Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance)

by Weston Parker

  He just prayed that she could hang on a little longer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Janna's nerves were stretched thin like warm taffy pulled taunt. She was afraid that soon she wouldn't be able to stand the tension. At that moment they were coasting down a long gravel drive, through trees and brush that could use a good trimming. The road widened, then circled around to the front of a huge brick house, the entrance of which was lined with tall white columns. The windows were shuttered tight, and the stillness of the night, coupled with the wild and uncut lawn, gave off the vibe that the house was empty.

  Chester slammed on the brakes and Janna slid forward, the seat belt pulling painfully across her chest. Then her captor was out of the car and sprinting around it to her side. She tried to unstrap herself and somehow get away, but he yanked open the door before she could get her seatbelt unbuckled.

  Grabbing her by the arm, Chester hauled her out of her seat and into the overgrown yard surrounding the mansion. It was dark, and without the headlights, it was difficult to see through the gloom. But Chester was too drunk to take much care, so the walk to the entrance was rough, with several stumbles and near-falls in the dark.

  Chester pulled her up onto the porch and held her tight with one hand while the other fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out a ring of keys and searched for the right one. Janna worried that once he got her in the house, she wouldn't easily make it back out again. Right now his attention was distracted. Maybe she could make it away from him and hide in the woods surrounding the house.

  Without wasting another moment in contemplation, Janna jerked hard against Chester's grip. Distracted by his search for the key, he loosened his fingers enough for her to get free. Janna threw herself forward down the few steps to the paved path, her legs pumping furiously.

  She could hear the drunk charging after her, and adrenalin blasted into her veins, making her heart pound faster than her legs could run, louder than the slaps of her shoes against the pavement. Another few feet and she was into the grass, making for the strip of trees that lined the driveway.

  Chester howled behind her, and she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder. He wasn't far behind, but he was winded, and Janna thrilled with the knowledge that she could easily outrun the inebriated playboy.

  Proving the adage the pride cometh before the fall, Janna suddenly tripped on a hidden root. She completely lost her footing and hit the ground hard enough to force out a pained grunt. And then Chester was on her, pulling her to her feet, dragging her back to the house, his anger evident. Janna bit back a sob, cursing herself for not keeping her attention on the ground.

  He kept a tight hold on her this time as he selected the proper key and unlocked the large oak door. Through the blur of restrained tears, Janna noticed a dried brown wreath from a holiday long past. A puff of stale air welcomed them into the dark front hallway.

  Suddenly her fear overtook her, and she began to struggle, thinking that if he dragged her deep inside this obviously abandoned house, it would be the end of everything. The end of her. She began struggling wildly, yanking hard against his grip, kicking out at him in a panic.

  Chester was slowed by alcohol. Her foot connected with his shin, causing him to cry out. He recovered quickly, and when she aimed another kick at him, he caught her leg and pulled, causing her to fall hard on her rear. Janna moaned in pain, then glanced up to see her captor, his face darker than a storm cloud, reaching into his pocket. Afraid of what he might have hidden (A gun? A knife?), she rolled onto her front and tried to crawl away, her duct-taped hands hindering her movement.

  She felt his bulk above her as he settled his knees on either side of her squirming hips. Before she could scream, he'd grabbed her chin and pulled her head back. Quickly bringing around his other hand, she realized what he'd been digging for in his pocket. The smelly rag that had knocked her out earlier was clutched in his evil fingers, and he was pressing it against her nose and mouth.

  Her fear rode her like a demon, causing her to gasp for air and pull the toxic fumes into her lungs. Janna felt woozy and weak. Then suddenly the lights around her dimmed, and she tumbled into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Alex Drake's connection turned out to be a slender man named Ben in the County's Department of Assessment and Taxation, and although he was frustrated at being pulled away from a darts tournament at a local bar, Brice realized very quickly why Drake put the guy on his personal payroll.

