The Tracker Page 2

  What was the purpose of an underground maze? Had the original owner of the plantation created the maze as a hiding place during the civil war?

  I let out a soft snort. Augusta needed a place such as this for the citizens to hide from the gang violence that had overtaken it a week ago. It was that very gang violence that had caused me to lose my sister. And the reason I was here.

  Augusta was smack dab in the middle of a gang war. East side versus West side versus South side versus North side. Whites versus blacks versus Hispanics versus Asians. No one really knew what the gangs were fighting for or why. Stores had been vandalized, businesses robbed. Citizens terrorized. Everyone was afraid to venture outside where crooks and thieves and rapists and murderers roamed. While most citizens had fled to safer, less populated areas, a few remained behind, barricading themselves inside their homes, valiantly fighting for what was theirs. I imagined it was only a matter of time before the government declared Marshall Law on the city. But until the military arrived—assuming they would arrive—we were on our own. The local government buildings had been among the first to be vandalized. The mayor and the city councilmen had been murdered. The district attorney had fled in terror. The cops had given up trying to control the violence after the gangs had slain over half of the police force in a brutal battle that had lasted for hours. The remaining cops had fled for their lives. The city had shut down, the government abandoning its citizens to the violence that lurked around every corner. No one was safe. No place was safe.

  Except here. In the quiet of the forest. Underneath the old plantation home. The violence hadn’t extended this far outside of Augusta. At least not yet.

  The dregs were smart. No one would bother them here.

  No one except a desperate girl like me.

  Focus, Jess. Pay attention.

  I gave myself a mental shake, pausing to stare down the dark tunnel. Was I lost?

  Remember to count your steps, remember all the turns, and you’ll find your way back out.

  I moved forward again, then rounded another corner and came up short.

  This part of the tunnel was lined with doors. Old servants’ quarters? A long corridor extended into the darkness. I stood there momentarily and counted the doors as I shined my flashlight down the corridor. Twelve. Six on each side. The twelfth door, the last one on the end to my left, was ajar, about ten or twelve inches, as if someone had forgotten to close it all the way.

  Or had left it ajar on purpose.

  I hesitated. Should I check it out?

  What lay beyond those doors? Was this where the dregs resided?

  A shiver crawled across my skin.

  I glanced down the tunnel at the open door again.

  Should I knock on one of the closed doors? See if anyone answered?

  Should I peer into the open room? Was it an invitation to enter?

  I walked forward, stepping toward the partially open door, goosebumps jumping to attention on my arms again as I cautiously passed each door.

  Just as I reached the open door, a sound came from within. A soft hiss, like something in pain. Or something slithering closer.

  I jumped back, pointing the flashlight in front of me, my heart leaping into my throat.

  A door clicked shut behind me.

  I spun around, shining the flashlight along the concrete walls and down the dark corridor.

  No one was there.

  I sensed sudden movement behind me. I spun back around, the hair on my arms jerking upright. The door was all the way open now. Someone—or something—had pushed it open the rest of the way. I sensed a large presence as something moved just out of the beam’s reach, deeper into the open room. I hesitated.

  The room beckoned me closer, daring me to enter. Daring me to investigate whatever was inside.

  My heart racing, I stepped inside the room and shone the flashlight beam around. It was an apartment, small living quarters. I let the light bounce across the walls, catching a glimpse of a brown armchair and an end table before something smacked the flashlight from my hand, knocking it to the floor.

  I screamed and jumped back as a large presence loomed in front of me. Whatever it was—man or beast—it snatched up my flashlight and flicked it off before I could gather my wits and flee.

  Consumed by sudden darkness, I stood stock still, my breath turning shallow, my heart thundering in my ears, unable to see anything around me. I was completely helpless, blind in the dark, and at the mercy of whomever or whatever was in here with me.

  “Turn around, little girl, and go back the way you came.” The deep, gravelly voice came from somewhere off to my left. Close. Very close. “There’s nothing for you here.”

  I shivered and hugged my arms around myself. He wasn’t from around here. He didn’t talk like us native Georgians, his speech lacking the southern dialects common to this region, his vowels short rather than long and drawn out. I guessed he was from the northwest somewhere. Something about his deep, masculine voice intrigued me.

  I cleared my throat. He’d called me a child. I had to let him know I was an adult. “I…I’m not a little girl. I’m twenty-five.”

  A low laugh came from the darkness. Was he making fun of me?

  I lifted my chin, wishing I could see whomever was in this room with me. “I’m looking for The Tracker. Can you show me where to find him?”

  “What business could you have with The Tracker?” The voice came closer than before, near my left ear.

  I jumped back. Swallowing hard, I dove deep for the courage I desperately needed to do this. “That’s between me and him. Do you know where I can find him?”

  A faint brush of air came near my right arm before the bag I carried was snatched from my hand.

  “Hey!” I reached blindly for the backpack. “That’s mine!”

  How did the man see so well in the dark? Or was he something other than human?

  A snort. Then a rustling sound. He was digging through the bag. He’d found my newspaper. He either thought I was a newspaper collector…or he knew I’d come here trying to deceive The Tracker.

