“My head hurts a lot,” she admitted, giving up. “Everything’s fuzzy. I remember walking into the Bowman Foundation with Mark. We talked to a few people—everyone was mingling before the dinner actually started—” She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember. “We were looking for Dennis but ran into the publicist guy who said he hadn’t shown up yet. Ugh, my head.” A wave of nausea passed over her. She opened her eyes, but the darkness kept her disoriented.
“What else?” Lynn prodded.
“I went to the bathroom and—and it was out of order,” she continued, words coming faster as her memory was catching up. “I was told to use the one up the stairs.” She remembered leaving the second-floor meeting room and walking into the hall. Her heels had been loud as she hurried to the steps. The publicist had said it wasn’t too long a trip. She’d see the bathroom door as soon as she reached the top and turned. “I got to the top but there was a man there! He was waiting for me!”
“Who was he? What did he do?”
Kelli shook her head, instantly regretting the action.
“He was wearing a mask—a ski mask.” Then it clicked. “He was wearing all black, too, just like the man who broke into the house...just like the man Mark said he’d seen at the fire.” A sick feeling began to spread throughout her. “I tried to run,” she continued after an involuntary gulp. “But I didn’t get far. He threw a punch that I apparently didn’t dodge.” Now the pain in her head made sense.
“We both were knocked out, brought together and tied to chairs,” Lynn summarized. “But why? And where do you think we are?”
Kelli didn’t answer. Instead, she listened for a moment.
Silence.
“I can’t hear anything,” she whispered, “and our mouths aren’t bound like the rest of us. And I really can’t move—whoever did this took their time—so for them not to gag us, too?”
“Means we’re probably not where help could hear us if we screamed,” Lynn answered.
“Right.” Kelli felt panic flare. Her heartbeat thumped much faster than normal.
“The guy who grabbed me wasn’t Dennis Crawford,” Lynn whispered. “I didn’t recognize him at all.”
Kelli let out a long breath that shook at the end. “That means our plan was never going to work,” she admitted. “All of this was pointless. We don’t know what Victor found, we don’t know why it’s bad and we don’t know who put us here. We’re not even back to square one.” Kelli’s fear bled into the tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for getting you mixed up in all of this, Lynn.”
“No. Don’t you go all soft on me,” Lynn shot back. Her voice was hard, pointed. “We aren’t going to sit here and play the blame game, especially since none of this falls on either of us. Okay?”
Kelli nodded but remembered the woman next to her couldn’t see her. “Okay.”
Another bout of silence fell between them. Kelli tried her best to keep her thoughts away from her daughter and the fact that if anything happened to Kelli and Lynn, Grace would end up an orphan. Thoughts of the bodyguard weren’t any better. Worry clutched her heart as she wondered where the man was and if he was okay.
You can’t lose it now, she tried to yell in her head. Mark will save you. He’ll rescue both of you from the dark. You’ll see Grace soon.
But no amount of self-assurance could stop the sheer terror that seized her body at what happened next.
Another voice sounded in the darkness, so close she could feel the breath the words rode on.
“I guess it’s time to break this silence and tell you why exactly you’re here,” he said. “And why you definitely won’t be leaving.”
Light filled the room. Kelli blinked past her fear and focused on the man across from her.
“Oh, my God.”
* * *
THE WOMAN CHATTING his ear off was named Maria Something-or-Other. Mark tried to be polite as he scanned the ever-growing group in the large room, but the older woman was starting to grate against his already sensitive nerves. Kelli had taken the easy way out and escaped to the bathroom. He’d tried to follow but had found it trickier than it should have been to detach from the older woman. When Kelli came out she’d be surprised to see the two partygoers chatting right outside the door.
“It’s nice to see the younger people start to give back,” Maria said after another large sip of her champagne. “I only wish my son were as charitable. Do you have any kids, Mr. Tranton?”
If she hadn’t said his name, Mark probably would have just kept nodding along.
“No, I don’t.”
“Good on you,” she said with vigor. “Enjoy as much as you can before your wife and you decide it’s the right time. Me? I wish I’d waited a few years. Traveled and such.” Maria kept on with that thought, not giving Mark the room to interject that he wasn’t married. Not that he’d tell her that, though. She—along with a few other guests whom they had talked to after first coming in—had made the assumption Kelli was his wife. And that didn’t really bother him, he was finding out.
Mark scanned the large room once more, taking in the new and old faces of the fifty or so guests who had arrived already. Round tables with white tablecloths and centerpieces made up of succulents and burlap—something Kelli had pointed out was simple yet beautiful—took up the entire room, leaving only enough space against the far wall for a grand piano and its pianist to perform while everyone mingled. They had wondered why the dinner wasn’t served in the chic lounge downstairs. Publicist Hector had answered that question when asking if they liked the more “intimate” setting. The room was indeed smaller than the lounge. It forced people to talk to each other instead of doing what Mark was trying to do. He just wanted to stand in the corner and not talk to a soul who wasn’t Kelli while waiting for Dennis finally to show.
Maria was somewhere in a conversation that involved the topic of margaritas on the beach when Mark flipped from nonchalance to outright concern.
