Vi nodded.
Killian turned just as the group came to a halt in a small cluster inside the door. Juan, in his loose trousers and gray coat, tore off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his pockets. Next to him, Arlo had the sour expression of someone who’d been force fed cockroach clusters. His bright, red coat was zipped all the way to his chin and he had both hands shoved into his pockets. He reminded Killian of a sullen teenager, which was almost entertaining.
“Juan.” Killian stepped forward to shake the other man’s hand. “To what do I owe to this pleasure?”
“Killian.” He took Killian’s palm in a firm shake. “I have come to offer my services in your time of need.” He motioned with his free hand to the men waiting for his instructions. “They are my best and will do what they can to help find your woman.”
At your woman Arlo shifted and averted his gaze. No one paid any attention, but Killian noticed. He also noticed the glance Arlo cast Vi. It was barely a sideways flick of his brown eyes, but there was no mistaking the spark of interest. It made Killian wonder if he’d ever seen Vi before or even knew who she was. He might have. Maybe he was just surprised to see her in Killian’s home. Whatever the case was, Killian had to suppress the urge to tell Arlo not to even think about it. Even without his promise to Juliette, he still wouldn’t allow assholes like Arlo near her. Not that it mattered. Vi caught the glance and shot Arlo the curled lip of disgust, followed by the aversion of her gaze.
“Thank you.” Killian turned his attention back to the man standing before him. “That is quite generous of you.”
Juan nodded and stepped back. “When one is attacked, we are all attacked. We must unite in times such as this and prove that we do not go down quietly.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“Arlo will also stay to make sure my orders are followed,” Juan added.
The last thing Killian wanted was Arlo, but to decline would be to insult the other man and Killian had enough problems. Not that he believed this unexpected act of kindness came from somewhere deep in the man’s heart. No one ever did anything without a price. Juan would eventually ask for something and Killian had a feeling he knew exactly what that would be. For now, however, Killian let it slide.
“Thank you.”
With a brisk nod, Juan faced his son. He said something in Spanish that sounded like an order. Arlo frowned, but he nodded and muttered something back. Killian had never been any good at picking up other languages, not like his father, but he suspected Juan was telling his son not to fuck up. He relayed the same message to the men before turning and marching out the way he’d come in with three of the eight men following. Arlo met Killian’s eye and the two exchanged a mutual displeasure over the situation before Arlo’s attention was drawn over Killian’s shoulder to Vi again. Vi caught his glance a second time and her frown was even more vicious than the first time.
“Got a problem, pal?” she muttered.
A smirk tweaked the corner of Arlo’s mouth, darkening his eyes. “I got something.” The remark was followed by the lazy glide of his gaze down the length of her. Killian felt his annoyance prickle and was about to tell the shithead to keep his eyes to himself when Vi beat him to it.
“I don’t something outside my species. Might want to find someone with low self-esteem issues and bad eyesight.”
With that, she folded her arms and stomped over to her usual haunting grounds, only to find her seat occupied. Killian hadn’t forgotten about Marco. He just wasn’t sure what the hell to do with him now. Normally, a slow and agonizing death came to mind, but this was Marco. He used to help Killian into the car when he was too small to get in by himself. He used to help with his seatbelt and made sure it was done up tight. He’d been in the family since before Frank. Since before Killian’s parents had even met. He was family. Had been. He had been family.
“Dominic!” Killian called without taking his eyes off the man waiting for his execution.
Dominic stepped on the threshold, hands clasped neatly in front of him. “Sir?”
Killian jerked a nod towards Marco. “Take him to the basement. Keep him there until I say otherwise.”
Bowing his head once, Dominic hurried forward. Marco was already on his feet, waiting. Neither man said a word as Marco was led out.
Killian glanced up and met Frank’s hard expression. There were extra folds on his face that hadn’t been there before and a flicker of grief in his dark eyes that Killian understood; he wasn’t the only person Marco had betrayed.
