Lonely is the Night Read online

  She’d always felt that it was safer to work within the law, and she wasn’t so sure that was going to save her this time.

  She closed her eyes and thought about Reid, what he’d do in a situation like this.

  He’d fight, any way he had to. He’d always been dangerous. When she’d told him she thought he was one of the good guys, he’d told her she was wrong.

  Wrong or not, she wished he was here to help her, but she’d used up all her get-out-of-jail-free cards with him.

  She shouldn’t be using this time to think about regrets, shouldn’t be seeing her life flash before her eyes. That meant she was giving up and she couldn’t do that yet. “I never thought women would be such a big draw. But some of their fights actually outperform the men’s for money.”

  She committed the face to memory. This wasn’t the man on trial for illegal cage fighting. And this operation was bigger than any one conviction could touch. It had sprawled, spawned leagues and the like.

  “Where’s Benji?”

  He smiled. “Right back where he wanted to be. Fighting.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “You’re not in a position to give orders, Grier. You’re just another fighter, struggling up the ranks.”

  “I hope there’s a direct-deposit option for my checks,” she deadpanned.

  “We’ll see if you still have your sense of humor after tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Two

  Grier’s number. On his phone. For the first time in a goddamned year.

  She hadn’t shown at Mace’s wedding, even after Kell had invited her behind Reid’s back. Reid could understand why, probably better than any of the others. Grier didn’t mind being vulnerable, telling him about her past, her reasons for becoming a marshal, but she couldn’t shake off her sense of right and wrong. She was black and white, with no gray … and he definitely lived the majority of his life there.

  She knew she’d wounded him by pretending to die. Good reason, of course, but he could’ve been let in on the plan. Should have been.

  Dammit. Grier might not mind the vulnerable shit but Reid sure as hell did.

  Now he sat with the phone next to him, Grier’s message unplayed.

  But a year and six days … why now, Grier?

  He stared down at the screen stupidly, ready to press the voice mail button.

  He took a deep breath and hit redial instead. When a man answered, he clutched the phone so hard he was sure he’d broken it.

  “Reid, is that you?”

  “Jack?”

  “Didn’t you listen to my message?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Shit. Sorry, man … I didn’t think—grabbed her phone and figured you’d know it was important.” Jack was Grier’s partner.

  “Figured this was faster. Fill me in.” And fuck, this wasn’t good.

  “She’s gone. It hasn’t hit the papers yet, but it will within the next few hours and then all hell’s going to break loose. I need your help.”

  Reid shoved a hand in his pocket, the other kept the phone to his ear. He was convalescing at Mace’s bar—Doc’s orders after an unfortunate incident on his last job with Dylan.

  Thankfully, the human traffickers had been hurt far worse than either he or Dylan had been. The girls they’d rescued were now recovering with their respective parents.

  He and Jack had kept in touch over the year. Rather, Jack kept in touch with him. Reid wasn’t sure if Grier put him up to it or if he did it on his own. He’d also given Reid a few tips on some recent cases and leads to others that the law couldn’t get involved with. Even Dylan had to grudgingly admit that the guy was good.

  “Is this another near death experience?”

  “No, man, I’d know. She and I were charged with a witness. A few months of babysitting. She was getting him settled and now they’re both gone. The room’s trashed and there’s blood on the carpet near her phone. This is some bad shit, Reid. The FBI and the marshals are on it, but …”

  Yeah, he got it. They could get places those agencies couldn’t. “How long?”

  “I’m assuming five hours, give or take. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t gotten to the motel where she was staying earlier than expected.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Heading back to my apartment. You gotta meet me.”

  “I’ll be there tonight,” he promised.

  Time was critical. He packed—flying commercial with weapons wouldn’t work, so he planned to buy some in Texas. Dylan wouldn’t let him out if he didn’t leave before anyone noticed him. He heaved the bag over his shoulder, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs and punched in flight times on his phone. He’d beg or bribe his way onto the next flight out.

  “Where are you going?”

  Teddie. He turned around slowly, found her leaning against his doorjamb with her arms crossed. Obviously, she was his babysitter today. As if he needed one. Most of the time. “Ah, just taking a ride downtown?” he offered.

  “Try again.”

  Geez, the women were worse than the men in this group. He had no choice but to come clean. “It’s Grier.”

  “She called?”

  “Not exactly.” When he finished telling her, Teddie was handing him cash, telling him she’d give him as much lead time as possible.

  “Bring her back, Reid.”

  “I will.”

  “You love her, you know.”

  He opened his mouth to say that you couldn’t fall in love that easily, but he’d had half of a living, breathing example in front of him. “Thanks for the help.”

  Three hours later, he was seated on a direct flight to Houston. He’d neither had to beg or bribe, but flirt a little and even though his heart wasn’t in it at all, for Grier, he did what he needed to. And got bumped up to first class to boot.

  Now he tried to focus himself, to stay calm. He didn’t like plane rides under the best of circumstances. Most of the time he was riding in one, he was on his way to fix something, save someone, and the need to be there immediately, if not faster, made him slightly claustrophobic. Driving was his preferred method but that wouldn’t get him to Texas quickly enough.

