Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

“Come on, come on, come on.” He hit Dial and lifted it to his ear. Simone’s phone went straight to voice mail.

“Shit.” He tried again, but the same thing happened. “Fucking answer!”

That panic spread up his chest, squeezing his lungs until he could barely breathe. The phone fell from his fingers to land with a thud against the carpet. Dammit, he should have told her. He shouldn’t have let her distract him. He’d been trying to do that last night before she’d rocked his world, before she’d asked him to marry him. His heart pounded against his ribs with a mixture of fear and pain and loss he knew he wouldn’t survive this time. And then his gaze landed on his watch, lying against the sheets.

“Goddamn son of a bitch.” He picked up the watch and hurled it against the wall. The tinkle of glass cracking sounded through the room, followed by a thud as it hit the floor.

He braced a hand on the headboard and sucked in air, trying to get one good breath, trying to think clearly. He knew how her mind worked. He knew what kind of crazy things she was thinking right now. He’d finally broken through all her barriers, and now he’d fucked it all up by not telling her everything. He had to figure out a way to make her listen. But that meant finding her, and at this point, she could be anywhere. She could be…

His mind locked on her missing bracelet from the kitchen. And he instantly knew where she was headed. He just had to get there before she left.

Frantic, he grabbed socks from his bag, stuffed his wallet in his pocket, and reached for his cell from the bed. From the corner of his eye he saw the watch and a spark of silver interrupted by something dark that drew his attention.

He crossed to the watch, picked it up, and carefully picked out the glass and thin, broken face, which was already falling out. Behind that, the gears shone up at him, along with one small black computer chip that had no business being in an analog watch.

Holy shit.

He lifted his cell and dialed. Three rings went by, and his heart lurched into his throat. On the fourth, Ryan’s groggy voice came through the line. “I’m up. I was going to call you in the morning. Did you find it?”

“Where are you?” Mitch asked. Please say you’re in San Francisco.

“Home. Katie and I came back last night.”

Thank God. “They’ve been tracking me with my watch. There’s a GPS chip inside.”

“Shit. Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn. They gave me a watch to cover the brand when I was first inducted. Every couple of years we get an upgrade. Dammit, I should have known. I’m leaving it here. I don’t want them to know I know, but Ryan, I need you to get to Mill Valley before she leaves.”

“Before who leaves?”

“Simone.”

Fabric rustled, followed by footsteps and Kate’s sleepy voice asking, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mitch,” Ryan said softly. “Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep, babe.” Footsteps echoed again, then a door softly closed, and Ryan’s voice came back stronger. “I thought Simone was with you.”

Mitch raked a hand through his hair. He had a giant I told you so coming from Ryan, but he didn’t care. “She just left. She’s heading for a storage unit.” He read Ryan the address as he shoved his feet into his boots near the front door, grabbed his jacket from the chair where he’d tossed it, then moved into the garage. “You’ve gotta get to her before she takes off for good.”

He flipped a switch on the wall. Light flooded the garage. Mitch looked around the empty bays, and another shot of panic rushed through him; then he spotted the motorcycle leaning against the wall under a drape.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Ryan asked.

Here came that I told you so. He crossed to the bike and tugged off the drape. It was a Honda, red, old, beat up from off-road use, but his saving grace at the moment. “She saw the mark on my wrist before I could.” Please let there be gas…

“Dammit.” More rustling echoed over the line, followed by Ryan’s distant voice again. “Dude, wake up. We’re taking a drive.”

“Now?” a sleepy voice echoed. “Will there be hot chicks? If so, I’m in.”

“Kendrick’s there?” Mitch asked.

“He came down with us. Was worried about you, with good reason. What’s in the storage unit?”

Mitch found the helmet, opened the garage door, and rolled the bike out into the rain. “Whatever evidence her husband stashed. Ryan, if you get there first, you can’t let her leave. I’m at least fifteen minutes behind her.”

“I’ll do my best. Mitch, one thing before you go. That reporter? The one who wrote that article about Steve? Katie and I did some checking. Her source was the US marshal assigned to Steve’s case. Holdt. She was dating him. He was a Cypher.”

“Shit.”

