If he and Midge were going to have a future together—and they damned sure were, as far as he was concerned—he had to accept that quality in her. He already respected it, even admired her for it. Now all they had to do was get her safely through this evening’s sting.
They’d gone their separate ways once they’d left Colonel Scott’s office to perpetuate the myth that they were combatants for anyone who might be watching. Kurt hated it, hated that Vic would be the one to tape the wire to her torso, hated that she had to go elsewhere to keep up the appearance that they were finished. In this case, elsewhere had meant Vic and Helen’s place, since her home had yet to be cleared of the crime scene. With their help and that of Anders, they’d have her dressed for her role. Hearing that Anders had been drawn in pissed him off. Anders wasn’t supposed to be involved in any way. Everest had made that very clear. And if having him help prep her meant that Anders was the one securing the wire to her and not Vic…
Kurt pulled in a deep breath. Getting angry would make him sloppy. He had to be at the top of his game tonight. Satisfied with his disguise, Kurt put the earbud in place. He’d be able to hear the men surveilling, but not Midge. His own wire under his shirt would allow him to communicate with them as well. Anyone looking at him would think it was a hearing aid.
Beeps from his phone announced it was time to go. His team would already be in place across the street from the bar in the shadow of a long-abandoned restaurant. Midge would be leaving Vic’s place five minutes afterward. The gap would give him time to get into position.
He grabbed his keys, said goodbye to the cats and left. To the best of his knowledge, Midge had never heard from Susan. The whole charade could be for nothing. He didn’t want to think about what they’d do then.
It didn’t take him long to reach the bar. He parked three blocks down then assumed his role as an elderly man and shuffled the rest of the way, hunched forward. Dougie greeted him with a nod and a smile, then opened the door for him. Loud music hit him in the face. He made his way to the bar stools and found one facing the door. In less time than it took to think about it, he had a bottle of beer and a bowl of pretzels in front of him…and was counting the minutes.
Kurt’s heartbeat triple-timed when Midge walked in. Skintight jeans and black stilettoes accentuated her shapely legs. The red wig clashed with her long-sleeved red top. Men turned to gape at her when she cleared the entrance. She paused there, scanning the room before she stepped into the sea of people and aimed for a vacant table. Kurt wondered if she was scared. He sure was.
Midge trembled inside. What had sounded great in planning now terrified her. She prayed she could play her part well and that her voice didn’t quiver and give away her fear. Spotting Kurt at the bar in the disguise he’d mentioned helped quell her nerves. Her red top would make it easy for him to keep track of her.
She passed her gaze over the Marines at the bar. They laughed and made sport of the old men seated on the other side. So far, no Susan. It’d be like her to play coy and show up. That was fine. Whatever it takes to get this done.
The noise had slammed into her the second she’d walked in. She couldn’t understand how someone could put up with coming here night after night. Warmth had curled around her next—a welcome comfort from the cold outside. For the sake of her get-up, she’d forgone a jacket. She was racking up stupid points tonight.
“Okay, guys, here I go,” she said softly, then stepped into the fray of men and women, weaving through the crowd until she reached a table near the bar. A waitress zoomed up before Midge’s bottom could touch the seat.
“What’ll you have?”
“Diet cola. I’m driving.”
“At least that’s the plan, huh? Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky, especially dressed like that.”
The woman flashed a smile and was back in seconds with a tall glass. Two cherries were plopped on top. Midge picked up one by the stem and yanked it off with her teeth. The other soon followed. Still no Susan, nor had she shown by the time Midge finished her second drink. She wished Jess would pull the plug on all this so she could go home.
She sighed and motioned the waitress over. “Another, please, and could you save my table while I run to the ladies’ room?” To ensure her assistance, Midge slipped the woman a five and walked away when she nodded.
Signs pointed the way to the restroom and an exit she’d been advised was one-way—people could leave but couldn’t come in. A rock wedging the door open took care of that issue. She’d tell the waitress once she was done.
