"Do you have any idea where I could find The General?"
"I don't. But if it were me and the person I loved…" She paused, eyeing him with a smirk on her face. Damn it, was he that obvious? "I'd start with Haney."
Gabriel stood immediately and started towards the door, swiping open his phone to call Zach. Two large men with arms the size of tree trunks blocked his way out. He paused, his hand hovering over the call button. Turning back, he saw the irritation on Christy's face, followed by a look of resolve.
"You guys are a little late. If he'd wanted me dead, I'd already be dead. Step aside and let him by." The two men parted just enough for Gabriel to squeeze by.
"Thank you, Christy. I owe you one."
"You owe me more than one."
Gabriel ran towards his car. "I need Haney's address," he said into the phone.
"Figured you'd go there first." Zach rattled off the address.
"Thanks, man," Gabriel said.
"Yeah, yeah. Sully's not too thrilled that you're going off half-cocked."
"Tell him I've got it under control."
"Of course you do. I'll send backup, just in case."
With those parting words, Zach ended the call, and Gabriel pointed Carlotta towards Andrew Haney's plush mansion.
Chapter 26
The smell of blood, urine, and body odor assaulted Cate's senses as she came to. She was lying on a cold concrete floor. Her head felt like it was going to explode, the agony was so intense. Her entire face was swollen, her left eye unable to open. The cut on her face was crusty with blood.
Cate tried to sit up, and the room spun. She could no more hold back the vomit from exiting her body, than she could stop the earth from rotating around the sun. She'd never experienced the kind of hurt that it brought with it. The cut on her face burned like the fires of hell, her head pounded, and her muscles were exhausted from the constant convulsing.
When she was done, she wiped her face with the back of her hand, flinching when she realized that that was a terrible idea. She lay back against the concrete wall.
"Are you ok?" a soft voice whispered from across the small, cell-like room.
"I am. Who are you?" she croaked back. Her voice didn't work well—nor did her mouth, since the knife had sliced through the entire side of her cheek.
"My name is Amanda. What's yours?"
"Amanda? Amanda Morgan?" The girl nodded. "We've been looking for you." Cate tried to sit up, but the dizziness and nausea that followed had her quickly lying back against the wall. "Your mom hired a security firm to find you. I've been working with them."
Tears fell down Amanda's face, and Cate felt compassion towards the girl. Cate was a full-grown woman. She knew the world could be a terrible place. But to be so young and be exposed to so much—could Amanda ever recover from that?
She thought of Gabriel and what he had gone through. Could he recover enough to have a life with her?
Of course, if she didn't get out of this godforsaken place, she wouldn't have a life to even offer him.
"Mama is looking for me?" Amanda asked as she choked back tears.
Cate tried to smile, but the pain was too intense. "She is. We all have been. How did you get here?"
Amanda sighed and came closer, sitting next to Cate on the floor.
"I met these guys at a party. They were fun and exciting. Told me I was beautiful. One of the guys said he had a friend who was taking pictures for a modeling agency. Told me I had what it takes." She shook her head, disgust emanating off her in waves.
"So stupid. As if some guy from a modeling agency would be taking pictures out of his basement. When I got there, they took a few pictures, and then they wanted me to take off my clothes. I refused." Amanda dropped her head in her hands, and the shame she felt was palpable.
"That's when things turned ugly." She wrapped her arms around her middle as if to protect herself from what had happened next. "They ripped my clothes off. The two guys that had brought me there raped me while the other one watched and took pictures." Tears fell down her face as she talked. Cate's nausea returned, and her heart broke over what Amanda had endured.
"I fought. I promise I did," she said, looking to Cate for some sort of absolution. Forgiveness.
"Shh," Cate said, motioning for Amanda to scoot closer. Cate wrapped her arms around her. "It's not your fault."
The sobs started then, huge, wailing sobs of agony that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human. "If only I hadn't gone with them. If only I'd told my mother more. She warned me. Told me not to go. I ignored her."
Most kids disobeyed their parents and got grounded. Amanda's disobedience had led to consequences far greater than a few weeks of not going out with friends. If they got out of this alive, she'd suffer the ramifications of that disobedience for the rest of her life.
It wasn't fair. All kids were rebellious. That rebellion shouldn't lead to kidnapping, rape, and beatings.
"What happened after that?" Cate asked, hating to do so, but needing as much information as possible.
"They drugged me. Made me work these disgusting parties. I saw things. Things I never want to talk about." Amanda shivered, and Cate drew her closer.
"After that?"
"They brought me here. Told me I was going away. They took the drugs away, and the first few days were really hard. I wanted them so bad. When I was drugged, I only felt good." Amanda's eyes were wide, pleading for Cate to understand. And after what Cate had just endured, she could understand the allure of feeling no pain. "I heard one of the guys talking about a shipment leaving tonight,” Amanda continued. “I think that means us."
Tonight. There wasn't much time to get them out of there, and she didn't even have a clue as to where they were or how to escape. She wished Gabriel were there. Wished she had a way to contact him. He'd know how to get them out of this.
