Going on autopilot, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pushed Hector’s number.
“Hey, Jericho, sorry I missed you earlier, I had a dessert emergency,” Hector said as way of greeting, but I cut him off.
“She’s gone,” I managed, my tone full of the desperation and panic that I was feeling.
“What do you mean, gone?” Hector asked, his voice filled with anger, and I knew what he was thinking.
“No, not like that,” I said, standing back in front of my house, my gaze searching the dark perimeter. “Like, missing. The bed was half made, her phone is on the dresser, her purse in the kitchen. When I got home, the front door was wide open. Hector . . .” I choked his name as fire burned in my throat.
“Just stay put, I’m on my way,” Hector ordered, his voice commanding and firm.
It helped some of the panic subside, and I said, “I’m going to hang up and call Mick.”
“Don’t leave until I get there. Five minutes.”
I nodded my affirmation, then hung up and dialed Mick.
“Smythe,” Mick said grumpily, and I could tell I woke him up.
“Sorry to wake you, but Natasha is gone. Missing. Have you found my mother?” I asked, but heard a beep in my ear and looked at the phone to see it was Hector.
I clicked over.
“I talked to Renee,” he said when he heard me answer. “I asked her to describe the woman, and I hate to say it, Jericho, but it sounds like your mother was the one who had you called out to the restaurant.”
“Then came to my house after I said I was on my way? Why?” I asked as I paced my driveway.
“So she could ambush you at your place, catch you off-guard? I don’t know.”
“Shit, I’m on the other line with Mick, let me tell him.”
“Okay, I’m two minutes out.”
“Mick,” I called as I clicked over. “It sounds like my mom was here and I’m guessing either her, or one of her associates, has Natasha.”
“I talked to her parole officer this evening and he said he has a meeting with her tomorrow, so if she was there, and had Natasha, at least we know where she’ll be at ten tomorrow.”
“I’m getting in the car now.”
“No,” Mick said sharply.
“What? What do you mean no? I’m coming to Philly, Mick.”
“Dammit, Jericho, you hired me to do a job, so let me do it. If your unstable mother who’s after money has Natasha, she’s probably planning to hit you up for ransom. Rather than riding up here guns blazing, how about you let me get with her parole officer and get this all sorted out. If she catches sight of you in town, she may do something more dangerous than she already has. Let us handle it.”
“Fuck!” I yelled, as Hector’s truck pulled up and he jumped out much like I had.
“What?” Hector asked as he ran to my side.
“Mick says they’re headed that way, but he wants me to stay put.”
Hector took my phone out of my hand and put it to his ear. “Mick,” he said, then listened. “Yeah, I’ll be with him. No, we won’t head that way, but we can’t keep this from her sisters, that wouldn’t be right. Yeah, I understand that, but if I were in their shoes, I’d want to know. Be careful, that woman shouldn’t be underestimated. Yeah, here you go.”
He handed the phone back to me.
“Yeah,” I said to Mick.
“I’ll bring her home, Jericho, yeah?” Mick said, his voice full of conviction. “Tell Dru, too.”
“Yeah, okay,” I replied, feeling utterly helpless.
“I’ll call you first thing,” he assured me, then hung up.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and get some coffee on. It’s gonna be a long night,” Hector said, and I followed him as I searched Jackson’s number.
Natasha ~ Present
WE’D BEEN DRIVING FOR A few hours, me sitting as far away from Jericho’s mother as possible on the bench seat. I was practically hugging the door. I’d thought about trying to jump out and make a run for it, but didn’t want to chance hurting the baby.
I was tired, and kept forcing myself awake each time I started nodding off.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, thinking we could pull over at the next gas station and I could tell the person working there I was being held against my will.
The more the idea took share, the more hopeful I became.
“No,” she stated, her eyes on the road, an unlit cigarette dangling out of her mouth.
We’d gotten into it when we’d started out and she’d tried to light up in the car. I didn’t think she’d listen to my pleas about no smoking for the baby’s health, but she’d rolled her eyes and left it unlit.
“Please,” I asked. “You’ve been pregnant, so you know how much you need to use the bathroom. It’s been hours and I’ve been holding it for the last thirty miles.”
“You think I’m dumb or something, Oklahoma?” She sneered. “First off, that baby ain’t no bigger than a pea right now, so no way it’s sitting on your bladder or nothing like if you were further along. Second, you’re thinking of calling for help the second I stop, and then I lose my chance to trade you to Jericho for the money I need.”
“I don’t know why you keep insisting on calling me Oklahoma. I’m not from, nor have I ever been to Oklahoma. I’ve also never been in a pageant, so you’re wrong about that, too. My name is Natasha, I’m engaged to your son and carrying his baby, and he’s not going to be too happy with you for doing all of this. Now, the least you can do after kidnapping me from my own home, is let me go to the bathroom.”
I was tired, hungry and beyond irritated, and dammit, I really did have to pee.
“Guess you got a little sass after all. That’s good. Ric needs a little sass, else he’d be walking all over you, like men do. Still, I’m calling bullshit . . . So, if you really have to go, I’ll pull over right here and you can go on the side of the road. Then, I can grab a smoke and we’ll be on our way.”
