Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7)

by Catherine Bybee

  He heard the police walking into the house and Solomon talking to them.

  “The police are here.”

  Another long pause. “Tell them what they need to know. I have a couple of friends I’m calling within the department. Time is critical right now.”

  Hunter hated the thought of cooperating with the criminals, but Gabi’s kidnapper had made it clear he didn’t want the police involved. “He said no cops.”

  “That was before he publically kidnapped Gabi. He changed the rules, Blackwell.”

  Hunter’s voice broke with his next words. “He has my wife, Neil.”

  “He needs her for the money, needs her to assure his own freedom. He won’t kill her.”

  Hunter squeezed is eyes shut. Hearing his deepest fears said aloud gutted him.

  Dennis walked into the living room, paused, then waved Hunter toward him. “I think I have her.”

  “What?” Hunter lowered the phone and followed Dennis downstairs.

  The police were close behind.

  One of the cops whistled as they walked into the wine cellar recently converted into the command post of surveillance.

  Three of the monitors were full screens, all of them frozen. Dennis sat and started clicking as he spoke.

  Hunter put the phone on speaker. “You hearing all this, Neil?”

  “I am.”

  Dennis rolled the first screen.

  Hunter watched as he saw Gabi jump into the passenger seat of the Maserati and Connor peel out of the garage.

  They crashed on Sunset, Gabi had said.

  Dennis pointed at the screen. “Notice how Connor is constantly looking out the back window?”

  “He saw someone behind him,” Delgado observed.

  “Probably.”

  It appeared that Connor had racked up a dozen moving violations as they approached Sunset.

  Hunter heard the phone ring on the recording.

  “This is me calling him . . . letting him know that you and Solomon were fine and the call was a setup.”

  Gabi was tossed around when Connor swung the car around.

  Hold on, were the last words before it appeared someone hit the car from behind. An explosion of white filled the frame.

  “Airbags,” Dennis said.

  Hunter was relieved to hear Gabi’s shaken voice call Connor’s name.

  Connor was muttering, but Hunter couldn’t make out what he said. The camera was knocked out of place, not giving them a shot of Gabi’s face, but Hunter saw her attempt to reach Connor with her broken arm. He could hear her breathing heavily as she called his name.

  The door to the car opened and a male face filled the frame.

  Dennis froze the frame, looked behind him to the cops. “That’s our guy.”

  “Keep rolling,” Hunter said.

  The man in the frame used Gabi’s name. Rolled his r’s in a slow, seductive way.

  Do I know you?

  Her captor simply smiled.

  They all heard Gabi offer a gasp and then a sigh.

  When he lifted her from the car, she was limp.

  “What did he do to her?”

  “Chloroform, drugs . . . hard to tell,” Dennis said matter-of-factly.

  Hunter fisted his hands.

  Dennis flipped to the next screen. “Here’s the GPS. I’ll run this with the video and you can see where the problem is, and possibly the location of Gabi.”

  His eyes darted back and forth between the video of the car footage and the blip on the map. The second the car crashed, the GPS blinked out. When Gabi was lifted from the car, it blipped again in the same location for ten seconds, then it went dark. When it blipped again, it was a quarter mile down Sunset. It was dark. On the other monitor, bystanders were poking their heads into the car telling Connor an ambulance was on the way.

  “I’m going to fast-forward.” Dennis pushed both videos forward.

  Hunter heard his own voice frantically calling for Gabi.

  “Wait, can you back that up?” Delgado asked.

  Dennis pushed a button, only for Hunter to hear his plea again.

  “Your driver is saying something.”

  Dennis rewound again, turned up the sound.

  W-L-H-six-four-nine.

  Delgado, Solomon, and Dennis all said, “License plate.”

  Delgado turned to his partner. “Run it.”

  The other cop turned away and spoke into his radio.

  “This is about thirty minutes ago.” Dennis showed the blip on the GPS. It glowed steady for a few seconds, then blinked off.