“It gets better. You know how Katie discovered there’s a whole faction in your organization who wants to see Dobbs taken down?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any idea who’s in line to take his place if he falls?”

Mitch wiped the rain from his eyes, seriously tired of the twenty questions. “No, who?”

Ryan sighed. “It amazes me how little you pay attention.”

It amazed Mitch too. If he’d been tuned in to what the hell had been going on in his own organization, he’d have known they were looking for Simone right from the start. “Just tell me, dammit. I don’t have time to play games.”

“Chris Murdoch.”

It took a full second for the name to register, but when it did, disbelief followed quickly on its heels. “My Chris Murdoch? As in…my boss?”

“One and the same.”

Mitch glanced from the puddle in the drive to the street, empty and dark but for an orange triangle of light from the lamp above, illuminating a section of shiny pavement. Chris wasn’t protecting him. Not like he’d said. He wanted Simone’s evidence. And that meant he could be watching this house and was probably—right this minute—following Simone, hoping she’d lead him to it.

A new sense of panic clawed at Mitch’s soul. “Ryan, you gotta get to that storage unit.”

“We’re heading to the car. Relax, Mitch. We’ll get her.”

Mitch couldn’t relax. Not until he knew Simone was safe.

Simone pulled into the dark parking lot of the storage facility and reached for her bracelet from the passenger seat. She stopped at the gate, rolled down the driver’s window, and looked at the engraving on the inside of the bracelet, hoping the numbers she was focused on were an access code and unit number.

Holding her breath, she punched the code into the security panel and waited. A hum echoed, then the gate began to roll to the right. Pulse racing, she pulled through the entrance and watched the gate close behind her in the rearview mirror.

She’d called Ryan’s parents’ cell phones, but neither had answered. Frantic, she’d left messages telling them not to let Mitch or Ryan take Shannon anywhere if they came after her. She knew she’d sounded paranoid, and that once they woke up they were going to wonder what the hell was going on, but there was nothing she could do about that now. First she had to get Steve’s evidence, then she’d head right to the airport and get on a flight. And in a couple of hours, she and Shannon would be as far from this nightmare as they possibly could be.

Her eyes searched numbers on the buildings as she passed, her windshield wipers brushing the raindrops away. Her hands grew sweaty as she swept by unit after unit. She didn’t have time to waste looking. She needed to get it—whatever it was—and leave. Her pulse shot up when her gaze landed on 27B, and she slammed on the brakes.

Steve’s unit wasn’t one of the outside ones with the giant garage door. No, of course it couldn’t be that easy. Frowning, she shoved the car into park, killed the ignition and grabbed the keys. After pushing the door open, she ducked her head in the rain, slammed the door, and raced toward the main door in the middle of the building that led to the inner units.

Luckily, the outer door was unlocked, the entry illuminated by fluorescent lights above. Stepping inside, she shook the rain from her hair, then quickly scanned the cement walls and headed to the right, looking for 27B.

Locked, silver garage-style doors lined both sides of the hall. She searched numbers, not finding hers, and reached another heavy steel door.

She pulled it open and reached for the light switch on the wall. Lights clicked on in this section of the building, illuminating the next hallway. She took two steps, then spotted it, three doors down on the left.

Her pulse was a whir in her ears as she reached for the lock waist-high on the edge of the door. There were no other numbers on the inside of the bracelet. Hands sweating, she dialed in the same access code to the storage site, hoping it worked on the combination lock too.

The lock clicked and slid open. Surprised, she pulled it from the hook, grabbed the handle near the floor, and tugged the door up and over her head.

The unit was empty but for one box sitting on the cold concrete in the middle of the massive room. She moved inside, slid the bracelet onto her wrist, and swiped her sweaty palms against the thighs of her jeans.

Emotions swirled inside her—anger for what Steve had put her and Shannon through, betrayal that he could have kept so much from her, stupidity that she’d fallen for it all. But mostly disbelief that he hadn’t just told her what was really going on. Was she so unbending that he thought she wouldn’t understand? She’d known he’d loved her and Shannon. That kind of emotion couldn’t be faked, even if he’d lied about everything else. Yeah, she might have been upset at first, but she would have worked through it and could have actually helped him. He had to know that she’d never just abandon him.