“You should go, Frank,” he said quietly.
Frank squared his large shoulders, lifted his chin, and gave a quick nod. “Yes sir.”
“Take Arlo and his men with you as backup.” Anything to get them out of his house.
“Yes sir.”
He stomped forward and the group fell into step in an efficient cluster out the door, leaving Killian alone with Vi.
“He took Juliette?” the girl asked.
Killian moved to his desk. “That’s what he says.”
Vi narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe him?”
“I do.” He took a seat and stared at his monitor. “He doesn’t know who he gave her to.”
Vi edged closer and perched tentatively in her favorite chair. “Yeah, I heard that part. Phil said he’d been with you for ages. Did you piss him off?”
Killian looked up. “Why would you think I would piss him off?”
The girl shrugged. “Isn’t that how it usually works? Jaded employee kidnaps boss’s girlfriend to get even.”
It was almost laughable, but he knew she was being serious.
“Marco was my dad’s driver,” he explained. “He’d been working for us for years. He was family.”
“Well, I hope you kill him,” Vi decided without missing a beat. “No offense, but he’s the reason Juliette is missing and possibly hurt. I don’t feel sorry for him at all.”
How different the sisters were, Killian thought, studying the girl. Juliette would have begged him to spare Marco’s life, to forgive and forget. Or maybe not so different. He remembered telling her about killing Yolvoski and she had accepted that without batting an eye. The woman was forever surprising him.
“Do you think we’ll find her?” Vi’s voice was small and housed all the insecurities and doubts Killian had been struggling with.
“Aye,” he answered without hesitation. “I won’t lose her.”
The third video arrived two days later. Killian stood at his desk, surrounded by Arlo’s men, his men, and Vi. A map of the city lay open across the cleared surface and lines had been drawn in thick, red marker.
The last place Marco had seen Juliette was an abandoned district on the outskirts of the city near the river. Its only inhabitants were the homeless, drug pushers, and the occasional strung out prostitutes. Marco hadn’t lied about there being no surveillance. Frank and the crew had returned with absolutely nothing to show for it.
“I have some men in that area,” Arlo stated. “I’ll make some calls and see if anyone saw a van around in the last couple of weeks.”
Killian nodded. “Tell them the van would have been heading east. West is blocked off after the bridge collapsed.”
“Well, that doesn’t really mean anything,” Vi piped in. “Boats can still pass through in the spring when the lake isn’t frozen.”
Killian looked at her. “Boats?”
The girl shrugged. “Why not? You can easily get a van down that incline to the waterline and then get on a boat.”
She had the attention of everyone in the room. A slight tinge of pink worked up into her cheeks, but she remained firm.
“À la française,” she said like it was supposed to mean something to any of them. “Really?” she snapped when no one seemed to know what she was talking about. “I am the youngest person here and I rarely even bother going to school.” When it became apparent that she would need to explain, she huffed loudly. “À la française is ba
sically French Style or In French Style, which I personally don’t understand, but I guess it’s supposed to be romantic. It was that whole district.” She tapped the map where Killian had drawn a ring around the spot Marco had dropped Juliette off at. “Back in the day, when the bridge wasn’t a heap of scrap metal dumped into disgusting brown waters, à la française was like the New Orleans of the city. Parties every night, lots of sex, drugs, and midnight cruises across Harrison Lake. People would pay big bucks to get pampered and dine on one of the glamorous yachts. Around like the turn of the century or something, the bridge structure collapsed and the thing crumpled into the lake and the whole district was reduced to garbage and bums.”
“I remember something about that,” one of Arlo’s men pipped in. “Not so much the pampering, but a lot of the sections used to use the bridge to push their product. They would smuggle it to the water’s edge and…” He followed the blue gash of the Harrison up stream and stopped just where the lake branched off. “Unload around here. Caused a lot of turf wars.”
Arlo nodded. “That stopped when the bridge went down, cutting the lake in half and making it impossible to cross.”