  “And this was ten minutes ago.”

  “It’s in the same spot.”

  Dennis offered a nod.

  Hunter poked a finger on the screen. “Zoom in.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “That’s two blocks over,” Delgado said.

  Hunter stood tall and turned for the stairs.

  Delgado stopped him with his arm. “Where you going, Blackwell?”

  “To save my wife.”

  “Slow down.”

  Hunter pulled out of his grip and glared.

  “He’s right, Mr. B. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  “Neil?” Hunter yelled to the phone.

  No reply.

  Dennis lifted the receiver. “Not here.”

  Delgado lifted both hands. “We’ll bring in SWAT, hostage negotiators . . . we do this right and no one gets hurt.”

  “Don’t forget your father. We don’t know if he’s in there,” Solomon said.

  Delgado stepped forward. “Your father?”

  Dennis shrugged. “Hostage number two.”

  “Damn it.” Delgado lifted a finger in front of Hunter’s face. “No one goes anywhere. Don’t make me arrest you, Blackwell.” The cop turned and walked up the stairs.

  Hunter’s teeth started to ache with all the grinding they were doing. “Now what?”

  Dennis offered half a smile and turned back to the monitors. The third one fired up. Another set of GPS blips moved on the screen. “Gabi?”

  “Nope.” He pointed to the red blip. “Neil.” Pointed to the green blip. “Rick . . . probably.” They were closing in on the neighborhood fast.

  It will all go away if I keep my eyes closed.

  She tried, but the need to crash into the real world sucker punched her.

  With the light came the pain.

  With a mouth full of cotton and her body in a cold sweat, Gabi attempted to focus.

  A house. Yeah, she remembered a house.

  Her captors left her propped up against a wall and an empty bookshelf.

  She wasn’t tied up, but her limbs were difficult to move anyway. All the windows were covered with thick drapes that barely let any light in.

  “You’re awake.”

  Gabi swung her head, quickly regretted it. He was tied up, arms behind his back, legs together with duct tape. Swollen eye and split lip. He’d put up a struggle, but he wasn’t a young man, and from the condition of his clothes and appearance, didn’t seem fit at all.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  He attempted to smile, his good eye crinkled in a familiar way. “Sherman Blackwell.”

  “Oh.” Hunter’s father.

  “And who are you?”

  “Gabriella Blackwell.”

  “Ahh, the woman turning my son around.”

  She disregarded his words and pulled one of her legs close to her chest, then the other. She looked beyond the entry to the room. “Are they still here?”

  Sherman nodded. “Other room. Walk in every ten minutes to see if you’re awake.”

  “What time is it?”

  Sherman rolled his eyes. “Left my Rolex at home.”

  “How long do you think I’ve been here?”

  “An hour . . . maybe.”

  Gabi ran her good hand over her chest to rub out the ache. She looked down to see a nasty bruise from what she guessed was the seat belt of the car. Her fingers fell across
the pendent on her neck.

  She bit her lip before lifting the GPS device and kissing it.

  Heavy footfalls came from the direction of what looked to be a hall. Gabi shoved the pendent under her shirt and tried to relax against the wall.

  “Awake at last, señora.”

  She blinked several times. “Who are you?” The familiarity of his face scared her.

  He lifted his pants before kneeling at her side. “I’m offended you don’t know.”

  “We’ve met?”

  “Not formally. I’m surprised your husband did not introduce us.”

  “You’re a colleague of Hunter’s?”

  “Not that husband . . . your poor departed one. He and I were very close.”

  Her ears rang, reminding her of an old saying about how when your ears ring it was a sign of someone in the future walking over your grave. “Diaz,” she whispered.

  “I’m flattered. Too bad I can’t let you live now that you’ve seen my face and know my name. It’s not personal, Gabriella.”

  Her stomach twisted.

  Diaz ran a finger under her chin. “Such a shame with one so beautiful. You understand, no?”

