The Seven: Four tales of passion, danger and love

by Ciana Stone

  Conner's first inclination was to take his chances and have a go at the giant. He was big, but didn't look like he'd be too fast. But then there was the matter of the gun. No way he could outrun a bullet. He could, however, shift - and that might give him an advantage.

  But what sealed the deal for him was what the man said about Jazz. It made Conner's blood run cold. The thought of that ugly hood's hands on Jazz was enough to make him see red. He'd bide his time and make sure this big thug never got a chance to lay a hand on Jazz.

  "Yeah, we're straight," he said then asked, "You have a name or you just want me to call you Ugly?"

  Barnette barked a laugh. "Call me Barnette, motherfucker."

  "Fine, motherfucker. I need to enter the last of this equation while it's still in my head or whoever you're working for is going to be really disappointed."

  "What the fuck ever."

  Conner typed in a quick string of commands that would route a message through his computer to his email account and from there to Jazz's cell phone. It would take a bit of time but was the best he could do on short notice.

  He finished, made a show of putting a thumb-drive into a USB slot, and copied a bunch of worthless data to it. Once it was done, he removed the drive and held his hands out to his side as he slowly stood. He'd play along until the moment presented itself, then he was going to break this fucker's neck.

  "You done?" Barnette asked.

  "Got it all right here," Conner wiggled the drive back and forth.

  "Good, then let's move. You're driving."

  Conner led the way to the garage, selecting the Jaguar. Not because it was fast or even his favorite vehicle but because he'd specifically mentioned to Jazz that he'd just LoJacked it with the latest technology and had even shown her the small remote he'd created that could tap into any LoJack system in the country, giving him constant access to the car's location.

  He'd developed the remote as a test and intended to offer it up freely to every law enforcement agency in the country.

  Right now, he hoped Jazz remembered it. He didn't expect or want her to come to his rescue. He just wanted her to be able to pinpoint him.

  He climbed in behind the wheel as Big Ugly, as he thought of his captor, wedged himself into the passenger seat.

  Conner started the car, drove to the entrance of the estate and stopped.

  "Why the fuck you stopping?" Barnette asked

  "You want me to choose where we're going?" Conner hoped the moron picked up on the sarcasm.

  "Head south for the I-4 connection."

  Conner turned left and headed south, keeping well within the speed limit. "You an old lady?" Barnette barked. "Speed it up."

  Conner laughed. "Sounds good to me. But probably wouldn't work out too well for you if we get pulled over."

  Barnette's eyes widened a bit then narrowed, his face flushing brightly. "You think you're fuckin' smarter than everyone, don't you, Burns?"

  Conner cut him an amused look. "Yep."

  Barnette let out a bellow of laugher. "That's fuckin' funny, since I'm the one with the gun."

  Conner shrugged. "I guess you have a point."

  "Fuckin' A!" Barnette's cheeks and chest puffed up. "Now quit the yapping and drive."

  "You're the boss."

  "Fuckin'A."

  Conner smiled and turned his attention to coming up with possible scenarios that he might be able to set into motion if the right moment presented itself.

  *****

  Jazz parked the bike in front of the house. Something was definitely wrong. The front door was standing open. She longed for her handguns but a lack of weapons wasn't going to stop her from entering.

  As quietly as possible, she entered the house, starting on the ground floor and searching every room. There was no sign of Conner anywhere, and also no signs of a struggle.

  She hurried to his lab. Like the house, the door was standing open. She started inside when her cell phone buzzed, making her start. Ignoring the phone, she entered Conner's lab. Nothing.

  Jazz took a seat at his desk and flipped open her phone to read the notification that she had a new text message. She accessed the message and read.

  "Barnette dropped in. Am fine. Taking the Jag. Conner."

  Jazz cursed and bolted from the seat. If Barnette had Conner that meant someone had either put a hit out on him or was going to try to force him into turning over his research. Either way it was bad news. And either way she had to stop them.

