Heartthrob (Bennett Brothers Series)

by Ahren Sanders

  Kidnapping Claire was methodically planned and thought out. Something important had to push him to come out of hiding and take matters into his own hands. And we know why—Carlos Martinez, his brother.

  Once the team was able to lift a few solid prints from my car, his identity fell into place. When the name was mentioned, the administrator knew he was in a fuck-load of trouble. He admitted Clint approached him with an ultimatum and left him no choice but to falsify his internship. Classic case of blackmail and extortion. David Wayne, the now ex-hospital administrator has a heavy cocaine dependency and prostitute fetish. Being a married father of four, with elite community ties, he had everything to lose.

  More pieces of the puzzle came together when Detective Flores uncovered a trail to Carlos through encrypted medical records that were meant to be sealed. Money for ransom was never in the cards for Stefano. The expertise he gained in our department and Claire’s undeniable knowledge, skill set, and way with children was the key. We also know the thefts in and around the hospital were carefully thought out and the drug angle was a smokescreen. Stefano had a team of people working to gather supplies to care for his brother.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Mom’s hand on my shoulder jolts my attention away from the television and my thoughts.

  “No, thanks. I’m good for a while.”

  “How about something stronger?” Nick holds up a bottle of bourbon from the bar.

  “If I start, I won’t stop. Not a smart idea.”

  “I’ll have some.” Shaw comes into the room and hands a sleeping Brinley to Mom.

  “Are Grace and Bizzy still here?” Shaw’s face grows hard at my obliviousness to who’s coming and going from my own house.

  “They’re asleep in the guest room,” is all he says.

  I should have guessed that. Someone is always asleep in the guest room while the others take shifts with me. The feeling of helplessness overwhelms us all, but for me, it’s a fuel to an already blazing firestorm inside. On the rare times I’m not worried about Claire, my mind travels to all the ways I’m going to make Stefano Martinez pay. Killing him has crossed my mind, but bringing him out of seclusion and letting his rivals and enemies go after him is a much better form of satisfaction. He’s loved, feared, and hated amongst his community, and I can only hope the hatred takes its course. Never in my life have I felt as violent as I do with each passing minute. If he’s done anything to hurt her, there’s an understanding with my brothers, he will pay and do it severely.

  “Come back to me, son.” Dad appears in my line of sight, his eyes burning into mine. “You have to keep it together. We’re going to find her, and when we do, you can’t be passing each other with you on the way to jail.”

  I do my best to loosen up, unclenching my jaw and looking around at my family who’s frozen in place, watching me with a mixture of fear and concern. “Anyone spoke to Mitch or Kelly in the last hour?” I attempt to sound calm.

  “Kelly said they’ll be here soon. Carl, Sharon, and Roy are picking them up.”

  I nod, knowing the Monroes arrived sometime in the last day offering moral support and help with Brinley. For now, all we can do is sit around and wait.

  “Completely changing the subject, I thought I’d have a hard time sleeping under a net last night, but that room fucking rocks. Grace has already decided that, when Claire comes home, they’re decorating one of our guest rooms exactly the same.” Nick gives a small grin, trying to break the tension.

  “Nicky, it’s not a net; it’s an organza ceiling mount meant to give off a romantic vibe,” Mom corrects him, and I crack a grin for the first time in days.

  “Whatever, I felt like royalty.”

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever leaves my sight again, so I guess I’ll be shopping.”

  My cell rings with an unknown number, and I snap my head to Shaw who is already on the move. I go to my bedroom, knowing the listening system the crime unit set up in the house may have back noise.

  “Hello.” My throat is instantly dry and hoarse.

  “Are you the boyfriend?” the voice of a young boy asks.

  “Of whom?”

  “Of Fairy Claire?”

  “I’m the fiancé,” I correct him softly.

  “That’s why she’s always running her thumb along her ring finger looking sad.”

  “Is this Carlos?”

  “You know my name?”

  “I know everything about you.”

  “Figures.” He sounds antsy, and I know I need to keep him on the line longer to try and get a location.

  “Can you tell me where Claire is?”

  “She’s with Stefan. They’re doing my daily treatment overview.”

  At the news she’s with him, my stomach turns. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. Well, that’s not true. She’s sad. She cried last night. I can tell. Her eyes were bloodshot when she came to me this morning. She said it must be allergies, but I’m in a hypo-allergenic facility, so I know better.”

  “Carlos, you must know that worries me. I love her very much.”

  “She’s easy to love. Even though I’m only fifteen, I think I love her, too.”

  My heart swells hearing the unmistakable fondness in his voice I’ve heard hundreds of times from our patients. Claire has won him over. “Is she safe?”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Delicious, I’ve got her back. She’s always safe with me. Nothing will happen to her.”

  “How’d you know about Dr. Delicious?”

  “I assumed it was you in her phone.”

  “You have her phone?” Hope springs that we can finally trace her location.

  “I found it, but no use in tracing. My brother has made this place a fortress and disabled all tracking.”

  “Can you tell me where you are?”

