Found Missing (Decorah Security Series, Book #14): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel

by Rebecca York

  As he blocked the light from the hallway, everybody looked up expectantly.

  “It worked,” Frank said.

  “How do you know?”

  “From your face.”

  Grant nodded. “Yes, I pulled her into the . . .” He rocked his hand back and forth, “The fake VR with me. We talked, but she had to go back—because the guy who had her snatched up was coming back.”

  “So who kidnapped her?” Cole asked.

  He swallowed before answering. “It’s complicated. Her father gave her to a guy who turned out to be a thug. She ran away, and her dad was determined to bring her back—and make her sorry she ran.”

  The men stared at him, some looking like they didn’t believe it was true.

  “This is all about her father?” Cole said. “You mean she’s not really in danger?”

  “She’s in danger, all right. Imminent danger. He sees her as a slave who disobeyed her master. She’s wearing a flimsy gown, handcuffed, and locked in her room. I showed her how to unlock the cuffs.” Grant filled them in on what Jenny had told him about her relationship with Oakland and his sister and how her mother had managed to escape.

  “Jesus,” Ben said.

  “Oakland’s got at least four men,” Grant added. “Well armed. Just rushing in there could get one of you killed.”

  “We were talking about a diversion, to pull the guards away from the house.”

  “Like what?”

  We’re bringing in a larger drone with a payload. We’ll drop a bomb in the garden area in back of the swimming pool. Some of the guards will rush over. Some will stay. But we’ll take them by surprise—with a couple of wolves.”

  “Yeah, good thinking, but I want to try something that will help—if I can do it.”

  When Frank raised an inquiring eyebrow, he went on, “I brought Jenny into the VR with me. If I can reverse it—go to where she is—then I can contact Mack and tell you exactly what’s going on in the house.”

  “You think you can do it?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t know, but give me a chance to try.”

  Frank pinned him with a sharp look. “Okay, but you’re the one who thinks we don’t have much time.”

  “Right.” Grant turned and hurried back to the bedroom. Lying down on the bed again, he reached for the place where Jenny had been lying. The sheet was barely warm now, but he felt the ghost of her presence there.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on the woman he loved. The way she looked. The way she tasted. The way she felt in his arms. And the way she had tried to run away because she thought she had put Decorah Security in jeopardy simply by being alive.

  That thought made his chest squeeze.

  “Jenny,” he whispered. “Don’t you know how much I want to be with you?”

  In his mind he kept reaching out toward her, kept speaking to her. For long minutes nothing happened, and he thought he’d have to go back to the other agents in defeat. Then he heard her voice in his head. It was low and far away, but he heard her.

  Grant? Is that you?

  Yes.

  Where are you?

  Keep talking to me. Try to pull me closer to you.

  I don’t know how.

  Neither of us knows how. Just reach out like you want to hold me in your arms.

  He wasn’t sure how to reach her. All he could do was follow the advice he’d given Jenny. Only he had a small advantage because he had spent years communicating mind to mind with his brother. Still, it wasn’t easy. When her voice grew louder, his pulse beat faster.

  That’s it. I think it’s working. Keep pulling me in—like you did last night in the place like the VR. Like I pulled you in today.

  He kept speaking to her, so she could use his voice as a guidepost. He seemed to be in some place with no light and no sound except her voice. Then he saw a spot of brightness, like a door had opened at the end of a tunnel. He rushed forward, and all at once he was standing in a bedroom.

  “Jenny, thank God,” he breathed as he reached for her.

  She looked shocked to see that he was there, but she came into his arms, clinging to him.

  He wanted to keep holding her, but they had work to do.

  When he eased away, he looked around the room. It was a frilly little girl’s room, with white French furniture and a bedspread and curtains in shades of pink.

  “Jesus. This looks like a room for a ten year old.”

  “It was. My mom decorated it for me when I was eight. She left when I was ten, and my father never changed it.”

  “How did you keep from going crazy?”

  She answered with a small laugh. “I had a lot of interests. I read. I made pottery... I learned how to make window panels out of stained glass. I guess I have a lot of artistic talents.”

  He looked at her and saw that she’d taken off the handcuffs and had pulled open several drawers in a cabinet under the window.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a weapon.” She gulped. “He said he was going to give me to Gabe Thompson to do anything he wanted with me, and he said he was going to . . . cut you to pieces. I have to stop him. And I think I can do it, because he assumes I’m so cowed that I won’t do anything to fight him.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re not the scared woman who first came to the VR.”

  “Not hardly.”

  He stepped to the cabinet and put his hand on one of the open drawers. He could barely feel it. And when he whacked his palm against the wood, it seemed to go partly through.

  He looked from his hand to the drawer. “I can’t really touch anything here—except you.”

  “I see. It’s weird.”

  “Let me tell Mack the situation. Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

  He closed his eyes, reaching out to his brother who was apparently standing by, waiting for the contact.

  Grant?

  Yeah. I’m in her bedroom. Sort of. I can touch her, but I can’t touch anything else.

