But back to work.
We didn’t need to leave a record of what happened here, though I had a feeling a blacklight would make every inch of this house glow like a fireworks display.
After I was done, I helped carry all our things back outside. Raize was at the truck, putting everything in its place around the body. It took some packing skill.
When Jake returned, Raize told him to go inside and wipe anything down that we might’ve touched. After he started, I remembered I never actually went to the bathroom.
Damn.
10
Carrie
Our next base of operations was the opposite of what we’d left.
Raize found a house on a real estate website. He made a call and arranged to tour the place with a local real estate agent. I can relay this with accuracy because I was the one touring the place with him. He said I wouldn’t scare the lady away. Jake would’ve flirted, maybe, and Cavers definitely would’ve scared her. I think Raize had wanted to have Jake and me pose as a couple for the tour, but since he needed to be the one to sign any papers, it had to be him.
He was annoyed the whole time. And the real estate lady had tried flirting with him. That annoyed him even more. Not me. I found it just as entertaining as the divorced lady pack from the airport.
Then, while the real estate lady waited in another room, the sequence of calls went as follows:
Raize to a guy.
That guy must’ve called someone else.
That someone else called Raize.
Raize briefed him on what happened using coded words. Apparently Raize had been getting set up in his hunting treestand when a pigeon wouldn’t leave him alone. The pigeon kept finding him, and so he’d had to shoot the pigeon. Yes, the pigeon was dead.
Then whoever was on the phone with Raize hung up.
He waited, turning to stare at me.
Raize had been staring at me more and more, but I didn’t find it creepy. That was also surprising, but I was going with it.
Anything that didn’t make me numb was a good thing, or so I thought.
Then his phone rang again, and the mask slid over his face.
I hadn’t been seeing the mask lately when it was just me and him, but he now moved toward the room where the real estate agent was waiting.
He placed the phone on the counter between us and hit the speaker button.
The real estate lady—Claudia—leaned forward, an eager smile on her face. “Hello! Who am I speaking to? This is Claudia Ronald.”
“Hello, Ms. Ronald.”
I tensed, recognizing Bronski’s voice.
A hand clamped down on my hip, and Raize pulled me to his side. He was anchoring me, keeping me in place.
I wanted to run.
I couldn’t run.
That voice slithered out of the phone again. “We need you to draw up papers on behalf of the house’s owner. They’ll be accepting a rental offer from my colleague who’s standing in front of you.”
Shit, shit, shit.
My skin crawled. Ice lined my throat.
Claudia had no idea what was happening here. Her head tilted to the side, and she leaned closer to the phone.. “I’m confused, sir,” she drawled. “My clients aren’t looking for renters. They’re selling their house, and I have to tell you that this house will sell. It’s drawing a lot of attention from potential buyers.”
“No, Ms. Ronald.”
Sick. I was going to be sick.
“This is what’s going to happen, because you’re going to give my colleague your client’s information. He’s going to send some men to visit with your client, and we will all come to an agreement.”
“What—”
Raize pulled out his gun, putting it on the counter.
Claudia’s eyes went wide, and she froze.
I understood the feeling.
Blood drained from her face. “I…”
She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t—she was wavering on her feet.
I shot forward. “She’s going down.”
I caught her and eased her to the floor as Bronksi said, “Is that my Brooke?”
Raize picked up the phone. “We’ll handle it from here.”
Bronski made a hissing sound. “We’ll send the transfer now.”
Raize ended the call, studying me a moment before he knelt and dug out Claudia’s phone. He swiped the screen, used her print to unlock it, and then worked his way through her information.
I shifted back, ignoring the storm in my body. “You’ll need to wait for her to wake up.”
He ignored me, still scrolling, and then he sent a text.
“What are you doing?” I rose to my feet.
Her phone buzzed back, and he read the screen before lifting his head to me. “I didn’t know we’d have to go through Bronski today.”
I didn’t say anything. That was his apology.
A lump formed in my throat, but as with everything else, I ignored it and jerked my head in a nod.
He showed me the screen. “She keeps her clients under the house numbers. The client is coming here now for a meet. Call the guys. Tell them to get ready.”
I didn’t want to do this. I’d never been active in this role, but I knew what would happen.
The client would come here. Raize would question him, get the information he needed. Jake and Cavers would be sent to find the client’s loved ones and take pictures. The pictures would come back, and the client would be told to rent to us—at what would probably be a cheap price—and the client’s loved ones wouldn’t get killed. Say a word to literally anyone, and the loved ones would be killed.
I hated this life.
I hated it.
I hated myself so much right now.
And twenty minutes later, the client walked in, saw Claudia tied and gagged, and it began. This time, though, the client folded immediately. Raize still got the information he needed because we’d need collateral to hold over both Claudia and the client, but instead of Jake and Cavers having to go and be creepers, they helped us carry everything inside this giant house.
I chose the room in the far corner, the one that had a balcony, and I stayed in it the rest of the night.
There was a slight knock, and my door eased open.
I knew who’d be standing there.
I was starting to sense his presence, or his lack of presence—the complete absence of anything human about him. Smells. Sounds. He was a ghost, just in a body.
“Why did you choose this life?” Raize asked.
I sat in the corner, since there was no furniture, and I could see out the window. But no one could see me since the room was dark. It looked so peaceful out there. We were in a normal neighborhood. Not normal. We were in an affluent neighborhood. This was a five-thousand-square-foot house, with a pool in the backyard. This should’ve been someone’s dream home. It could’ve been mine, in another life.
Those neighbors out there were probably bankers. They might’ve golfed and wined—because wining could be an event. No. Champagne. Those people probably champagned for a hobby. And now we were right next to them.
Raize wanted to go somewhere the Estrada Cartel wouldn’t find right away, and once they did, they might wait a bit before deciding to make another move. These neighbors were our camouflage.