  She took off at a run, across the courtyard and through the house. It wasn't until she reached the garage that she thought of Conner's message. He took the Jag! Turning, she ran back inside to the kitchen. He'd shown her the remote for the LoJack when they were having coffee. But where had he put it?

  Blessing him for organization when she located it in a drawer containing extra garage remotes and spare car keys, she grabbed it and the keys to the Lincoln Navigator. With so many SUV's on the road, it wouldn't stand out.

  She activated the remote as soon as she was in the SUV. Within seconds, she had a location. "Damn!" They had a good half-hour start on her. And where the hell were they headed? There was nothing in the direction they were traveling.

  Except access to I-4. That had to be it. She considered it for a few moments. If they were headed toward Miami, they would have taken the turnpike. So rule out Miami. But that still left her with two directions to cover. East and West. West would take them toward Tampa and East toward Daytona. If she tried to cut them off in either direction and was wrong about which way they were headed, she'd lose time.

  The best thing she could do was wait and see which direction they took. Waiting was not her strong suit, but if it meant freeing Conner from that psycho Barnette, she could do it. Parking the SUV at the entrance of the estate, she turned off the engine and waited, her eyes glued to the remote.

  *****

  Conner took the eastbound exit onto I-4. His mind was occupied with strategy and with trying to figure out who Barnette might work for. It couldn't be a government deal. They would have sent a more professional team. Unless they were trying to make it appear as if it were originating from the private sector.

  Even then, they would have recruited someone a little smarter. Which left the private sector as the most likely source. With Barnette being what Conner would consider a rather low-class thug, and definitely for hire by the private sector, the most likely candidate was Fred Mindleton. But Conner was a bit surprised that Mindleton would resort to kidnapping. Maybe when bribes hadn't worked he'd gotten desperate. Still, it didn't quite play out. Mindleton wasn't that heavy into energy. At least he hadn't been. Maybe he'd taken on new associations.

  Whatever the case, Conner didn't intend letting himself be delivered into whomever's hands were waiting to get hold of him.

  As they neared Daytona, Barnette broke his silence. "I gotta take a leak. Take the Daytona exit and stop at the next station. We'll gas up there."

  Conner shrugged and followed directions. When he pulled into a convenience store and parked at the pump, Barnette tossed him a set of handcuffs. "Cuff yourself to the steering wheel."

  Conner complied, seeing as how Barnette had the gun held at his waist, pointed up directly at Conner's head. Barnette got out and ambled into the convenience store. Conner looked at the handcuffs. If he chose he could shift and be out of the cuffs in seconds. But he was curious about where Barnette was taking him so he dismissed the thought.

  Barnette returned several minutes later and opened the passenger door. "Give me your credit card for gas."

  "Sorry, don't have my wallet on me."

  Barnette cursed, slammed the door and stomped around the car to fill up the tank. Once he was back inside the car, he took the key to the handcuffs from his pocket and the gun from his shoulder harness.

  With his gun trained on Conner, he handed Conner the key. Conner unlocked the cuffs and Barnette snatched them from him. "Head for 95 North."

  "Mind telling me
where we're going?"

  "North."

  Conner shrugged and pulled to the end of the parking lot. Someone was going to some trouble to get in a room with him. It was a mystery and one he intended to solve. So, he'd play along and sooner or later he'd figure it out. Then he'd come up with a way to dispose of Barnette.

  *****

  Jazz was glad she'd chosen to wait before going in pursuit. Once she knew which direction they were headed, she'd mapped a course that would allow her to get head of them if she pushed it. And now she was. She decreased speed so that they had eventually passed her and dropped back a half mile, leaving plenty of space between them and silently blessing Conner for having the Navigator's windows tinted as dark as was legal.

  When they pulled over, she drove on by and pulled into the lot of a gas station next to the convenience store where she could see inside the car as Barnette heaved his big ass out and stomped into the store.