“But you can still get around that,” Vi chimed up quickly. She snatched a pen out of the cup holder and bent over the map. “There’s an opening where the bridge ends meet the shore. Here.” She circled the spot and straightened. “You can easily walk through it to the other side. From there, it’s a ten minute walk to this really cute beach. It’s not really a beach, obviously, but it’s very romantic late at night when…” she trailed off when she glanced up and found everyone watching her. Her cheeks darkened. “Not that I’ve ever been there or anything.”
Killian stared at her, eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing Juliette doesn’t know about your … discovery?”
Vi faltered. “No…” She grimaced. “But aren’t you glad I never listen?”
Killian had to bite back his grin as he took his pen back and turned to the map. “If Viola is right, then there’s a good chance the van will still be there. We might be able to follow the path down the lake—”
“Oh my God!” Vi’s unexpected scream caused everyone to jump, including Killian, whose hand tightened around the pen as though anticipating an attack, which he got when Vi punched him in the arm. It was hard enough to make him wince. “Golden arches! Golden arches!” She grabbed his arm, the one she’d assaulted and shook him. “Arches!”
“Calm down, woman!” He dislodged himself. “What are you on about?”
“The bridge!” She smacked the map. “The bridge, originally, before it turned an ugly red and went into the river, had been painted yellow!”
“But that’s only one arch,” one of Arlo’s men piped in.
In no way did this deter Vi. “It’s still a golden fucking arch! And it’s winter!” she added hurriedly. “Which means the lake will be frozen so they can’t go anywhere.”
The first sliver of hope bloomed in Killian’s chest. It shot splinters across his entire being, thawing the shards of ice that had crystalized in his blood. He felt it working through his muscles and finally soaking into his heart. He would have laughed and hugged the girl if there hadn’t been an entire room of armed men watching the moment.
Instead, he put on his boss face and turned to the crew. “That’s where we’re going then,” Killian stated. “We’ll drive out immediately and—”
Frank jerked. His hand flew to his earpiece, as did Dominic and Aaron. Their faces went from confused to stunned in five full seconds. Eyes went to Frank, waiting for instructions.
“What?” Killian demanded as Frank lowered his hand, his face a subtle shade of white under the dark skin.
His throat muscles bobbed, but he straightened. “Excuse me, sir. There is a matter in the basement that requires your attention.”
It took Killian a second to realize what in the basement could possibly require his attention and have his men look like someone had died. His heart plummeted. He could feel it hitting the floor around his ankles, crushing every ounce of the hope he’d been basking in only mere seconds before.
“Are you sure?”
Frank nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Is there a problem?” Arlo cut in.
“No.” Killian turned to the group. “Have someone handle the situation in the basement until I return. In the meantime, we—”
A soft knock sounded on the doors of his office, turning all heads away from Killian to Jacob, whose face said it even before he lifted a hand and showed them the yellow envelope. And just like that, it didn’t feel like he would ever get a break. What spark of hope he’d been clinging on to after the news of Marco’s self-inflected death in the basement crashed into a pit of jagged rocks. Killian could feel himself dying a little inside, could feel his stomach rising up his chest. The weight crushed his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Beside him, Vi’s fingers tightened around his arm. The color washed from her face. Her eyes met his for the smallest of seconds and the terror in them matched the one clawing through him.
Frank went to get it. He brought it back to the table. Killian didn’t touch it and Frank didn’t offer it to him.
“If you gentlemen will please excuse us,” Frank told the group, taking charge when Killian couldn’t even remember his own name. “Please get yourselves ready for the trip out in about twenty.”
The men dispersed immediately. They marched quickly to the door and out. Vi stayed. Killian hadn’t expected her to leave. But Arlo stayed as well. His gaze kept darting between the envelope and Vi like he couldn’t figure out which one needed his attention more.
“Mr. Cruz.” Frank motioned him to the door.
