Eve stepped closer to the window now separating her from the babies.
“No, the father is Beckett Taylor. No middle name.”
29
Shitstorm
That night, after the shitstorm had subsided somewhat, Beckett met Morales in a dark parking lot four businesses over from the fertility clinic in Fallom. They were both wearing black.
“This is our best guess. It’s the only facility within driving distance of the house where they were keeping that pregnant girl,” Beckett explained.
“Let’s go then. The worst part is we have to look for labels. And this feels like a mythological beast—maybe it’s here, maybe it isn’t,” Morales replied.
As they walked over, keeping to the shadows, Beckett had to ask. “How’d you get away from that scene at the hospital? That was nuts.”
“Well, I don’t actually work for the local police, so once they had it under control I was able to bail. It’ll all come back to bite you in your fluffy ass anyway.” Morales looked up and put up his hand to stop Beckett.
He pointed to the front door of the clinic, where two figures dressed all in black were letting themselves in, sketchy as shit.
“What is this? A fucking ninja convention?” Beckett hissed.
“Well, that’ll make finding the right eggs easier—and the beast is real.” As he spoke, Morales elbowed Beckett and pointed out a car waiting down by the road. The engine was still running, but it was quiet.
“Morales, you might want to make yourself scarce. I can’t promise I’ll keep them alive like the last batch of assholes. And I got to move. That fucking stealthy-ass Prius is mine. Later.” Beckett took off in the direction of the car, using shrubs and landscaping to creep up alongside the driver.
Beckett looked in the side-view mirror and watched as the getaway car driver spotted him. Before the guy could get over his shock, Beckett had the door open and was stepping on his throat. Morales’ boot appeared out of nowhere to kick the gun away from the driver’s hand, and in no time the man’s hands were bound by PlastiCuffs. Beckett finished the job by tying a wrap from his pocket around the guy’s mouth. Then Morales opened the back door to the Prius and together they lifted and tossed him inside.
He’d started kicking and making a racket when Beckett hammered him with a fist to the carotid artery. The man went slack. Morales rolled his eyes in disgust. Beckett shrugged. He took the driver’s place and used the man’s discarded gun as his own. Morales took cover in the backseat, readying his own firearm.
Beckett whispered out the side of his mouth, “We’re on.”
The two figures now carried a miniature metal barrel between them, which they treated very gingerly. They opened the car’s passenger door and set the barrel inside, never once looking at Beckett, they were so intent on their purpose.
As soon as they stepped back, he gunned the engine, holding the canister with one hand as the door closed with the force of his acceleration. “So long, suckers.”
Morales took to the back window as the empty-handed ninjas fired at their retreating car. The men began to run after them.
“Shoot them, for shit’s sake!” Beckett slapped the steering wheel.
Morales shook his head and took a few shots, which seemed really wild—even for him. Friggin’ Boy Scout. Beckett looped around a bit in the parking lots of other stores before returning to his Challenger. After a thorough search yielded no sign of the would-be burglars, Morales helped him transfer the canister to the backseat. He buckled it in like a person before returning to the front seat.
“So these are Eve’s eggs? This whole thing is getting weird.” Morales made a face.
“Yep. They’re hers. Not up for trade on the open market. Dolfo wants them, therefore he cannot have them. Where are you parked?”
Beckett put the car in gear, and they found Ryan’s truck parked by the woods. As he dropped Morales off, he turned and unbuckled the canister. “I’m a target,” he explained. “They know my car, and this is too important to take risks with. Can you find a good place for this?” Beckett looked at the cop. He still hated him, but now that Morales was dating the little ball of fire from the courthouse, he might be a little fucking bit less annoying.
Ryan lifted the container. “Yeah. I can find something.”
“And don’t tell anyone where it is, okay? Unless she asks for it. Not even me. The fewer people who know the location, the better. Just don’t add your own baby batter to it.” Beckett hated watching Eve’s potential for a family walk away. But for now she needed to focus on the twins, and he needed to focus on exterminating Rodolfo.