“You want me to pee on the side of the road? There’s no coverage,” I argued.
“It’s dark, no one will see anything.”
“Fine,” I said, deflated that my plan hadn’t worked. It looked like I needed to wait until we were in the city to try and find someone to help me.
She pulled over and we both hopped out. She waved the gun at me, as if to warn me not to run, then lit her cigarette.
I scowled and tried to find the place where I’d be most hidden from people passing by and lifted my nightgown.
“Don’t get any on your feet now,” Jericho’s mom called with a cackle.
God, I hate her.
Once my bladder was relieved, I walked back to the car and got into the passenger side, not wanting to be around her or her smoke.
I wondered what Jericho was doing. Did he come home yet and find the house empty? Does he think I left him again without so much as a word?
I worried my bottom lip as I thought about how upset he would be.
Plus, with Mick in Philly looking for his mom, he’d never expect her to have been the one who took me from our house. I hated to think what he must be going through.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Jericho’s mom said as she slammed her way into the car.
Unable to stand being in her presence another second, I crawled over the seat and got into the back, laying across the long seat and closing my eyes.
“C’mon, Ms. Oklahoma, time to get up.”
That scratchy voice pulled me from seat and I sat up, blinking my eyes open, then shut when the sunlight stung them. I waited a few seconds, then opened them slowly, to give them time to adjust.
We were parked on the street, alongside a dilapidated old apartment building, and it was early enough that the only people on the streets were the ones who were just now coming home, either from work or partying.
And although I wanted to scream for help, it looked like the kind of place where screams wouldn’t garner much attention.
“C’mon, you’re gonna walk in front of me, and I’ll tell you where to go. And, I gotta say, Oklahoma, even if someone sees the gun, they aren’t gonna do shit, so don’t go getting any wild ideas. The last thing you want to do is be running around these streets in nothing but your nightie, without me there to protect ya.”
Looking around, I believed her, so I walked and went where she told me to.
“Up the stairs . . . down the hall . . . to the left . . . that one, number twelve.”
She knocked on the door with the tip of her gun, then we waited. A few seconds later, there was a crash, bang, and a round of swearing. Then, the door opened to reveal an older man, with a gray beard, tired eyes, and a scowling face. He was wearing well-worn jeans that had been pulled on, but not fastened.
“The fuck you doin’ here?” he asked Jericho’s mom.
“Need to stash somethin’ here for a little while so I can go see my parole officer.”
“What?” he asked, scratching his butt.
“Her,” she replied, and I squeaked.
What the hell? She’s going to leave me here with some strange old biker dude?
“No, that’s okay,” I said. “I’ll just come with you.”
As much as I hated her, I felt better with the devil I knew, than the devil I didn’t.
She scoffed.
“Yeah, like I can show up with you. You’d go blabbing that I left town and took you against your will for money.” She turned her attention to the man and promised, “My son will give us the money we need in exchange for the beauty queen here. Alls I gotta do is go smooth things over with my PO, show him I’m here and doin’ fine, and then we can get this settled and get the fuck outta dodge. I just need you to watch her for a little while. Hour, tops.”
Biker dude looked at her, then at me, his gaze going down to my bare feet, then up my legs, over my nightgown, until it settled on my face.
He nodded, and I shuddered.
Jericho ~ Present
I SAT UP AND LOOKED around, momentarily disoriented as I took in what was happening around me.
My living room was full of people.
Jackson and Kayla were on an air mattress, still asleep, and Dru was sleeping in the chair next to the couch, her head tilted in what looked like an uncomfortable position. Newt was in her lap, staring back at me with his green eyes.
I shifted into sitting and looked into the kitchen, where Hector and Millie stood, working together on what I assumed was breakfast.
I picked my phone up off the table, hoping for a text or missed call, but there was nothing. With a sigh, I stood and stretched quietly, so as not to wake anyone else. We’d been up pretty late last night, everyone having rushed over after I called Jackson to let him know what was happening.
Needing fuel, I headed into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I greeted, crossing to kiss Millie lightly on the head. “Did you get any sleep?”
She shook her head and gave a small smile.
“I baked a lot.”
“You should go lay down, try and get some rest.”
“I can’t,” Millie said, her eyes full of worry, and I hugged her briefly before giving a slight nod.
“What about you? How long have you been up?” I asked Hector as I filled my coffee cup.
“A little while,” Hector replied. “We thought we’d make everyone breakfast.”
Before I could turn, Millie stopped me and held my cup, then she sprinkled something in it and said, “Here.”
“What’s that?”
“Cinnamon.”
“In my coffee?” I asked, about to toss it and get another cup.
“Just a touch,” Millie replied. “It’s a little sweet, and a little spice, to bring the flavor up a notch. It’s good for you, just try it.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, then left them to do their thing and went out onto the patio.
Once outside, I sat down on the chair and took a tentative sip.
“Huh, that’s actually pretty good,” I murmured.
I wondered where Natasha was and what she was going through, and wished she were there beside me.
