vain.

It was like being in the cave again. That was the only other time he’d used his enormous physical strength against her. But after being so intimate, it was much worse.

Mace pulled her into small conference room. The window looked out over the lake, which glimmered with the lights of Shaw’s Crossing. A deft jerk, twist and push, and her butt was plopped down into one of the chairs around the table with spine-rattling force.

She bounced up, and Mace pushed her right back down again. “Stay there.”

Shock made her too wobbly to try again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He was glaring. Dread yawned inside her, a black pit opening up to swallow her.

“What is it, Mace?” she asked. “Why are you angry at me? Just say it.”

“I know everything, Cait,” he said. “If that’s even your real name.”

Cait gasped. She started to stand up, and dropped back down as Mace lunged threateningly toward her. “What the hell? What do you think you know?”

“Don’t play dumb. There’s no point.”

“I’m not playing anything, and I never have!”

“For starters, I know that you’re wearing a trace.”

“No, I’m not! You just bought me all these skimpy clothes, every last stitch of them, shoes at all! Even the pendant. Where the hell would I even put it?”

He held up a device that looked almost like a cell phone, and waved it close to her.

“Yes,” he said, staring down at the display. “It’s true. Clint picked up the signal at the party. He checked multiple times, to be absolutely sure. It’s you. I just confirmed it.”

“But I never wore a trace. And I’m a bad liar, always have been. With me, what you see is what you get, and I let you see everything!”

“I saw the messaging app, Cait.” Mace sounded weary. “Just please, stop.”

“No, I will not stop, because I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“SoftWhispers. The new message platform for secret communications. I saw your boss’s messages to you. Read the whole thread.”

“God, Mace, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve never messaged anyone. I don’t know any app called—hey! Give that back.”

Mace grabbed her crimson evening bag, and shook her phone out of it. For the first time, she wished that she’d set a password, a thumbprint. “You spied on my phone?”

“Of course I did. I downloaded a program the night we met, at Otis’s house,” he said. “I had to check you out. Do you think I would’ve let you anywhere near my family without vetting you first? But I didn’t go deep enough, evidently.” He held it out to her. “There it is. You’ve been messaging with him from the very start.”

She thumbed through the disgusting messages, horrified. “This SoftWhispers app wasn’t there when you first looked, the first night we met. Was it?”

“I missed it then, yes,” he said. “Don’t know how. I must have been dazzled by your man-killing charm.”

“Fuck you, Mace Trask,” she said hotly.

“Oh, you did,” he said. “I fell so hard, I’m ashamed of myself. I’ve been in a dream, but I’m awake now. And you aren’t leaving the room until you tell me every last fucking thing you know about Redd Kimball.”

Cait’s mind raced like a mouse in a maze, every way blocked. She stared at the SoftWhispers app. “I never knew this app existed. I have never been in contact with my father’s murderer. I am not a honeypot, or a whore, and nothing will compel me to admit to something I did not do.”

Mace just crossed his arms, and stared her. The calculating, assessing look in his eyes chilled her to her bones. “What?” she demanded. “What is that look? I told you I was for real. You already checked me out!”

“Yeah. And Eric and Anton both warned me that you were too perfect,” he said. “I should’ve known. The story was just too symmetrical. Designed to appeal to me. Titus’s daughter! The pathos, right? That was the final nail in my coffin. And it was pure bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit!” she insisted. “Look deeper.”

“I’ve compromised my family too much already.”

Cait swallowed hard. “What will you do with me? Pull out my fingernails?”

Mace’s face did not change. “I probably should, but I never have had the stomach for that kind of thing.”

“So, what, then? What horrors should I brace myself for?”

Mace was silent for a long moment. “Nothing,” he said flatly.

She gave him a blank look. “Huh?”

“So far, nobody knows about this but Clint,” Mace said. “It’s still my call, until he tells the others, and they’re all at the Medical Center with Demi.”

“So you’re just going to cut me loose?”

“You’ve already done whatever damage you can do. Kimball will make you pay for fucking up, so you have that to look forward to. You must have told him about our intel and our resources, but there’s no help for that now.”

