Justice For Abby

by Cate Beauman

  Abby was falling apart, and he didn’t have time to deal with it. “We’re going to take care of it. As soon as we’re back in LA, I’m going to take care of it.”

  “Who are you going to call? Another trustworthy fed?” She turned, heading toward the bathroom.

  “Hey.” He grabbed her arm, turning her to him. “Hey.”

  “What?” Tears fell down her cheeks. “This is never going to end. You can give me all of the promises and reassurances you want, but we both know it.”

  “Yes it is.” He wrapped his arms around her. He had to believe that eventually they would live a normal life. “Yes it is, Abby.”

  “I just want to go home. To our home.”

  He shook his head. “We can’t.”

  Her lips trembled as she nodded, her defeated, hopeless eyes staring into his. “I know.”

  “Soon.” He gave her chin a gentle squeeze. “Very soon.” He kissed her. “I love you. We’re going to have all the things you want. All of them.”

  She nodded as she sniffed. “I love you too.” She hugged him. “I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t help.” She stepped back, wiping her cheeks. “My pity party’s officially over.”

  He kissed her again. “It’s not a pity party.”

  “A little bit.” She held up her thumb and finger an inch apart.

  He smiled. “Grab your purse and we’ll get out of here.”

  She sniffled again. “Okay.”

  He put on his holster, checked his weapon, and slid it in the leather holster. His jacket came next. He held Abby’s out as she walked back from the bathroom, helping her put it on. “Ready?”

  “Let’s do this.” She squeezed his hand.

  “Same precautions as always.”

  “They’re the best.” She gave him a small smile.

  He nodded, glancing out the peephole and opened the door, stepping into the hall, ready to grab his pistol as he looked both ways, moving to the elevator with Abby at his side. They descended sixteen floors in silence, walking out of the building, his arm around her waist as he held up his hand, flagging down a taxi. They just had to make it into the cab and he could… He froze, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye as something cold and heavy cracked against his temple before he had a chance to pivot. Sharp pains radiated through his skull as he fell to his knees, his vision hazy and gray as Abby screamed. He glanced up, struggling to gather his bearings as two men grabbed her around the waist, each gripping one of her legs.

  “Jerrod! Jerrod!” She bucked and clawed as they carried her to the van that screeched to a halt at the curb.

  “Abigail!” He sprinted forward, lightheaded, the world spinning as they lifted her in, closing the door, peeling out as quickly as they arrived. “Abigail!” He followed, drawing his weapon, firing at the tires. He took aim for the second time but didn’t shoot as he lost his balance, falling in the middle of the street. Righting himself, he shoved his gun away, running after the van as it accelerated into traffic. “Abigail!” The blue work vehicle disappeared around the next block. “Fuck!” He grabbed his phone with a trembling hand, dialing Ethan as he continued to follow on foot.

  “Coo—”

  “Put a trace on her watch. They have her. They fucking have her, man.” He wiped at the blood dripping down his face, trying desperately to think over the gripping terror he’d never known before as he lost sight of the vehicle once and for all.

  “Goddamn. I’m calling the information up now. Okay. Okay. Here she is. I’ve got her right here. They’re heading on Battery, taking a right onto State Street.”

  Jerrod ran over to the cab, shoving the couple about to get in out of the way, slamming the door. “Get me to State Street.”

  The cabbie twisted in his seat. “That was fucking rude, pal.”

  “State Street. Now.” He was loosing precious seconds arguing.

  “Look, buddy—”

  He pulled his gun from the holster, pointing it at the man. “Fucking drive.”

  “Jesus.” The driver turned and punched the gas, skirting his way around cars, nosing his way into the gridlock.

  “Where is she now?” Jerrod asked, jamming a hand through his hair, struggling to concentrate on the fact that Ethan knew exactly where she was rather than the sound of her screams echoing in his head.

  “Still on State, which has turned into Water Street. I’m alerting the police.

  “I got the first three numbers of the plate. New York. 3-5-5. Navy Blue work van.”

