by Anne Conley
“Yeah, Mia. She works at the Twenty-Four Diner over on Sixth Street and there was a guy in there yesterday and the day before, staring at her for hours, like Misty. I didn’t put it together until now, but it’s got to be the same guy. I got a good look at him. But the more time we waste here, the longer he’s got her.” Jordan was well aware of the fact he sounded like a whiney pussy but couldn’t stop it.
“Can you talk to a sketch artist and give us something concrete to work with?”
“You bet your ass, but can we do it quickly?”
Detective Hollerman quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything out loud. His thoughts were loud and clear, though, and Jordan read them. Hollerman didn’t want Jordan going all cowboy and messing up the investigation, but Jordan was going to do what he could to catch the asshole who had his girl. That was a no-brainer.
“The escape vehicle? Did you get a good look at the plate or anything?” The detective’s notepad was out and he was taking notes.
Jordan toyed with the idea of letting Pierce handle this, since he had faith in himself above all else, but a rare sense of desperation made him talk more openly with Hollerman. Another set of resources wouldn’t hurt, would it?
“Yeah. I got a partial plate. Late model van, white, dirty, no windows.” He gave the plate numbers he had and added, “Evan already ran it, he said it was an address on Westlake Drive.”
Hollerman’s eyebrows slammed down above his eyes. “Listen. I know you’re invested in this case, but we have to go by the book.” Slapping his notebook shut, he continued, sitting on Jordan’s futon. Jordan didn’t want to see the man sitting, he wanted him to be up and moving around, finding Mia. “You guys have gotten involved in several investigations I’ve been doing in the past, and I’m not gonna lie. Y’all have fucked some shit up for me with my boss. In the end, you always get the bad guy, which makes the Mayor look great, but I cannot let you go all renegade on this investigation. Mia’s in danger, and we have procedures in place to convict this guy when we catch him. We have to do this by the book. Understand?”
Jordan gritted his teeth together and nodded, not intending in the least to stand by idly.
“You know we’ve been hired on Misty’s case, so I’m going to go on the assumption it’s the same guy, based on the similarities in MO.” Jordan spoke when he was able to control his emotions. “We’ll do whatever it takes to find her, and Mia, too.”
“Within the law’s parameters,” Hollerman reinforced.
“Of course. I’m sure that’s Pierce Securities’ bottom line,” Jordan lied easily. He had absolutely no intention of following the letter of the law on this one. He needed to find Mia.
But first he needed to make them think he was cooperating.
Jordan followed the detective to the station and gave a statement, as well as met with the sketch artist and together they came up with something that resembled the asshole who had stared at Mia throughout her shift.
Jordan was losing his mind the entire time he was at the station, wishing he was doing something, anything, to find Mia. His name, screamed from her lungs, echoed in his brain, ricocheting off the walls of his mind the entire time he sat in the tiny room with the affable man trying to draw. The artist was patient and understanding, but Jordan was just trying not to crawl out of his skin.
Mia had been scared plenty of times in her life. There was the time the neighbor’s mastiff had gotten loose and tried to attack her, but she’d run fast enough to get away from him. Then there was the time she’d gotten separated from Mom at the mall at Christmas. The elves and all the holiday decorations had been garish instead of comforting, and her little-girl brain had thought she would be taken to the North Pole to work for Santa instead of going back home for Christmas. And then there was husband number six. He’d flirted with her inappropriately and made passes at her that had been pretty scary.
But nothing compared to this. Now she was at the mercy of a man who was clearly unhinged, and that took her fear to a whole other level.
He overpowered her so quickly, effortlessly, it seemed. Mia had fought for all she was worth. As soon as she realized there was a stranger in her apartment, she’d seen she was fucked. He’d blocked the entrance with his hulking body and an evil grin. There wasn’t any other way out of the house, besides through the windows, and they were painted shut. Still, she broke one, hoping to throw herself out. It was only two stories and wouldn’t kill her, but he was faster.