  "He's a whiz at tracing property ownership," Alex assured Brice for the umpteenth time that evening. "But it seems like your uncle had someone equally talented at hiding ownership on his team." Brice nodded his head, frustrated at how long the process of detailing his uncle's properties was taking.

  "Especially since his assets are now in the process of being reassigned new ownership since his death." Alex's consultant, Ben, was discussing the issue with them via video chat. "Between the dummy corporations, the non-profit shells, the foreclosures, and the family entailments, it's hard to determine just who has what."

  "I'm sure you're doing the best you can," Alex assured his employee when Brice didn't answer. He was staring off into the distance with distracted eyes. "Check in with us as soon as you find anything of interest."

  With a click, Alex closed the chat window and turned to face his former enemy. "We'll find her," he said.

  "Your guy's already been tangling with the paperwork with two hours. That's on top of the hours it took for me to figure out that she was missing, and to get the security details in order and enlist your help. It'll be dawn soon, and we still have no idea where Janna is. And I don't know what my cousin is capable of, not anymore. She could already be dead."

  "Don't say that!" Alex stood up and banged his fist against the desktop. "You can't give up hope that easily."

  "I'm not giving up hope," Brice growled. "All I've ever had is hope, but I have to hold myself accountable too. My own actions have led up to this, and if she is dead, it will be my fault."

  "That's bullshit." Drake's laugh was on the razor's edge of condescension. "If anything happens to Janna, the only person's fault it will be is that fucked up cousin of yours. And your fucked up uncle, he's got a large portion of blame to swallow himself. You could have played the security angle differently, I'll give you that, but--"

  "Played the security angle differently," Brice mocked, throwing Alex's words back in his face in a fit of guilt-fed rage. "I practically drove her into that drunken asshole's clutches because I couldn't be honest with her. Because I didn't trust her, not all the way. Not like she deserved. And if something does happen to her--" Brice's breath caught in his throat at the thought of what might happen to her. What could have already happened.

  Alex sighed as he slipped back into his chair. "All we can do is try to find her. And all that guilt and regret isn't gonna help. So get your head back into the game. Think. Where could he have taken her?"

  Brice grimaced. "I don't know. I've already got security teams stationed at his apartment, his father's foreclosed house, and the damn bar where he spends most of his time, and he hasn't shown up at any of them. I'm not at all sure how many pies my uncle had his fingers in, that's why I came to you. As far as I know, she could be anywhere in the state by now."

  Alex's eyes narrowed, and Brice realized his former enemy was losing his patience. He couldn't help it; he felt so helpless, so impotent, unable to do anything to help Janna. The negativity radiated off of him, as he added the kidnapping to a long line of terrible events that had plagued his life for the last half decade. The shit with Evetta. His parents' deaths. The shit with his uncle. And now this. It was hard not to think that the tunnel had no light at the end of it. Or no end at all.

  Brice's head rose at the chime from Drake's laptop. Alex brought up the chat window and stared into the face of his consultant. "Tell me you've got good news for us."

  "I'm not sure," Ben answered, "but I figured I'd give you a call. I still haven't untangled all of
Wesley Masterson's properties, but I did come across something interesting. Not long before Masterson was sent to prison, he submitted paperwork on a piece of property outside Alsea."

  Brice stood up and came around the desk to stand behind Alex's chair. He leaned in toward the screen so his face could be captured by the camera. "That property was tied up in the illegal mining business that sent him to federal prison. A staging area before moving their people and equipment into the parkland."

  Brice wasn't sure what this had to do with anything. He'd looked over the property himself when his investigators had uncovered it during the trial. There was nothing there, no outbuildings, nothing. It was just a strip of land with a boat launch. Chester couldn't be hiding Janna there. It would be too obvious.

  "Well, in the mortgage paperwork he submitted, I noticed that he had a co-signer, Rodchester Masterson-Bates."

