“What the hell are you talking about?”
“When you first came here, you told me you were getting married. Why would you start something up with Eden if you—” He stopped at Jordan's head shake.
“I was never officially engaged. We'd just talk about it. I broke it off with Samara the day you asked me to help you out. By that time, I knew there was something between me and Eden and it wasn't fair to—”
“That's why Eden didn't tell you the truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I talked to her a couple of days ago, when she told me you were involved. I told her you were engaged.”
Jordan closed his eyes. “If I hadn't already beaten the hell out of you, I'd do it again.”
“Hey, you're the one who told me.”
Jordan nodded, grimly aware he was trying to place the blame on Noah's shoulders when it should fall directly on his own. “Eden was going to tell me the truth?”
“Yes.”
And once again his memory demons rose up, reminding him of the numerous occasions over the last couple of days when Eden told him she had something to tell him … and he pushed her away, his anger overriding everything.
Noah stood. “Well, since I think I've made you look even worse than you did before, I'd say my job is done.”
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Noah jerked at the unexpected words. “For what?”
“For saving her life … giving her a job. Being there for her when no one else was.” Jordan held out his hand. Grasping Noah's firmly, he gave it a hard shake.
Noah laughed softly. “Man, I don't envy you. The next few days are going to be rough, but I hope you and Eden can work things out.”
“I hope so, too.” Jordan twisted his wrist for a quick glance at his watch. “I'm headed over there as soon as I get a shower. Do you mind not going to see her until I at least give it a try?”
Noah shrugged. “Fine with me. I don't expect I'll be her favorite person for a long time, either.”
Jordan heard the door close and knew Noah had gone. Now, with renewed purpose in his step, Jordan headed to take a short shower. The longer he waited, the more time Eden would be able to shore up her defenses. He needed to get to her before she decided to totally cut him out of her life.
He'd do a lot of things for the woman he loved, but that was one thing he absolutely could not bear.
Eden woke to the sound of dripping water and complete darkness. She lifted a head that felt watermelon-sized and filled with thunder. Her shoulders protested the movement. Why did they ache so much? She shook her head slightly to clear it and then realized her wrists were bound and held over her head.
A morbid kind of amusement hit her. For the second time in two days she was in handcuffs. She'd never been into kinky, but damned if she didn't think she should have at least enjoyed one of those times.
Her fuzzy brain tried to comprehend why she was here. She remembered drinking a cup of coffee and then … nothing. That worried her almost as much as being locked up in some kind of dungeon. Having her memories stolen from her was not one of her favorite things. No matter what her counselors told her, having memory loss was like losing a part of your identity.
Worry about that later, Eden. Get the hell out of here and then pout about a few minutes of lost time.
Pep talk over, Eden ignored the throbbing in her head as she pushed it back, hoping to find something behind her, like a wall, she could lean against. A soft groan escaped when her head flopped back like a dead daisy.
Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, so at least she was spared the agony of actually hanging from something. She lifted a foot and felt around her, grimacing at the cold wet mud that met her bare feet.
Bare feet? Another worry popped into her head. She brought her now filthy foot back and lifted her other foot to feel her leg. Well, there was another relief. She still had her clothes on.
So, what did she know? An unknown assailant or assailants had abducted her. She was in some kind of tunnel or maybe a dirt basement, with dripping water. Her clothes were still on and other than a slight memory loss, a huge headache, and an increasing cramp in her shoulders, she was basically okay.
She tugged on the handcuffs, hoping to feel some kind of loosening to give her shoulders a rest, but no such luck.
Unwilling to believe there was no way of escape, she lifted her foot again and felt behind her. A wall of some sort stood maybe a foot behind her. It felt like brick or mortar. So probably not a tunnel. Most likely some smelly old damp basement.
A quiver of a long-forgotten fear tingled up her spine. Great, what a wonderful time to remember all your phobias. Her timing sucked, as usual. Eden gritted her teeth and then forced long, deep breaths through her body. She'd conquered those fears along with a multitude of others years ago. She refused to allow them back into her life.
A slight, muffled sound caught her attention. Her breath held. Yes, there it was again. And getting louder. Within seconds, she recognized the noise as the shuffle of someone's feet.
Muscles tensed in anticipation. At least she was about to find out just who her captor was and possibly figure out a way to overpower them. Light flooded the room. Her eyes briefly snapped shut in a protest of pain.
“Ah, you're awake. I was kind of hoping you'd still be out of it. I've been dreaming a long time about getting you tied up and unconscious. Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure out another way to have fun.”
Now, there was a face from the past she would have been glad to never see again. “Well hello, Georges.”
Jordan jerked the door open to Noah's grim face. After arriving at Eden's apartment ten minutes ago, he'd known immediately something was wrong. Eden's favorite mug lay just inside the door. There were coffee splatters on the carpet and wall. His only comfort was it hadn't dried, so it couldn't have been that long since she'd been taken.
He had called Noah immediately, knowing the man would have a better idea who might have her.
Noah looked around. “Any sign of a struggle?”
“No, just the coffee mug and spilled coffee. I'm guessing they took her at the door.”
