Page 13 of Under Control

Carrick flexed his muscles and stretched, not answering immediately to give the conversation some air. He didn’t like this. The undertone was clear. It wasn’t about keeping her safe. It was about keeping her under control.

Before Carrick could respond, Petrov broke out into a coughing fit, unable to catch his breath. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an inhaler, taking a deep breath from the mouthpiece. It was then that Carrick came to fully appreciate that the man was obviously not in good health.

“What do you want me to do with her?” Carrick asked.

“Let’s start with you escorting her to LA tomorrow.” Petrov continued wheezing. “Her cousin is getting married, and she needs to be there.”

“Then what?” Carrick pressed.

Petrov continued, smirking. “I’ll give you further instructions after the wedding.”

Petrov reached out his shaking hand, the check between his fingers, holding it out to Carrick. He squinted through the shadowy night while Carrick let the cold night’s air fill his lungs, unmoving. Petrov shifted in surprise at his lack of response, almost drawing back. Carrick shot his hand out to accept the check, relaxing the arm gripping the pistol in his sweater.

Seemingly relieved, Petrov nodded with a tone of finality and staggered away toward the idling black luxury car sitting on the road.

Carrick watched the car pull away, and he settled into deep focus.

Now I am in charge.

He looked back up at the brownstone apartment building. In the window on the second floor, he saw Dani’s familiar face peeking through the curtain, but she quickly shut it upon realizing she’d been seen.

Delta sauntered toward him from the direction of the SUV. He took a position near Carrick, and they scanned the neighborhood—watching for anything and everything. The night was young, and something told Carrick it wasn’t over yet.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Delta asked, keeping his voice down so that no one else could hear.

“Petrov extended my contract,” Carrick replied though a clenched jaw. “Punishment for a job well done.”

Delta snorted, “No—just fucking no. What does he want now?”

Carrick replied cautiously, knowing it wasn’t going to land well. “He wants me to be her prison guard. He wants me to drag her by the hair to LA for a fucking wedding tomorrow.”

“That’s bullshit,” Delta spat, calling a spade a spade. “I don’t like this guy. Wash your hands of this.”

Carrick let out a pinched breath. “Believe me, I fucking know. But what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Drop it. It’s not your problem,” Delta pushed.

And that is the truth.

“I can’t,” Carrick replied, knowing his own limitations. “You’ve still got the SEALs, but this is all I’ve got now.”

Delta took a step forward then turned to stare his friend down with visible seriousness. It was clear that Delta saw through Carrick’s implication and recognized how unfounded it was, because Delta had been there every step of the last two years—every time Carrick had hit the bottom of another bottle, every time Carrick had whipped something breakable against the wall, every time Carrick had become swamped with feelings and had started missing her.

“Look… I know this is a difficult day for you,” Delta levelled with him.

“No,” Carrick grunted, warning his crewmate to stop. “That has nothing to do with it.”

“Man, you can’t spend your whole life trying to save every girl,” Delta said, concern in his voice. “It wasn’t your fault what happened with Lauren. There was nothing you could have done.”

Her name hit Carrick like a bag of fucking bricks, and he immediately felt winded…absolutely. He didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about Lauren anymore, about what had happened—and how his life had taken a nosedive after she was gone.

His throat became tight, and something started hurting in his head.

“Look… Let’s just fucking get the girl to LA and be done with it,” Carrick commanded, and Delta relented.

It was a promise Carrick wouldn’t keep—and Delta likely knew it.

Chapter Six

---