“Maria,” he interrupted, making her pause midword, “can you do me a favor and go check on Kelli? She’s been in there for a few minutes.”
Whatever offense she might have taken at being interrupted was lost when she realized she was needed. She smiled wide.
“Isn’t that sweet,” she almost cooed. “Of course I’ll go check up on her.”
The older woman swished her long dress away with her, disappearing into one of the two public bathrooms next to the meeting room opening. Mark kept his eyes glued to the partygoers. The dinner wouldn’t start until the CEO made his grand entrance. Apparently he couldn’t be bothered to mingle. Dennis was still nowhere to be seen.
If he didn’t show, they’d have to come up with a different plan.
“Are you sure she went in there?” Maria asked a moment later. Mark looked down at her, confused.
“She said she was going to the restroom,” he answered, replaying Kelli’s words in his head. But he hadn’t actually seen her walk in there, had he?
“Well, we would have seen her leave,” Maria reasoned. “So my guess is, she never went inside.”
Mark let out a breath that was filled with bad, bad words and left the wide-eyed woman behind. If Kelli wasn’t in the bathroom, and he knew she wasn’t in the meeting room, then he had no idea where she would be. Guilt and shame coursed through him as he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight—bathroom be damned.
Moving out into the hall, he fully planned on calling Kelli and, if she didn’t answer, bringing Jonathan in, but apparently the bodyguard and their boss had already called several times.
“Son of a—” he ground out, realizing he’d silenced his phone by accident. Such a small mistake might cost him big. Temporarily ignoring the missed calls from Jonathan, he called Kelli.
Her phone went straigh
t to voice mail.
Mark fisted his hands, already starting to walk down the hallway. There were a few offices on this side, in the opposite direction of the main stairs. He called Jonathan while he quickly looked in each one.
“Jonathan, I need you to—” Mark started as soon as the phone picked up.
“Mark, Lynn was taken,” Jonathan interrupted.
The bodyguard stopped in his tracks.
“What?”
“She apparently decided to take the trash out and didn’t come back.”
“Is Grace okay? Nikki?”
“Yeah, Nikki didn’t want to chance leaving her alone, so she locked up and called me. I’m over here now.”
Mark’s relief made him start to move again.
“How do you know Lynn was taken?”
“There was a bag of trash from your apartment strewn next to the elevator...and in the elevator there was some blood.”
“Did you call the manager to look at the security feed?” Mark knew each floor had cameras positioned at the ends of the halls. The apartment complex prided itself on safety.
“Yeah. Too bad the room where the feeds go was broken into and vandalized,” Jonathan said, clearly unhappy. “I called the cops, Mark. With or without proof of what Dennis has been doing, a woman was kidnapped.”
“No, you did the right thing,” he assured his friend. No sign of Kelli down this side of the hallway. He turned back and hurried for the stairs. “I can’t find Kelli,” he admitted, grit in his voice. “She went to the bathroom and never made it inside. I lost her, Jonathan. I had one job and I lost her.”
It was Jonathan’s turn to suck in a breath.
“I’m on my way.”
“No, you stay with—” Mark stopped midsentence. Past the open stairs that connected all three floors, walking out from around the corner of a hallway was none other than Dennis Crawford.
Meeting Mark’s stare, he stopped.
The bodyguard felt rage boil within him.
Dennis wore a tux, much like Mark, but with one blazing difference—he had a bloody nose. Like someone had busted it trying to fight back.
Before Mark could deal with what his next step would be, Dennis turned tail and ran.
The bodyguard was right behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
For the second time in as many days, Mark had to rely on speed rather than brawn. Dennis had run back down the hallway he’d come from—a hallway that was long, narrow and straight—giving Mark enough time to reach the retired editor at the end of it.
“Where is she?” Mark roared. He grabbed the man by the scruff of his jacket and pulled back. It was an attempt to throw Dennis to the ground—to stop him—but the man was quicker than he looked. He spun around and threw a punch that landed squarely along Mark’s jaw. The pain made him let go of Dennis’s jacket. He braced for another hit.
It didn’t come.
Dennis pushed through the door next to them while Mark scrambled after him.
The door led to the service stairwell—concrete steps and metal railings—and Dennis seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go. Instead of taking the easier route to the first floor, he started to jump the steps two at a time to go to the third. Mark didn’t have time to question the motivation behind the more difficult escape route.
He just wanted to find Kelli.
Dennis jumped three steps and was out the door to the third floor door so fast, Mark was afraid he would lose Dennis completely if Dennis knew the layout of the building. Mark ran up the stairs, feet pounding. The sound that echoed back was almost deafening.
But not so loud that he missed the gunshot that rang out ahead of him.
On reflex alone, Mark stopped and ducked down, waiting for the second shot off. Instead, what followed was an eerie quiet.
How had Dennis gotten a gun so fast? Had he been hiding it?
Something wasn’t adding up.
Mark crept up to the open door and looked down the hallway, ready to duck back in at a second’s notice.
What he saw definitely didn’t add up.
