He retrieved a bottle of whiskey and went into his room. Glasses littered his nightstand. One from the night before still had a little amber liquid in it. He tossed that back, then refilled it to wash down two prescription sleeping pills. He slumped down on his rumpled bed in the clothes he’d worn during the day, and waited for the pills to take effect.
When sleep didn’t immediately quiet his mind, he splashed more whiskey into his glass to top it off and lit a cigarette. He caught sight of the amber vial of pills. His life hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected it to when he was a kid. When he’d entered the plumbing business right after high school, he was proud of having selected a career in a field that would never be without customers-in good times or lean. But he’d been careless with his money and lost most of it gambling and drinking. He’d wanted more, always more. Nothing was ever enough.
One day, in his mid-forties, he realized he was broke, getting older and failing in every way that mattered. It had been easy to take the money he’d embezzled from the large plumbing franchise that employed him. So easy. And just as easy to lose it in gambling hells. He thought he’d win it back, but he only lost more. He’d sold his soul for that money. And then he had to run, hide, become less than he was. Become nothing.
It was at that low point that Amir had found him, offering sweet solace with that silky voice of his, assuring him his life would be better if Alan joined their cause. He could barely even remember what Amir had said their cause was. It didn’t matter. They gave him a new identity. Found him a woman to marry, and cleared the way to this job. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and he took it. In exchange, he’d only been asked to make the drive down to Denver every few weeks in anticipation of an unknown assignment to be handed out sometime in the future.
He sipped his whiskey, remembering the vow he’d made when his wife had died; he’d decided to be different, to be what she had seen in him. She’d been a good woman, his Mary. Kind and honest. Married as strangers, he’d strived to be worthy of her. He’d stayed put in Wolf Creek Bend, and he’d honored his commitment to put her daughter through college-so far. But now that he’d made such a mess of things, Mary’s girl would be better off without him. He looked at the pills again. He could check out. For good.
But if he did, he had no doubt that Amir’s people would hunt Fee down. She was the only good thing left in his life. He’d tried to protect her from Amir by pretending indifference but doubted he’d fooled the bastard.
The only chance he had of getting them out of this situation was to blow Mandy’s therapeutic riding center all to hell. Amir wanted it done while the construction crew was there. Alan couldn’t stomach that. He’d blow the damn place at night when no one was there. He’d do it soon. As soon as he could bring himself to do it. Amir be damned. He’d do it when he was good and ready. Then he’d take Fee and hit the road. Again.
Kelan parked in front of the plumber’s shop. Mandy had told them he lived in an apartment in the back of his store. It was approaching 1:00 a.m. The entire street was quiet and dark.
Kelan looked over at Rocco. “You okay to do this?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then let’s move. You take the shop, I’ll take the apartment.”
Only a double bolt lock protected the shop, which Kelan picked in a few seconds. There was no alarm system for them to disarm. Rocco began looking around the papers on the counter while Kelan slipped through the door between the shop and the residential area.
It was a seedy little space that would have looked shoddy even in its prime thirty years earlier. The current suite of worn and mismatched chairs and the odd collection of TV tray tables did little to improve things. The living room was open to the kitchen. Four doors led to other areas.
Kelan stood still for a moment, listening for a dog or a bird or anything that would give his presence away. Nothing stirred.
He walked through the open space, looking for Alan’s cell phone. Not seeing it in the living room, he entered the first door to his left. A man was asleep in a bed. Clothes were scattered around the floor, over a radiator. Drawers were open in two different dressers. The room had the gamey smell of unwashed human. The man’s phone was on his nightstand, next to a full ashtray and several glasses. Kelan took it, plug and all, then returned to his exploration of the rest of the apartment.
One door opened to a bathroom, one a closet. The last was another bedroom, as threadbare as the rest of the apartment, but unlike the other areas, it was very tidy. There were no toys to indicate it was a child’s room. The bed was rumpled, as if someone had been sleeping in it. Kelan had a bad feeling as he looked around the room. An unmade bed in a room this neat meant someone had just left it. He looked under the bed and around the other side of it, but didn’t find anyone. A suitcase sat on the floor in front of a dresser. He knelt down beside it and lifted the top flap, curious about who was visiting the plumber. Inside were neatly folded jeans, a stack of tiny T-shirts, and a cluster of stringy panties and bras.
Kelan jack-knifed to his feet. This was a woman’s room. The closet was the only other space someone could hide. He stood to the side as he opened one panel. He spanned the space with his flashlight, but found it empty of anything other than clothes and boxes. He pushed the other panel open and flashed the light in that half, catching a pair of big eyes and an enormous Colt revolver. The girl cocked the gun as she lurched forward out of the closet. Kelan backed a step away, his hands held in front of him.
“Easy now, kid. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing in my home?”
“I didn’t know you lived here.”
“That’s not the answer I was looking for.” She pushed him back through room, the gun pointing straight at his heart. Her grip was incredibly steady. She wore only a skimpy pair of knit shorts and one of those tiny, strappy tees he’d seen in her suitcase. Her hair was a mop of little curls-it was hard to tell the color in the dim light, but it appeared to be blond. And she was half his size. He had at least a foot in height on her, which would have made her about five foot three.
“Now, hold on there. We’re the good guys.”
“Show me some ID.”
“I don’t have any.”
Her gaze darted to the dresser. Kelan saw her cell phone sitting there. He grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket.
“Give that to me,” she ordered.
“No can do. How about you put that gun down?”
“How about you get the hell out of my house?”
“Okay. I’m leaving.” He took a huge gamble and turned his back on her at the threshold to the living room. Rocco stood there.
“What’s taking so long?” he asked Kelan.
“Ah, we got a situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
Kelan moved a half step from the door and looked back, keeping the girl blocked from entering the living room but letting Rocco see what the issue was.
“Shit. How did she see you? You’re supposed to move like a shadow.”
“I never said that,” Kelan argued.
“Who is she?”
“We haven’t exactly exchanged pleasantries.”
“Hells bells. You’re going to have to bring her with us.”
“Right.” Kelan spun around, gripping the girl’s wrist and elbow to stabilize the gun. She fought him in the no- holds-barred way of a desperate woman, stomping her heel down on his booted foot, clawing at his hand, trying to bang her head into his nose. With very little effort, he pinned her against the wall so that he could remove the pistol from her hand.
She turned her head and drew air to belt out a loud scream, but Kelan quickly slapped his hand over her mouth, holding her in a way that kept her from being able to bite him. He was wondering how the hell they were going to get her out of the place without waking the plumber and the entire neighborhood when Rocco returned with a roll of duct tape.
They taped her wrists, ankles and knees, then Kelan placed a piece across her mouth. He straightened and