  The bag hit the floor with a thump that made me jump.

  “What’s with the newspapers? You a delivery girl? No one subscribes to the paper out here.”

  I swallowed hard, unable to think of a response. The silence ticked by, making me more and more nervous with each passing second.

  “You thought to fool The Tracker with newspaper?” The voice rose with incredulity.

  My entire body quivered with fear. “I…I…” Stuttering like a fool, I clamped my mouth shut. It was true that there was no excuse for trying to cheat The Tracker, but I was desperate. He would probably kill me now. I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed, waiting for a painful blow that would end my life here and now.

  Silence.

  A heartbeat passed. Then another.

  I opened my eyes. The room was still shrouded in complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand if I lifted it in front of my face. Where had the man gone? Was he still close by? Had he walked out and left me alone in here?

  Wait a second. Was this man The Tracker? Why else would he be angry that I’d brought newspaper instead of real money?

  “Are…” I swallowed hard. “Are you The Tracker?”

  A soft hissing sound again.

  What was that?

  “I don’t do business with cheats.” The flashlight clicked on, the beam glaring into my face. I squinted, turning my head to the side.

  I don’t do business with cheats. Was he saying he was The Tracker?

  “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

  “Go now, little girl,” he interrupted. “Unless you have a hundred grand, don’t come back.” He thrust the flashlight into my hand.

  A hundred grand? I swallowed hard. That was a lot of money. I opened my mouth to try to negotiate somehow, but a big hand pressed between my shoulder blades, turning my intended words into an “oomph” and propelling me forward out of the room.
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  Back out into the corridor.

  I stumbled and spun around, shining the light toward the stranger.

  The door slammed shut in my face.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jessica

  I stared at the closed door. What the heck had just happened?

  Disbelief slammed through me. He’d kicked me out so fast I hadn’t even been able to explain my situation.

  Dammit. How could he do this? I needed his help. My sister’s life was at stake.

  I hesitated, then pounded on the door. “Please! I need your help, Mr. Tracker! I’ll do anything! Anything!”

  Silence.

  What are you doing, Jess? You don’t have a hundred grand.

  I don’t care. I need his help. I have to find Eliza.

  I tried again, lowering my voice. If I had to beg, I would. “Please, sir. I have nowhere else to go. I came all the way from Augusta. All the detective agencies are closed down. The police stations are locked up. No one will help me. No one cares. I know, you’re wondering why I don’t just hire a detective from Atlanta. Trust me, I already tried. They’re all too scared to venture into Augusta. You’re my very last resort. You’re the only one who can help me. Please. I beg you. I need to find my sister. I believe she was stolen by one of the gangs. She’s only sixteen. She’s just a child. Please, sir. She’s all I have left in this world. If you help me, I’ll do anything you ask for as long as you ask. Anything.”

  I waited a full five seconds before the door jerked open. I leapt back, shining the flashlight on him as he loomed over me. My mouth dropped open. My throat went dry.

  Holy hell!

  He was huge. Or maybe it was just my terror that made him appear larger than life. But at that moment, I swore he was easily six and a half—maybe seven—feet tall. Muscles bulged from beneath a black T-shirt that clung to his torso. Faded denims hugged his firm hips and leather, lace-up boots dressed his large feet. Injured? Where? He looked powerful. Mean. Dangerous. How could he be a wounded warrior?

  Some wounds aren’t physical, Jess. Some injuries are of the mind, the soul, not the body.

  I gave an involuntary shiver. Was he a lunatic?

  Maybe he wasn’t a dreg. Maybe he was something else entirely. Maybe he wasn’t even human.

  “Anything?” The deep rumble of his voice urged me to look up into his face.

  Silver eyes glared at me as I shone the flashlight over his features. He squinted but he didn’t flinch or attempt to evade the light. He simply stood there and watched me, unaffected by the beam’s glare. Heat crept into my cheeks as awareness snaked through me. Was he checking me out?

  I couldn’t back down now. Show no fear. Swallowing hard, I slowly looked him over.

  His black hair was cut short on the sides and longer on the top. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw square, hinting at stubbornness, his nose a little misshapen—too many breaks?

  I wouldn’t call him handsome—not exactly, though he had a strong, interesting face. He was too rough, too harsh to be considered handsome. If I were to guess, I would say he was in his mid-to-late twenties. There was a hard edge about him that warned a person to steer clear. He exhibited a toughness, a meanness that stated, I’m dangerous. I’ll fuck you up.

  Good God, he was breathtaking. The most masculine man I’d ever seen. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

  His gaze bored into me, his intense scrutiny making my heart race.

  He wasn’t at all what I pictured The Tracker to look like. Not even close. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d imagined The Tracker as a frightening beast, not really human. But the man standing in front of me definitely looked human. A perfect specimen of manliness.

  I cleared my throat. “You’re…not what I thought you’d be.”

  Amusement danced in his silver eyes. He quirked a dark brow, the corner of his lip twisting up in a smirk. “And what were you expecting?”

