Vantage Point Read online

  Hawk had waited for me to lock the door. I knew it because I stood there with my heart pounding until he left.

  When it was quiet once more, and I was sure Max wasn’t going to come back, I went to my bathroom to get ready for bed. The night had been exhausting. I wanted to fall asleep and wake up to a new day.

  I sighed in relief at the silence. There was no one in my apartment and no windows in my tiny bathroom. Even so, I shut and locked the door before I took my brush out of my drawer. I needed to see it, to reassure myself that it was safe. It wasn’t worth anything, really, but it was priceless in sentimental value.

  I peeled the rubber grip back until the line where the base connected to the brush’s handle was visible. I held onto the brush and unscrewed the end to reveal a hollow core. Grasping the small scarlet ribbon, I gently pulled the cloth bundle free. After untying it, I unrolled the hand-embroidered material, my grandfather’s handkerchief, and uncovered the pretty silver locket my grandma had given me before she’d died. She’d worn it every day of her life.

  Turning the antique locket over, I made the decision to entertain the idea that the family treasure Oma had spoken of was real. If finding those heirlooms could help my brother in any way, I had to try.

  Chapter 4

  Hawk

  Something wasn’t right with Stella’s brother. I hadn’t liked the look of him when he and I had stared each other down in her apartment. He’d been roughed up. The trouble he was in must have escalated. I recognized the progression and what would no doubt happen next. The real question was how long it would be until he brought that kind of danger to Stella’s door.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit the number to dial Chris, another of my surrogate brothers and part of our Gray Ghost team. It rang twice before he answered.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I need you to run a check on someone for me.”

  Fast clicks carried through the line as Chris typed on his laptop. “A typical background check, or go deep?”

  “Deep.” I needed to know what and who Max was involved with. I was almost positive he owed money to someone and that this wasn’t an issue of him needing money for drugs. He looked straight, not strung out. Nothing about his behavior, aside from the yelling, pointed to a drug problem. It didn’t mean he didn’t have a drug addiction—I just wasn’t seeing it.

  It had to be a loan shark. Just thinking of the type of people in that line of work sent ice shooting through my veins.

  “What’s the name?” Chris asked.

  He didn’t mess around with a bunch of nosey questions, and I admired that about him. He wanted the scope of the job and the information he needed to do it, and he would handle it. He’d always been like that. And since I kept to myself so much, mindless chatter tended to make my skin crawl. Except around Stella, which was odd. I could listen to her voice all day without the need to escape ever entering my mind.

  “Better run two. They’re brother and sister, Max and Stella Klein.” Once, when she’d gotten her mail, I’d caught her last name as I brushed by on the way to my place. Her thumb had covered her first name.

  Someone yelled in the background, rising over the sound of Chris’s typing.

  “Was that Liam?”

  “Yep. Jack and I are at Liam and Liv’s place.”

  I sat up straighter. “What’s going down?” They hadn’t notified me about any new missions, but that didn’t mean one wasn’t happening. It could be that they hadn’t gotten a chance to spread the word to the rest of us.

  Chris chuckled under his breath. “Mari dragged me over today, determined to help Liv with her shooting.”

  Chris’s wife had a legendary temper and a deadly accurate throwing arm. When she was angry, we confiscated the knives. “What did Liv do?” Liam’s wife, Liv, was an artist and incapable of killing anyone. Her nurturing personality was unfamiliar but something that we were all drawn to. Probably because most of us hadn’t experienced anything like that while growing up.

  The chair Chris was sitting on squeaked loud enough for me to hear. I could picture him leaning back, hands clasped behind his head. “Nothing,” he said.

  “Really?” I found that hard to believe.

  “Fine. She’d disappeared into her studio for a few days, and I think Mari just missed her.”

  “So she’s bullying Liv into shooting?”

  Chris snorted. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Who’re you talking to?” Jack’s voice grew louder the closer he got to Chris.

  I didn’t need to get into it with him. Not right now.

  Scuffling sounded through the receiver, then Jack’s voice filled my ear. “What’s going on over there? Any more issues with the neighbor?”

  “I found out it’s her brother, not a boyfriend.”

  Silence. I could practically see Jack’s mind turning, and I scrubbed my face. The urge to get off the phone escalated.

  “Really. So she’s not in trouble? Just fighting with her brother?”

  I stood up and paced from one end of the small bedroom to the other. “I think there’s more to it. He’s desperate and begging her for money.”

  “I see.”

  Jack would understand that problem. So would Mike. They were the only two I’d ever confided in about what I grew up around. It wasn’t necessary to tell the rest of the guys. Their lives were equally as challenging. There were seven of us who’d grown up together and later formed the Gray Ghost team. Three more from our time as SEALs brought our group to an even ten.

  Jack would know that Red’s brother hitting her up for money was a big problem for me, one I couldn’t walk away from in good conscience. “The brother was at her place a few hours ago with a black eye and swollen jaw.”

  “What do you need right now?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ve got Chris doing a full background check to see what comes up with the brother and who he’s connected to. Stella’s clean. If we can find out what we’re dealing with ahead of time…”

  “Right, we’ll be more prepared.” Jack cleared his throat. “I’ll fill Chris in on the girl. We can head out early so you’re not managing this potential shit storm alone.”

