Page 5 of Cast in Shadow
The footsteps grew closer. “She’s here somewhere. Check the closet.”
Heart hammering, Aggie held her breath and prepared for battle. The closet was small; there was nowhere to hide. If they looked inside, they would see her.
The door opened. Aggie held up the pepper spray and gave the guy a full blast in the face, then sprinted past him as he roared. A second guy placed himself between her and the bedroom door, blocking her exit. She pointed the Taser at him and fired. Two barbed darts shot out, penetrating his clothing and lodging into his skin, creating a circuit that instantly brought him to his knees.
Aggie vaulted over him and bolted through the doorway. The sight of a third man altered her plans. She juked left and headed for the fire escape outside the kitchen window. She yanked hard and threw open the sash, managing to get one foot out onto the rickety contraption before a strong hand wrapped around her ankle and forcibly tried to haul her back inside.
Aggie grabbed at the railing and held on with both hands, kicking out with her free foot. She connected, feeling the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath her heel. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop him. It only pissed him off. He yanked harder, the swift, brutal tug effectively dislocating her ankle.
Aggie howled in pain as her shoulders fought against the same fate. He twisted her foot, and in the resulting agony, Aggie loosened her grip and was hauled roughly back inside, her ribs bumping painfully on the sill and expelling the air from her lungs in the process.
She screamed and scratched and fought, but it was no use. The guy was too big. Too strong.
And apparently, he’d had enough. A fierce, blinding pain at her temple was the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness.
Chapter Three
Zeke
Zeke had no plan. That was the great thing about drifting—he didn’t need one. He had enough cash in his pocket to keep him going for a while, as long as he was smart about it. Eventually, he’d find a place he wanted to stay in for more than a night or two, preferably one with a decent tattoo shop, where he could pick up some work. If that didn’t pan out and he needed money, someone was always looking to hire a day laborer.
Several days after his abrupt departure, he was holed up in yet another roadside motel, skimming through cable channels, feeling inexplicably unsettled. Something was coming down the pike; he felt it in his bones, like an approaching storm. Exactly what it was, he didn’t know, but the feeling had been growing steadily, so he figured it wouldn’t be long before he did.
He was drifting in the subspace between restful sleep and semiconsciousness when the sound of his cell phone chime brought him instantly back to full alertness. He carried a burner for emergencies, but he rarely used it, and no one had the number.
And yet ... it was ringing.
He hauled himself out of bed and extracted the phone from his jacket pocket, eyeing the Unknown caller ID. It was probably just a robocall, his number just one of thousands some AI bot dialed every hour. Irritated and wide awake once again, he powered down the phone and tossed it on the table on his way to the bathroom to take a piss.
Almost immediately, it started ringing again
Zeke leaned back and looked through the open doorway in disbelief. Had he not held the power button down long enough? A bad feeling churned in his stomach, and it wasn’t because of the questionable food he’d ingested.
He finished his business, washed his hands, and turned the phone off again, holding the button down until the screen went black. The device was still in his hand when it came right back on and rang again. Either the phone was defective, or someone had the ability to turn it on remotely. He sure as hell hoped it was the former, because the implications of the latter wasn’t something he wanted to consider.
Annoyed, Zeke thumbed the Answer Call icon and held the device to his ear, ready to let loose a string of profanities.
Before he could, however, a silky-smooth woman’s voice purred into his ear. “Chief Warrant Officer Ericsson.”
Zeke tensed at the address. He wasn’t that man anymore. Hadn’t been since the day the Navy dishonorably discharged him and told him not to let the door hit his ass on the way out.
“Wrong number.” He disconnected the call and tossed the cell onto the bed as if it were going to bite him.
It rang again immediately.
Because of course it did.
Since turning it off didn’t seem to have an effect, he considered alternatives. Dropping it in the toilet, for instance, or perhaps crushing it under the heel of his boot.
The ringtone changed. Instead of the standard default, it played the opening chords of a song. One that chilled his bones. Drift and Die. The last time he’d heard that particular melody, he and his team had been preparing to walk into what would become his worst nightmare.
He moved to the window and peered out from the side of the drawn blinds, scanning the parking lot below. Rain was visible in the glow of the streetlights, but he saw nothing unusual or suspicious. No cars that hadn’t been there before. No dark figures lurking in the shadows.
He crossed the room and looked through the fish-eye peephole in the door. Saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Only that damn phone.
He picked it up and answered for a second time. The woman laughed softly, a dangerous sound that sent a shiver down his spine.
