Abducted

by Samantha Keith

  In his room, he emptied his duffel bag from the last couple of days, and replenished it with fresh clothes. He grabbed some extra shirts for Lana. The boutique hadn’t sold pajamas, and he didn’t want her to have to sleep in her new clothes. Besides, she looked sexy as hell in his T-shirts.

  On the way out, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a couple of protein bars. His stomach growled. The second they were settled, he was ordering a feast from room service.

  They loaded up and pulled out of the garage. “They seem like really sweet guys,” Lana commented as she buckled her seat belt. Nate and Ethan would meet them at the hotel.

  “Don’t be fooled, they’re asses.”

  She waved that off. “I can tell you guys are close. It’s adorable.”

  Adorable? Ha. That was a laugh. If she only knew the shit they’d all done. She was right on one point, though. “They’re like brothers to me.”

  A soft smile touched her lips. “I wish I had siblings.”

  * * * *

  When they got on the road, he reached into the back seat and pulled out a black baseball cap. “Put this on and keep your head low. Nate told me your disappearance has made the news.”

  She accepted the hat and fit it over her head. “My dad must be so worried. I should call him.” Pain, heavy and raw, wavered her voice. His heart wrenched. He flitted a glance her way. With her head down, he couldn’t see her whole face, but her mouth thinned. Edward was surely going through hell. He couldn’t imagine being a father and finding out his daughter was missing. Nausea made his stomach lurch.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I know how much that must upset you.” He placed a hand on her thigh and smoothed the cotton material with his thumb. “But you can’t call him. Not yet, okay? It’s too dangerous. Not only for you, but for him. I’ll do my best to find out who is behind this tonight. Then all this will be over.”

  And she would never have a reason to see or speak to him again. The minute this situation was resolved, she would be gone. Back to her life, her other world—and far away from the darkness of his—right where she belonged.

  She nodded and kept her gaze down.

  When they pulled up to the hotel, he parked out front and turned to face her. “We can’t bring you in through the lobby. Someone will recognize you. I’m going to go check in. Then we can self-park in the Parkade and we’ll take the stairs up to our room, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll have the guys come wait with you.” Almost on cue, Nate and Ethan pulled up and parked a few spots down. “Wait here.”

  Nate and Ethan got out of the vehicle, and Cal told them his plan. They agreed to wait with Lana, and once they’d slid into the back seat of his truck, he went to the front entrance to check in.

  There weren’t many people checking in, probably because it was Monday. He asked for extra room keys—just in case—and declined the valet parking.

  Lana, Nate, and Ethan were talking amiably when he got back to the truck.

  “All set.” He passed a room key to each of them. “Hang on to those in case of emergencies.” He pulled out of the parking spot and drove to the underground parking lot.

  When they got out and headed toward the entrance, Cal instructed Lana to keep her head down and out of view of the cameras. He, Nate, and Ethan formed a human shield around her; Cal walked in front, Ethan to her left, and Nate to her right. They made it up to the room without encountering anyone.

  “Whoa, honeymoon suite, or what?” Nate whistled when they walked in.

  Cal glowered at him.

  “Cal, you didn’t have to do all of this,” Lana said in a hushed voice. The room was more opulent than even he’d expected.

  “It was the only room besides the penthouse with a separate bedroom, alright? Lana, the room is yours. You need your privacy.”

  The shine in her eyes faded. Had he said something wrong?

  “Thank you,” she said. “If you boys don’t mind, I’m dying for a shower and clean clothes.”

  “Go right ahead, honey.”

  “‘Honey’?” Nate and Ethan echoed when Lana shut the bedroom door and was out of earshot. The endearment had been meant to soften the blow of whatever he’d said that had put that look in her eyes.

  “Shut it.” He went to the bar and poured himself a drink. He didn’t normally indulge before a job, but after being cooped up with Lana for two days, he needed some form of release.

  “You’re calling her ‘honey’ and banishing yourself out of the bedroom? Tell me you’re tapping that.” This, of course, came from Nate. Ethan smacked him on the back of the head.