He called her as soon as Ryan was out and he was rolling on the road. “How are things?”
“The twins are stable,” she said. “But that status changes quite a bit. It’s a little scary.”
“Any visitors?” He pulled onto the highway, focused on making sure no one was following him.
“Not yet.”
“You exhausted?” He just wanted to hear her voice.
“I guess. I hadn’t thought about it. I’ve just been sitting with the babies. I’m wrist-banded as their mother.”
He shook his head that she had to endure this alone. So few people in this world would understand how much wearing that band hurt her, being responsible for two little babies born way too young.
“You’re a great pinch hitter, gorgeous. I know you can do this. Listen, I hate to do this on the phone, but I need to tell you something.”
She was silent on the other end, but he knew she was listening.
“It turns out Rodolfo extracted more eggs from your ovaries than he’s had a chance to use. The others are frozen. I’m not sure how many, and they’ve been traveling a few times, so I don’t know. But Morales and I just got them, and now he’s going to store them somewhere safe.”
He waited as he handed her hope. After all the death he’d forced upon her, now he could offer her life.
“Wow,” was all she had to say.
“So use those things—even if I don’t get out of here clean—if you want. I just didn’t want any more secrets, okay?” He wished he could see her.
“I can’t even think about that now. Just stay safe. Sort out what you need to do in Fallom, and then let’s get Rodolfo—for good this time.”
“I’ll do my goddamn best. You know I will. And the douches are already on it.” He hung up. He just had to stop Rodolfo’s resurrection and get a handle on Poughkeepsie once and for all.
Just two hours later, Ryan found a place to keep Eve’s eggs safe: at the Maryland BioResearch Labs. His roommate from college had a giant brain and was now a practicing microbiologist there, plus their bro-code had allowed the late-night call. Seth had hugged Ryan hard and transferred Eve’s eggs into cryostorage in his lab in the middle of the night. He hadn’t even asked too many questions.
As Ryan drove away, noting the time as two a.m., he texted Taylor that the goods were safe. Now he needed to get back to the home office and maybe grab a few hours’ sleep before he’d have to start fielding the emails he’d been watching roll in on his phone from the Fallom PD. The small town was seriously overwhelmed by the breadth of destruction they’d accumulated. But true as Taylor’s ass pointed to the ground, wherever he went, things fell to shit. However, as he drove, the insanity of the last twenty-four hours began to take its toll. The center line seemed wavy, and when it finally became nonexistent, Ryan knew it was time to stop. He pulled over at the next hotel he saw, texted Midian, and promised himself he’d just take a couple hours to rest.
After months of ridiculousness, Rodolfo had finally settled himself in more appropriate accommodations in Rhinebeck, New York. The house was a huge rental. A president’s daughter was married here. The works. Because fuck hiding. Maybe he wasn’t quite bold enough to go back to one of his known properties (the ones not burned to the ground, that is), but Taylor had to know he was still alive after the disaster in Fallom. So it was only a matter of time until their
next showdown. Why not at least be comfortable in the meantime? Christ, he couldn’t even buy green bananas anymore. Now was not the time of his life to live like a pauper.
Vin and a handful of other guys were on hand to attend to his needs, including his morning coffee, which they’d just delivered. He had index cards out in front of him, outlining his holdings that had been compromised. Anything taken and still standing was marked with a T.
When a phone was thrust into his circle of thinking cards, he was annoyed.
“Just got a text. You should see it, boss.” Vin raised the phone into Rodolfo’s line of vision.
He gave the boy a death stare until he moved it. “Read it to me.” Training this kid was like teaching a box of rocks to fly.
“Okay. ‘Girl died. Babies missing. Eggs gone.’ Does that mean something to you? That seems like some sad shit.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket.
Rodolfo took four of the cards in his good hand and crumpled them so hard they sliced him with paper cuts. “I’m going to be downstairs. Have everyone there. I will eviscerate Taylor. Now. Today.”