He’d grabbed her and tied her hands with duct tape before she could react. That wasn’t that bad because it was hot as shit in the back of this van, and the sweat was keeping the duct tape from sticking well. But it was behind her back, and Mia felt like she was pulling her shoulders out of socket. But that’s okay, she wanted out of this mess.
Kicking and screaming, Mia hadn’t stopped fighting until he’d shoved her into the back of the van and slammed the doors. Her one ray of hope was seeing Jordan’s face right before the doors slammed shut. He’d seen her and reacted. Abject terror etching his features as his powerful body started sprinting toward her. The van would outrun him, but he’d seen her. He would come for her, of that she had no doubt.
But would he make it in time?
On her knees, Mia struggled with the duct tape. It was loose, since she was sweating like a madwoman. Hell, she was a madwoman at this point.
She thought of her sister, hoping in vain to come home to the US, and her mother, who would never know how sorry she was.
Mia tried to make herself smaller in the back of the van while she worked feverishly at her bindings. She had to get loose.
When he was finished at the station, Jordan rode his Harley to Evan’s house, unrepentant about the noise echoing through the neighborhood at three o’clock in the morning. Evan was, predictably, in his computer office, sitting in front of a row of monitors that showed the city streets of Austin on freeze frame.
“Hacking into live feed is easier than past feeds, which is good.” Evan looked relaxed, but Jordan suspected it was for his benefit. His wild hair and the coffee cup next to him said differently. His brother had been on the computer since he’d called seven hours before.
“So, what did you find?” Jordan couldn’t pretend he wasn’t twisted. He felt the tension coil through his muscles as he flexed them, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action.
“I hate to tell you, but he’s changed to the most common truck in Texas. I saw her, though. She was still alive and kicking when he made the switch.” Relief echoed across Jordan when Evan said that. A part of him was afraid Evan would find a body being rolled out of the van on the video feeds. At least she was still alive. “She’s giving him hell. Feisty one you got there,” Evan smiled grimly at Jordan, and he appreciated the attempt at levity, but he had more important things to deal with. With more stolen plates, Evan lost the truck on street cameras when it blended in with other red F150s.
After that… Nothing. The truck with Mia inside was gone.
“Where was the switch? We need to go there.”
“In the morning. Ryan can go with you to look for evidence you can actually see in daylight. Right now, you need sleep.”
As if.
Jordan couldn’t have slept if his life depended on it. He soon realized all he could think about was Mia’s face when she’d been stuffed in the van, her voice as she screamed his name, his failure at catching up to them, and watching her drive off to God knows where.
What little sleep he did manage was interrupted by the nightmare—loud bangs, bright flashes, and a pain in his hand which had him waking with a scream in his throat.
Yeah, fuck that shit. He’d rather stay up all night.
Jordan’s thoughts turned back to Mia, but he refused to think about the last time he’d seen her. Instead, he focused on her laugh, her sexy ass as she bent over, and her scent.
Yeah, Jordan didn’t know exactly what it was about this that had him turned inside out, but
he had to find her alive. He’d never lost a person under his command, a major feat for someone who’d seen as much action as he had, but he’d be damned if he started now. Granted, she wasn’t under his command, but she was his. She’d never agreed to it, but that was only because he hadn’t declared himself to her yet. He hadn’t had the time.
When it was polite, Jordan left Evan’s guest room and ambled down to the kitchen to make some coffee. Except it was going to take an engineering degree to figure out this coffee pot.
After his third failed attempt and his muttered curses as he mopped up yet another batch of water off the floor and countertop, a muffled giggle sounded behind him.
“It took Evan a couple of tries to figure it out, too, but once he did, he swears there’s not a better cup of joe.” Paige stood a few paces back, decked out in running gear.
“I don’t care how good it is, I just need some caffeine. I was about to start chewing on the beans.” Jordan was clenching his fist, still hurting, and Paige looked at it, then dropped her eyes. He ignored the pain, relegating it to the back part of his brain.
