Allison Janda - Marian Moyer 02 - Seduction, Deceit & a Slice of Apple Pie

by Allison Janda

  When it was Janet’s turn to be frisked, the assholes apparently weren’t much kinder to her than they’d been to me. She’d spit on the guy that copped a feelski, which promptly got her struck hard and fast across the face. They’d managed to find her gun, which was hidden in her waistband, but had somehow missed the knife. Probably due to the fact that the pocket was interior and covered by a thick belt on the outside. The man in the glasses, likely a doctor, had asked Janet to remove her shirt so that he could examine her for any pain or bruising. When she’d refused, one of the thugs had promptly wrestled the buttons of her long-sleeved shirt undone, leaving her pissed off and semi-naked. She’d allowed herself to fume silently, not wanting to draw any additional attention to herself.

  From there, the thugs carried Janet and I both to the room we were currently in, tied Janet to her chair and left me lying lifeless and alone next to the door. Janet said it had easily been a few hours. She’d screamed for me to wake up until she was nearly hoarse, but I’d never stirred. She’d also scanned the room for security cameras but hadn’t seen any. They were either incredibly small and well-hidden, or our room was safe from prying eyes. We were both betting on the former, though it was odd that no one had been in to see us yet now that I was wide awake and Janet was free.

  “Any ideas if we’re still in Chicago?” I asked her. “Have you seen Riley? Or asked about her?”

  Janet shook her head. “No news about Riley. They took my phone and yours, too. Crushed both of them, in case someone could track us with them. We’re probably somewhere in the city still. We didn’t drive all that long. Maybe near the stockyards?” She paused and sniffed the air. “That’s what it smells like, anyway.”

  “Great. So what do we do now?”

  “Well,” Janet said, standing and dusting off her pants. “I suppose we could see if they left the door unlocked.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I croaked. “They’d be the worst kidnappers in all of history.”

  “They would,” Janet agreed. “But there’s just something about the dumb luck you always seem to have that-” At that moment, Janet reached for the door handle, twisted and yanked the door wide open. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stumbled backwards, completely thrown off balance. “-tells me we should try,” she finished, turning to look at me, dumbfounded.

  Janet stuck her head into the hallway and looked right, then left. “It’s empty,” she whispered to me, coming back into the room.

  “This can’t be for real. It’s a trap,” I mumbled, still splayed out on the floor. “Someone’s sick idea of a trick.”

  “Marian, we have to check it out,” she told me. “What if they’re just that stupid, that they would leave our door unlocked? I was tied up. You’re clearly not going places.”

  “Maybe,” I said hesitantly. The tiniest movements shot agonizing stings across the whole right side of my head and I squeezed my eyes closed, gasping in pain. “Seriously, though, what if it’s a trap? Go all the way out there and they’ll probably blow your head off with a bazooka.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Janet said with a grin. “I’ve been practicing my duck and run, anyway.”

  I smiled, then shook my head as best I was able. “I can’t do it,” I told her, my eyes stinging with fat, hot tears which finally spilled over onto my cheeks. “Janet, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk. My head just hurts so much. Every time I move, I want to gag. What happens if I pass out?”

  “I’ll help you,” she assured me, hurrying over to help me stand. “You can hold on to me. Lean on me.” She stepped back over to my side and knelt down, tucking her hands between my shoulder blades and the concrete, as though she was going to push me upright.

  Alarm bells began firing off in my brain and I flapped her away. “No, stop it,” I cried, not wanting to do any further damage to my already damaged body. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to go on your own. I’d just slow you down. We don’t even know where we’re going out there. If there’s even a chance you can get out of here, maybe you can find us some help.”

  Janet’s face was pained but she knew I was right. She leaned forward and gave me an awkward side hug as I laid there, pasted to the ground. “I’m coming back for you,” she breathed quietly in my ear. “I promise.”

  “Don’t go Titanic on me, Kate.”

  “I’ve been practicing my Oscar speech.”

  “Shut up and get out of here already.”