  “Go to hell,” Cal warned. His tone was lethal. Lana wasn’t one to ‘tap,’ plain and simple.

  “Hey, I’m looking out for you, bro. I saw that look in her eyes. She likes you. Like, a lot. Tell him, E.”

  Ethan accepted the drink he’d made him. Nate could damn well make his own. A pit formed in his stomach. Shit, were they right? He hadn’t meant to push her away. He was only trying to protect her. Ethan’s mouth lifted into a knowing smirk. Whatever. It was none of their damn business anyway. And he sure wasn’t going to discuss his thoughts about Lana when he’d barely had a chance to analyze them himself. Emotions were always high in situations like this. So, if Nate claimed to have seen something in her eyes, it sure as hell didn’t mean it was really interest in him. Fear was the more likely source of her wide eyes and sultry lips. Nate would interpret anything as sexual.

  He met Nate’s stupid grin. “Let’s just stay on track, all right?” He didn’t need the damn distraction of their input in his personal life.

  Ethan chuckled, and Nate lifted a hand in surrender. “Fine. You always liked to figure shit out the hard way.” He took a sip of his drink, and Cal suppressed the burning comment that singed his tongue. “Who do you think trashed your place?”

  “Stamos, without a doubt. His fee depends on the job being complete, so when Lana’s death wasn’t reported, he would have known I deviated.”

  “Why the hell are you still in contact with that guy, anyway?” Ethan settled into a chair and shook his head in disgust. Yeah, Cal was pretty disgusted about it too.

  “He’s hard to shake. He never got so annoying that I had to tell him off, just some harmless phone calls a couple times a year.”

  “He knows where you live?”

  Cal sighed. The nosy bastard had a way of weaseling himself into people’s lives. Looking back at Stamos’s questions into Cal’s career and his fascination with his life, it was obvious now that he’d wanted information.

  “Yeah, I let him come over when he presented me the job to kill Lana. You know I never bring random people to my house, but in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never crossed me. He claimed the job was top secret and had to be discussed in a secure location. I should have known better.”

  Nate’s lip lifted into a snarl. “Why the hell would he think you’d kill an innocent woman, anyway?”

  Cal shrugged. “I’ve never given him too many details about what I do. But I have told him that it’s dangerous and takes me to the darkest places of hell on earth. I let him gather his own assumptions. When he told me the job, though, there was no way in hell I could walk away.”

  Ethan nodded slowly, and Nate’s eyes darkened. “We’d have done the same thing,” Ethan said. “It’s a damn good thing he came to you and no one else.”

  Cal took a long sip of his drink.

  That was what kept creeping up into his head from the back of his mind, tormenting his thoughts.

  Had it been anyone else but him, she’d be dead.

  * * * *

  “Just be careful.” Lana bit her lip as she pleaded. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Ethan pretended to change the channels on the TV, and Nate waited by the door, looking around the room. Both doing a shitty job of pretendin
g they weren’t listening to every bloody word.

  Damn, she looked sexy. She was freshly showered, her hair still damp. She wore light gray leggings and a deep V-neck long-sleeved shirt, with her pert cleavage just visible.

  It was a good thing he trusted Ethan with his life.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back late, so don’t wait up.”

  She nodded. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip. It took every ounce of his resolve not to take that wounded lip into his mouth and kiss her. He chucked her under her chin with his knuckle and winked. That earned him a shy smile.

  Ethan and Nate might be right, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to kiss her for the first time with their watchful amusement.

  He closed the hotel room door tightly after Lana sat in the living room with Ethan. They’d had a huge dinner, and he’d insisted she order anything she needed from the concierge. He and Nate took the elevator to the main floor and exited the lobby to where Nate’s truck was parked. It was too risky to be driving around in his own. Although the police wouldn’t have identified him as a suspect, whoever had trashed his house would, and they would be on the hunt.

  They got in and drove to Capitol Hill.

  “You think he’ll be there?”