  “It’s not quite at that point. She won’t admit there’s a problem.” I leaned against the windowsill and scanned the street. Nothing. “I could be blowing this out of proportion.”

  “Doubtful,” Jack clipped out. “We’ll wait for something to come in from Chris’s search then head to you.”

  “And if it’s nothing?” I couldn’t help it. In this, unlike most things, I questioned my ability to read the situation correctly.

  “Then we’ll spend some time together with the guys. Possibly the old crew in California once again.”

  I grimaced. “Better circumstances this go-round.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Thanks, Jack. I’ll be talking to you soon.” I hoped it wouldn’t be because of what I thought was headed Stella’s way.

  Stella

  I reached around my waist and secured my waitressing apron. I’d arrived on time and just before the dinner crowd was upon us. The clinking of silverware and glasses rose above the din from the chef and line cooks.

  If I didn’t work there, I would have loved to eat in the café on a regular basis, or at least as much as my budget allowed. It was clean and inviting, with warm wood tones and sought-after food that was both healthy and satisfying.

  I caught sight of Mathew, my boss, as I rushed to start my shift in our outdoor section. He was handsome in a teddy-bear sort of way.

  When I’d first started, he’d flirted with me relentlessly until I had to put a hard stop to it. Dating the boss rarely worked out, and I needed the job. To smooth hard feelings, I started calling him Bossman. It appeased his ego, and honestly, I couldn’t care less so long as it kept him off my back. It was also a reminder to myself to keep our relationship strictly professional. He was truly a nice guy, and I could see myself being w
orn down and going out with him.

  And if our dating didn’t pan out, I’d be out of a job. It wasn’t worth it.

  The title stuck, and a few of the other waitresses started calling him that too. Each time, I swear his ego swelled just a little more, and my worry about succumbing to his prior advancements all but evaporated. I grinned at the image of his puffed-out chest and peacock strut. Whatever, the title had worked and cooled his crush on me, allowing a mutually beneficial and professional relationship, as it should’ve been from the start.

  Notepad in hand, I hustled to the patio only to come face-to-face with my boss, who looked irate again. In an attempt to defuse whatever had set him off, I widened my smile. “On time and ready to go.”

  He grunted and blocked my way when I tried to sidestep him. “Not today.”

  I faltered in my next attempt to shift to the side. “What?”

  “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, Stella, but you need to get it sorted. Two men, the kind we don’t want in our restaurant, showed up an hour ago asking for you. This sends a terrible message to the type of clientele we cater to. I may have to reevaluate your connection here.”

  “Who showed up looking for me?” It couldn’t have been Hawk—he would draw attention of the female kind. Just thinking that caused me to clench my teeth, and I wondered if he meant my brother and his bruised face.

  “Thugs. Hired muscle. Having them ask about you, one of our waitresses, will drive customers away. A four-top left, and I’m not kidding when I tell you their expressions were fearful. Not even a free meal could persuade them to stay.”

  I flinched. Bossman despised free anything. Whoever showed up must have been pretty scary for him to resort to that.

  He plucked my notepad from my hand and flung an arm out, index finger pointing to the rear door. “You need to leave and get your affairs sorted before you come back to work.”

  I wanted to be angry but couldn’t be. It sucked, but it was a sound business decision on his part. At least he hadn’t outright fired me. I gave him a sharp nod before returning my apron to its place and quickly heading out the back door before anyone could question what had happened.

  Dammit, Max. I needed to make him tell me what was going on, since it was directly affecting me. I needed to know what to expect. I had bills to pay, and my fridge was empty. At least I had ramen noodles. I would have to survive on those.

  God, I wish I could get him the help he so badly needs. I’d done my research about gambling addiction and even had a place picked out. He refused to go. Short of an overdose or jail time, I couldn’t force him.

  Head down, I rounded the restaurant until I was back on the sidewalk and headed home. So many things tumbled through my mind. How am I going to make rent, buy groceries, or pay my freaking bills? The most pressing problem was what the hell Max had gotten mixed up in, because it involved me.

  I loved my brother more than anything, but he had an addictive personality. Even growing up, he’d had problems with obsessive behaviors, so much so that Oma stopped talking to him about the alleged treasure. She kept her reminiscing about family heirlooms to me, but was quiet about it around him. If only it was real, maybe it could solve our problems.

  I knew it couldn’t be, though. It had to have been a dream or something simple that to Oma was a treasure of the heart. It was most likely the locket, its only value sentimental due to the pictures of her and Opa mounted inside the delicate frame.

  Now and then I glanced up. I was nervous and distracted. I had to keep checking to make sure I was on the right path to catch my ride. The thought of the thugs being close before transportation arrived sent a constant volley of goosebumps along my arms.

  I loved riding the trolley, and it dropped me close to my apartment. Completely open, it boasted seats within, along with room for people to stand on the outer edges of the car, hanging on to the evenly distributed poles. It was old-timey and classic, a fun way to get home rather than an expensive and not always clean cab. I liked walking too, but I just couldn’t—with the way my mind was spinning, I would probably have ended up in some shady neighborhood due to wrong turns my confused brain didn’t realize I was taking.