  As she stood with a smile, we heard a loud, slow applause. Janet tensed and turned towards the clapping as I shifted my head to see who had walked in the door. I can’t say that I was surprised by our guest, but my stomach still rolled with a mixture of confusion and fury. “Gregson,” I acknowledged through gritted teeth. “I wish that I could say it was good to see you, again.”

  “Ah, Ms. Moyer,” he said in a voice that brought sickness to my stomach. I stared him down as best I could from where I was laying. I certainly wasn’t in any kind of an intimidating position, but I had been ranked “best angry face” back in high school. Not really a proud moment until just now. Gregson was dressed in a snappy black suit with a red and silver tie hanging loosely around his wrinkled neck. His tiny, bony frame now seemed sharp and menacing. How had he kept this side of himself hidden for so long? When John and I were kids, we used to ride our bikes over to Gregson’s house in the summer months, where he and his wife, Grace, would sit on their porch swing and hand out popsicles to all of the neighborhood kids. Had he been this evil back then? Had Grace? “Marian. I’d like to say you look good, but I think we both know that’s a lie,” he sneered, slowly making his way towards us.

  I noticed Janet’s hands begin to ball into fists. Frankly, she’d likely be able to take him. Gregson was a good three inches shorter, four sizes smaller, and chances were that he wasn’t too quick on his feet anymore. Just as I thought Janet was going to start moving towards him, swinging, two incredibly huge men squeezed through the door, both trying to shove the other out of the way so that they could enter the room first. It would have been comical if it weren’t so terrifying. Both men were dressed completely in black and sported biceps the size of my head. One had a thin, brown goatee that looked completely out of place on his chin. Almost as though someone thought it would be funny to pencil it in as some kind of joke while this large man slept. “What is this?” Janet asked, gesturing angrily at the men.

  “Oh, now,” Mr. Gregson said gently. “What’s your name dear?”

  “Screw you,” Janet jeered.

  “Well, fancy that,” Mr. Gregson said in stride. “That’s quite a funny name. I’d introduce myself but I’m pretty sure you already know exactly who I am.”

  “I thought I did,” I muttered from the floor, still lying supine, but with my head shifted to the side. “But I guess, how well do you really know someone when it comes to matters of illegal activity? Someone just appears normal and then, poof! They kidnap their neighbors’ kid and try to murder her aunt.”

  Mr Gregson chuckled, practically skipping across the floor to the now empty chair that Janet had once occupied. He sat and leaned close. I shivered with disdain and forced myself over a few inches, despite the excruciating pain it caused my head. “Was that worth it?” Mr. Gregson asked me in a low voice that only I had caught. With that, he laughed long and low and pulled his chair forward so we were practically touching. I’d have bitten him if he hadn’t been wearing shoes. That’d teach him.

  “Stop it,” Janet said, making a move to grab Gregson. As she did, one of the large men standing in the doorway took three quick steps and grabbed her by the back of the shirt. She fell backwards into the man’s chest but angrily pushed herself off of him, causing her shirt to rip open even further. A small tear appeared under her left arm. She didn’t seem to care. “Don’t you touch her,” she growled menacingly at Gregson.

  “Or what?” he asked teasingly. “You gonna hit me?”

  “Maybe not right now,” Janet said, turning to
stare down the man who still held onto her shirt. She turned back to Gregson. “But eventually, I’ll knock you into next week.”

  “I’m terrified,” Gregson responded dryly. Smirking, he stood and walked around my body. I half expected him to kick me in the ribs, but, thankfully, he didn’t. Perhaps he still had some empathy left. “How did you think you were going to get her out of here?”

  “You’re the idiots who left the door unlocked,” I muttered. “And who misses a Swiss Army knife?” Janet made a noise in the back of her throat and, had I been able, I’d have slapped myself. They hadn’t even known the knife existed. Until now.

