by Lucy Score
Pru: Where are you? Where’s Chip?
Shit.
“Chip, it’s me, Frankie. Are you okay?”
“Frankie?” he asked, groggily. “Does Elliot still have me? Does he know you’re here?”
Frankie looked back toward the door. “No time to talk. We have to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
“Of course, I can walk. I just fell asleep doing sit-ups. They gave me something to knock me out. Plus, super hungover. How’s Pru? Is she mad? Is her dad—”
“Pru’s fine. She’s anxiously awaiting you in a poufy white dress.”
“She didn’t cancel?” Chip lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
“She doesn’t know you’re missing yet.”
Frankie’s phone vibrated again and then again. A rapid succession of texts she imagined.
“Why were you doing sit-ups?” Frankie asked, grasping his hand and pulling him into a seated position.
“Didn’t want my six-pack to suffer just because I got abducted. I’m good. I swear.” To prove it, he bounded to his feet and promptly fell on the bed. “Sorry. My foot’s asleep.”
Frankie pulled him back up. She could hear a voice in the other room and footsteps.
“Hide,” Chip whispered.
Frankie ran around in a circle panicking and was eyeing the bedspread as a potential hiding spot when Chip opened the closet door and shoved her inside. He had just shut her in the dark when she heard the room door open.
Was Asshole Kidnapper coming to kill her? Reflexively, she hunkered further into the closet and hit her head on something large and metal.
“Mother f—”
Frankie clapped a hand over her own mouth when she heard the bedroom door open.
“Stay in here until I tell you to come out,” Asshole Kidnapper demanded.
“Look, Elliot. Let’s work this out. I’ll get you whatever it is you want if you let me leave.”
“Nice try, Randolph. But there’s only one person who can give me what I want.”
“Aiden is not going to let you get away with this.”
Frankie froze. This guy had to be someone Aiden knew. Was that the reason he hadn’t let her kick in the door last night? She rubbed the knot on her head.
She was reaching for the door, ready to burst through it and demand answers when she heard a faint knock.
“Stay here and this will all be over soon,” Asshole snapped, slamming the bedroom door.
The closet door flew open, and Frankie jumped back, hitting her head again in the same spot.
“Are you okay?” Chip asked when she doubled over.
“Ouch!” Frankie’s hair snagged on a clothes hanger. She felt a half dozen bobby pins explode out of her head. “Oh, my God!”
“What?”
“My hair! My head! We have to get out of here!”
They both stopped, listened. There was more than one voice in the living room now, and it was only a matter of time before someone came back in.
Frankie rushed to the wall and pulled back the heavy curtains. “Oh, thank God,” she whispered when she spotted the balcony. As quietly as possible, she muscled the sliding glass door open. The noise of ocean and resort life immediately filled the room, and she winced. If they stopped talking outside the bedroom, they’d hear.
Ugh. Three floors up, she confirmed, looking over the balcony edge. There was no way down, but perhaps there was a way out. The railing banister was wider than the railing itself. Some enterprising architect had probably realized people would want to put their crystal martini glasses down to take sunset selfies. And it connected every balcony on the floor.
“Chip, get out here,” Frankie hissed.
He hobbled into the daylight like a hungover vampire.
“Why’s the sun gotta shine all the time here?” he groaned.
“Oh, my God. Climb up here.”
“You’re bleeding!” he said, gaping at her.
She touched her fingers to her hair. “I hit my head on the safe. It’s fine.
“It looks like…” Chip doubled over and breathed deeply.
“Pull it together, Chip.” He’d been pre-med at NYU until he realized that blood made him vomit and faint. “Don’t make me slap you.”
“Okay. Maybe if I just don’t look at you.”
“For the love of god, Chip. I need you to climb up on this railing and shimmy your ass to another room with an open balcony door. We need to go. Now!”
Chip peered down to the terrace below. “Jesus, Frankie, that’s like instant death!”
Frankie grabbed his face in her hand and squeezed his cheeks until he made fish lips. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to stare at her head wound. “Chip, do you want to marry Pru today or not?”
“Yesh.”
“Then get your ass up there and shimmy over to the next balcony.”
“Okah.”
She released his face and pushed him toward the railing.
“You’re coming too, right?”
“I’ll be right behind you. Just out of curiosity, what did Aiden have to do with all this?”
Chip paused on all fours balancing. “It’s not his fault.”
They heard raised voices coming from inside the suite. “Go. We’ll talk later.” Frankie shooed him further down the ledge and ran back into the room.
She’d barricade the door to buy them a little time. At least that was her plan when she tried to pick up the nightstand. The bedroom door burst open.
Asshole Kidnapper stared at her for two full seconds before losing his shit.
“Who are you, and where’s—”
“Your kidnapping victim? My friend Chip? You want to know where he is?” Frankie’s voice was rising. Her fingers closed around the alarm clock and iPhone charger on the nightstand.
“Yes!” he shrieked, tearing at his hair. “And why is there blood everywhere? Did you kill him?”
“What’s going on—” The man in the doorway didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because Frankie hit Asshole in the face as hard as she could with the alarm clock.
