Restrained Under His Duty

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Restrained Under His Duty Page 11

by Stacey Kennedy


  “It’s her?” Hadley exclaims.

  I nod and raise my cell to my ear. “Alex, what have you got?”

  “Why, hello there, Alex,” she says, voice annoyed. “Thank you for working so hard when I’m off attending parties with my hot new lover.”

  “Alex,” I mutter, not in any mood for our usual playful banter.

  “Fine. You’re no fun.” She pauses, and through the phone line I can hear her fingers clicking against the keyboard. “Well, it’s time to put Hadley in a cab and for you to go meet your team…” More clicking of fingers on a keyboard, faster now. Then, “I’ve just sent the location of the target to your cellphone. The team is already en route.”

  Hadley’s eyes begin to widen, as I ask, “You’ve found him?”

  “Of course I did,” Alex states.

  “You are honestly the best, Alex. Job well done.” I can’t look away from Hadley, finding happiness, relief, concern all there in her expression. A little bit of the unknown, too. And maybe there’s even worry for me there as well, as it sinks in that tonight I have to face down that hacker, who may or may not be a violent criminal. “Anything else?”

  “There’s nothing special about this hacker. He must be new. My inner circle hasn’t heard of him.”

  Which tells me he’s either moved to the area or is a young kid getting involved in an adult game he shouldn’t be in.

  “That’s it. Be safe,” Alex says before the phone line goes dead.

  I shove my cell back into my pocket, my heart rate kicking up a couple notches. The adrenaline that always comes with the end of a hunt begins surging through my veins as I scoop up Hadley’s hand, tugging her gently but urgently toward the curb.

  “Okay. Wait. She found him?” Hadley’s running now to keep up with my brisk walk. “Where is he? Who is he?”

  I stop at the curb, stick my fingers into my mouth, and whistle loudly, hailing a cab. One spots me and does a U-turn from the opposite side of the road, not wasting any time getting to us. All of which I appreciate. I open the door for her. “Get in. I’ll call you when this is all over.” Then I reach into my pocket and take a fifty out of my wallet, handing it to the driver through the open passenger-side window.

  “Ryder,” Hadley says sternly, holding her ground, not getting into the car.

  I gently nudge her toward the back seat, but she pushes against me. Frustrated, I sigh and turn her to me, holding on to both shoulders. I drop my head, bringing my eye level to hers. “Let me go and take care of this. You don’t need to be there. Please go home where I know you’ll be safe. I will call you right after. Promise.”

  It’s right there on the street she shocks the living shit out of me. She’s a fighter, it’s her nature. But right here, right now, she visibly backs down, all because she trusts me. That right there changes me as a man. I can feel it right down to my bones. It affects me in ways I don’t understand, causing my heart to race for a whole ’nother reason.

  “Please be safe and get back to me quick.” She kisses me like I’m leaving for war and maybe won’t be coming back before she slides into the back seat.

  I shut the door after her, and I watch the cab fade off in the distance before I take off running to my truck. When I reach it, I jump inside and click the map that Alex has sent to my phone and allow the GPS to lead me to the right location.

  The streets she’s taking me on are empty, not a cop in sight, but that’s no surprise to me. Alex keeps me neatly away from law enforcement.

  When I reach a fork in the road, my GPS indicates I should take a hard left, and after I do, I discover Alex has brought me to the Yacht Club. In an instant, I spot my team waiting near the sailboats parked by the dock.

  As I park my truck next to Lee’s Hummer, I force my heartbeat to slow and the adrenaline to quiet with a couple long, deep breaths. I exit quickly, moving to the back of his Hummer, where I see Lee with five other Blackwood team members. “Alex told me very few details. What do you know?” I ask Lee, taking off my jacket and depositing it, along with my bow tie, into his trunk.

  He hands me a gun and my leg holster. “The hacker is in that boat there.”