A metal door clanged shut down the hall, followed by heavy footsteps. Amanda whimpered, and Cate brushed her hair back. "Go back over there," she whispered, and Amanda obeyed, scurrying back to the dark corner where Cate saw a dirty mattress lying on the floor.
The thug from earlier opened the door. He let a sick grin spread across his face when he saw Cate lying there, no doubt relishing in the injuries he'd inflicted on her. The sick bastard.
He stomped towards her, jerking her up by her arm. She tried not to cry out, but the jarring motion shot pain through her head and face, and she yelped. The thug laughed, dragging her out of the room and back down a long hallway. It was dimly lit, smelling of mold, death, and decay.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"Someone wants to ask you some questions," he said.
They went through the metal door at the end of the hallway and entered into the large room where she'd been tied to the chair earlier. Cate was well aware of her nakedness. She was still in only her panties, and her bra hung in two pieces, barely covering her breasts. She was grateful that she'd opted for the kind with no padding this morning as the stretchy fabric clung tightly to her curves. It also left little to the imagination.
The chair sat in the middle of the room. A table to the side held instruments that Cate really didn't want to ponder. Her knees went weak, and she stumbled, but the thug didn't break his stride as he dragged her towards the chair.
He pushed her roughly onto the seat, and she landed hard, bruising her hip. She muffled her cries of pain, righting herself. He stretched her arms behind her, securing them tightly. Once again, she was helpless. Hopeless. And she vowed that if she ever got out of this situation, she would never feel that way again.
Cate glanced around the room, noticing all the dark corners she'd been too out of it to observe before. Movement in one of the corners caught her attention as it shifted out of the corner and closer to the light. A shadowy figure emerged. A tall man. Broad shoulders. Dressed entirely in black. But she couldn't see his face.
"Hello, Cate."
She recognized that voice. It was the
same voice that had forced her out of Italy five years ago.
"Who—who are you?"
"Who I am isn't important. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions. If you give me the answer I'm looking for, Musa here won't hurt you." Musa—an appropriate name since he looked like a moose—held up his switchblade again. Memories of him slicing open her mouth and cheek filled her mind, and she tried to choke back the terror that threatened to strangle her.
"If you give me the wrong answer, well, there will be pain." The man laughed as if the thought of her pain brought him great joy. Cate couldn't understand that kind of evil.
"Now, why were you working at the escort agency?"
Cate knew that her story about needing some extra money for college wouldn't fly here. If he knew her name, he knew enough to know that she wasn't really working for money. She decided to start with the truth, and the truth led her back to Tariq. She decided to leave out the part about Gabriel and the security team looking for Amanda.
"I followed some leads. An informant told me that Tariq Ahmed Ben Ali was connected to the agency. I wanted the story," she said.
"I believe you," he said. And Cate relaxed. Her relief was short-lived.
"I also believe you are leaving out part of it. Why were you with Haney?"
"He was just my first client."
Silence fell in the room. Only the sounds of her labored, frantic breathing could be heard. She waited for him to acknowledge her answer. Instead, he nodded at Musa, who flipped open his switchblade.
Suddenly, he was there by her side, the knife at the top of her knee.
"No, no. Please, no," she cried, bucking against her restraints as she struggled to get away.
Musa looked at the shadowy figure. Cate saw him nod again. With a quick flick of his wrist, Musa dragged the knife up her leg, the skin flaying open like a filleted fish.
A scream built up in her throat and forced its way out. Her consciousness seemed to fade in and out. Cold water splashed her face again, lurching her toward alertness.
"I told you, wrong answers equal pain. Why did you target Haney?"
"I didn't. I swear. I knew it was someone in politics that had connections to Haney. I didn't know for sure it was him or that his connection was Tariq."
"I don't believe you, Cate."
But why? Why wouldn't he believe her? It was all coincidental that she’d ended up with Haney, right? There was no way Christy could have known that—
And then it hit her.
Christy.
She must have said the name out loud, because she heard the man curse.
"Christy Knox, that conniving bitch."
"But I was undercover. She couldn't have known."
"Your cover was about as deep as a simple Google search. Pitiful. Pathetic. Just. Like. You."
Anger boiled up in Cate's chest, clawing and scraping for escape. She tried to rein in the monster. Getting angry right now wouldn't help her out of this mess.
"I'll deal with Christy later." She saw the flicker of a flame as he lit up a cigarette. For a brief second, she thought she recognized him, but with one eye, the dim light, and the head wounds, it was hard to put together where she recognized him from.
The pain in her leg was distracting. Her thoughts were jumbled. What did he want with her?
"What do you know about Tariq?"
Tariq? Oh, right. The terrorist. The questions. Everything was becoming fuzzy. She glanced down at the blood pouring from the wound in her leg. She was losing a lot of blood. It wasn't squirting, so he hadn't hit an artery. But the blood was running down her leg, pooling at her feet, and disappearing into the drain below the chair.
"I—um. Tariq. He's a terrorist. Sex trafficker. Guns. That's all I know."
The quiet that followed. The dreaded silence. He didn't like her answer.
"Wait! I don't understand the question." But it was too late. The man handed Musa his cigarette. Musa took a quick draw on the end as he walked towards her. He didn't have the knife this time. That was good, right?