A few efficient moves, and Paige held out his cup of heaven. “Thanks.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Jordan shrugged, not willing to admit weakness. “Early riser.”
“Evan told me what you guys are doing.” She was speaking over her own cup of steamy coffee, and Jordan wished he’d been paying better attention. He might want another and still had no idea how to make it happen. “You guys are good people. I’ve known Evan was good for years, and you are also good by default, just because you came from the same mama.”
Jordan snorted at the idea. “You’ve met Mom?”
Paige’s smile was dazzling, and Jordan suddenly understood why Evan loved her so much. “You are fighting a good fight. You’ll find her alive. I know this.” She put her hand on her chest. “In here.” She was still smiling at him, and as much as Jordan wanted to believe her, he was hesitant.
Even if he found her alive, would she be alright? What did this guy have in store for her?
As soon as it was daylight, Jordan and Ryan went to the place where the van was dumped and found a homeless man who’d seen the switch and could ID Mia from Jordan’s photo on his phone.
He came out of a hole in the wall of one of the warehouses in the area, curious when they’d pulled up. When they asked him about the truck and showed him the artist’s sketch and Mia’s picture, he said, “Yeah, he was here last night.” The man paused a bit and said, “He was out here with another woman about a month ago. She called him Mikey and was begging him not to do it.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you go to the cops then?” Ryan growled at the man.
They guy shrugged. “Cops don’t listen to people like me.” Jordan got a good look at the man. He definitely smelled homeless, although surprisingly, the alcohol stench that permeated most of the vagabonds in the area didn’t ooze from this one. With a full, dirty beard, Jordan could imagine him cleaned up and shaved, and the image wasn’t too distasteful. He was a young man, and a pang of regret for missed opportunities for this guy hit him in the gut.
Wait. Jordan looked at Ryan. “A month ago? You sure?”
“Yeah, man. I may be homeless, but I can tell time.” The man shrugged, obviously not caring what they thought, but his eyes were hard, as if affronted.
“Misty was two weeks ago. That means he got another one before her,” Ryan mused.
“And she knew his name,” Jordan agreed, not liking the direction this was going, but unable to do anything but watch, hang on for the ride, and hope they found Mia in time. It was a helpless situation he wasn’t enjoying much.
“You think they were friends?”
“Maybe she thought so and he wanted more?” Jordan was really afraid of what that implied for Mia, but refused to dwell on it. He would find her. He turned and stalked back to the truck, Ryan jogging to keep up.
Back in Ryan’s truck, Jordan blew out a frustrated huff of air. “Okay, so what do we know?”
“His name’s Mikey, last seen driving a red Ford F150, and he knew a possible vic before Misty, a month ago.” Ryan ticked the facts on his fingers.
“And he’s got Mia now. We don’t have any bodies, so what’s he doing with them?” Nausea unfurled in Jordan’s belly, deep and primal.
“That’s the magic question, ain’t it?” Ryan started the truck and drove back to the office to regroup. Maybe Evan had gotten something new off the city cameras.
Mia was in a house. They’d driven for over an hour. The guy had blindfolded her when they’d gotten into the truck, so she had no idea where they were. Based on the distance between turns, she didn’t feel like they were out of the city limits. There was still a lot of noise, but since he’d done a much better job of binding her after she got out of the first round of duct tape in the van, Mia was helpless.
The helplessness didn’t allay her fear.
Her stomach was a pit of knots she had no hope of untangling. Not knowing what this guy wanted, and assuming the worst, her mind was in overdrive. The words he’d spoken during the drive had been weird, to say the least, like he was trying to be accommodating.
“We’re almost there, Sweetie. Almost home…”
Almost where? The truck smelled like stale fast food and tobacco smoke. In fact, he was smoking now; she could feel it coating her skin as she turned her face toward where he had a window cracked, desperate for the cool wind to cleanse her. The wind was a symbol of outside. Freedom. If she could connect with the wind, she could get free. Maybe a second wind would help her get out of this mess.