  Once I strap on the holster, unclick the safety on my gun, and place it inside, I accept the communication device from Lee and tuck it into my ear. Then I glance to where he’s pointing and find a motorboat. Other than that, most of the area is quiet, except for a few other boats out on the water off in the distance. “Any recent movement?”

  “Not in a while,” Lee explains, folding his arms over his bulletproof vest. “Our drone gave us a good look at him back at headquarters, confirming that Alex did have the right location, but since we’ve arrived we haven’t seen the target. I suspect he’s down below the deck, likely on the laptop that we saw him carrying around.”

  “Any intel on this location?” I ask, taking the bulletproof vest that Lee’s offering and slipping it over my head, fastening the Velcro sides.

  Lee shakes his head, his mouth forming a thin line. “We’re going in there blind.”

  I understand his concern. We don’t work this way. But time is not on our side. “Did Alex say anything about the target’s history?”

  “No criminal record,” Shawna says, stepping in next to Lee, as the four other members of my team surround us. “There’s nothing in his youth that would lead us to believe he’s dangerous.”

  Lee adds, “He’s only a year out of high school.”

  Which confirms my original thinking, and I suppose that explains why Alex didn’t know of him. Hackers have a code of ethics, and this kid isn’t following that code. A lesson that after tonight he will learn, and if he tells me what I need to know, he’ll get a slap on the hand instead of the criminal record the cops would smack down on him.

  I finish up by muting the volume on my cellphone before I shove it back into my pocket. Then I address my team. “I realize we’re breaking protocol and not gathering as much intel as we usually do. If any of you are uncomfortable going into this blind and want to leave, I won’t hold it against you.”

  One by one, each member of my team responds with a firm nod and says, “I’m with you.”

  Proud of them, and determined to get Hadley out of this mess permanently, I tell my team the same thing I do before every mission: “Get in quick. Get out safe.”

  Hadley

  Right as the cabdriver pulls to a stop at a red light, my cellphone beeps. Convinced that Ryder’s been hurt, shot, or something worse, my heart leaps up into my throat. I jerk my head away from the headrest, as I had been doing the only thing I could do: watching the storefronts whiz by so I didn’t make myself sick with worry.

  I grab my phone from my purse, praying that Ryder and his team are safe. Though also hoping this nightmare is over and finally behind me. But as I focus on my cell’s screen, in an instant, I know that my nightmare is about to get far, far worse. My hands begin to shake as I read the email from my father, word for word.

  Received my schedule. Thank you. I’ll call you when I’m back from Washington. Lots of love, Dad.

  Sent from my Samsung device

  “Stop,” I scream, and my voice booms within the car.

  The tires screech to a halt, and I shoot out my hand to stop myself from head-butting the passenger seat. Behind us, a horn blasts angrily. Even the cabbie’s glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “Take me to Van Ness and Broadway,” I gasp. “Please hurry.”

  Regardless that his voice is full of exasperation, he says, “Right away, miss.” He turns the car around in the closest driveway, way slower than I want him to.

  I can barely control the shaking of my hands when I lift my phone and read the message once more. I can count on one hand how many times my father has emailed me. He’d much rather hear my voice, he always tells me, and basically, he’s just that middle-aged guy who refuses to accept technology in his life.

  I urgently scan through my contacts and locate Ryder’s phone number. My breath catches in my throat
when I hit send. But after the fourth ring, it becomes clear he’s not going to answer. Obviously, he’s still dealing with the hacker. I need help. And I need it fast.

  Right now, my sex tape is so far from my mind. Something feels wrong…This time, I refuse to ignore my instincts. Realizing that I’ve reached a dead end at getting ahold of Ryder, and in sheer desperation now, I open my Internet browser and search “Blackwood Security.”

  After I click the link, I open the simple and modern website and find the phone number at the top. I click the button next to the number, and soon it’s ringing, and I’m praying that help is on the way.

  When the ringing stops, a low voice says, “Blackwood Security, how may I direct your call?”

  “I need to speak with Alex,” I manage, hearing the shakiness in my voice.

  A pause. Then, “Alex who?”