  “I can’t.” There’s an apologetic weakness in his tone.

  “How are you, Carlos?”

  “I’m better since Claire started taking care of me. I’m doing treatments every morning, and she’s making me move immediately. The afternoons are rough.”

  Reflexively, I slip into doctor mode, knowing what his body is going through. “This is an intense treatment plan. Have you been sick?”

  His silence is my answer. “How bad is it?” I press him.

  “Stefan is with me at night. When I get sick, he’s right here. It hasn’t been too bad.”

  If they’re following the plan I outlined in my notes, the worst is coming. “Carlos, I think you need to be prepared. This is a highly severe therapy. You’re going to have some rough times ahead.”

  “That’s what Claire said.”

  I don’t think of the consequences; the thought comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Bring me to you. I can help. I’m trained in this.”

  There’s a banging in the kitchen followed by low rumblings, and I know everyone is not only listening but unhappy with my volunteering.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course, I would, your illness is important to me, but I’m not going to lie. I need to see Claire.”

  “I made her laugh today,” he offers.

  “She loves to laugh.”

  “I tried to teach her how to play chess.”

  I chuckle. “How’d that go?”

  “She was awful, but my brother came in and played, so she could understand.”

  “And that?”

  He’s quiet another second before answering. “He likes her, likes her a lot. I can tell because, when he walks into the room, his attitude changes seeing her. He wants her to like him.”

  I attempt to calm my rising anxiety. “Claire’s got a kind heart. I’m sure she’s okay with your brother.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You’re a perceptive young man.”

  “Will you really treat me?”

  “I’ll do everything within my power to help you get well.”

  “You know the chances are slim?”
>
  “Slim doesn’t mean impossible.”

  There’s another silence, this one longer. “Does she have a lot of friends?”

  “So many I can’t count,” I tell him honestly. “She’s a very loved person. To me, she’s my whole world.”

  “My brother loves me,” he states.

  “I can imagine. I have two brothers of my own. I’d do anything for them.”

  “You can understand what he did?”

  “No, Carlos, I can’t understand it.”

  “I love Stefan. He’s always taken care of Mom and me. She’s upset with his choices in life, and he promised to protect me. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to go. They’ll be back soon. I’m going to make sure she gets back to you.”

  I’m desperate to keep him on the phone. “Wait! Tell Claire you need grape Gatorade. It’s the best for when you get sick. It’ll help settle your stomach and keep you hydrated. It’s important it’s grape.”

  “Why?”

  I take a risk, telling him something personal. “My baby brother survived childhood cancer. Grape was his favorite.”

  “Huh, I like grape. Stefan will make sure I get it.”

  “Carlos, I’m losing my mind without Claire. Please, tell me where you are, I’ll come to you—alone.”

  “That’s not possible, but trust me. Claire is safe.” The line is dead before I can say anything further.

  Knowing she’s safe gives me a little solace. I go back to the living room and find Bizzy and Grace are now awake and clinging to my brothers.

  “I need to call Detective Flores and tell him we’ve had contact,” I say to no one specific.

  “I already called,” Shaw informs me.

  “She’s okay. He said she’s safe.” Bizzy’s voice breaks. Shaw wraps his arms around her and speaks softly. She sniffs a few times, nodding into his chest.

  “Son, what’s going on in your head?” Dad correctly guesses my mind is racing.

  “Carlos sounded good, but it’s only a matter of time before his body reacts to the drugs. They’re pushing his treatments fast. The side effects are harsh. No matter what Stefano has done to equip his facility, and what medications he’s stolen, he’s not a doctor. That young man’s case is unique, and he needs a professional.”

  “Claire can handle him, can’t she?” Grace asks.

  “Claire can only do so much. The human body’s reaction to this form of chemotherapy is unpredictable. Let’s hope Carlos takes me up on my offer to help.”

  “You can’t be serious, Mathis. Bartering yourself to the mercy of a madman isn’t smart,” Nick interjects.

  “I’ll do anything to get to Claire. You said it yourself; Stefano Martinez is a madman. There’s no telling what he will do when his little brother begins showing signs of the side effects. You heard Carlos say they were meeting about his results. That asshole is not a doctor. He may like Claire now, but what happens if he blames her? Will he hurt her? He’s a time bomb.”

  My statement hangs in the air as Bizzy and Nick exchange a knowing look. Both of them have experienced the harrowing side effects of cancer treatments and understand the desperation people will go to relieve that pain.

  “We saw what he’s capable of.” I refer to the file Detective Flores shared with us. “He may have changed his ways, but it’s in his blood.”

  “Offering yourself to him isn’t going to change who he is,” Shaw tells me. “I got the impression Carlos didn’t want his brother to know he was calling.”

  “What do you suggest I do? I’m sick of sitting around on my ass. This is useless. She’s been gone six fucking days, and the feds have nothing to go on. There are no leads. Until five minutes ago, I didn’t know if she was all right. Tell me, when Bizzy was rushed into surgery after her accident and we didn’t know the extent of her injuries, how did you feel?”