The sight of a cop car in the driveway should have caused Blake a little more concern, but he was walking the dog with blurry eyes—it had been a long night—so instead, the cop was out of the squad car before he had a chance to get anxious.
The uniformed officer looked around as he approached, but when he stopped to pet the dog, which jumped up to greet him, Blake recognized him as Melvin Forcola, a guy who’d been on their security detail before.
“Hey, Blake,” he called in greeting. “Everyone inside?”
“Uh, yeah, they are. Everything okay? Is Dad all right?” Blake pulled the dog to his side.
“Yeah, Capt. McHugh is fine. He’s the one who sent me over. Would it be possible for you guys to pack a quick bag and get the kids? I need you to come with me.”
Blake held open the door for the officer. He felt self-conscious about his flannel pajama pants and sleeveless tee standing next Melvin in his full uniform. “We’re leaving?”
“That’s what he’s requested. We just want to move you guys for a little while.”
“Cole, too?” Blake went into the kitchen to grab his phone off the charger.
“Yeah. Cole, Kyle, and the baby will meet up with you.”
Livia entered the front room, tying her robe in a bow, her hair messy but her eyes clear—always good in a crisis. “How much time do we have and for how long?”
“As soon as possible, and maybe a day or two. It’s just a precaution.” Melvin excused himself when his radio sounded, alerting him to a fire in town.
Livia put her hands on Blake’s arms. “Okay, I’ll throw a few things in a bag and grab the kids. You pack snacks and dog food, and just keep Marx on the leash. We’ll meet back in the living room.”
She kissed him on the lips and took off up the stairs.
Blake put juice boxes, graham crackers, and dog food in a bag and met Livia in the living room. She tossed three duffle bags at his feet. “Gotta get the kids.”
Melvin signed off on the radio and looked even more rushed than before. “I’ve got these bags. Go with her and grab the kids. We’re leaving now.” The police officer grabbed the duffles and shopping bag.
Livia gave Blake a look that said she wasn’t liking this one damn bit. They took the stairs two at a time and without consulting each other, Blake went for Emme and Livia went for Kellan.
As they came back downstairs, each with a sleepy bundle cuddled on their chest, Melvin had Marx’s leash. “I’ve got the car seats in the trunk, but get in,” he told them.
The backdoors were open. Marx jumped in the passenger seat, and Livia and Blake cuddled the kids as they shut the doors. He met her eyes as she mouthed, “Beckett?”
He shrugged, then nodded. What else would it be? They both took time to kiss the kids’ heads.
Cole waited at the window of the hotel room. “What did your dad say?” he asked Kyle.
Kyle wore yoga pants and a shirt she usually worked out in, which had been where she was headed when the officers arrived. She rubbed JB’s back as he slept in the center of the bed, peacefully. “He said it’s all a precaution. A few bad guys are getting pissed at each other, and he wanted us out of the equation. I thought this place was closed.” She gave the hotel room’s interior a side eye.
“I’m thinking it should be. I guess we’re in your father’s version of the witness protection program.” Cole nodded as a squad car pulled up. “Here they are. Let me go see if they need help. Yup. They’ve got the dog.” Cole opened the door, but the police officer on the other side blocked his exit.
“Captain would prefer you stay here. Their room will adjoin yours, so you can go ahead and open the door in between.” He pointed at the metal door.
“They’ve got two kids, a dog, and knowing my sister-in-law, a pile of bags. Going up two flights of stairs without an elevator is a punishment.”
“Look, here they are.” The officer stepped to the side, and sure enough Melvin had Marx by the leash. Blake had Kellen in his arms, and Livia held a sleepy-looking Emme’s hand. Cole took the dog from Melvin while the cop gave them some ground rules.
“First, we’re sorry this place sucks. The windows have a sun guard on them, so no one can see inside. The building’s made of concrete, so that’s good too. No matter what, if you see anything you don’t like, tell me. Joe has to go, but my assignment is right here, making sure you guys are comfortable.”
“I’m taking the patrol car,” announced the departing officer. “Melvin here has an unmarked. I’ll put the bags in the lobby?”