  I try to recall Alex’s last name from when Ryder introduced us. Shit. “I’m sorry,” I tell the man, glancing back out the side window, finding we’re entering the suburbs. “I don’t know her last name. She works closely with Ryder. Does that help any?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  His harsh voice is enough to tell me how royally fucked I am. I know Ryder. Anyone answering his phone would not put me through based on the information I’ve given. However, I don’t have time for a thousand questions with this guy to get through to Alex. “Sir, please listen to me very carefully. This is Hadley Winters, the senator’s daughter, speaking.” It’s so rare I pull out the name card. But it’s a card I hope wins me this round. “I need to talk to Alex on an urgent matter that involves my father that cannot wait. Now, let me make this clear to you: If Ryder finds out that I’ve called and you didn’t put me through to her, I can assure you that he will make your day very, very miserable. Think about that for a moment. Is a pissed-off Ryder something you honestly want to face tonight?”

  Silence.

  Then, “Please hold for Alex McCoy, Miss Winters.”

  The second the elevator music begins playing in the background, I sigh in relief.

  I look up at the cabdriver, finding his eyes now smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s a way to get it done, girl.”

  I don’t reply, or need his approval. Worry is tightening every muscle in my body and my heart is clenching heavy with sadness, as my instincts continue to scream danger at me. I stare at the houses we’re passing on the quiet street, counting the seconds, hoping with every one that my father is okay.

  Finally, the music fades away, then Alex’s surprised voice fills the phone line. “Hadley?”

  “Yes, Alex,” I gasp. “Thank God, it’s you.”

  “Of course, it’s me,” she says; obviously by her tone, she’s amused. “You scared the bejesus out of Tony. He said the punishment from Ryder if this call was fake was worse than talking to the crazy—”

  “Listen,” I cut her off, having no time for her conversation either. “I don’t know for sure, but I think my father is in trouble.”

  A pause. Then, “Say that again?”

  “My father,” I repeat, heart pounding, palms sweating. “He emailed me tonight. I think he’s in trouble.”

  Another pause. “I’m sorry, Hadley, but I’m not seeing how an email is an indicator of trouble.”

  “He doesn’t email.”

  She adds dryly, “Well, perhaps he decided that now he should start. What did he say?”

  “He thanked me for sending his schedule through his email and said he’d call me when he was back from Washington.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Alex,” I snap, done with this, fully trusting my instincts. “He doesn’t know how to email from his phone. He doesn’t even know what app he would use. It’s like someone wants to ensure I don’t go check in on him. Please,” I beg, tears filling my eyes. “Please listen to me. Something is wrong. I just know it.”

  She’s quiet a moment, and obviously the worry in my voice makes her believe me, because when she addresses me again, her voice softens, “He’s never emailed before? Not ever? Not even once?”

  I wipe away a tear, looking out the window, seeing we’re getting close to my family home. “He doesn’t even know how to use the calendar on his phone, let alone his email.”

  “When did you last talk to your father?”

  “He came over this morning”—God was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago—“and that’s when he asked me to send him the schedule. Listen, that’s just normal stuff that comes with my job. He already thanked me this morning. He wouldn’t do it again, there’s just no reason to. And that’s not my father.” I’ve never begged a woman for anything, but I’ll beg her until my voice runs out, as long as she listens. “I’m on my way to his house now and we’re almost there, but please send someone to help me.”

  “If you think he’s in danger, you better be nowhere near his house,” Alex states sternly. In the background, I hear rustling. And when she becomes breathless, I assume that means she’s running somewhere. Then she adds to someone obviously in the room with her, “Get a team to the senator’s house.” To me, she briskly adds, “Hadley, do you hear me? I’ve got a team on their way. They’re a minute away. Don’t you—”

  “Get here fast!” I hang up the phone.