Dennis was leaning against a closed door a few feet away, hand holding his side. He was facing the empty hallway ahead of them. Mark waited a moment to see what else would unfold. With his free hand, Dennis pawed at the door handle next to him. He was hurt—that was plain to see.
Confused yet cautious, Mark hurried up behind him, still ready to react if needed.
“I just realized what you said down there,” Dennis said, voice low. “You asked where she was. You’re the bodyguard.” The man turned slightly, keeping his hand on the knob. Mark was about to restrain him when he saw the blood beneath his other hand. He’d been shot in the side. Mark’s eyes whipped up and over the older man’s shoulder toward the end of the hallway. Who had shot him? No one else seemed to be around. “Unless you have a gun, I suggest we hide,” Dennis said, managing to get the door to open. Mark got ready for the ambush he was sure was going to come from the other side but instead was met with a dark office.
“What’s going on?” Mark didn’t understand anything. “Who shot you?”
“I did,” a voice called.
Mark’s training made him react faster than his brain could process the man in black stepping around the corner at the end of the hall. He grabbed Dennis and pulled him inside the office as another shot rang out. Mark slammed the door shut, locking it. He threw the light switch and turned on Dennis.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked again. They were standing in a small office with a wooden desk in the middle, two lounge chairs against the wall and a potted plant in the corner. There were two doors in the wall to their right. One open to show a sink and the other closed with a plaque that read Connie Cooper, IT.
Mark immediately went to the latter and cursed when it was locked. He looked back at Dennis, waiting for a response.
“I was trying to protect Kelli and Grace,” he said, face contorted in pain. “And myself.”
“From what?” Mark wanted to know. If Dennis wasn’t the kingpin behind everything, then who was?
The man in black—who had become Mark’s nemesis in every way—yelled in the hallway. “It’s time we had a little talk, Mark. There are a few things I’d like to say!”
Mark felt his eyes widen. The night kept getting more confusing.
“What?” Dennis asked, apparently alarmed by his change in expression.
“I know that voice,” Mark whispered. Recognition turned to disbelief and then to anger. The man in black was Craig. “He’s my neighbor.”
* * *
KELLI BLINKED AGAINST the harsh light, but the man in front of her was as clear as day.
The Bowman Foundation’s own publicist genius, Hector Mendez, was grinning ear to ear.
“My, don’t you look lovely,” he said, voice sickeningly sweet. “And yet how troublesome you are.”
“I don’t understand,” was all Kelli said.
Hector straightened his tie and shrugged. “And yet, you continued to try and figure it all out,” he said. “You can only dig so long before you’re just left with a hole that needs to be filled.”
The analogy sent a shiver up Kelli’s spine, but she held his gaze firmly. Hector tilted his head to the side. It made him look unbalanced, which she was figuring was an accurate assumption to make about him.
“Even now you’re trying to work it all out, aren’t you?” he asked. “Though who can blame you at this point? Let me start by saying a quick hello to Miss Bradley.” He looked at Lynn. “My apologies for my associate, who seems to have gotten a little too happy bringing you in.”
Kelli turned to look at her friend. Her lip was indeed busted, there was a cut along her eyebrow and blood had dried on her forehead, along her hairl
ine. Kelli felt her maternal instincts flare. She wanted to protect her best friend—wanted to ensure her family’s safety—but couldn’t do either if she stayed as scared as she was. Seeing Lynn’s wounds was a shock she needed. She rounded on Hector.
“Let her go,” she demanded. “She never did any of the digging. It was all me. She knows nothing.”
Lynn started to say something, but Kelli shot her a look that froze the sentiment on the tip of her tongue. Kelli didn’t know what the outcome of this bleak situation would be, but she needed at least to ensure Lynn’s safety. Kelli needed her to be all right. And so did Grace.
“Sadly, I’m not going to do that,” Hector said with little empathy. “From what I can tell, even if I were to let Lynn here go, she’d never let this go.” He motioned to the room around them. It was used as storage. Boxes lined the wall. “Her best friend tortured and killed in front of her? Yeah, I doubt you’ll let that go. What do you think, Miss Bradley?”
The anger Kelli had felt changed to dread.
“You bastard,” Lynn growled.
“I’ve been called worse, trust me.” Hector detached from his spot against the wall and threaded his fingers together. Moving them quickly, he popped them and sighed. Their current situation had him unfazed. Like this was a normal day at the office for him.
And maybe it was.
“I don’t understand,” Kelli tried again. “How are we a threat if we don’t even know what’s going on?”
“Threat?” He snorted. “You aren’t a threat. An annoyance, but not a threat. Your husband wasn’t even a threat, really. He was just a damn fine reporter.” Kelli felt her body tense. Hector didn’t miss it. “Does it please you to know that you were right about Victor’s death? Does it make it hurt any less?”
“So you did set the fire?” Kelli ventured, anger starting to grow.
“I didn’t, but yes, it was my call. An unfortunate but necessary precaution.”
Kelli shook her head. “Why? What did he find? Was it because of the names in the article?”
Hector’s smile shrank. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed, and closed his eyes.
Full Force Fatherhood Page 14