He doubled over, screaming. More blood rained down on the white carpet. Frankie gave him another whack for good measure that knocked him to his knees.
“I tried to keep this civilized,” Asshole shrieked.
Frankie turned on the second man and hefted the alarm clock.
“You want a turn, Kilbourn?”
Aiden held up both hands. “Hang on there, slugger. Why are you bleeding?”
“Why am I bleeding? Why am I bleeding?” she laughed. “I’m bleeding for the same reason your best friend is missing his wedding. Because of you.”
“Franchesca, I can explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation! You’re too late. Chip’s already long gone—”
“Uh, Frankie?”
“Chip! What the fuck?”
Chip peeked through the patio door looking sheepish.
“So, I found a room that was open, but it was occupied, and I think they’re calling security.”
“Back up, Kilbourn. Just back the fuck up,” Frankie ordered, wielding the alarm clock.
“Hey, Aiden.”
“Good to see you, Chip.”
“Don’t talk to him. And don’t you come near us!” Frankie inched past Aiden, dragging Chip with one arm while holding the alarm clock pointed in Aiden’s direction.
Asshole Kidnapper moaned on the floor. “She broke my nose.”
“Good,” the three of them answered.
“Now, Chip and I are going to walk out of here, and you both are going to let us, or I’m going to start screaming bloody murder, and all of resort security will be breaking down that door in thirty seconds.”
Frankie backed them toward the door to the suite.
When Aiden made a move to follow, she shook her head. “Uh-uh, buddy. You’re persona non-grata. You stay here with your pal. We
’ve got a wedding to get to.”
“You should probably do what she says,” Chip suggested to Aiden. “She’s terrifying when she’s mad.”
“I can see that,” Aiden said, looking more amused than terrified.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” Frankie growled. “I’ll make sure you regret this. Let’s go, Chip.”
“Hey, do you want a ride, Aiden?” Chip offered.
Frankie slapped him on the arm. “No, he doesn’t want a ride. Kidnappers don’t get rides from their victims.”
“Awh, Frankie, he didn’t really kidnap me.”
“Then he conspired to kidnap you.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“No, he didn’t!”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Frankie said, finally understanding just exactly how mad a parent had to be to use those words.
She pushed Chip out into the hallway. “Stay,” she said, pointing at Aiden who was helping his brother to his feet. “If either of you try to follow us, I’ll kill you.”
“I think the crazy maid means it,” Elliot stage whispered, still clutching his nose and looking terrified. “Lo siento, lady. Lo siento.”
“Seriously? We’re in Barbados, you idiot!”
She pulled the door shut and then pushed Chip toward the stairs. “Go! Go! Go!”
They sprinted to the basement and burst through the double doors. Footsteps sounded a floor or two above them. Flor in Frankie’s sundress was stocking a cart with mini shampoos.
“Can you lock that door?” Frankie asked, as she worked her zipper down her back.
Bianca raced to the stairwell door and locked it. “Someone’s running,” she reported, stepping away from the window.
“Thank you so much for everything,” Frankie said, shoving her way out of the dress. “Sorry about the blood. Those closet safes are sharp.”
Something, a good-sized body from the sounds of it, hit the doors at a run.
Frankie winced. She’d have nightmares forever of being chased down the stairs.
Flor stripped down quickly and handed the dress back to Frankie. “I hope you showed that asshole in 314 who’s boss.”
“I’ll apologize for the blood up there too,” Frankie said grimly.
Flor gave her a curt nod and clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend.”
“May the force be with you,” Frankie offered. She was no good at pep talks or thank yous. “Let’s go Chip.”
They tiptoed out a side door and then half ran, half crawled, into the vegetation. The open scratches on her shins sang as she packed more dirt into the wounds. Her head throbbed and her hair was being picked apart by branches. But she had the groom.
“Ouch!”
Frankie looked back. Chip was holding a hand over his eye. “Are you okay?” she hissed.
“I got a branch in my eye.”
“Just look with your good eye. We’re almost to the wall.”
Finally, the great stucco monument rose before them. “Okay, we’re going to climb over, get in the car, and go get you married, right?”
“Right,” Chip said, still clutching his eye.
“Let me see your eye.”
He dropped his hand. There was a red welt that continued on either side of his eye. The eye itself was as red as a bloodhound’s.
“Oh, God.” She clutched a hand to her mouth. Frankie’s stomach could handle a lot of things. Wounded eyes were not one of those things.
“Why are you still bleeding?” Chip gagged. “It’s smeared all over your face.” He bent at the waist and dry-heaved.
“Let’s just stop looking at each other and climb the wall.”
Frankie shoved Chip up and over, and when he leaned down to offer her a hand, he wisely squeezed his eyes shut tight.
They landed unceremoniously alongside the highway two hundred feet from Antonio and his stupid little car. The engine roared to life as they approached. Frankie stuffed Chip in the backseat.
“Buckle up,” she warned, before jumping in next to Antonio.
The kid sped away from the resort with the vigor of a NASCAR driver in a brand-new sports car. Frankie pulled out her phone.