  Right then, the cab pulls up the circular driveway and just as the car rolls to a stop, the cabdriver says, “Is it safe to—”

  I don’t hear the rest of what he says. I race out of the cab and run up my parents’ front limestone steps, my heart beating a mile a minute. I don’t waste a second. I wrap my hand around the cool metal handle and fling the door open.

  Immediately, I know my instincts weren’t wrong. One look at the wall tells me the alarm is off. And my parents never leave the door unlocked. Ever.

  Slowly, I enter the foyer, leaving the door open for when Ryder’s team arrives. I scan the area from left to right, and there’s just nothing going on in the century-old house. No movement. No voices. Nothing.

  My throat tightens, and the air becomes harder to inhale as I quietly move forward. I listen to every noise…every little creak of the historic house. It’s all normal, exactly as I remember the house that’s been passed down through my father’s side of the family for three generations, until I reach the living room.

  That’s when I find my dad. He’s sitting on his beloved chair, the television set turned to the baseball game. But that’s not all I see.

  Blood.

  And it’s all over my father.

  Chapter 13

  Ryder

  “Get your hands up,” I yell the second I step off the thin stairs and enter the motorboat’s cabin. “Get your fucking hands up.”

  From his spot behind a metal U-shaped desk taking up the majority of the living quarters below deck, the kid’s hands shoot straight up into the air. “Okay, they’re up. They’re up.”

  I keep my gun aimed at his head. “Move and I shoot, you little shit.” Of course, I wouldn’t injure him unless I had to, though part of me wants to. For Hadley. To avenge all the wrongs done to her. Even to state to the world that I’m protecting her now and no one should dare threaten her again.

  Swiftly and cautiously, I move in closer, scanning the small cabin quickly. Chip bags and soda cans cover the tiny galley kitchen on my left, and clothes are scattered on the small bed to the right. He’s here alone, that much I know.

  I stop a foot away from the back of his black mesh office chair, with Shawna and Lee behind me, my gun still aimed at his blond head. There’s no other noise around us, now that the kid’s fingers are no longer clicking against the keyboard. The remainder of my team remain outside, keeping an eye on anyone walking down the boardwalk who might be coming our way.

  “Stand up,” I tell the kid, “and don’t be stupid and make any sudden moves. There’s a gun aimed at your head.”

  He rises, hands still in the air. And dare I say I see a bit of tremble to them, too.

  “Now turn arou
nd slowly,” I order.

  He spins like a ballerina in a jewelry box, until he’s facing me. I can’t say I hate the Captain America T-shirt he’s wearing, but on him, it only makes him look the nineteen years old that I suspect him to be. His jeans are torn at the knees, and the fact that he’s wearing only socks tells me he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. “Do you have any weapons?” I ask.

  “No.” He shakes his head, eyes wide with worry. “No. None.”

  “Lee.” I gesture him forward with a flick of my chin, and Lee moves up and quickly pats down the kid, who’s now lost all color to his oval-shaped face.

  “He’s clean,” Lee finally says, quickly using flexicuffs to restrain the kid’s arms behind his back.

  After Lee deposits him into the chair he’d been sitting in, I holster my gun and explain simply, “Listen, kid, I have run out of time.” I lean against the wall and cross my arms, giving him the glare he deserves. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you answer them honestly, we won’t have a problem. If you don’t, we will have a big problem that won’t end well for you. Got it?”

  “Okay.” The kid nods frantically, bottom lip trembling. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

  It’s been quite a while since I’ve dealt with anyone so young. The fact that he still hasn’t asked for my credentials shows his immaturity. Of course, him thinking I’m a cop can only work to my advantage now. “What’s your name?”

  “Caleb Lupa.”

  “Caleb, I know you have a video in your possession of Hadley Winters engaging in sexual acts with two men. I know that you’ve hacked her computer and threatened to release the video if she didn’t get her father to retire. I also know that you are likely not the person behind this blackmail. Tell me who hired you for this job.”

  “I don’t know.”

  I watch him intently, looking for signs that he’s lying. It doesn’t take long to realize that all I find is a terrified kid, who’s in way over his head. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

 

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