As she wrapped her hand around the handle for the ladies’ room, Midge heard footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see someone duck into the men’s room, then she stepped into the ladies’ to take care of her needs. A quick peek under the stalls revealed she was alone. She hated the thought that the team would hear her pee but was sure they’d heard much worse. Still, she gave herself the illusion of privacy, hoping one of them would be waiting outside the door to tell her this was a wash.
Maybe even Kurt.
Tamping down her smile, Midge finished her business, cleaned up then slung her purse over her shoulder and walked out. The men’s bathroom door swung open, blocking her way.
“Going somewhere, girlie?”
She stared at the big Marine blocking her. He was solid, built like a boxer, with overly muscled arms that strained the seams of his shirt. His hands were huge, his shoulders doubly so. His flat dark eyes were fixed on her face with unnerving intensity. Fear twisted her gut.
“Let me pass or I’ll scream.”
He shook his head slowly. “You expect to be heard over this noise?” He gestured toward the din that pounded down the hallway from the dance floor. He smiled, revealing a row of white, even teeth. “You and I have some unfinished business, baby.”
Fuck, he thinks I’m Susan.
“I’m not who you think I am.” God, the man was huge. All the self-defense training in the world wouldn’t help her bring him down. The best she could hope for was to stall him until her backup realized she was in trouble. “You’re making a mistake. This is going to land you in very serious trouble.” She tried to dive back into the women’s restroom, praying he wouldn’t follow.
He snagged her biceps in a grip of steel. “You’re coming with me.”
Midge smacked the small purse against his head.
He laughed, an oddly high-pitched sound for a man of his size. “Yeah, I know how you like it rough, Red. I’m more than ready to play.”
He backhanded her with the speed of a viper. Midge’s head snapped back from the force of the blow. Her cheek burned. Shock stole her breath. Tears blinded her. Her head swam. She pulled in a gasp, praying someone in the club would hear her scream. He merely laughed again, stuffed a gag between her lips and yanked her arms behind her back. He put his face close to hers, breath hot upon her cheek.
“Now we’ll see who’s in serious trouble, Red.”
* * * *
Kurt nursed his bottle of beer. Every so often he’d bring the opening to his lips and feign a drink. The liquid hadn’t dropped below the top of the label. That was the good thing about a dark bottle—unless someone looked carefully, they’d never notice if it was full or empty. So far, no one had paid him much mind. Even the bartender ignored him, probably not expecting a scruffy old guy to spend much money on beer, much less tips.
He glanced toward the restrooms, wondering how much longer Midge was going to be. Not that it mattered since their prey had failed to show. He was ready to call it quits.
“We’ve got a problem.” Vic’s voice crackled into Kurt’s earpiece. “She’s shouting at a man. He called her Red. We think he’s got her. Go!”
Kurt jumped from the stool and shoved through the crush of bodies. It might as well have been an impenetrable wall of thorns. He saw a flash of red in the restroom hallway and watched in horror as Parsons ducked out of the exit with Midge tossed over his shoulder. A zip tie bound her wrists.<
br />
Kurt broke into a cold sweat as he shouldered the packed crowd aside in a wild attempt to reach her. He shouted into his own transmitter. “Parsons is taking her out the back. I can’t get through. I can’t get to her.”
He thought he heard Vic scrambling. It was hard to tell with all the noise.
The music changed. The tide of people shifted. Kurt shoved through a gap and sprinted for the back exit, snatching her purse from the floor in the process. He burst into the cold, dark night, chest heaving, and spun around.
Parsons’ dark sedan careened across the dirt parking lot toward freedom. Kurt raced after it. He caught movement from the corner of his eye as Vic approached from the van. Weapon drawn, his friend took a stance in front of the onrushing vehicle.
“NCIS! Stop! Now!” Vic shouted.
Dirt and gravel spat from behind the car. Kurt watched, horror-stricken, as Parsons plowed headlong into Vic. His friend bounced off the hood like a crash-test dummy, landing in a crumpled heap ten feet away.