Her mind was playing tricks on her, telling her wind would help.
She’d given up fighting, her muscles exhausted from the strain of trying to get out of this latest round of duct tape, her shoulders in pain from her arms being pinned behind her back. When the truck stopped, he came around to her side and lifted her easily out of the backseat and carried her inside.
Dropping her on a bed, he muttered, “Sorry, Mia,” before working on her bindings. She heard the snick of a knife and then her arms were free but numb. Gently, he brought one hand up above her head and tied it with coarse rope to the bedpost, then the other. At this point, while Mia wanted to fight, she couldn’t. Jordan hadn’t come, and now she didn’t see how he could. They’d switched cars, and the man wouldn’t have done that if Jordan had been on his tail. She was lost to him and stuck with the insanity of her situation.
When the guy removed her blindfold, Mia blinked against the light in the room. It was dingy but clean. Tar-yellowed walls from years of cigarettes, a pock-marked wood floor that had at one point been painted white, garage sale furniture—it was clean, but not comfortable to Mia. She laid on a full-size bed with a brass headboard, one of those cheap, discount store jobbies. Her hopes soared. Once she’d rested a bit and her shoulders had recovered, she might be able to break it. But he had to be gone while she tried because it would make a ruckus.
He eased himself down into a platform rocker with green plaid covering. The chair squelched in protest. Rocking back and forth slowly, his eyes never left hers, each rock of the chair, a new, persistent squeal.
“Comfortable?”
Was he kidding? She was tied to a bed in some freak’s house. She’d been grabbed from her apartment and brought here, completely against her will, with no hope of escaping.
Mia sniffed back tears. No matter how hopeless this seemed, she wouldn’t let him see how upset she was.
“What’s your name?” She wasn’t about to answer his inane question. Maybe some information would help her because she couldn’t think of anything else that would at this point. He had proven he was stronger than she was. Her only recourse at this point was to stay calm and gather intel. Jesus. She sounded like Jordan.
Jordan. His face the moment he saw her being thrust into the van came back to her, completely unbidden, and hope surfaced. He wouldn’t stop until he found her. She knew it
. They hadn’t had sex. They didn’t have a relationship. But they were friends, and Mia had figured out he was fiercely loyal to his friends. That was one of the things she loved about him.
“Mike,” the man interrupted her thoughts, jarring her back to her new harsh reality.
“Mike.” She tried his name on her tongue and discovered it tasted foul. “Why am I here, Mike?” she asked tentatively, almost afraid of the answer, while her hands twisted against her restraints. She was just testing them, not trying to get out, yet. But they were tight, each fiber of the rough strands digging into her sensitized flesh.
“Because I need you, Mia. I’m really hoping you work better than the others did.”
She swallowed hard past the bile suddenly choking her. Fear tasted bad. “Others?” What did that mean? Panic made adrenalin course through her veins, but she couldn’t do anything but tug on the ropes tied tight around her wrists.
Mike’s mouth flattened to a thin line that slashed across his face as he rose. “Do you need anything? Are you thirsty? Want some water?” He crossed into another room, where she heard a fridge door open with a sucking sound. When he returned, he held a bottle of water, condensation dripping down the edges.
Mia realized how parched her throat was, so she nodded, hoping the water wasn’t drugged. If it was, would she even know?
She suddenly hoped Mike would kill her easily. She didn’t want to hurt. Drugs would be good. Then she could just go to sleep. Ignorance would be bliss.
For some reason, Simon was pissed when he heard the new development in Misty’s case. He slammed his weights down and sat up on the bench, leaving Ryan behind him in spotter position with a ‘what the fuck’ look on his face.
“Your neighbor? You sure it’s the same guy who took Misty?” Running his hand through his hair, he spun around on the bench and grabbed a towel. “What are the fucking odds?”