  Okay, what if we have the drone drop its payload in twenty minutes?

  Fine.

  He broke off the communication and looked back at Jenny. “They’re using a drone to drop a bomb on the property in twenty minutes. We need to get out of this room.” He sighed. “Well, you need to get out. Unfortunately, I’m not really here. I mean, I can’t do anything physical—like, for example, break the door down. And, uh, maybe you want to put on some clothes.”

  Grant felt a sudden wave of dizziness. For a moment the scene around him shimmered, and he thought he was going to lose the connection with Jenny’s surroundings. Desperately, he clung to the scene and finally, he was able to make it stabilize.

  “What happened?” Jenny gasped out.

  “I thought I was being pulled out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s okay now.”

  “Good.”

  She crossed to a dresser, and took out underwear and a tee shirt and jeans. Then she took off the gown and dressed.

  As she pulled on her shoes, she said, “I learned how to escape from this room a long time ago. I used to walk around the house and go outside in the middle of the night. From the table beside the bed, she picked up the paper clip she’d used to open the handcuffs and started toward the door. Before she reached it the knob turned.

  Jenny froze.

  Grant’s impulse was to put himself between her and the door. But what good would that do? He had no physical presence here.

  Jenny backed away toward one of the open drawers and reached inside. He saw her take out some kind of small craft knife and hold it down beside her leg.

  The door opened and a man stepped into the room. He had dyed black hair and a lined face, but his body was fit and trim. It was the man in the photograph, the man who had met her when Carlos brought her in. As her father stared at Jenny his expression darkened.

  From where he stood in the corner, Grant reached out to his brother.

  Mack, i
f you can drop the bomb now, do it. If you can hear me, drop the bomb now.

  Without waiting for a reply, he switched his attention back to the bedroom.

  “What the hell? How did you get out of those handcuffs?” Oakland demanded.

  “Magic.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I didn’t give you permission to get dressed.”

  Grant stepped into the conversation. “Yes, magic,” he confirmed, as he lunged toward the angry man, waving his arms and making bellowing sounds. His fist would have connected with the man’s chin if he’d really been in the room. Instead, it kind of glanced off.

  Dad stopped in his tracks, his hand fingering his chin. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s me, you son of a bitch,” Grant shouted. He didn’t know what Oakland was seeing, hearing and feeling from him, but it was obviously something.

  Still Grant was only a momentary distraction. After the ghostly encounter, Oakland started forward again, his hands raised as though he intended to choke the life out of Jenny. As her father advanced on her, she brought the hand with the knife up, slashing through his white dress shirt and into his arm.

  “You bitch.” He jumped away and pulled a gun, pointing it at her chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grant watched in horror, knowing there was no way for him to stop the man from shooting his daughter.

  Still, he tried. “Over here,” he shouted, lunging forward again.

  Oakland’s attention wavered toward him, and he planted himself in the guy’s face. The man blinked “What the hell is that?”

  “Like I said, magic,” Jenny answered, her voice surprisingly even.

  “Yeah, well I’ll take care of that for you.”

  Grant knew he was about to shoot, but before he could pull the trigger, an explosion outside shook the house.

  The people in the room, wavered on their feet as a shock wave ballooned from the site of the impact. Oakland tumbled backwards. Grant caught Jenny before she could go down. With his help, she righted herself quickly, dashed toward her father, snatched the gun from his hand, and darted back.

  Now she was the one holding the weapon on him.

  “Put that down,” he bellowed.

  “Not a chance. Get up. We’re going outside.”

  “The hell we are. You don’t have the guts to shoot me.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  She could have killed him, but when he started toward her with his face grim and his hands raised, she fired, striking him in the arm she had already cut. He bellowed in pain and rage.

  “Let’s go. And no more funny stuff,” she said again. “Or next time I’m going to aim for center mass.”

  Grimacing in pain, Oakland steadied himself against the back of a chair.

  “Where should we go?” Jenny asked Grant.

  “What do you mean, where should we go?” the mobster asked. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

  “My fairy godfather.”

  “The front door,” Grant answered.

  Oakland blinked. “What was that?”

  “More magic.”

  “Be careful when we get outside this room,” Grant warned. “The plan was to get most of the guards outside. But some could still be in here with the boss.

  To prove it, one of them came charging down the hall, a gun in his hand.

  Behind him was one of the Marshalls in wolf form. The animal leaped on the thug, bringing him down. Behind the wolf was Ben Walker, automatic pistol in hand.

  The wolf stepped back and Ben ordered, “Put the gun on the floor and stand up slowly.”

  The guy did as he was ordered.

  Grant made a low sound. It had been a good idea to come here by using his mental connection with Jenny, but now he was out of the action.

  No, his brother said inside his head. We brought you along. You’re in the SUV in the driveway.

  Thanks

  “Be right back,” he said to Jenny, thinking that when they’d moved him, he’d almost come back to his body. That was why the scene around him had wavered a little while ago.