  “Got it. Good. Austin just walked in. Contact NYPD,” he muttered to Austin. “Give them this. Send a text to Stone. Tell him to stand by. They have Abby. Jerrod,” Ethan gave his attention back to Jerrod, “they’ve gained some speed. It looks like they’re heading toward the FDR.”

  He huffed out a helpless breath, bopping his leg up and down. Clenching his fist, he shook his head in hopeless frustration as the cab inched its way down State Street among the sea of bumpers. “Come on, man.”

  “There’s nowhere for me to go. The traffic will thin out in a couple hundred yards, or it should, anyway.”

  He stared ahead at thousands of taillights. He wasn’t going to get to Abby like this. “Fuck this. Where’s the nearest subway station?”

  “South Ferry’s a block south. I can’t get you there any faster, buddy.”

  “Shit,” Ethan said.

  “What?” Jerrod froze at the alarm in Ethan’s tone.

  “I lost her.”

  His heart plunged as his stomach clutched with dread. “What do you mean you lost her?”

  “The transmission stopped.”

  “Goddamn. Here.” He grabbed a twenty from his wallet, throwing it at the cabbie and got out, sprinting for the subway station.

  “I don’t know where she is, man.”

  But Jerrod knew who did. “I’ve gotta go.” He moved faster as the stairs to the station came into view. “I’m going to hop the subway. When I call you back I’ll have answers.”

  ~~~~

  Abby sat huddled on the floor, clutching her arms around her legs, resting her forehead on her knees, struggling to concentrate on each rapid, shuddering breath instead of the small, dim space her captors had forced her into. She peeked at the huge, black-soled boots inches in front of her and slammed her eyes shut, trying to ignore Aleksey’s heavily accented voice filling the van.

  She shook her head, certain this couldn’t possibly be real. Any second now she would wake from her nightmare and be snuggled in Jerrod’s arms. She squeezed her hands into balls, purposely digging her nails into her palms, hoping for relief from this terrible dream. Glancing up, she expected to be surrounded by comfort and warmth, ready to take in the amazing view from their sixteenth-story window. Instead she stared at the glaring stranger across from her as he held a bloodied wad of paper towel to his nose. She’d made him bleed like a fountain when she rammed her elbow into his face, just the way Jerrod had showed her, but her desperate efforts to escape had been fruitless as the well-muscled man and Aleksey forced her into the van.

  She swallowed, fighting back tears as the reality of her situation sunk in. This was as real as the first time she’d been taken, but today would be so much worse than the brothels and strip clubs of last summer. She had no doubt Luka, Aleksey, and the stranger were driving her to where Dimitri waited. Their boss would be eager for revenge.

  She wiped at her sweaty brow as her breakfast roiled in her stomach. If she planned to survive, she had to calm down and think. Her captors certainly had the advantage, but she wasn’t without her own. She knew Aleksey and Luka from Baltimore. Neither was nice, but they weren’t as cruel as some of the other guards. She looked at both men sitting in the cabin, noting the guns strapped to their belts, trying hard to remember the time in the stash house she’d fought so hard to forget.

  She glanced at Aleksey, recalling that he liked to sleep. He often dozed off in the afternoons. And Luka wanted her. He’d made that clear months ago at the stash house
when he pawed her after Renzo left for the evening.

  She looked at the weapons again, bolstered by the fact that she knew how to use them. Perhaps she could seduce Luka and steal his gun while Aleksey caught his nap. A nasty kiss or two was an option very much on the table if it meant she could shoot him and walk away—whatever it took to get home to Jerrod and Alexa.

  “Yes, Little Bitch is right here,” Aleksey said, interrupting her thoughts as he spoke on his cell phone. He looked over his shoulder from the passenger’s seat, grinning as their eyes met. “Dimitri tells me he’s waiting for you.” All three men laughed.

  A wave of fear rushed through her, and she shuddered, glancing from Aleksey to the stranger, her conviction to stay as calm as possible wavering as the trembling overtook her body.

  “Little Bitch is scared.” Aleksey chuckled. “She should be.”