He cast a glance over to her desk. “Any indication she'd been talking with someone? Any messages on her machine?”
“No, I checked all that while I was waiting for you. All her clothes are here. Wallet, purse, cellphone. There's no doubt in my mind she's been kidnapped,” Jordan said.
“I agree. Only problem is, who and why?”
“Ransom or revenge?”
“Revenge, most likely. Few know our connection. Somehow, someone's found out her identity.”
“Any idea who would—”
“Yeah, I do.” Noah pulled his cellphone from his pocket and hit a couple of keys. “It's McCall … put Stephan on. Yeah, I know … but I've got a situation here.”
Jordan watched Noah's face. A tick in his jaw was the only indication of his concern. Whereas Jordan felt everything within him was surging toward explosion. He would not lose Eden. No matter what he had to do to get her back, he would not lose her.
“Hey Stephan, they treating you well over there?” Noah waited a few seconds and then added, “Poor Stephan, everybody's deserted you, haven't they? Well, what if I could make your time there a little easier?” His eyes blazed with fire. “Don't push it, man. I'd just as soon cut your measly little dick off and stuff it into your big mouth till you choke to death.” His voice softened. “But I won't do that if you're willing to give me a little info.”
Jordan listened to every word, understanding that this was the man who'd sold LCR out several weeks ago. The man responsible for Milo's death. They just hadn't known how much info he'd sold.
After several more grunts and one more threat, Noah closed his phone. “It's the Larues. Most likely Georges. I think you met him at the restaurant.”
Yeah, he remembered the tall, sandy-haired Frenchman
with a fake smile and cold eyes. The one Eden double-crossed, the one who'd wanted to sleep with her, despite the fact that he thought she was married. His family was all but gone and he would hold Eden accountable for all of it. What would he do to accomplish that revenge? Jordan refused to let himself speculate. First he'd get Eden back, then panic.
“Any idea where he would have taken her?”
“Stephan mumbled something about an old estate at the edge of the city. I think I know where it is.”
Jordan opened the door. “Let's go.”
An hour later, Noah parked in a small field not far from the entrance to a dilapidated estate. Grass and weeds intertwined and grew several feet high, hiding most of the first floor of the small mansion.
As both men checked their weapons, they discussed the best options. Jordan listened as long as he could without interrupting. Finally unable to wait any longer, he stuck his sunglasses in his shirt pocket. “I'll go around back. You distract him. I'll give you five minutes.”
Noah arched an eyebrow.
“What?”
Shrugging, Noah tucked his gun into his pocket. “Nothing. It's just been a long time since someone has given me orders.”
He'd never figured McCall to be a prima donna. “You got a problem with that?”
A brief flicker of delighted surprise flashed in his eyes and then he grinned like a kid who'd just been given an extra piece of candy. “Actually, I don't.”
Shaking his head at this odd behavior, Jordan took off around the back of the estate. Fortunately the weeds gave him good coverage. He was dressed in tan shirt and pants, blending well with the overgrowth. He kept low, almost crawling, as he approached the back of the building.
Though the mansion had probably been nice at one time, now it was an eyesore. Vines ran with haphazard abandon, covering the crumbling brick façade. Even some of the top windows had growth around them; the bottom windows were boarded up.
As he waited for the agreed time, Jordan forced himself to not think about what Eden might be going through. If he did, he wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done. When this was all over and he held her safe in his arms, then he would let his emotions go. But right now the situation called for cold, rational reasoning.
Jordan crouched lower and approached the house. He tried peeking inside the windows, between the boards, but saw only darkness. The windows were painted on the inside—a good clue that whoever painted them had something to hide.
Pulling out a couple of tools, Jordan set to work on the door lock. It'd been a while since he'd done any breaking and entering, but it was kind of like riding a bike … never forgotten. Just as one lock clicked and he started on another, he heard a sound that sent shivers of dread down his spine.
A woman's scream.
Fuck stealth and silence. Jordan threw his tools on the ground, raised his foot, and kicked the door open.
twenty-four
Eden glared her most intimidating look. If this bastard didn't let her go soon, she was going to get really pissed. He'd taunted and threatened her for what seemed an eternity … never touching her. He walked around the perimeter of where she stood, alternating between shouting curses and threatening torture. As if hearing him scream like a five-year-old with the mouth of a crusty old sailor wasn't torture enough.
As Georges continued his circling tirade, Eden realized one thing. He was afraid of her. That was why he wouldn't come closer. Those wild eyes of his kept glancing down at her legs. Georges knew he'd made a mistake in not tying her legs down. Though she'd never choked a man to death with her legs, she wasn't opposed to trying. Especially with this maniac.
Why hadn't she seen how crazy he was before? Or had her betrayal, Marc's death, and his parents' incarceration pushed him over the edge? If it had, he must have been teetering there already. She just hadn't seen the signs.
Growing bored with the entire situation, Eden forced herself to listen. Maybe in the middle of a rant, she'd be able to make some sense out of his words.
“You think you're so fucking smart … so beautiful … but you're like all the rest … ugly on the inside. My mama is the only truly beautiful woman.”