  "That's my cousin Chester," Brice said, his attention riveted on the small laptop screen. He didn't think his cousin had any property, none that he'd ever mentioned. Chester had never shown an interest in business, and Wesley made a point of not trusting him with the smallest investment. "How could he be listed as a co-signer? He never had anything but what my uncle gave him."

  "I figured this Rodchester would have to have some kind of property himself to qualify as a co-signer, so I ran a search on him. And I got three hits."

  "Tell me," Brice demanded, shouldering his way closer to the screen.

  "There's a bungalow on the Southeast side of Portland, not far from the airport. Apparently, he acquired it in 2001. The previous owner was Marlayna Bates."

  "His mother." Brice didn't know his cousin's deceased mother had willed him her own property and wondered why Chester had never mentioned it. "What else did you find?"

  "The second one is outside Reedsport. It's a house and some acreage out near the South Coast. Former owners were Patrick and Kathleen Masterson."

  "Our grandparents." The reason for Chester acquiring this property was more apparent. His grandmother had doted on his cousin and had always refused to see his faults. His spoiled maliciousness. Her final act of leaving her house to him had been her way of showing her faith in him, as always.

  It was a good sized property, a wooded lot that had an overgrown trail leading down to a secluded beach. But the house had been empty for over a decade, as far as Brice knew. Chester himself would never live there. It wasn't close enough to the nightlife he craved.

  Brice blinked twice, his guts churning. "You said three hits."

  "Right, the last one," Ben said, shuffling some papers on his desk. "A storefront property in Bend. Former owners listed as Stephens and Sons."

  "A storefront?" This had Brice stumped. What would his cousin want with a storefront property in Central Oregon? It made no sense.

  "That's it," Ben said, his eyes back to scanning the documents in front of him. "I hope it helps. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

  "Thanks."

  Brice sprinted around the desk and toward the office door.

  "Wait!" Alex yelled, and Brice held himself back from opening the door and running to his car, but just barely. "You asked for my help; then you're just gonna run out, half-cocked and by yourself?"

  "It's dangerous," Brice said.

  "Look, you've got three possible properties to search. If it's so dangerous, why don't you call the police and let them search the properties?"

  Brice shook his head. "I can't let this turn into a hostage situation. Chester's unpredictable, and if the cops get to him before I do, he could do something rash and hurt her. He wants me, that's the only reason he's holding Janna. And I'm gonna give him what he wants."

  "So you think you know where he is?"

  "Yeah, he's at my grandparents' house."

  "Are you sure? What about the storefront, or the house in Portland?"

  "Neither are secluded enough for his tastes. His mother hated airing her dirty laundry, and she punished her son often enough for his public indiscretions. He wouldn't want to risk exposing himself to a mass market."

  Alex shook his head. "I don't like assuming anything about this guy. Five minutes ago you didn't think he owned any property. Maybe you should stop underestimating him."

  Brice scowled at Drake's words. Was he really underestimating his cousin? Was his thinking clouded?

  No. His grandparents' place was the most likely choice. But Brice wouldn't spurn Alex's advice. "You're right. If you want to help, you can make the drive to Portland and check out that bungalow."

  Drake nodded. "And the storefront in Bend?"

  Brice pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.

  "Yeah, boss?" Tony's voice was energetic, despite its owner having been up all night, managing the security details from Brice's office.

  "I need you to dispatch security details to check out some addresses for me. Tell them not to go inside when they get there, but to check for lights or any sign of occupation. One's in Bend, and another in Portland. Mr. Drake will be waiting for the detail when they arrive at the Portland location. They are to back him up."

  "Give me the addresses."

  Brice did, then followed up with a warning. "My cousin Chester owns these properties, and he might be holed up, holding Janna hostage. Tell security not to approach them if they find them, but to call me when they get there and tell me what they see."

  "Are you gonna be at the Bend address?" His assistant was sharp and didn't miss a detail.

  "No, there's a third possible location. Near Reedsport."