Melvin nodded as Blake walked into Cole’s room and placed Kellan down next to his cousin. Emme crawled into Kyle’s arms, falling asleep with her head on her aunt’s chest, mumbling about vending machines and how much she loved hotels. Cole followed Blake into the adjoining room.
“So how much have we put together?” Blake sat on the hotel bed.
“Just that shit’s going down, and we have to wait to see how it pans out. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been waiting years for this to happen.” Cole touched his Sorry tattoo.
Blake exhaled. “I know what you mean.”
Ryan’s alarm failed to wake him—or maybe he’d failed to set it in his delirium—but a text from McHugh at nine forty-five the next morning sure as shit got his ass moving.
The text inquired as to where he was and let him know that Lovell, their man on the inside with Vitullo, had reported that shit was going down today. Vitullo was spitting mad about the loss of his creepy breeding program and was ready to take it out on Beckett via Poughkeepsie.
Ryan looked at the clock and texted his boss that he could be there in about five hours because he was in Maryland. Within moments, McHugh told him to just go back to Fallom—and fortunately he didn’t ask why Ryan had wandered into another state. He said he’d had quite a few calls from Fallom as well, and Morales should be there to handle complaints and questions and coordinate any needed future action.
Ryan acknowledged receipt of the message. Though he couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than Poughkeepsie with this level of crap about to explode, he decided perhaps he shouldn’t push his luck. He’d been a bit off the straight and narrow lately, and McHugh did appreciate a man who could follow orders. So, boring-ass Fallom it was.
And then he had a choice: warn Taylor and let him get a little bit of a defense going, or leave him in the darkness—just tell Midian to find a safe place and let nature take its course. He knew Eve was somewhere else. It was almost like the universe was telling him to let it go.
But the more he thought about it, the less he liked the possible outcome Between the two devils, Taylor was the better. So he called.
“What?” Beckett answered in his endearing way.
“Rodolfo knows he’s been bested. And he’s doing the only thing he can.” Ryan put his truck into gear as he spoke.
“Poughkeepsie.”
&n
bsp; “That’s what I’m thinking,” Ryan said. “He’s vindictive right now. Ready to strike. I’d be on my way, but I’ve been ordered to manage things in Fallom.”
“Well, let’s see what my assholes and douchebags can get done,” Beckett said, a smile in his voice. “Any idea where he’s going to start?”
“No idea. But he wants to bring you to your knees.”
“That’s comforting.” Beckett sighed. “Does McHugh know about this?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who told me.”
“Okay. You stay classy, Morales. I’ll call Eve and tell her to stay put.”
Later that morning, once the hour was reasonable and the kids had been fed, Livia listened as Blake and Cole talked to Beckett, who was evidently on his way back to Poughkeepsie.
Not content with what she could glean from half the conversation, she pulled out her iPad and went online, determined to piece it together herself. The local forums were alive with random fires and a few explosions. Some people speculated terrorism and a few the end of times. She was worried for her father, because despite his level-headed approach to anything his job could throw at him, the reports seemed to be coming with increasing intensity.
“Turn on the police channel,” Kyle called. She was keeping track of all the children on one bed. Emme looked at her usual books while Kellan and JB played with a rainbow of blocks.
Livia tapped on an app that broadcast the local police chatter. Both she and Kyle had the translation skills to make sense of a lot of the fast talking and lingo. Their father had had a police radio in the kitchen when they were growing up and sometimes told them what was going on. They’d learned to identify what was serious based on the times he’d called a sitter instead of finishing his dinner.
Kyle flashed her phone at Livia, showing Google maps, and came to kneel next to her after determining the kids were fully engrossed in their activities. She tapped a flag on the map every time a new crisis was announced. From time to time they heard their father barking orders, but mostly it was quick updates from other officers. Kyle popped a flag on the hotel where they were staying, and after a half an hour, a pattern emerged: the flags—representing reports of loud bangs, flash fires and sporadic gunfire—circled a radius around and spiraled closer to where they now sat.