  “It was the worst agony in my life.”

  “Would you have switched places with her?”

  “In a second. I’d have done anything to get her out of that situation.”

  “I’m no different, Shaw. Claire being gone is the cruelest form of anguish eating me up inside. I’ll do anything to get her back, even if it means offering myself to a crazed criminal!”

  His eyes lock with mine, burning a deep shade of topaz, communicating his understanding. He may disapprove, but he would undoubtedly do the same thing.

  “There may be another solution.” He breaks our stare down. “It goes against all protocols that have been set up.”

  “Do you think I give a fuck? So help me God, if you’ve been holding out, I’m going to beat your ass.”

  “This option presented itself about thirty minutes ago.”

  “Crenshaw, I think you know at this point, we aren’t above breaking some rules.” Mom addressing him by his full name says she’s serious.

  His eyes go around the room, making contact with everyone before landing on me. “I found a guy…”

  Chapter 21

  Claire

  I can’t tear my eyes from Carlos, my heart racing at his request, my head needing to hear it again. “That’s a good choice. We’ll tell your brother when he joins us.”

  “Tell me what?” As if on cue, the wall opens and Stefan walks in, looking impeccable in his slacks and another button down.

  “I’d like some grape Gatorade,” Carlos informs him.

  My speeding heart lurches in my throat, and I have to fight like hell to keep my reaction from showing. I didn’t imagine it; he specifically asked for grape. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but my gut instincts are screaming at me it’s not. Outside of modern medicine, Mathis believes in the powers of grape Gatorade. He swears it was one of the only things that helped Nick when he was sick. Only a few people know this fact.

  “Sounds reasonable. Claire, do you approve?”

  My gaze drifts to Stefan, and I pray my emotions are under control. “Yes, I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Anything else? I’ll have a staff member pick some up immediately.”

  Staff member. I knew there were others somewhere around us, but the thought of staff roaming freely around on the other side of that wall while I’m kept like a caged animal sears through my bloodstream.

  Do they know about me? Does anyone have a clue that I’ve been taken from those who I love and trapped in a maze of hallways and sterile rooms with a sick young man?

  I push away my growing irritation and paste on a small smile. “Carlos? Anything else?” I repeat, wondering if he has any additional cravings, which may result in a clue that he’s spoken to Mathis.

  “What do you think?” he asks me weakly, his color slowing fading.

  My fingers curl around his wrist, and I stare at the clock on the wall counting the seconds to the beat of his pulse. “Rocket?” He tries to grin at the use of his nickname, but it resembles more of a grimace. “I’ll order some things I think will help. You try to rest.” I check his IV, place his hand on his stomach, and back away as his eyelids get heavy. Right before they close, there’s a spark that tells me what I need to know.

  “Talk,” I mouth to Stefan, pointing to the door that leads to the lab.

  He surprises me by tilting his chin to his wall entrance, swaying his arm forward in invitation. He senses my hesitation and says lowly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I scan his face, trying to read his mood, and decide to trust him. The instant we pass to the other side, two large monitors on a desk catch my attention. They are split-screened, monitoring the hospital room, lab, my hallways, and my door. What I don’t see is the inside of my room.

  “Shocking you’re not spying on me.”

  “I respect your privacy.”

  I bite my cheek to keep from lashing out. It’s in my best interest to attempt civility.

  “I didn’t lie. I’m not going to hurt you. You can say what’s on your mind.”

  “I highly doubt you mean that.”

&n
bsp; “Unleash the sauciness. I’ve missed it.” He grins smugly, crossing his arms, and watches me expectantly.

  “You’re a dick,” spills from my mouth before I can stop it.

  His grin widens. “So I’ve heard. That’s the best you can come up with?”

  “Considering you threatened to kill me, I’ll stick with the basics.”

  His smile falters, and a flicker of regret crosses his features. “I apologize for that. It was never my intention to kill you, but I had to make myself clear to earn your respect.”

  “I don’t respect you; I loathe you.”

  “That’s unfortunate, considering I’m quite fond of you.”

  My blood boils at his calm demeanor. “We need to talk about Carlos.”

  “I figured since that’s the only thing you ever talk to me about.”

  “He needs a real doctor in a hospital. I’m not qualified to carry on with his care without proper guidance. We’re playing Russian roulette with his life.”

  “We seem to be doing fine.”

  “Stefan, he’s about to hit bottom. All the supplies, drugs, and whatever else you’ve stolen aren’t enough to cover the fact he needs professional medical attention.”

  “Aren’t you a medical professional?”

  “You know what I mean! You saw his labs this morning; you see the lethargy setting in. His pulse is slow, his color fading. The worst is yet to come. You’ve forced me to follow a treatment regimen that’s typically monitored by a team of highly skilled and educated doctors. Mathis had over thirteen years of schooling and training.”

  I brace for his reaction at the mention of Mathis, but his face remains impassive. “How bad is it going to be?”

  “I can’t give you a definitive answer, but prepare for the worst. He told me you’ve been taking care of him at night when he feels sick.”