“Man down! Nine-one-one!” Kurt prayed Jess or Everest were aware and moving. As he raced to his friend, he saw Parsons’ red taillights disappear into the night. There was no way he’d be able to run to his car three blocks away and give chase.
Everest skidded to a stop beside him. Kurt jerked his head around, pointing in the direction of the departing vehicle.
“That way. Now. He’s got Midge. Dark sedan.”
Everest ran off. Kurt prayed he had a vehicle close by. In his heart he knew Everest would never pick up their trail in time. Despair and fear twisted his gut at the thought of Midge in Parsons’ demented clutches.
Jess dashed across the street from the surveillance van. “Police and paramedics are on the way.”
When Vic groaned, Kurt grasped his hand. “Hang on, buddy. It’s going to be okay.”
“Helen…” Vic muttered.
“We’ll call her,” Jess reassured him.
Vic’s eyes flickered to Kurt. “Her wire’s still running. You might get some clues.”
“They’re out of range by now. My guess is that she’s knocked out cold. Everest followed. They went east. If I leave now, I might be able to catch up. We could have the police run the plates under Parsons’ name. Put out an all-points bulletin for his car.” Kurt realized then that he was rambling aloud and wasting precious time.
Jess stared up at him across Vic’s body. Worry deepened the lines in his face, but he was also clear-headed about the reality of the situation, something Kurt couldn’t be right now. This was his woman. Hard as it was, Kurt forced himself to take a giant emotional step back and evaluate things objectively with more common sense.
Someone needed to call Helen and tell her about Vic before she found out from the local radio news. Someone needed to monitor the van’s equipment in case they were closer than Kurt suspected. If there was a chance Midge could give them a clue as to her whereabouts, they needed to take it.
He swallowed hard. “I’ll be in the van.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there as soon as the paramedics get Vic on his way to the hospital. I need you to call Helen. Have her meet them at the emergency room.”
“Will do.” Kurt ran across the street. Flashing red-and-blue lights signaled the arrival of the deputy sheriffs. Paramedics closed the gap behind them. He slipped his cell phone from the deep front pocket of his baggy jeans.
Helen took the news without hysterics, but her voice was strained and high. It had to be a nightmare for her, considering she’d lost a dear friend in a similar accident the year before. Kurt prayed Vic would be all right. After repeating Jess’ instructions to Helen, he disconnected.
He stopped two feet from the van’s back door. The pointlessness of his actions overwhelmed him. He should be following, giving chase, trying to find Midge, not sitting in this damned van feeling as if his hands were tied behind his back. The thought resurrected the image of Midge being hauled from the bar. Her hands were tied behind her back. He didn’t want to think about what Parsons had planned for her. The man was obviously insane. Anything could happen.
To hell with it. Kurt did a one-eighty and ran down the street. He couldn’t sit still and wait. It might be like searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack, but he had to do something to find her. He tore off the disguise piece by piece as he ran the three blocks to his car. By the time he reached it, only the baggy jeans remained. He tossed everything else to the back seat and started up the engine.
As he combed the streets looking for any sign of Parsons’ vehicle, Kurt tried to think like a madman. If he were Parsons, where would he take Midge? Parsons wanted the blackmailer to leave him alone. He would want all the blackmail pictures and videos Susan had taken, and Kurt didn’t doubt he’d use force to get them. This was a man who acted on impulse, not on common sense. Kurt was counting on that fact to help find them.
“Hang on, honey. Just hang on.”
* * * *
By slow degrees, Midge pulled away from unconsciousness. The taste of blood in her mouth turned her stomach. The gag didn’t help. She was in a car. Judging from that crisp, one-of-a-kind smell, it was new. The man had tossed her in the back seat like a bag of dirty laundry and she lay crumpled, facedown on the floor. At least she could be thankful it was a new car. She didn’t have to deal with the filth from an old one.