  “A beast,” I whispered.

  He chuckled. “Oh, I’m a beast all right.” Something flashed in his eyes. Something dangerous that made my heart want to bolt from my chest.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I asked, “Are you sure you’re The Tracker? You don’t look injured to me. I thought all the dregs had injuries that forced them into retirement.”

  That dark brow shot up again. “Is that the rumor going around? What do people say about us?”

  “Um, just that you were all soldiers once, but injuries prevented you from continuing your duties, so whoever employed you discharged you, cast you aside. And now you’re being hunted, because lots of people want you dead for things you’ve done. So you reside here, hiding out like criminals on the run.”

  The smirk grew. He neither confirmed nor denied the rumors. Did that make them true?

  He tapped his skull. “My injuries are inside here. I’m loco.” He sent me a sly smile that made a shiver crept down my spine. Was he teasing?

  I shined the light back in his face as I glanced up into his eyes, searching for saneness. Was he insane? I got nothing from his eyes, nothing except a cold silvery gleam that I couldn’t interpret. My heart pounded. Dear God, what am I doing here?

  I cleared my throat and tried to hide my fear. “Are you sane enough to track down my sister?”

  A low chuckle escaped him, making me step back. “I don’t need to be sane to track. I just need my senses and my intuition. That’s why I’m so good at it.”

  What did that mean? Was he sane or wasn’t he?

  I nodded slowly. I was going to assume he was sane. Otherwise, why waste my time here? “Okay, then. Let’s get down to business. What do you need from me to help locate my sister? She was last seen in Augusta in May Park wearing a yellow shirt with flowers and jeans with holes in the knees. She’s dark-haired, like me, with hazel eyes and a small build.” Also like me. Eliza and I were so similar in appearance, we could almost be twins. Except she was prettier than me. Men noticed her wherever she went, while they barely glanced twice at me.

  “If she was kidnapped by a gang, chances are you will never see her again.”

  I knew that, but I refused to give up. I refused to abandon her. “I’m not giving up until I know what happened to her.”

  His gaze narrowed. “How was she taken? Where were you at the time?”

  My face heated. “I’d left her hiding behind some bushes in the park while I went to try to find us something to eat. When I got back, she was gone. Please. Help me.” I hated begging, but I would do whatever I had to, to find Eliza.

  “Do you have a photograph of her?” He stepped out of the room and slowly walked around me, his gaze raking me from head to toe.

  I swallowed hard. “No. I wish I did. But she looks a lot like me, if that helps.” That sexual awareness from moments ago came back now like a wave crashing over me. My legs trembled. Why did the man affect me so? I don’t think a man had ever looked at me with such an intense perusal before. It was unnerving. It made my pulse race. Made me extremely aware of my femininity. When he looked at me, what did he see? He obviously had better night vision than I did. It was so dark in the corridor that I wouldn’t be able to see a thing without the flashlight.

  A chill crept down my spine. Was he even human? Should I ask him?

  Don’t be stupid, Jess. That might insult him.

  He let out a soft grunt. “It will be harder to track her without a photo. But I haven’t told you what I require for my services.” He paused in front of me. “Since you didn’t bring money, you’ll have to give me something equivalent to my normal fee.” His gaze raked down my body and back up. He was trying to frighten me. And it was working. “You might not like what I want from you.”

  I bravely lifted my gaze until I was looking into those silver eyes. My voice shook as I whispered, “I’ll give you whatever you want. I promise. If you want me to die to find Eliza, then I’ll give you my life.”

  He let out a soft snort and walked around me again, this time stopping behind me. “Nothing as dra
matic as that. Killing you will give me no pleasure.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. That was good. At least I wasn’t going to die.

  What would give him pleasure? I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know. But I was doing this for Eliza. I would endure whatever I had to for her.

  “Then what do you want?” I squeaked.

  He walked around to stand in front of me again, his movements slow and deliberate. He slowly scrutinized every inch of my body, his perusal making my heart pound as he stripped me bare with his eyes.

  Oh God.

  “I want you.” That low, gravelly voice sent a shiver of fear down my spine. “For as long as I want. You will do whatever I say, whenever I say, whatever I want, whenever I want it. Do we have a deal?” His brow shot up expectantly, his hard gaze filling with challenge.

  I swallowed hard. What did he mean, exactly? Was I to be his slave until he found Eliza? Or did he have something more sinister in mind?

  The cold gleam in his eye told me he was serious. But I also sensed he was trying to scare me off. He didn’t really want to help me. He just wanted me to leave. I had no doubt that if I agreed to the deal, that I would have to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. For as long as he wanted. This wasn’t a man who went back on his word.

  I tamped my fear back, pushing it as far down as I could. This was for Eliza. I wasn’t giving up on my sister. I would find her.

  “What–?” I drew in a deep breath, puffed it out. Tried again. “What if you can’t find Eliza?”

  His silver gaze locked on mine. “Oh, I will find your sister. Dead or alive. I expect partial payment up front. And periodic payments until I find her.”