  "I'll dispatch a security team to back you up there. Give me the address."

  "Good thinking."

  "If Drake's heading up the Portland operation, and you've got the Coast, then I'm going to Bend to take charge there."

  "It's too risky."

  "Not too risky for you. Or Drake. Or me. No negotiations." Tony could be stubborn when he wanted to. Brice thought it was a great quality to have in an assistant.

  "Fine. Call me when you get to Bend." Brice hung up the phone, then nodded to Drake, who was packing up his laptop and getting ready to depart. "Thanks."

  "Thank me when we find Janna."

  * * *

  The sun was up by the time Brice pulled into the narrow drive that led up to his grandparents' house. Chester's house, he corrected himself. He was strangely unsurprised when he saw the silver Mercedes parked outside the big brick house. Brice stopped his car while it was still in the sheltering shade of the tree-lined driveway. He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.

  "I'm at my grandparents' place in Reedsport. Chester's car is parked outside. Where is the security detail?"

  "Hang on," his assistant replied, then called the security team. In a moment he was back. "They're over twenty miles outside of the location. Apparently, they input the wrong address into the GPS, and they're somewhere east of Florence."

  "Fuck." Brice bit his lip in frustration. He couldn't wait another half an hour while the security team got its head out of its ass and found the place.

  "Hold on," his assistant said, his voice attempting to portray calm. "Stay in position, and the security detail will get there as quickly as possible. Don't just run in there. You don't even have a weapon."

  "Right," Brice said, his mind racing. There was no way he was going to sit still for 30 minutes or more. It took all of his power just to stay in his seat now, to finish his conversation with Tony.

  "I'm calling the police as soon as you hang up the phone."

  Brice drew in a sharp breath. "No cops yet. I don't want to spook him."

  "You're not gonna wait for the security team, I know you. You're gonna hang up, and then you're gonna head in. So I'm calling the police, and hopefully, they'll get there before anyone gets seriously hurt. You can't do this on your own."

  Brice cursed and hung up the phone. He jumped out of his car and sprinted behind a tree, then dashed across the lawn, sticking low to the ground and ducking behind Chester's c
ar to stay out of sight. With a glance around at the windows, all of which had closed shutters, Brice figured it was safe enough to run up the steps and onto the porch.

  Without making a sound, Brice tried the doorknob. The front door was unlocked. He crept inside, peeking down the dark hallway. No sign of his cousin. No lights were on in the house, and Brice cursed himself for not even bringing a flashlight. His assistant was right; he was unprepared, unarmed. But while he waited silently for his vision to adjust to the gloomy interior of the large house, Brice realized he was in familiar territory. He didn't have to remain unprepared. He needed to use his wits, to outsmart his cousin, just like he'd outsmarted the asshole's father.

  Creeping down the hall without making a sound, Brice made his way towards the basement steps.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Janna's eyes flew open, and she blinked rapidly, the sunlight from the window hitting her face. She rolled onto her back to hide her face in shadow as she adjusted to her surroundings. The last thing she remembered, she was being pulled down the long hallway to her doom. He'd knocked her out with a chemical-soaked rag again, and it was now daytime.

  She looked around the room, trying to find a sign of her captor. She spotted him easily, where he lay sprawled in an armchair pointing in her direction. He'd passed out while guarding her, no doubt helped by the empty bottle of vodka lying near his feet. But her eyes didn't miss the snub-nosed revolver that rested on his knee, gripped tightly in his hand.

  Slowly Janna took in the rest of the room. It seemed to stretch out into the dark distance, the square of light from the one unshuttered window being too small to illuminate the room in its entirety. It stretched back and out of sight, and Janna had no idea how big it was.

  The ceiling angled in on either side, ending in an apex that extended the length of the room. An attic perhaps? Her eyes returned to her kidnapper, who still slept in the chair. Now was the perfect time for an escape. Could she get away without waking him?