Still, being on the floor, stuck in this discarded rag-doll position, was no treat. With her hands tied behind her back, moving was impossible. The carpet scuffed her burning cheek. It was hard to breathe and her head throbbed from the blow he’d delivered a second time when she’d spat his gag back at him. It probably hadn’t been one of her smarter moves, but did he actually expect she would allow him to kidnap her without a fight?
She opened her eyes, blinking several times to settle her contacts in place. How long had she been out? Were they still in Twentynine Palms or one of the other nearby towns? Surely she hadn’t been unconscious long. She wiped her face against the carpet and got the gag free. That helped her nausea. The car was riding smoothly, so she knew they were on a hard-surface road. She lifted her head and was able to see out of the window. Street signs passed at regular intervals— still in town somewhere. Few vehicles passed them— not on the main thoroughfare.
Who was this man? One of Susan’s victims out for revenge, one of Jeremy’s associates wanting the ketamine or some a crazed fool? It didn’t look good for her, no matter who she was. If she could talk to him, reason with him… Midge didn’t want to think beyond that and refused to speculate on what he had planned for her.
She maneuvered to her knees. The pull of the wire taped to her torso reminded Midge that she wasn’t alone. The range on the device wasn’t far, but if NCIS was monitoring her, she might be able to give them a clue as to her location.
Midge dismissed the idea. Talk might antagonize him. The man had knocked her out once. He obviously meant her harm. The longer she played dead, the better her chance for survival. She had to survive, had to give Kurt a way to find her, somehow, some w
Her determination was nearly squelched when her captor hit a deep pothole. She fell face-first and another jolt bounced her hard against the floor. Midge gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. He swerved around a corner, knocking her head into the door. Another sharp turn and he jerked the vehicle to a stop.
He cut the engine and opened his door on silent hinges. Then the rear door swung open. Icy air swirled about her. Midge prayed she could suppress a shiver. He grabbed her shoulders. She had to stay limp, keep her eyes closed, make him work to get her out of the car, delay whatever fate he had in store for her.
When he couldn’t lift her shoulders up and through the door, he grabbed her bound wrists and pulled. A hot spear of pain stabbed Midge between her shoulder blades. She prayed he couldn’t see her grimace. He yanked again. Sheer will kept her silent, but she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
Muttering a curse, he wrapped his hand in the wig and pu
lled, cursing when he realized the futility of that action. He yanked the wig cap off her head, fisted Midge’s hair and tugged. Strands ripped from her scalp. Tears slipped from beneath her lids. She sent up another prayer of thanks when he finally gave up. Next, he grabbed a handful of her shirt. Seams ripped as he hoisted her higher and higher then dropped her onto the seat facedown.
The car sagged as he crawled in beside her. Cold metal touched her hands. There was a tug and she was free. He’d cut the plastic from her wrists, probably in an attempt to better carry her.
Now what? Did she try to make a run for it? Not yet. She’d wait until he actually got her out of the car.
He yanked her arms forward and wrapped his thick hands around her wrists. With one long pull, he heaved her out onto the driveway. Concrete ripped a hole in her jeans and scraped her knees.
The man squatted down beside her, rolled her to her back, straddled her and grabbed her wrists once more.
Now!
Midge head-butted him and plowed her knee into his balls. His howl of pain ripped the night and he toppled to his side on the concrete. She was free. Midge kicked off her high heels and sprinted down the street. A few darkened, fenced houses surrounded them, but she had no idea whether or not the gates were unlocked or if anyone was home. She decided she couldn’t risk being trapped inside a fenced yard, so kept running and began shouting.
“Help! Somebody help me!”
Nothing. Not so much as one light clicked on.
Aim for the cross street. Aim for where the lights are.
Midge knew the futility of such a goal. The desert played tricks with distance. The safety she thought she could see could be miles away, not blocks. Asphalt cut into her bare feet. Still she beat a path toward what she hoped was help.
Run. Run.
Her steps echoed off silent houses. Fear struck when she realized it was no echo. The man was coming up fast behind her. She tried one last, desperate attempt.
Beneath the Layers Page 20