  Her lips quivered as she rested her forehead against her knees once again, trying her best to rebuild her composure, knowing they’d win if she let them see her terror. She thought of Jerrod’s soothing embraces, and a tear tracked down her cheek despite her best efforts. He’d been bleeding when they ripped her away from him. The pole the stranger hit him with had knocked him to the sidewalk, but he’d gotten back up, running after her. He had to be okay.

  She sniffled. But what if she didn’t see him again? What if last night was their last night together? I’ve never lost anyone I’ve protected. And I wasn’t in love with them, Abigail. Another tear fell as she yearned to be with him, pulling her arms tighter around herself, blinking as her watch pressing against her leg registered. Lifting her head, she studied the pretty piece of jewelry he had given her all those weeks ago. I can find you anywhere with this.

  She sat up straighter with new hope, remembering she wasn’t alone. Jerrod would find her, but she had to do her part and stay alive. One of the first tools he taught her was to always pay attention to her surroundings. She glanced out the windshield, attempting to gather her bearings in a city vaguely familiar as it rushed by. There were landmarks all around—none that she recognized, but she would if she kept looking. And she wasn’t paying close enough attention to Aleksey’s conversation, even though he spoke in Russian. She’d learned several words while they’d held her against her will. As she tuned in, she caught Dimitri’s name twice, and something about ‘the building.’

  “What do you look at?” the man sitting across from her asked.

  “Nothing,” she murmured, staring straight ahead, concentrating on the skyscrapers.

  He kicked his leg out, landing a blow against her ankle. “I ask you what you look at?”

  She clutched at the throbbing along her foot as he dropped his paper towel and crawled closer, blocking her vision with his ugly face. She fought back another wave of unease as she breathed in his putrid breath.

  “I ask you questions, so you answer.”

  “I did answer,” she said quietly, looking down. “I said nothing. I’m not looking at anything.”

  He gripped her chin, pulling her face forward, glaring, saying something in Russian as he held her gaze.

  She cringed, instantly going into panic mode when she recognized the word ‘hood.’

  He took the long stocking hat Aleksey tapped against the back of his shoulder, tossing it her way. “Put this on.”

  She stared down at the retched black knit cap, gasping for air. It was just like the one she wore the first time Dimitri and Victor took her. She scurried back like a crab, horrified by the idea of sitting in the dark. She couldn’t save herself in the dark. She couldn’t breathe in the dark.

  He grabbed her by the tender ankle, yanking her to him. “Now!” he screamed in her face.

  “No!” she shouted back, more terrified by the confines of the hot, rough fabric than his retaliation.

  “Listen to me.” He snatched her up by the jacket. “Put it on.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She shoved him, the edge of her palm connecting with his nose.

  He rushed her, slamming her back against the floor of the van.

  She gasped, losing her breath from the violent force, barely having a chance to recover from the first shock before he wrenched her up by the hair, sending hot, sharp pains through her neck as he shoved the hat over her head and pressed his palms over her nose and mouth.

  Her eyes popped wide in the black hell as she smothered, her hands beating at him, her legs kicking as Aleksey shouted, “Dostatochno!” The weight lifted from her face, and something crashed behind her.

  “She needs to be alive, idiot! Dimitri will kill her when he’s ready.”

  Abby lay still, gulping in breath after breath, her arms and legs weak and heavy after the fight for her life. She kept her eyes closed in an attempt to cope with the stifling darkness, waiting for the endless ride to be over. As much as she hated the idea of seeing Dimitri, the confines of her airless space was worse. She pressed her wrist to the hard metal floor, reassured by her watch. As long as she had it, everything was okay. Jerrod would come for her. He would take her to Baltimore to testify, and all of this would finally be over.

  The van slowed, went over a bump, and stopped with a slight squeak of brakes.

  “Get her,” Aleksey demanded.

  Someone—probably the vile man—pulled her up by the arm and tossed her over his shoulder. The back doors opened, and she gasped as he jumped down, his feet crunching as if they walked on a dirt path. Yet the men’s voices echoed as if they were in a building.