I heard the door open and turned to see Dru coming through it, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and coffee mug in her hands. She crossed in front of me and sat on the loveseat, moving her head from side to side as if her neck were bothering her.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” she replied softly, looking out over the railing as she took a sip. “Hear anything?”
I sighed.
“No, not yet.”
Dru nodded and said, “She’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “My mom’s a junkie and overall disappointment, but I can’t see her harming Natasha. She wants money, and thinks this is her best shot at getting it. I just hate the thought of her being out there, alone with my mother, doing God knows what.”
I felt the back of my eyes burn and struggled for control.
Dru’s hand hit my back and began rubbing it in small, circular motions.
“She doesn’t have anything. Her purse, her jacket . . . shoes,” On that last word, I choked and took in a deep breath.
“You know, when our dad left, Natasha was young. Too young to fully understand what was happening. Millie was devastated. She’d been Daddy’s girl, and they’d done everything together. And when he left like that, Millie sat outside on the stoop, all night, waiting for him to come back. She was crushed when he didn’t. At first, she blamed our mom, and eventually, she became numb, pretended he’d never even existed. Me, on the other hand, from the second he left, I blocked it all out. All emotion, all thoughts of him, all the memories. I went on as if nothing happened. I guess my way of coping, was not coping at all . . .” Dru paused, causing me to look at her profile, then she shook her head and continued, “But, Natasha? Natasha got mad. She saw what his leaving did to Millie, to Mom, and I guess in a way, to me, and she hated him. She was the one to help us all adjust. She’d crawl into bed with Mom when she was sad, help distract Millie in the kitchen when she needed it, and she allowed me to live in my fantasy land where life was still perfect and we were all happy. Natasha’s always been the strongest of all of us. She’s going to be okay,” she said again, this time with conviction.
I reached out and took her hand in mine, and we sat there, drinking our coffee, giving each other support.
After about ten minutes, Millie popped her head out and said, “Breakfast is ready.”
“Okay,” I said, shooting Dru a grateful smile as I released her hand and stood. “Thanks, Dru.”
“Anytime, that’s what family is for,” she replied, then went through the door as I held it open for her.
Once we were back inside, I realized everyone was now awake and my house was a bustle of movement. Everyone was helping take the food, dishes, silverware, and drinks to the dining room table, and then we all found a place and sat.
Unsure of what to do, but feeling like I should say something, I looked around the table at Natasha’s family, and my best friends, and said, “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you all came the second you heard about Natasha. We’re going to get her back, and I know together, we’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s okay. I’m thankful for all of you, and for this meal that Hector and Millie made to give us all the strength we need to get through the day. So . . . let’s eat.”
It wasn’t quite a prayer, but since the only praying I’d ever done was when I begged God to help me make it through another day as I child, I thought it was pretty good.
We began passing dishes of eggs, potatoes, breakfast meats, pancakes, and really, more food than an army of men could have eaten, and dug in. Mostly, we listened as Kayla chattered about the dreams she’d had the night before, but it was a nice distraction, all the same.
My phone rang and I stood, pulling it from my pocket to look at the screen.
“It’s Mick.”
Natasha ~
Present
“I’LL BE BACK,” JERICHO’S MOM said, laying a long, wet, quite disgusting kiss on her biker before walking out the door and leaving me behind.
I stood there, at the entrance to his apartment, unsure of what to do next. Afraid to move and call attention to myself, and wondering if he’d notice if I slipped out the door.
“What’s your name?” the man asked gently, causing me to look up.
He was standing before me, with a shirt on now, running his hand through his beard as he watched me warily.
“Natasha,” I replied, still stuck in place.
“Come on in, Natasha, it’s not the Ritz, but you should be able to find a clean place to sit.”
“Maybe I should go?” I asked, not ready to trust him.
“I wouldn’t, not in this neighborhood. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”
I walked in, looking around the small apartment and seeing that it was indeed neat. There were no beer bottles stacked up, or drug paraphernalia on the coffee table, which, if I was honest, was what I was half expecting to see.
Instead, there were pictures of what looked like grandchildren on his TV, and a couple Harley Davidson magazines on the table.
I sat down on the couch and numbly watched the news playing on the television.
“Here,” he said, coming back in and throwing a pair of pajama pants in my lap, as well as a robe. “Those are my daughter’s, so they should fit.” He added a pair of socks and I almost whimpered with gratitude. I hadn’t realized how cold my feet were until I saw those socks.
I put them on first, ignoring the black dirt on the bottom of my feet, then pulled the pants on under my nightgown.
He’d left again, but came back once I was dressed, a bottle of water in his hand.
“I’m Gregory,” the man said. “Drink this, I’m sure you need it.”
I broke the seal on the water, then took a tentative sip, before taking a few gulps.
“Easy,” Gregory said, and I noticed he had a phone to his ear and a business card in his hand. “Yeah, this is Gregory. The girl, Natasha, is here . . . No, she went to see her PO. She won’t be gone long, so you best hurry.”
A Touch of Cinnamon (Three Sisters Catering Book 2) Page 13