  She almost made her move then but decided against it. Conner was safe and freeing him now wouldn't clue her in on who was behind this. The only way to stop it from happening again was to cut off the head of the snake in control. And that's exactly what she intended to do.

  But she wanted to let Conner know that she'd gotten his message and was close. The question was how to go about it without clueing Barnette in.

  She waited a minute after they pulled out then gassed up and got back on the road. Hoping that Barnette would not catch on, she stomped the accelerator, caught up with and passed them. Surely Conner would recognize his own car, or at least the license plate. And hopefully Barnette would not recognize her.

  She took the first turn she came to, waiting for them to pass and then did a U-turn and got back on the road, moving into a good tailing distance behind them. Did Conner get the message that she was tailing them? How would she know? As she exited onto 95 North, an idea came to her. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Conner's number, hoping he'd realize her call was a ploy and play along.

  It rang several times before he answered.

  Conner's car phone rang. The caller ID registered the number as Jazz. Barnette saw the readout on the dashboard display. "No fucking way. Let it ring."

  "If I don't answer she'll know something's up."

  Barnette jammed the barrel of the gun into Conner's thigh. "You try anything funny and you'll walk with a limp from now on. Got it?"

  "Yeah, I got it,"

  He punched the connect button on the steering wheel. "Conner here."

  "You cocksucker!" Jazz's voice screamed over the speaker-phone. "You fucking rat bastard! You fucking ran out on me!"

  "Jazz honey—"

  "Don't fucking Jazz honey me. I went home and packed just like you said and when I got back here you're fucking gone and then I get that fucking kiss-off message on my cell and...you sonofabitch!"

  "Jazz baby—"Conner got the message. He had the moment his car pulled in front of them. She'd been to the house, discovered him gone and had gotten his text message. Now she wanted to make sure he knew she was on their ass.

  "Not another word. You hear me, you piece of shit? You might have played me once, but you sure as shit won't do it again."

  "Jazz, if you'd just let me—"

  "I won't let you do shit, you cocksucker. We're done. You got it?And where the fuck's my car? I want my goddamn car, Conner."

  "I-I borrowed it. Got some errands to run, babe."

  "I don't give a fat shit about your errands. I want my fucking car. And trust me, I'm gonna ride your ass till I get it. You understand?"

  "Yeah, I got it."

  "Then get your ass back here with my car."

  "Yeah, as soon as I can."

  The connection went dead and Barnette broke out into a laugh. "This is fucking rich. You took her fucking car?"

  Conner shrugged. "I like the way it looks."

  "And that bitch is stuck back at your house thinking you're out for a joyride." Barnette pounded his knee with his free hand. "Fuckin' A!"

  Conner made no comment and resisted the urge to check the rearview and side mirrors to see how close Jazz was behind them.

  It both comforted and alarmed him that she was tailing them. Now it wasn't just a matter of protecting his own hide. He had to make sure nothing happened to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Of all the scenarios I could have cooked up in my mind, this one would not have occurred to me. I didn't expect to find myself a target for kidnapping, but that I can see as a plausible thing. Someone wants what I have and whoever it is, they're willing to kidnap and probably torture and kill me to get it.

  I'm not that concerned. I do have abilities that give me an edge. And a brain that's superior to most.

  No, what concerns me is the woman following me, the one determined to protect me at any cost. Even her life. Were she simply a bed-mate, I might be able to dismiss the concern that nags at me.

  But it's not just a woman. It's my woman. Whether she realizes it or not, Jazz is mine.

  .

  When the Jag took the Fayetteville, North Carolina exit, Jazz followed. The Jag pulled into the parking lot of a roadside motel. Jazz pulled in across the street at a convenience store and watched. A few minutes passed before Barnette got out and went inside the office.

  This could be a break for her. She had a lot of contacts in Fayetteville. She waited and after a few minutes, Barnette reappeared. He got back in the car and the car pulled around to the rear of the motel.