  Goose bumps covered her skin in the cool space—wherever they were—as she strained to listen over the talking, catching the faint honks and constant rumble of traffic somewhere in the distance.

  The man stopped, opening a door, the hinges squeaking with a wretched, rusty protest. “You will wait here.” He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her from his shoulder, letting her fall.

  She landed with a bone-jarring thud, crying out as rocks bit into her hands and ripped at her jeans. The door squeaked again, slamming closed, and she immediately pulled off the hood, blinking in the dim light shining through the edges of the boarded-up windows high above her head.

  Something scurried behind her, and she rushed to her feet, grimacing from the throbbing pain in her knees. She looked around at the chunks of concrete and graffiti in the filthy space, spotting a rusty chair in the rays of sunshine. She walked to it, giving the dingy metal a testing wiggle, and stopped dead, gasping as she noticed the cracks in the glass of the pretty watch. “No. Oh, god, no.” Her heart thudded in her chest as she pulled the piece closer, examining the second hand, which stayed frozen in the center of the clock face. “Please work. Please.” She slid a shaky hand through her hair and paced, caught in the clutching grips of outright panic.

  When did it break? How would Jerrod find her? How would she go home? Frantic, she rushed closer to the filthy, broken windows, noting the rusted bars. She hurried to the solid door, pulling at the deteriorated knob, falling back as the piece gave way but the door held firm. “No. No. This isn’t happening.”

  She spotted the old table by the wall, pushing it toward the grouping of windows, and climbed on, jumping, gauging the distance to her only chance at escape. They were too high.

  Tears rained down her cheeks as she collapsed, sitting, sobbing away the worst of her terror. Don’t give up on me. Jerrod’s words echoed through her head as she attempted to shore herself up, trying to stay positive, but as she looked around at her no-win situation, she quickly lost hope.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Twenty-five agonizing minutes later, Jerrod hustled up the subway steps two blocks east of the Riverside Apartments. The train ride had stretched on endlessly while he made his way to the Upper West Side, sick with helpless worry, praying desperately that somehow he was going to find Abby before it was too late. He jogged west, each step pure misery as the impact echoed in his throbbing head.

  Grabbing his phone, he weaved his way through the crowds clogging the sidewalks, dialing Shane�
�s number. He’d wrestled with the risks of calling his old roommate, unsure of Shane’s allegiances. But he needed answers; he needed to know what side Shane was playing for once and for all.

  “Hello?”

  “Shane. It’s Jerrod.”

  “Jesus, man. Where the hell are you? We’ve been looking for you. Adam’s been frantic.”

  “I bet.” Adam probably shit his pants after he came home last night and found them gone. He clenched is jaw. “Where is he?”

  “At the apartment. He looked like hell when I left.”

  Jerrod grunted his response, glancing behind him, still uneasy, wondering if he had a tail. “Where are you?”

  “On my way to work.”

  “When did you leave?”

  Silence hung on the line. “About fifteen minutes ago. Why? What’s up, Jerrod?”

  He debated how much to tell Shane, but he had to say something. He needed information. “Has Adam been acting different lately?”

  “Yeah. Some I guess.”

  “How?”

  “He’s been edgy. What’s up, Jerrod?”

  “Is he gambling again?”

  Shane sighed in Jerrod’s ear. “I was wondering the same thing. He got pissed when I asked. He says no, but he could be.”

  Looking both ways, Jerrod crossed the street with dozens of other pedestrians. “How much do you know about Dimitri, and don’t fuck with me.”

  “Dimitri who? Dubov?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I told you what I know yesterday. He hasn’t surfaced since November.”

  “He has Abby.”

  “What?”

  The utter shock in Shane’s voice went a long way to convincing him he had nothing to do with any of this. “Dubov has Abby, and Adam knows where.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Quinn? I thought Abby was with you.”

  “She was until some bastard bashed me in the temple forty minutes ago.” He absently brushed at the raw wound, trying his best to ignore the pounding ache radiating through his skull. Getting Abby back was all that mattered right now. “Adam’s dirty.”