  Up ahead, I spotted the trolley. With a glance at my watch, I frowned. It would pull away any minute. I ran but was jerked to a halt by a hard tug on my jacket. I glanced over my shoulder and had to tilt my head up and up some more. My mouth fell open. Shit. I totally understood what Bossman was talking about.

  Thick, meaty fingers had a wad of my jean jacket. His wide, square jaw was set with menace, and his thin lips pressed together in an uncompromising manner. I flinched away from his dead eyes, loosened my arms, and sprinted ahead.

  The jacket slipped from my relaxed arms, and I broke free while the coat remained in the thug’s outstretched hand. Refusing to look back, I ran with everything I had just as the trolley pulled from the curb.

  “Get back here, bitch!”

  Terror grew wings on my shoes. My arms pumped, and I lengthened my stride. I turned the corner seconds after the trolley did. No way could I look behind me, in case the guy was near. The trolley picked up speed, and so did I. So close. I could taste freedom and didn’t dare look to see how far behind he was.

  I could hear the pounding of heavy feet behind me. There had to be two of them—Bossman said “men.”

  With a last-ditch effort, I leapt for the back of the trolley. My fingertips curled around one of the poles, and I hauled myself onboard to the gasps of several fellow riders. Someone grabbed my arm and steadied me as I found my footing and moved behind the pole, facing out.

  My chest ached as I sucked in air. Sweat beaded along my hairline and on my upper lip from fear or exertion, probably both. I ignored the few who rode with me asking if I was all right. I wasn’t, not by a long shot. But I was momentarily safe.

  For how long? The question echoed on repeat in my mind.

  Whatever Max had gotten into wasn’t something I could fix. I knew that. As my breathing began to regulate, so did my mind, and I found the answer I’d been searching for.

  When the trolley stopped close enough to my apartment, I hopped off and then ran. There was a slight chance those thugs didn’t know where I lived. I was no fool, though—they could be waiting for me. Or they could have followed my battered brother here. I had to get in before any other hired muscle spotted me, if they weren’t already there.

  I ignored the ache in my chest and arms as I sprinted. A few more feet, and I would be inside. My gaze shifted left and right. Everything looked okay. God, I hoped I was safe and a stray bullet wouldn’t end up buried in my chest.

  Unable to slow my speed enough, I slammed into the front door with a thud. I jammed my hand into my pocket. When my shaky fingers curled around my keys, I jerked them out and unlocked the door as fast as possible then headed for the stairs. The elevator wasn’t an option, as it was as slow as molasses on a cold winter’s day. I took the stairs two at a time until I was afraid I would fall. Legs burning, I pushed open the door to my floor. When I exited the stairwell, I tripped and sprawled across the dirty hall carpeting. On shaky legs, I stood again and stumbled, not to my apartment but to his.

  I pounded on Hawk’s door while looking over my shoulder. It opened, and I almost fell into his arms. In some weird way, I wanted to. He exuded an unshakable competence, a barely checked power. His hands grasped my shoulders, and my trembling slowly subsided.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I met his steely gaze with desperation. It was time. I knew that. “I need your help.”

  Chapter 5

  Hawk

  The ring from my cell phone was quiet as I double-checked that Red was still in the bathroom. I’d gotten her to calm down, but I suspected she was in there crying. After I’d made sure her apartment was empty, I ushered her inside and waited while she got cleaned up. Then we would clear out of there.

  I surveyed the street below. We had to be quick, couldn’t take too muc
h time. I scanned the area while leaning against the windowsill, partially hidden behind curtains that I’d moved to block the view. I continued to do so until she emerged from the bathroom and I could get her to pack.

  When my phone rang, I answered the call, hoping Chris had some news for me.

  “You were right. The brother has a serious gambling problem. He switched loan sharks after paying off a large debt, but we don’t know who the new moneylender is yet. I’ve got some feelers out to find out who he’s into this time.”

  “Does he owe money elsewhere?”

  “As far as I can tell, no. But it’s possible he borrowed from the new loan shark to get the old debt off his back.”

  I knew that game well after watching my mom’s husband for all those years. It never worked out.

  Chris read the standard background check information about Max at a fast pace: parents were deceased, had one sister, was working as a stock market runner on the pit floor. While all that was good, I wanted the name of the person or company he was in debt to. Because he was in deep, whether or not Chris had found a record of debt owed anywhere.

  “I’ve known a few traders.” Apparently, Jack was on the call too. “The ones I’ve interacted with had a pretty heavy party life. Drugs may also be in play here.”

  That would make a bad situation even worse. Great. “Let me know as soon as you find out anything.”

  “Goes without saying.” Chris tapped away at his keyboard, no doubt hacking into every available place to reveal what we needed to know. “We’re coming out there. It’s not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.”

  The tension I didn’t realize I’d been carrying between my shoulders eased. “Yeah, Jack said something similar. I think we’re good right now. Not much to do.”

  “Let us know the moment you suspect things are going south or if you find out information that’s worse than what I’ve already told you. We’ll hop on a plane immediately.”