“I’m not—”

“One more thing. When you were fucking my brains out, did you know that Kimball’s plan is to see all of us die screaming? All your new women friends, Demi’s baby, everyone? And you’re okay with that?”

“I have never lied to any of you,” Cait said stonily. “I am Tom LaMott’s daughter, and I am not a spy. This is a goddamn trap, and you’re falling for it.”

His face contracted, as if he were in physical pain. “Don’t, Cait.”

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“I agree,” he said. “Ever since I met you. It’s fucking embarrassing. I put my family in danger just to get laid. I can’t believe I let you play me like that.”

“Mace, come on,” she pleaded. “Just open your mind to the possibility.”

“My mind has been so fucking open, my brains have all spilled out. Enough. I’ll have Clint take you to my place to get your stuff. Get into your car. Drive away without looking back. If I ever see your face again, I will not vouch for your safety.”

“But what about the trace signal, up at GodsAcre? And my dad’s journal—”

“Take all your bullshit with you. Kimball was planning to get us inside that hole and take us out. I assume you told him about the tunnel.”

“I never—”

“Yeah, yeah, you never. Shut the fuck up, Cait, or whatever your name is. You’re very lucky I don’t have the stomach for a real interrogation. But I doubt Kimball would reveal anything that we could use to some chippie sent to fuck me into position.”

“Chippie?” she repeated. “Really, Mace? Did you seriously just say that?”

“It’s better than some other words I might have used. Get up. Time to get lost.”

No.She was not going to cry. No, no, and no. That son of a bitch would not break her or make her lose her dignity. She stood as tall as she could, keeping her head high.

Mace jerked open the door. “Clint, get in here.”

Clint entered, careful not to meet her eyes. “Yeah? What’s the word?”

“Escort her up to my apartment to collect her stuff. Then take her to her car, and follow her to the Narrows Bridge. Make sure she’s gone.”

Clint looked startled. “Ah…dude,” he murmured, his eyes darting toward Cait. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not sure of jack shit anymore. I just want her gone.”

“But she needs to—”

“Go!” Mace’s voice was savage. “Get her the fuck out of here! Before she gets hurt. It’s better that she’s gone, before Eric, Anton and Fi find out.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Clint said. “I’m absolutely sure that they would want to chance to ask her what she—”

“She’s got nothing, and I’m cutting her loose. End of story. My call.”

Clint made a doubtful sound. “Be it on your head.”

“I own it,” Mace said. “Please, Clint. Just fucking go already.”

“Okay. Let’s move,” Clint took her arm, still not meeting her eyes.

“You don’t have to touch me,” Cait said. “I’ll cooperate. Let me just get my coat and leave without a scene. You’ll be right there at my elbow to make sure I behave.”

Clint glanced at Mace, who nodded. “Make sure she doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I’m not in the mood to chat with anyone,” Cait told him.

Neither man appeared to have heard her speak. She’d been erased.

She marched out, chin up, with Clint shadowing her. Everyone who knew her personally was already gone. Elisa, Fi, and all of the men had raced off to the Medical Center. The only people still dancing were diehards from Anton’s night club crowd.

Clint waited, glowering, while she got her coat. Then he herded her out to one of the big black late-model SUVs that crowd seemed to favor.

He didn’t speak to her, or look at her. As if she were a ghost.

She would’ve made an effort to reason with him, but she just couldn’t string words together. She was so angry, at Kimball for setting the trap, at Mace for falling into it. And also, perversely, at herself. She actually felt shame, as if she really had done something bad. And terror. This has been carefully planned, to isolate her, and it had worked. She was wide open, unprotected, in a skimpy evening gown and spike heels. She could not have been more vulnerable if she’d been tethered like a goat.

At the town houses, Clint unlocked the door, and gestured for her to precede him up the stairs. Once in the apartment, she tossed stuff into her trolley, leaving the items Mace had gotten for her in Seattle. She gathered up her research notes, Dad’s diary and the tracking device, and Dad’s letter from the campervan. Stowed them all in her backpack.

She took off the diamond pendant and left it on Mace’s kitchen counter. Let him flush it down the toilet himself, if he felt like it.

“Let’s go,” Clint said.