  She pulled away from his fingers and he laughed.

  “Why am I alive now?”

  He kept laughing. “Beautiful but a fool, eh, old man?”

  “Leave her alone,” Gabi heard Sherman tell Diaz.

  “Chivalry . . . how sweet. Unfounded in this circumstance, but a nice gesture.” Diaz reached behind him and removed a gun from the waist of his pants.

  Gabi tried not to breathe as Diaz ran it along her jaw. “Here are the rules, Gabriella. Do I have your attention?”

  “Yes,” she muttered.

  “You scream, and I shoot him. He yells, and I shoot you. Equality is important in this decade, no?”

  What a sick man.

  “You understand my rules so far?”

  She nodded once.

  “Good. When I put the phone to your ear, you say exactly what I want you to say, or I shoot him.” Diaz swung the gun toward Hunter’s father.

  “You’re going to kill us anyway,” Sherman said.

  Diaz tapped the gun onto Gabi’s chest, his finger hovering over the trigger.

  “Yes, but slowly, or quickly?” Diaz moved the gun along Gabi’s arm and rested at the crook. “Or maybe I’ll show mercy and let you leave this life on a cloud.” He leaned close, she felt his lips on her ear. “You’d like that . . . wouldn’t you?”

  She whimpered.

  “Once they have a taste, they always want more.”

  With that, Diaz shifted on the balls of his feet and stood. He grabbed Gabi’s good arm and hauled her to her feet. “Time for that phone call.”

  The media made it outside the house before the cavalry.

  The phone rang long before any hostage negotiator was en route.

  Hunter picked up the land line on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “I told you no police, Blackwell.”

  Solomon rolled his fingers in the air. “Keep him talking,” he whispered.

  The police in the room quieted down.

  “You kidnapped my wife in broad daylight. I didn’t call the police.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re going to make all of them leave. That manservant of yours, and your driver . . . they all leave. You have five minutes before I begin removing parts of your beautiful wife one by one.”

  “How do I know if Gabi’s alive?”

  “Say hello.”

  There was a muffle, then Hunter heard the sweetest thing ever. “Hello.”

  “Gabi?”

  “Tell him you’re OK.” Diaz instructed every word out of Gabi’s mouth.

  “I’m OK, Hunter.”

  “God, Gabi. We’ll get you out of there.” He gripped the phone tight enough to break it.

  Diaz laughed. “Now tell him you love him.”

  He heard the cry in her voice. “I love you, Hunter.”

  His heart cracked. “I love you, too.”

  Only his words fell on Diaz’s ears. “Five minutes, Blackwell.”

  The line went dead.

  Hunter twisted around the room. “Everyone out!”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As the five minutes Diaz gave Hunter to clear the house ticked on, Gabi’s head slowly cleared from the fog. The fear she’d heard in Hunter’s voice scared her. Was there a problem tracking her? Did he know where she was? Did the security team know?

  She’d been in the house for over an hour, had no idea how much time had passed before arriving. Plenty of time for the team to track her. Why had they not intervened?

  A cell phone lying on the table rang and Diaz answered in Spanish.

  Gabi moved her eyes to the other side of the room, doing her level best to pretend she didn’t understand one word.

  The one-sided conversation proved easy to follow.

  The police were exiting the Blackwell home, the media was pushed down the street.

  Hunter was alone.

  Diaz instructed the caller to stand by.

  He picked up another phone and dialed.

  “Very good, Mr. Blackwell. Now . . . when I give you the signal, I want you to take the money, climb over that back fence of yours, travel though your neighbor’s yard to the other street, and continue north. I will call you when you need to drop the money.”

  Gabi hung on the next words.

  “Oh, you’ll know the signal. It will make the evening news.”

  She started to shake, told herself it was because of the fear in her veins. Her arm under her cast started to itch.

  Diaz disconnected the call and turned his attention to the other line.

  In Spanish, Diaz told the person on the phone to press the button and to return to the house where he could collect his money . . . and his heroin.