“Why Georges, I never figured you for a mama's boy.” Yes, she knew she shouldn't taunt him, but she needed some action here. The way this was going, the loon would wear a trench in the ground where he circled her and they'd still be no further along than they were now.
“Come on, Georges. Be a nice guy and let me down.”
His eyes grew wilder. “You think I'm going to let you go? After what you did to me? You knocked me out. My mama saw me naked. My brother is dead and now Mama and Papa are going to prison.
“Damn, Georges. If you tell me you wrecked your pickup truck, you got yourself a country music hit.”
“Huh?”
Cultural differences obviously prevented the understanding of her humor.
His confusion only lasted a second and he was off again. “My papa kicked me out of the family. My mama won't let me come see her. They even cut off my allowance. When they find out I captured you, they'll forgive me. I know they will.”
So at least she knew why he might have gone off the deep end. His mama didn't want to see him, he'd been kicked out on his ass, and now the poor, rich playboy was no longer rich.
“You should thank me, Georges. At least now you don't have to watch your pedophile brother rape children or watch your parents sell them to the highest bidder.”
That stopped him in his tracks and Eden watched in fascination as his face turned a deep crimson red. Holy hell, what if he had a heart attack or stroke? She didn't want to die hanging from a ceiling with a dead man at her feet. Yuck.
“Come on, Georges,” she wheedled, not unkindly, “calm down and let's talk rationally.”
“Rationally! Rationally!” he squeaked—literally squeaked. And then he did something so unexpected, Eden had no time to dodge. He picked up a rock and threw it at her.
The stone hit her face, right above her right eyebrow. Blood began to pour. Damn. That really hurt. “Dammit, Georges, that better not cause a scar or I'll have your balls for breakfast. And what are you, a twelve-year-old? Come over here and fight like a man instead of a little boy.”
Obviously forgetting his concerns about her legs, Georges let out an inhuman grunt and lunged. Though blood blurred her right eye, she could still see him clearly enough to be ready. Just as he reached her, Eden wrapped her hands around her restraints and lifted her legs. With the grace of a ballet dancer and the dexterity of a monkey, she brought her feet to his crotch. To her amazement and his horror, she managed to grab him by the balls, twist, and squeeze—hard.
Grunting like a crazed pig, Georges clawed at her feet, pushed at her legs. Gritting her teeth, Eden held on. Tears poured from his eyes, and she knew a brief moment of triumph. The jerk had definitely earned this.
With an agonized sob, Georges leaned forward and punched her on the side of her head with his fist. Without her consent, her legs loosened and dropped to the ground. She blinked at him blurrily, unconsciousness a jagged edge away.
With one last bit of strength, Eden willed a leg back up again. Georges, who held his entire manhood in his hands as if offering a gift, was caught off guard as she aimed her foot at the gift and kicked like it was a football and she was scoring the game-winning field goal.
Her last conscious thought was to wonder if Georges knew he could scream like a girl.
Jordan smashed through the door into what appeared to have been a washroom. Gun at the ready, he ran through the rooms, seeing nothing but dust and cobwebs. He met Noah in the middle of the foyer.
“Could you tell where the scream came from?”
Noah shook his head. “No, tried breaking the door down, but didn't have any luck. I found a window with a cracked board and was able to break it and crawl through.”
Jordan pointed to the stairs. “You take the next floor. I'll check this one.”
Nodding, No
ah ran for the stairs and Jordan searched throughout the first floor, noting that fast-food wrappers and soda cans littered the place. Someone had been living here, but he saw no signs of life. He started looking for a door that might lead to a basement. The only sounds he could hear were his own footsteps and the distant sound of Noah's. The ominous silence worried him more than the scream. At least with a scream, he knew there was still life. In silence—who the hell knew?
After a five-minute search, which seemed interminable, he finally opened a door with a stairway leading downstairs. A single dim lightbulb hung from a string, giving him just enough light to keep from breaking his neck, but not much more.
Jordan stepped silently down into the dark, dank space. He thought he heard crying or sniffling, but he couldn't be sure. The sound was gruff and oddly muted.
He reached the bottom and rounded a corner to find only more darkness. Following the slight noise, he moved farther into the pitch darkness. With only his hands and his senses, Jordan kept moving until he hit a wall. Feeling with his hands, he found the edge and made his way around it.
Turning a corner, he saw light in the distance. Panic setting in, he ran toward the light and then came to an unsteady halt. His heart plunged. Eden, handcuffed, hung from the ceiling. Her head drooped to one side, and blood covered her face.
Without any thought, other than to get to her as quickly as possible, Jordan dropped his gun and grabbed her body. His shaking fingers pressed against the pulse in her neck, and his knees almost buckled at the reassuringly strong beat. Reaching up, he checked the cuffs. Standard issue. He pulled a key from his pocket and was about to insert it in the hole when he heard the ominous click of a gun.
“You can't have her. I'm not through with her yet.”
Eden's lids flickered. She was awake. He pressed the key into her palm and felt her take it. Then, hands held high, Jordan turned around.
Rescue Me: A Novel Page 30