“Just let me change my shoes. I don’t want to drive in these heels.”

“Change your shoes somewhere on the road. It’s my job to get you gone, not get you comfortable.”

So Clint felt it was his duty to be a dick. Whatever. She loaded herself up. Backpack, trolley, sneakers and hiking boots dangling by their laces. “That’s all my stuff.”

Clint did not offer to carry anything. Evidently she was too treacherous for that kind of courtesy. “Walk down the stairs in front of me,” he directed.

She was relieved when she got into her car. It was very cold, but she hadn’t put her coat on. “It’s not necessary to follow me,” she told Clint. “I’m getting the hell out of here first chance I get. I promise.”

“They pay me to follow their orders. I’ll see you to the bridge.”

She slammed the door shut and fired up the engine.

True to his word, Clint followed her through town and all the way out to the Narrows Bridge that spanned the Kettle River. When she started to cross the bridge, he just sat there, headlights still on. Seeing her off.

His headlights disappeared around the curve in the road, and that was that. She was on her own. She could already feel Kimball’s eyes on her.

She put her foot on the gas. There would be no stopping to change shoes. She was shaking the dust of that place off of her feet as fast as she could possibly—

Shit!She screeched to a halt, the car fishtailing. She fought for control, and came to a shuddering stop, just short of slamming into the van parked crosswise across the road.

She put the car into reverse, roaring backwards toward—oh fuck. No.

Two vehicles pulled up in that moment, blocking her retreat. On one side was a mountain slope. On the other, a guard rail and a steep slope of broken rock leading to the deep, rushing Kettle River.

She wasn’t even surprised. It was predictable. Inevitable, even.

She wished she’d accepted the gun that Mace had tried to give her. If she had that, she could have at least taken a couple of them with her. Several men got out. One seemed familiar. The guy she remembered. Tall, dark, black beard. He limped. Redd Kimball.

He stood by her door, and made a little rotating gesture, to roll down her window. When she didn’t respond, he rapped the glass with the barrel of a large handgun.

Cait steeled herself, and buzzed down the window. Her first thought, upon looking into this man’s dark eyes, was that he was completely and totally insane.

“I take it you’re the son of a bitch who murdered my father,” she said.

“And you’re the cunt who’s passing on Tom’s info to the Trasks.” Kimball’s low, dragging voice made her flesh creep. “Then again, probably you haven’t had the chance to tell them much. It’s hard to talk with a dick shoved that far down your throat, am I right?”

“Fuck you,” she said, staring straight ahead.

“I don’t think so.” Kimball’s glittering eyes were fixed on hers, weirdly unblinking. “You’re not my type. But my men will accommodate you later on, never fear. Now listen carefully. You’re getting out of the car, like a good little bitch. Or else I’ll have you dragged out. And I’ll make it hurt. Maybe my men will take some turns with you in the back of the van, before we go up to the cavern, just to show you what’s in store for you. I’m sure they’ll enjoy tearing off that sexy little dress and that slutty lingerie. Nice choice, by the way. Those were exactly the sets that I hoped you’d pick.”

“The lingerie,” she whispered. “That was how you did it. You phished me.”

“I have Julian and Darius to thank for that brilliant idea. They’ll get a fat bonus for figuring out how to pry you off Mace Trask’s dick for long enough to scoop you up.”

“Did you do this to my dad, too?”

“You mean, fuck him?” Kimball’s teeth flashed. “I suppose I did, metaphorically speaking. He even served me after he was dead. You’ll serve me, too, Cait. Tom’s final service to me. Get out of the car, or I’ll have your arms broken. I’ll enjoy wiping that insolent look off your face, the way I wiped it off of Tom’s. Along with most of his teeth.”

Cait shoved open the door, stepping out into the sharp chill of the morning.

Kimball’s men stared at her body in that dress. She may as well have been naked. After a nod from Kimball, one of them grabbed her. His fingers bit deep.

He shoved her forward. She teetered in the spike heels on the slippery, uneven ground as the man jerked her forward into a stumbling tip-toe trot.

A thought flashed across her mind. Not a logical one.

Might be seeing you sooner than I dreamed, Dad.

If you can help me, do it now.