  She’s all right. She’s tough. She can take care of herself.

  And he had no real idea what she was up against. Jack didn’t want to talk in case his line was tapped. Which meant Grier was in bigger trouble than just being kidnapped. If that were possible.

  His phone continued to buzz incessantly. Dylan, again. He stared at the screen, thinking about picking up this time when the flight attendant told him, “Sir, you’ll have to turn that off,” and offered him a cookie.

  “Gladly.” He shut it down, took the cookie and looked around, waiting for Dylan or Kell or any of them to storm the plane. They weren’t above that, he knew. He wouldn’t be, anyway.

  Finally, after twenty tense minutes, they were wheels up and Reid found himself unable to sit still. He ended up pacing through coach and sitting next to the air marshal on board, which was an odd coincidence since there was only one on one out of every twenty flights. The guy was a retired Marine, said the gig was good money.

  “And boring as shit,” Reid added.

  “Yeah, but hell, it’s necessary.” The man stared at him. “You hate flying.”

  “It shows, huh?” He stared out the window past the guy and wondered if DB Cooper had just been claustrophobic.

  “You’re going to see a girlfriend.”

  “That obvious?”

  “Yeah.” The Marine handed him a mini-bottle of scotch. “You’ll need fortification.”

  Reid opened it and said, “Semper Fi,” before draining it in a single gulp.

  Chapter Three

  Less than six hours after Jack’s original call, the man was sliding files of the case—ones he probably shouldn’t have had at his house—across his kitchen table for Reid to go through. He’d also ordered pizza. His new friend had made up a guest room for him, because staying at a hote
l with the feds was a way to rile them up. Reid figured he’d end up knowing a lot of the manpower on this case.

  “Illegal cage fighting,” Reid mused, and Jack handed him another slice of pizza before taking one of his own.

  “It’s getting a huge following. They say they don’t take anyone younger than eighteen but they do have eighteen-and-under fights, so how’s that for a nice fat lie.” Jack ripped at the pizza crust irritably.

  “Dude, that’s the best part … although maybe in Texas, not so much.” He looked doubtfully at his own slice, because he’d turned into a pizza snob, thanks to the water in New York. But he was starving and dug in anyway. “Did this Benji kid get death threats?”

  “Tons of them. He couldn’t walk into the courtroom without a bulletproof vest. This shit is like the new mafia or something—don’t talk about cage fighting is the first rule.” Jack sighed.

  “Let me guess—the trial’s been constantly postponed by the league’s lawyers?”

  “I knew you were more than just a pretty boy,” Jack told him, and Reid shot him the finger. He knew what Grier’s partner was doing—keeping things easy, keeping Reid from focusing too much on the fact that Grier was in the hands of some pretty bad-assed dudes as they spoke.

  Reid understood, because when he’d thought about it on the plane, he’d wanted to yank the emergency exit open and parachute out in order to get here faster.

  But he had to calm down, treat this like any other mission. Because personal and mission never mixed, and planning was the key to override that obstacle.

  “You realize your phone’s been beeping constantly?”

  Reid eyed it. “Yeah, they fixed it so I can never mute it. And they can turn it on remotely. Ignore it. Worst thing that happens is that they show up at your door. They won’t like the pizza, though. Go for barbecue. What’s the word on how they got to Grier?”

  Jack looked at him, unblinking at both the prospect of mercenaries showing at his door and the rapid-fire change of subjects. “Official statement is that Grier was tailed from the attorney’s offices to the safe house.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Grier’s too good to be followed. That Benji kid had to be the one who called and told them where they were. I knew it was a mistake. He should’ve been under federal custody.”

  “Why wasn’t he?”

  “The DA insisted this was fine.” He stared at Reid. “That same DA was found beaten to death the night Grier went missing. They showed her no mercy. She never had a chance.”

  Jack passed over the pictures and Reid forced himself to look at them, then said, “This trial was a goddamned joke from the start. Benji was a reluctant witness. The only reason he was doing it was to avoid jail time.”

  “What’s the charge?”

  “Murder.”

  “During a fight?” Reid asked, and Jack nodded. “What made them think they could half-ass this conviction?”

  “It’s an election year,” Jack offered, which meant that winning any high-profile case was only the tip of the iceberg. Meant reelection.

  “I’ll go in. They have to have a lot of former soldiers fighting.”

  “It’s invite only.”

  Reid looked at his watch. According to the documents, the fights started at midnight and went on until four in the morning. It was only nine at night—plenty of time. “I’m sure I have a way in.”

  *

  “I’m sorry.”

  Benji’s voice. Grier looked up to see him standing over her, his face drawn and tired-looking. He held out water to her and she shook her head.

  “It’s not drugged—it’s mine,” he told her, forced it into her hand. “They’re going to make you fight and you need to get that shit out of your system.”