Arlo actually hesitated. His eyes were on Vi. But he caught himself, tore his gaze away and marched quickly from the room.
Frank shut the door behind him before returning to the desk. He circled to Killian’s side and reached for the CD drive in the tower. It slid open, the gears making a world of noise. Vi shifted closer to Killian, whether for comfort or to get a better view of the monitor as it flickered to life was beyond him. Frank stepped back and the whole room seemed to hold its breath.
Juliette sat in the same metal chair. The concrete wall was behind her. The harsh lights turned her face a fierce white. Her hair was around her shoulders, brushing the stiff material of her green pajama style uniform. She seemed to be waiting for something. Her expression was uncertain and fearful. Her brown eyes darted back and forth at something behind the camera.
“Am … am I supposed to say something?” she asked quietly.
The picture shuddered, but no one answered beyond the rustle of material. There was a thump. The camera was nudged again and then two figures stepped into view to block her. Every line of Killian’s body stiffened. His heart thumped in his chest, loud and panicked as his instinct warned him what was about to happen. Next to him, Vi’s small hand curled sharp little nails into his upper arm. The pain was a welcome change to the numbness creeping up his limbs, paralyzing him from doing a damn thing, except stand there and watch helplessly as Juliette was cornered.
“What are you doing? No! Stop it!”
Scuffling made the image blur. Snippets of light broke through the cracks every time the hulking figures shifted. Occasionally, they could see flashes of Juliette’s arm or head as she fought the hands grabbing her. Then the bodies moved and Juliette was forced between them, each arm restrained out on either side of her. The chair was kicked aside and sent clattering somewhere to the left. Without it, the space was wide enough to jerk Juliette backwards. She was slammed into the concrete wall with enough force to make her cry out. They never released her arms, but held them just over her head.
“Let go!” she snarled, yanking and struggling against the confines. She kicked at one, but missed. “What are you…?”
A third figure stepped into view. Juliette’s eyes widened even as she tensed. Her struggling slowed to panicked jerks. A choked sound rose over the scuffle of feet.
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“Been waiting a long time for this,” a male voice drawled with a sickening sort of pleasure.
It was impossible to see in the video with his back to the camera, but there was no mistaking the sound of unfastening jeans, the jingle of a belt buckle being undone and the rustle of fabric. Juliette was no longer struggling, but she had flattened herself as far back into the wall as humanly possible without breaking through to the other side.
“Don’t come near me!” Even to Killian’s ears, the warning was weak and laced with terror. It mirrored the green tinge working up the column of her throat to seep into her cheeks. “Please … don’t…”
Her desperate whimper tore through Killian. It drenched his insides with a molten red rumble of fury that exploded from somewhere deep inside him. It cascaded in an avalanche of rage so intense, he almost screamed.
“Be a good girl and we’ll make this real good for you.”
Juliette was visibly crying now and thrashing. The sound wreaked madness through him. It toyed with his sanity until he was sure he’d never recover.
One of the men cackled, amused by her suffering, by the helpless struggle of her body. The one in the middle reached for the triangle of space where her top had lifted, exposing a sliver of skin. His fingers hooked into the elastic waistband and Killian’s stomach dropped. His vision twisted in a blurry mess of gray. He was vaguely aware of Vi’s quiet sobs at his side. They escalated into blood curdling screams when Juliette’s trousers were forced down and the camera closed to black.
“No!” Vi lunged at the monitor, as though she could somehow reach in and pull her sister out. The screen teetered and tumbled backwards off the desk. It crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces of plastic and glass.
Killian didn’t notice. He couldn’t move or breathe. The whole world had stuffed itself in his chest, a jagged ball of steel and glass. The suffocation nearly sent the floor swaying beneath his feet. He barely managed to grab the desk corner when his vision blurred.
“Killian!” Someone was shaking him. “Do something!” Vi was hysterical. Her pretty face was a blotchy crimson smeared in tears. “Stop them!”
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