  Jazz pulled across the street and eased through the parking lot in time to see Conner opening the door to a ground level room. Barnette stood behind him, a jacket over his arm, no doubt covering his weapon.

  She pulled out her cell phone and called Conner's number.

  Conner had just entered the room when his cell phone rang. He looked at Barnette.

  "Use the speakerphone," Barnette ordered.

  Conner punched the speaker button. "Conner."

  "Where's my fucking car?" Jazz's voice screeched loud enough to make both men wince.

  "I'm not done with it."

  "Well you better get done with it. I'm fucking tired of waiting. I'm going to see some friends but I'll be back bright and early in the morning and when I get here I better see my car."

  "Whatever."

  "Yeah, you're gonna be singing whatever if I don't see my car. I'm serious, Conner. Either my car's here or I'm going after you. You hear me?"

  "Yeah, right. Gotta go, babe."

  He closed the phone and looked at Barnette. "Satisfied?"

  "Fuckin' A," Barnette said and tossed him the handcuffs. "Now get your ass on the bed and cuff yourself to the frame.

  "Mind if I take a leak first?"

  Barnette gestured with his gun toward the bathroom. "The door stays open."

  Conner shrugged and went into the bathroom to relieve himself. Clearly, Jazz had been trying to let him know something. But what? She was going to see friends? What friends? He didn't have a clue but was convinced she'd been trying to say that if she wasn't there when they left she'd catch up with them.

  He finished in the bathroom, washing his hands and face then did as Barnette ordered, cuffing his left wrist to the metal bed frame. It was uncomfortable as hell, but he'd survive.

  Barnette sat down on the other bed and pulled out his own phone. "Goddamn!" He cursed and slammed the phone down on the nightstand separating the beds.

  "Forget to charge?" Conner asked idly, shoving both pillows behind his head to get comfortable.

  "Gimme your phone. I gotta make a call."

  "You're not using up my minutes."

  "Give me the fucking phone!"

  "Fine!" Conner tossed him the phone.

  Barnette dialed and put the phone to his head. "Hey, it's Barnette. I got him."

  He listened for a few moments then responded. "Yeah, gonna grab some sleep and get back on the road in the morning. Should be there around noon."

  There was another pause before he said, "Ye
ah, well you just have my money ready."

  He shut the phone with a satisfied smile and tossed it to Conner. "You're gonna earn me fifty large."

  "I'll give you a hundred to uncuff me and walk away."

  Barnette seemed to consider it then shook his head. "No deal. I skip on this and the dude has me waxed."

  "Some boss you got there, Barnette."

  "Shut the fuck up!"

  "Whatever." Conner fell silent and closed his eyes. Barnette might be a bloodhound when it came to tracking someone down, but he didn't think things out clearly or he would never have given Conner back his phone.

  Now all Conner had to do was wait for Barnette to go to sleep and he'd find out who Barnette answered to.

  *****

  Who Barnette answered to was the number one question on Jazz's list, and the one she posed to her contacts when she hooked up with them. She didn't call in favors often, and particularly not of these guys. They had too much history between them.

  Before she'd gone civilian, she'd had the distinction of being one of the few women ever to be assigned to a Special Forces unit with the Army Rangers. She'd also made the mistake of falling for a team member. And when she watched him die in Algeria, it took the fight out of her and she quit the unit and left the service.

  But one never really leaves that kind of unit and from time to time she'd lend a hand when they'd needed her. They were men who were loyal and trustworthy. Men who knew how to keep their mouths shut and who also had access to information and channels to go through to get it.

  She found Adam Scott in a bar shooting pool. "Ten'll get you twenty that I can run the table before you get a shot," she said as she walked up behind him.

  Adam turned with a grin on his face. "Well fuck me, Jazz Boudreaux." He enveloped her in a hug. "Where you been hidin', babe?"

  "Oh you know, here and there," she replied, and held onto him. "I need a favor?"