“Oh, my god.” She had nineteen missed calls. All but two from Pru. The others were from Aiden. She played her friend’s most recent voicemail and winced. Pruitt was sobbing uncontrollably.
Frankie hit redial with one hand and clung to the dash with the other. “Pru? Can you hear me?”
“Where are you?” Pru wailed. “Chip is gone. Aiden’s missing. And you abandoned me! My dad is looking for a weapon, and Chip’s mom already broke into the cocktail hour appetizers. I’m supposed to be getting married in twenty minutes, and I don’t have a groom or a best friend.”
“You have both, Pru. I have Chip with me, and we are on our way back.”
“You have Chip?” At least, that’s what Frankie thought she said. It was too high-pitched and blubbery to be sure.
“He’s right here. And there’s no rules about talking before the ceremony, right?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Pru sobbed.
“Here,” Frankie said, shoving her phone into Chip’s hand. “Talk to your bride?”
“Pru, baby?” Chip crooned into the phone.
“Is there always this much drama at weddings?” Antonio asked, veering around a pothole big enough to swallow their buggy.
“Really this is par for the course for most American weddings,” Frankie said.
“Really?”
“No! Jesus, Antonio. This is a complete shit show. Kidnappings and rescues—”
“And car chases,” Antonio added looking in the rearview mirror.
Frankie twisted in her seat to look. A big, black SUV was glued to their tail. She didn’t recognize the driver, but she sure as hell knew the passenger.
Chapter Twenty
Frankie released her safety harness and leaned out her open doorway to give Aiden a better view of her middle finger.
“It’s just Aiden,” Chip said, trying to juggle the phone and eye injury while shooing her back into the vehicle.
“Just Aiden? His brother kidnapped you!”
“That’s kinda the way they do things.”
“Your friends are horrible people,” Frankie yelled.
“Pru, baby?” Chip said into the phone. “Yeah, kidnapped. I know, right? Look, I gotta go. Aiden’s calling, and Frankie’s hanging out of the car, and we’ll be there so soon. I’ll explain everything after you’re my wife. I can’t wait to see you in your dress. I love you,” Chip shouted over the wind.
“Don’t you dare answer that call—” Frankie’s warning did no good.
“Oh, hey, Aiden. Oh, good. You’re right behind us… No, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell her that right now. She’s pretty mad at you… I don’t know. We haven’t really had time to talk.”
Frankie reached behind her and snatched the phone back. “What the hell are you going to do, Kilbourn? Run us off the road? Shoot us in the back of the head?”
“Sit your ass down, buckle your seatbelt, and try to stay alive,” he growled into the phone.
“Excuse me? I don’t take orders from kidnappers.”
“He didn’t kidnap me!” Chip said.
“I didn’t kidnap him!”
“Whatever. Don’t even think about trying to keep us from the wedding. It won’t go well for you.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from the wedding, you irresponsible, exasperating idiot. I’m on your side.”
“Bullshit. You knew your brother had Chip.”
“I did,” he admitted. That temporarily shut her up. “I realized it when you read the business name on the room register last night. It’s a subsidiary of the family company.”
“Well, good news for you.”
“I promise you, I’ll deal with Elliot later. For now, let’s try to get the groom to his wedding in one piece.”
“You are the worst human being in the world, and I know a lot of people,” Frankie shouted into the phone.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He disconnected before she could have the satisfaction of hanging up on him.
“Agh!”
“So Money Bags kidnapped you?” Antonio asked as he skirted through an alley.
“Yes,” Frankie said.
“No,” Chip said. “Hey, are you old enough to drive?”
They made it to the resort in one adrenalized piece. The big black SUV maintained its course and pulled up to the hotel behind them. Frankie tossed every bill she had in her wallet at Antonio, blew him a kiss, and dragged Chip out of the car.
Aiden burst out of the passenger door of the SUV, and the three took off at a dead run through the lobby.
The concierge and front desk manager gaped after them.
“We have to get you dressed,” Frankie said, pushing Chip toward the elevator. The doors miraculously opened, but Aiden slid in behind them. The close quarters were what pushed her over the edge. She launched herself at Aiden. Her hands were so angry they didn’t know whether to slap or punch and instead flopped uselessly against his chest.
“She’s going Solange on you,” Chip observed.
“Thank you. I can see that,” Aiden said dryly, wrestling Frankie into the corner of the elevator. “Stop. Hitting.”
He held her there with the weight of his body. Frankie’s rage kicked up another notch when her body reacted as if it was happy to have six-plus feet of lying asshole pressed against it. Stupid, traitorous body.
“Hold still, Franchesca. I’m just trying to look at the cut on your head.” He gripped her chin from behind as she flailed against him. “Stop.” He gave the order softly.
She winced when his fingers prodded the cut.
“It’s not too deep. But you should have it looked at.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll make an appointment with a doctor in the next, oh, two minutes before the ceremony starts.”
“What happened to your eye?” Aiden asked Chip.
“Tree branch during the escape. This is going to be some story for the grandkids someday.”
“Yeah, just remember who rode to your rescue and who was the bad guy,” Frankie muttered.