  She pushed herself to sitting and took the bottle that he’d already uncapped. It tasted normal and she took several big grateful gulps before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She assumed that his “I’m sorry” was an admission that he’d called these men. Because he didn’t look any the worse for wear—no bruises. No signs that he’d been threatened or roughed up.

  The sad part was, he looked like he belonged here in this fighting club, wearing his shorts and an A-shirt, hands wrapped in tape.

  “You can still get out of this. Call the police, turn yourself in. You haven’t hurt anyone—you could still keep the same deal. Testify.”

  Benji shook his head. “I never wanted that. I only agreed because these guys convinced me that was the best way to escape.”

  He’d never been fully on board.

  “They railroaded me, okay? They said I had a choice, and when I told the prosecutor I’d rather be in jail than testify, they told me that I’d be put into the general population and labeled a child molester.” He looked panicked even as he relived the conversation. “You know what that would mean for me. There are only so many men you can fight.”

  “I didn’t know, Benji, but we’ll tell someone what happened. You should never have been given a choice like that.” She felt sick for him. Whatever his choices, he hadn’t killed on purpose.

  “It’s too late. This is what I want to do. I just wish you didn’t have to get involved. I tried to talk them into leaving you behind but …” He trailed off and motioned to his face. For the first time, she noted the large bruise along the side of his face, with several cuts that were probably made by someone wearing large rings.

  Like the man who’d been in to see her earlier. “What were you supposed to testify about, exactly?”

  At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. But then, he bent down and whispered, “The night I accidentally killed that kid, there was another girl, dropped off to the ER. She’d fought, was beaten up pretty badly. I figured they’d agreed to fight. But they were both just like you.”

  “Why? If they have enough people willing to take the risk, why use unwilling kids?”

  Benji shrugged. “I have no clue. I’m just a fighter.”

  “But you must know something, or else, why would they have you testify?”

  He sighed, his nostrils flaring. Cracked his knuckles and she forced herself not to wince. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “I need to know.”

  “I heard some rumors after the fight … they were paying some of the other fighters to bring in fresh meat. Make it more interesting.” He paused. “If I could get you out, I would.”

  “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. It’s supposed to work the other way around. And you’re taking a big chance being here.”

  He shrugged. Too young to know that risks actually had consequences. Or maybe he just didn’t care. But he surprised her when he said, “I know of at least two people—an underage guy and girl—forced to fight against their will. One of them was the kid who died.”

  “Where’s the girl?” she whispered.

  “She was dropped at the ER, dumped by a car with no plates. She was DOA.”

  She knew the boy’s body was found floating and the video of Benji fighting the boy had been pulled off YouTube. The police had hunted down the man who’d taken the video. With his testimony and Benji’s, they could at least put a scare into this ring.

  And putting a scare was exactly what they were doing to her. “You’re fighting tonight?”

  “Yeah. There’s a million-dollar bet riding on my head.”

  “Benji, please—”

  He took an energy bar out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Look, the chick you’re fighting is good. Can you fight?”

  “Yes?”

  “She’s got a weak left knee. A surprise left hook, considering she’s right handed.” He went on to list more of the fighter’s strengths and weaknesses and Grier realized with a sinking heart that she would have to go through with this fight.

  She wasn’t scared of the fight, but of what would happen to her afterward. “Thanks, Benji. Please take care of yourself tonight.”

  He looked amazed that she was wo
rried about him, but he didn’t answer, just slid back out the door, locking it with a definitive click.

  She pocketed the energy bar to eat right before the fight. They’d left tape in here for her hands, a pair of shorts and a shirt with the league’s logo on it. Her hair had already been cut and dyed auburn, and when she caught a glimpse of it in the reflection from the door, she barely recognized herself.

  She stood shakily. Started running in place. Sweating would be the fastest way to push the drugs from her system, and she was going to give herself the fairest shake possible.

  *

  Reid used one of Jack’s phones, and because of that, Keegan answered with, “Who the fuck are you and what the hell do you want?”

  “I guess that’s enough to make the normal people who dial wrong hang up. And don’t say my goddamned name out loud,” Reid told him. He’d been about to move onto Jack’s private balcony when he caught sight of an unmarked fed car outside the building.

  That was no coincidence. They thought Jack was involved in this somehow. Either that, or they thought Jack was the next target. Reid had to get as far away from Jack as possible if he was going to be effective at all in finding Grier.

  Keegan took a long time to answer. He was behind the bar, judging by the music and the rustling around Keegan was doing. “Yeah, all right. But they’re livid, man.”

  “I know. I’ll deal with it. But right now I need to know if you’ve got an in to this illegal cage fighting shit that’s happening in Texas.”

  “Why do you always associate me with illegal?” Keegan asked, but the question was rhetorical, since he laughed as he spoke. “Hang on.”

  There was a long pause, and the next time Keegan spoke, it was silent in the background. “It’s not just Texas. Why?”

  “I think they just kidnapped a U.S. Marshal.”

  “Anyone you know?” Keegan asked.

  “Yeah.” He guessed he should be grateful that Teddie hadn’t given away any details of why he’d left. “I need to know if that’s true. And I need to get in.”