She didn't have time to register his movements until the smell of the burning flesh on her arm reached her nose. The screams tore out of her again, coming until her throat burned and her voice was hoarse. The burns came one after another, up and down her arm, until her head collapsed against her chest, and the screams fell silent.
* * * *
Rows and rows of mansions lined the streets of Georgetown, where Haney resided. Landscaped lawns with plush gardens and tall hardwood trees spoke of a different time and era. It was hard to believe the corruption and lies that went on behind some of these doors.
Gabriel turned Carlotta into the driveway of Haney's mansion. A gate blocked his path, and Gabriel rolled the window down to push the intercom button.
"May I help you?" a man's tinny voice asked through the little box.
"Gabriel Sanchez, Castle Investigations Firm, here to see Andrew Haney."
"Do you have an appointment, sir?"
"No, but I guarantee he'll want to see me." He flashed a picture on his phone that Ethan had taken of Haney at the party the night before.
A buzzer sounded, and the gates opened, admitting him onto the property.
What the house lacked in size, it made up for in grandeur. The driveway was made up of individually laid bricks. Its stone, Hansel-and-Gretel façade gave the house a certain fairy-tale charm. It was difficult to pair the charming house with the monster that lived inside.
Gabriel parked Carlotta in the circular drive alongside several of the black cars he'd come to know so well. A man in a black suit with an earpiece—security, no doubt—opened the front door, and Gabriel walked up the three steps.
He looked the security guy over, then curled his upper lip. He saw him stiffen, but the guy held his anger in check.
"This way," he grunted. The anger he was trying to hide from his facial features resonated in his voice. Gabriel smirked.
The guard walked him to a study, where dark shelves filled with books lined the walls. In the middle was an elegant, mahogany desk. Behind the desk was the snake himself. Gabriel stared down the guard, waiting for him to leave before he stated his business with Haney. Just as he suspected, Haney dismissed the guard, sighing as if the display of machismo were beneath him.
"What do you want, Gabriel?" Haney asked.
Gabriel had decided to play it cool. At first, anyway.
"Cate's missing."
Haney almost looked surprised, then hid it.
"Who's Cate?"
"Don't be an ass, Haney. You know good and well who Cate Bradshaw is. And she's missing. I want to know who has her."
Haney looked bored, but Gabriel could see the tremble to his hand. The bastard knew something.
"I don't—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Gabriel's fist plowed into the side of his face. Haney reared back, holding his jaw.
"What the hell? I'll have you arrested!"
"No, you won't. I have more pictures like the ones I showed you before." Gabriel rounded the desk, backing Haney up against the wall of the office. "I won't hesitate to release these to the press. Screw the police."
Haney held up both hands in front of him as if to ward him off. Gabriel closed the gap, grabbing the front of Haney's shirt and lifting him up against the wall.
"Where is Cate?"
"Tariq has her."
"Where, Haney?"
"I don't know!"
Gabriel took his other hand and wrapped it around Haney's throat. Apparently, today was the day for squeezing the truth out of people.
"There's a shipment leaving tonight," Haney blurted. The fear was evident in his eyes as he grappled with the fists holding him in place.
"I'm growing very impatient with you, Haney,” Gabriel warned. “Where is the shipment leaving from?"
"I don't know, I swear. There's a warehouse down by the wharf. All the merchandise is being held there. I bet that's where they're keeping her."
&nb
sp; "Good. Now what's the address?"
"How do I know you won't kill me?"
"You're not worth the jail time."
Haney rattled off the address, and Gabriel released him. He’d turned to walk towards the door when Haney said, "She's not worth the trouble, you know. The bitch is a terrible lay."
With a quick turn and a couple of steps, Gabriel was back in front of him. His fist flew with precision, catching Haney right at the temple. With that one blow, Haney hit the ground. Lights out.
Chapter 27
Fire raced along Cate's other thigh as she jerked against her bindings. Blood flowed freely from the wound, the blood against her pale skin a shocking red. Funny, she'd always thought blood would be more purplish in color. But instead, it was Crayola red. Almost fake in its appearance. Except that it was her blood, and she knew it wasn't fake.
She bent over as far as she could at the waist as she threw up. Her body was drenched in sweat, the pain so bad that there weren't words to accurately describe it.
The shadow man—that's what she'd begun calling him in her head—had been asking her repeatedly about who ran the escort agency. She'd told him she didn't know. He asked her who had hacked into the firm's computer. She'd lied, and said she didn't know that, either.
Cate had endured several more punches to the face and ribs, and was sure several of them were broken. Several more cigarette burns on her other arm, and the knife wound to her other thigh. Her sanity was hanging by a thread. She was delirious, fading in and out of awareness.
"Cate, who else are you working with?"
Though she was close to passing out, she was conscious enough to know that she shouldn't say a word about Castle Investigations Firm. So she kept her mouth shut, even as another blow to her ribs shook her body.
She watched as the swirl of blood and sweat made its path towards the drain beneath her. Her body was heavy, the questions and the noises around her echoing in her mind as if from far away.
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 47