  Gregson frowned. “Ah, yes- a knife. That’s how she managed to get free.” He snapped his fingers and the thug holding Janet by her shirt swung her around and shoved her, face first, into the brick wall. Janet cried out in pain as the man frisked her, finally reaching inside of her waistband to pull out the small pocketknife. Tossing it to Gregson, the thug spun Janet back around, leaving her merely inches from Gregson and I.

  Angrily, she flailed out her arms and just barely connected with Gregson’s jaw, causing him to drop the knife. Janet tried kicking it towards me with her foot but thug number two stepped in and grabbed it just in time. Gregson’s head snapped back from the light blow and he grunted in pain, softly rubbing his chin as Janet was subdued by thug one, who had pressed her back into the brick wall, his forearm tight against her neck. “I’ll kill all of you if you touch me like that again,” she screamed.

  “Not if I get to kill you first,” the thug holding Janet growled at her, his goatee twitching.

  “Manners, Bruce,” Gregson told his man, as he walked towards Janet. His eye held an appreciative twinkle for her feistiness. “The two of you make quite a team,” he crowed to her. “I’m sure if Ms. Moyer were feeling a bit lighter on her feet she’d have no doubt grabbed the weapon and given you two a bit of an advantage. Not that a small knife will do much damage to my assistants as you can see.”

  “You’re sick,” Janet said, disgusted. She wheezed against the large man’s arm, struggling for breath, but was unable to free herself no matter how much she hit and clawed at him.

  “Truth is, the two of you are far more determined than anyone had thought,” Gregson mused. “Especially him. I suppose it could prove useful for you both. In the end.”

  “Him?” I asked confused.

  “Useful for what?” Janet breathed skeptically at the same time I spoke. Her face was beginning to take on a grayish tint.

  “No matter,” Gregson said with a grin, answering both our questions with no answer at all. He turned towards his goateed thug, who was slowly, firmly strangling Janet with his forearm. I wanted nothing more than to stand up and kick the crap out of all of them, but I could barely lift a finger without wanting to cry. Would they kill her right in front of me?

  “Let her go!” I screamed as loudly as I could muster.

  “Oh!” Gregson cried in mock surprise. “If you insist.” With a snap of Gregson’s fingers, the man with the goatee immediately removed his forearm from Janet’s neck. Panting, she fell to the floor, clutching her throat, breathing hard.

  “Janet,” I mewed.

  “I’m okay,” she insisted.

  Angrily, I turned my gaze to meet Gregson’s. “Why did you leave the door unlocked and let us try to escape if you knew you were just going to stop us when we tried?” I asked him. “What was the point of all that?”

  The thug without the comical goatee shrugged. “We just forgot, I guess. But it was kind of fun for a few seconds there when it looked like the hot one was going to escape,” he added. “It gets really boring around here sometimes. It’s the same thing every day, you know? Bring in drugs. Count drugs. Send drugs out. Buy some cheap hookers.” He shrugged again. “Same thing. Every day. Except the hookers. They usually change.” He frowned, his brow furling in thought. Suddenly, he seemed to remember something that surprised him, probably something having to do with cheap hookers, and it made him laugh out loud. When he regained control, he added, “But otherwise, pretty boring.”

  “At least until you three came along,” the goatee guy sneered.

  My stomach dropped. I sincerely hoped that he wasn’t talking about Riley.

  At that moment, we heard a blood-curdling scream echoing off the walls just outside our door. My hair stood on end and I desperately wished that I could rub my arms to fend off the cold fear. Unfortunately, every move that I made just caused my stomach to roll and I was desperately afraid of suddenly getting sick. It would be more than I could handle.

  Without warning, I saw two figures push through the shadows. One was just another angry looking, thick-armed thug with a giant nose ring and smudges of black eyeliner. Who knew so many beefy bodyguards existed in the same square mileage? It was almost frightening.

  The second person that joined our bedraggled crew looked alarmingly like Rachel.

  Sure enough, Rachel came stumbling through the door, holding fast to the back of her head. The man behind her was moving her along by tightly gripping her hair. “Let go of me!” she screamed, trying desperately to pry his hands away.