  Cal looked at the time; it was going on 7 p.m. “I don’t know. I suspect he spends more time there than he does at home.”

  Nate parked in front of the strip club that Stamos had said he frequented. “Well, we can’t exactly bust in there, guns blazing.”

  “You wait here. I’ll go in and see if I can spot him. If he’s there, we’ll wait until he comes out. He smokes, so it won’t be long.”

  He fit the baseball cap Lana had worn onto his head, then exited the truck. The club was quiet. A few old men sat at the bar, and the other few scumbags were peppered around the stage. A thin, leggy blonde gyrated on the stage; her gold-sequined thong reflected the strobe lights, sending a flurry of golden light into his eyes. And there, front and center, was Stamos, tossing singles.

  “Woo-hoo. Come over this way, sexy.” Stamos’s immature catcall sounded through the half-empty room.

  Cal groaned under his breath and adjusted his cap. He quietly left the bar and crossed the street. A gaggle of young women passed him on the way out. A cloud of their cheap perfume swarmed his face. Their skimpy outfits led him to believe they would be starting their own shifts soon. Their wandering eyes raked over him.

  “Mmm…yummy.” One of the girls traced her leopard-print fingernail over his shoulder. He stepped out of her reach.

  “Sorry, I’m done for the night.”

  She pouted her red painted lips. “Too bad.”

  He smiled and sidled through them. “Good night, ladies.” At one point, a spark of interest would have shot through him. Not enough interest for him to sleep with a stripper, but a stir of sexual attraction would have warmed inside him.

  Not now. Not the slightest hint of reaction raced through him. All he could think about was Lana.

  “He’s there.” Cal slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. “Looked as though he had a few buddies with him. We’ll need to take them all.”

  Nate snorted. “Easy peasy.” He pushed his seat back and got comfortable. Cal, on the other hand, kept his gaze trained on the club entrance.

  “Have you had any word on that list of people I gave you?” Tanner kept popping up in his mind. He couldn’t shake the possessive glint he’d seen in the photo taken at the gala. If there was one thing he could easily read, it was a guy staking his claim. But Tanner’s damn attack left acid churning in his stomach. If the bastard had anything to do with wanting her killed, Cal would find out.

  “No, I should have something late morning or early afternoon tomorrow. You have a hunch?”

  Nate knew him well. “Sort of.” He didn’t want to get too deep in conversation, though, and miss Stamos if he came out.

  “Trust your gut, man. It hasn’t misled you yet.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Stamos strode out, two friends in tow behind him. They laughed and shoved each other around, then stopped in a tight circle on the sidewalk and sparked their cigarettes.

  Nate rubbed his hands together. “Let’s roll.”

  Cal pulled his cap down low again. They stepped out of the truck and moved swiftly down the sidewalk toward the small group.

  “S’cuse me, you got a light?” Nate asked as they approached the group. All three swiveled to look at them. Stamos had his short, curly hair gelled close to his scalp. Idiot Number One had long black hair fastened in a ponytail at his nape. Idiot Number Two had a poor bleach-blond dye job.

  “Sure—”

  Nate’s booted foot connected with the back of Idiot Number One’s knee. He folded like a cheap lawn chair.

  “What the fu—” Stamos and Idiot Number Two tossed their cigarettes and charged them. Cal threw a sucker punch to Idiot Number Two’s nose. It crunched beneath his knuckles. He howled and staggered back. Blood squirted through his fingers.

  “Here’s your chance, Ponytail. Run while you can,” Nate warned. Ponytail staggered to his feet and advanced on Nate. He stopped him with a swift kick to his solar plexus. Stamos’s eyes connected with Cal’s.

  “Motherfucker,” he breathed. His hand dove for the gun at his waist, but Cal aimed his Glock at his head. Stamos froze as his body vibrated with rage and his eyes turned beady. Cal reached for Stamos’s gun and shoved it into the waistband of his own pants. He snagged him by the collar of his jacket with his free hand, then shifted him to a chokehold. Stamos struggled and bounced against Cal’s chest. Stamos’s heels connected with his shins.