  Gabi scratched the back of her neck.

  With a wicked grin, Diaz winked at her. “Hold your ears.”

  “What?”

  The house shook.

  Gabi found herself ducking, expecting the house to topple.

  Diaz disconnected the call and mumbled, “Stupid bastard. Never put your trust in the wrong person, Gabriella.” He actually laughed. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve already done that a few times.”

  Another man, this one thin and jumpy, moved into the room. “I’m ready to go.”

  Diaz waved him off.

  The thinner man ran into the living room, and Gabi heard Sherman protesting.

  She started to stand only to have Diaz point his gun in her direction. “We have to give your husband something for his money.”

  Gabi bit her lip and scratched the itch under her skin.

  From the corner of her eye she saw that Sherman’s feet were cut free, his hands still bound, as he was shoved at gunpoint out of her sight.

  Hunter stood in the wine cellar and waited.

  When the explosion rocked the house, he and Dennis both ducked. When he looked up, Dennis was checking the monitors. The cameras around the house were secure, a glow from the south told them the explosion wasn’t far away, but it wasn’t on the property.

  “Guess that’s my signal.”

  Dennis reached over and zipped up the jacket over the bulletproof vest and spoke into his phone. “Eagle is leaving the nest.”

  “Copy.”

  “Stay close to the edges of the road so you can duck and cover into a yard. If the guy is smart, he’ll know you’re armed. When he asks, remove the one from your back and toss it.”

  Hunter looked at the GPS screen, noted four dots. Two were on the house where Gabi sat. The other two were closer to them.

  The police radio at Dennis’s side sent a command.

  “Go!”

  Hunter took the stairs three at a time. He picked up the heavy duffel bag and started out the back door. He tossed the bag over the brick wall dividing the properties and followed it. The neighbors weren’t home, and they didn’t own dogs.
/>   He’d take his blessings one at a time.

  He hopped another fence and headed north. A quarter of a mile up the road, Hunter started to wonder if this was a decoy, or a setup of some sort.

  When his phone rang, he answered without stopping.

  “There’s a Dumpster on your left.”

  “I see it.”

  “Drop my package inside.”

  Hunter turned in a circle. “Where’s Gabi?”

  “Safe. I assure you.”

  “Your assurance means shit.”

  “Look ahead. See that van?”

  A white van with what looked like a pizza delivery logo on the side sat at the end of the street. The side door opened and Hunter peered closer. “Dad?” he whispered.

  “A good con always has two options, eh, Blackwell? You’re a businessman, you understand. Drop the money in the Dumpster and I leave your father behind.”

  “What about Gabi?”

  “All in due time. Gabi will help me leave in one piece. You show me good faith, and I’ll live by my word.”

  Hunter refrained from laughing.

  A man held his father and shoved him until he yelled, “Fuck these men, Hunter.”

  Hunter ran to the other side of the street and tossed the duffel into the bin and stepped away.

  “Good man.”

  His father was shoved from the van before it sped away. Hunter started to run toward his father.

  Around the corner, a garbage truck turned onto the street.

  As Hunter fell onto his father, the van that fled exploded. Hunter ducked his head and covered his father’s.

  When he looked up, the van was engulfed, his father was out cold . . . and the garbage truck disappeared ten million dollars richer.

  Gabi focused on the syringe that sat just beyond her reach on the table. She’d seen him draw up the heroin and knew it was enough to kill whoever came in contact with the needle.

  Her death blow . . . the way she’d leave this world? The gun in Diaz’s hand didn’t scare her as much as that syringe. He shouted orders, waited to hear they’d been followed, then shouted more. He switched from Spanish to English, none the wiser that Gabi caught every word.

  Gabi flinched when the house shook a second time.

  The second explosion took place while Diaz was on the phone with his accomplice. In a cold response, Diaz shook his head and placed his phone into his pocket. “These kids just keep blowing up.”