  It happened again now, only he was the one in control. And this time, when his eyes blinked open, he found himself sitting in the front passenger seat of an SUV.

  He yanked the door open, then had to steady himself when he felt light-headed.

  From across the lawn, he could see smoke rising in a black column. As he started toward the house, he saw a man running across the lawn. It was Carlos, the thug who had abducted Jenny. When the guy saw Grant, he started shooting.

  Grant ducked behind the car, cursing. He’d come here unarmed.

  No wait. That was wrong. When he felt for the gun in his shoulder holster, he found the Sig nestled inside.

  He clicked off the safety and ducked around the hood of the car, returning fire. Carlos tried to dodge behind a tree, but Grant got him first, and he went down.

  Looking around to make sure nobody else had drawn a bead on him, Grant made for the house. In the living room, he found Ben and the wolf standing guard over the security guy.

  Which left Jenny and her father still in the hall.

  Probably the Decorah men thought the emergency was over. Grant wasn’t so sure. He arrived in time to see Oakland pull a small caliber pistol from a holster at his ankle and aim it at Jenny.

  Only an expert marksman could take the shot. Neither Grant nor Jenny hesitated. They both fired at the same time, both of them hitting the mob boss, who went slack on the floor.

  Grant rushed to Jenny and pulled her away, into another bedroom. Clasping her in his arms, he held on tight.

  “Are you okay?” both of them asked at the same time.

  “Yes,” they both answered.

  Then his lips came down on hers for a hot, savage kiss.

  When they broke apart, they saw Frank Decorah standing in the doorway.

  “Are we all secure?” Grant asked.

  “Yes. But there’s the question of what to do with the rest of Oakland’s security guys.”

  “How many are left?” Jenny asked.

  “Two.”

  “Put them in a plane and fly them to the Alaska. Let them off and turn them loose.”

  Frank laughed. “I like the way you think. That could actually work. At any rate, you’ve been through enough. Let us take care of the details.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then added with a note of wonder in her voice, “I guess everything turned out okay.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry we had to make you think Carlos was dead after he broke into the patient facility. It’s true now,” Frank said.

  She hung her head. “I should have trusted you. I was just too scared to take a chance.”

  “Everybody understands the position you were in.” Frank looked toward the door. “I’ve got to supervise the . . . clean up. You and Grant go enjoy your freedom.”

  “Amen,” Grant agreed.

  “Take one of the SUV’s.”

  oOo

  Jenny felt a sense of unreality as they climbed into the black vehicle.

  “Is it really over?” she asked when Grant started the engine and pointed the car down the drive.

  “Yeah. You’re free.”

  “What about Gabe Thompson?”

  “What’s the point of his going after you now that your father’s dead?”

  “That makes sense,” she answered, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

  “But you’re still worried about something,” Grant said, his voice gentle.

  “I lied to you about so much. Like—I was never a teacher. I was never anything but the Princess in the Tower.”

  “And now you have the freedom to do anything you want.”

  She glanced at him, then away.

  “And you have the money to do it.”

  “I don’t want his money.”

  “I knew you’d say that. But think of it as victim’s compensation. Like when someone is wrongfully imprisoned. Tha
t’s worth something per year.”

  “I . . .”

  “You don’t have to decide right now.” As he pulled onto the highway, he asked, “Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere we can be together—if you still want me.”

  “Of course I do.” He made a low sound. “Too bad we can’t go somewhere as nice as that room you imagined for us.”

  “Anywhere will do.”

  “Not quite.” He pulled over to the side of the road and used the GPS to locate a nearby upscale hotel. Then he headed there.

  A half hour later, he had checked them into an opulent room. It wasn’t quite as grand as their fantasy room, but it would definitely do.

  The moment the door closed behind them, he reached for her.

  She came into his arms, clinging to him with an intensity that made his heart sing.

  “Jenny, I need you.”

  “And I need you.”

  He was too keyed up to go slowly with her now. He kissed her with an intensity that stunned him, and her response stunned him even more. They tore at each other’s clothing, intent on feeling naked skin pressed to naked skin.

  They staggered across the room together, and he paused long enough to pull the covers out of the way.

  When they fell onto the bed, she guided him inside her. They moved frantically together, each of them driving the other to climax. And as she shuddered in his arms, he followed her over the edge.

  In the aftermath of the storm, they lay together panting.

  He moved enough to pull up the covers, and they clung together in the wide bed.

  She was the one who spoke first. “Oh, Grant, I should have trusted you,” she repeated what she’d said to Frank.

  “You weren’t raised to trust. Your mother left you. Your father treated you like a bargaining chip. From what you say, your Aunt Sophie was like a prison guard.”

  “But then I ended up in the VR, and I realized what a caring group of people could be like.” Her breath hitched. “But in a way that made it worse, because I knew my father could kill everybody there.”

  “You’re safe now.”

  “That’s still sinking in.”

  He raised up, looking down at her. “And you can do anything you want—be anything you want.”

  “I want to be with you. I’ve known that for a long time, but I was afraid I’d get you killed.”