  “Hold the fuck still, you punk. We just want to talk.”

  Nate turned as Ponytail hobbled away. “Cal, look out!”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He turned with Stamos still in his grip. Idiot Number Two slashed a knife through the air, then it sliced through his deltoid like a hot knife through butter. Fire shot through his shoulder, but it numbed in a heartbeat. His adrenaline stifled the pain.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” he growled.

  “I got it, dude.” Nate charged. Idiot Number Two went down like a ton of bricks after a deadly dropkick to the face. “He’ll feel that later.”

  Cal backed up toward Nate’s parked car. “Hop in the back and get the duct tape ready,” he barked to Nate.

  He opened the truck door. Stamos hung in the crook of his right arm. “Someone’s probably called the cops,” he moaned.

  “Not to worry, we aren’t sticking around.” He heaved Stamos’s 170-pound frame into the back seat, where Nate was.

  “’Sup, buddy? We’re goin’ for a ride.” He peeled a strip of duct tape and worked at securing Stamos. Cal climbed in the front passenger seat.

  “Be sure to seal his mouth. If I have to hear that dumbass pubescent voice again, I’m going to thump him.”

  Nate tore another strip of duct tape. “Done.” Nate got out and climbed in the driver’s seat. “Where we heading?”

  “Let’s take him back to my place, so he can pay for every broken thing in my house.”

  Nate nodded, started the ignition, and peeled away from the curb.

  * * * *

  “What do you think, Cal, an eye for an eye?” Nate balanced his hands on his hips. “I guess it would be more like a couch for an eye, wouldn’t it?” he mused.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I didn’t do it, man. I was at the club last night—all night.” He wrestled against the duct tape that secured him to the chair in the center of the destroyed kitchen. A red strip outlined his mouth where Nate had removed the duct tape.

  “That so?” Cal uncrossed his arms over his chest and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Luckily I have security cameras. One sec while I log in to my account,” he said politely.
<
br />   Stamos cursed.

  “How much was that couch?” Nate lifted himself to sit on the edge of Cal’s quartz island.

  “Ten grand.”

  Nate coughed. “Seriously, dude?”

  “It was custom-made.” He shrugged. A couple more clicks, and he had his surveillance video for the last twenty-four hours pulled up. He fast-forwarded until he saw three thugs break in through the back entrance. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he watched his home—his stuff—being vandalized, contaminated. He exhaled a hot breath through his nose. Pausing the video on a good view of Stamos, he turned the screen to Nate.

  “Who’s that look like to you?”

  Nate gasped. “My goodness, Stamos, I think you have a doppelganger.” He took the phone from Cal’s fingers, hopped off the counter, and held it an inch from Stamos’s nose. “Tell me, douche. Who is that?”

  Stamos gulped. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and over the outside of his eye. He whimpered. “They made me.”

  “Oh.” Nate straightened. “Well, that changes everything.”

  Cal’s rage threatened to bubble over. He was glad Nate was here to intervene. His hands itched to break every bone in Stamos’s body. Not because he’d trashed his house, but because he would have gladly killed Lana two nights ago. He pulled his Glock from the waistband of his pants and strode dutifully to Stamos.

  “I’m sorry, man! I’ll replace it.”

  He shoved the barrel of the gun under his chin. “I don’t give a shit about my house or the couch—”

  “Super-sharp couch, though. Didn’t you say you used an interior designer?”

  Cal unlocked the safety. Stamos whimpered.

  “Yeah, Stephanie. Why do you think I paid ten grand for it?” Cal grinned at Nate. Stamos looked from Nate to Cal and back again. Nate was having fun screwing with Stamos. It was the only thing keeping him calm—and it beat killing him.

  He dropped the gun to Stamos’s shoulder. The man’s eyes widened and his lips trembled.

  “What was that game we used to play? You remember, when we caught that sex trafficker?” Cal asked Nate absently.