  Gregson sighed and looked at me sadly. “I swear, I don’t know who teaches them to be like this. I’ve always stressed chivalry, especially when I’m having them deal with young ladies.”

  The three men snickered and the man who had brought Rachel into the room shoved her hard across the floor. Her head snapped forward and the rest of her body tumbled after. Thankfully, she caught her balance just before barreling into me as I continued to lay helpless on the floor. “Was that really necessary?” she asked no one in particular, rubbing hard at the back of her head. At that moment, she recognized the woman being held captive in the corner. “Janet?” she asked incredulously. Slowly, Rachel swiveled towards me and swallowed hard before making eye contact. “Oh, God,” she said as soon as I gave her a small smile and a wave. Immediately, she fell to the floor beside me and began inspecting my head. “How much does it hurt?” she asked, carefully setting my head in her lap.

  I winced in pain. “Pretty bad,” I whispered. “But then, I don’t really have much to compare it to. Just that one time my car blew up. And when I was younger, I fell off my bike and face planted.” I felt pathetic. You wouldn’t think a head wound could wreak so much havoc. In reality, not only did it hurt, but it totally threw off my equilibrium. I felt like someone had dropped a small brick on my head and then fueled me with alcohol. Unfortunately, the buzz had worn off and the awful hangover was in full gear. There’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for a painkiller. Including give up Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. For a year. Maybe a month. Okay, a week. A day. I could last one whole day without eating a single Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup if someone would just pass along a pain killer.

  “She needs medical attention,” Rachel begged Gregson.

  “She’s had it,” Gregson informed her. “Only the best. You’ve met Cooper before. Our doctor on retainer,” he explained.

  “Let me guess,” Rachel said cooly. “He suggested painkillers and you all had a good, hard laugh about it.”

  “How do you know that?” Janet asked suspiciously.

  “Let’s just say that when I broke my arm this past summer, it didn’t come from tripping down the stairs,” Rachel assured her.

  “They broke your arm?” I asked weakly. I faintly remembered my mother saying something about Rachel getting a cast last summer, but she’d downplayed it so much, incredibly unlike my mother, that I’d promptly sent a bouquet of flowers and pretty much forgot about it. I was a terrible sister-in-law.

  The guy with the goatee shrugged. “It was an accident.”

  Rachel snorted. “Just like everything else around here.”

  “How did you keep my mom from freaking?” I asked, ignoring the situation at hand. “She was so calm that day when she called to tell me you’d gotten a cast.”

  “I may have been present,” Rachel answered slyly. “With l
iquor.”

  “How did you get here anyway?” Janet asked her. “Last I saw, you were chasing after John.”

  “I had her picked up on the way home,” Gregson smiled. “I was headed this direction. Thought she could use a lift and that John could use a little alone time. Quite a shock I’m sure. For his own wife to betray him so deeply.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Rachel said, prickling. “You know that I only did it to protect him. To protect Riley.”

  “And look how well that’s going for you,” Gregson sneered. “But perhaps you should keep it up. I’d love to add a few more Moyers to the collection. I’m sure HE wouldn’t mind.”

  “He who?” I asked.

  Rachel shook her head. “Ask Gregson. I have no idea. I’ve never met ‘him.’”

  “Maybe Gregson is just lying,” Janet said, narrowing her eyes. “He seems like the type. Maybe he’s just trying to scare us.”

  “Oh, I don’t have to use lies to terrorize you, ladies,” Gregson said, snapping his fingers. I gulped as the thug with the nose ring lurched forward and seized Rachel roughly by the arm. She squealed and tried hard to pull away, but she was no match for his bulk. He easily dragged her across the floor and pitched her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. My head fell woodenly from her lap to the hard, concrete floor and I cried out in pain. Rachel screamed and kicked, clawing and biting, but the muscular man just chuckled and carried her out the door, slamming it shut behind himself. “Now,” Gregson said softly, “where were we?”