Drive

by Sidney Bristol

  “Where were you yesterday around one o’ clock?” Matt wasn’t beating around the bush. At least he was only interested in the wreck and not last night. But, Everglades Air fell under a different jurisdiction. It would take time to connect anything to them—if they ever did.

  “Yesterday?” Aiden stared over the detective’s shoulder. “Hm, Gabriel, didn’t I run up to Boca for those parts for the Jag?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anyone confirm you were there?”

  “Uh, sure, I’ve got a guy who picks up parts for me. He knew I was coming, but left them on the porch.” Aiden dug out his wallet and handed over his junk dealer’s business card. So often, people rolled the old cars into the junkyard and left them. The bodies might be weak, but the parts were still good.

  “But he didn’t see you?” Matt took the card and turned it over.

  “Nope, but he’s got a security camera. I bet I’m on it.” Crap. He’d swung by the junkyard an hour before he’d met Dustin for the trade. They’d have to do some quick work to get the time stamps altered, but there was always the chance the junk dealer wouldn’t work with the cops unless a warrant was involved.

  “Anyone else confirm you were there? What route did you take?”

  Sweat rolled down Aiden’s spine. Security and traffic cameras were too risky to doctor. If Matt wanted to track him down that bad, the only thing stopping him would be an FBI order.

  “What’s going on, man? Bitter I took your date?”

  Matt frowned and glanced at Gabriel, then back to Aiden.

  “Gabriel, why don’t you go help with that pickup truck? I promised we’d have that transmission ready by Wednesday.” Aiden spoke without glancing away from Matt.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Gabriel turned and strolled back into the garage.

  Matt took a step toward Aiden. The detective was a couple inches shorter, with the build of a runner. The sport coat was too tight on his shoulders. A little digging into the detective proved he liked to be hands-on working a case. Aiden figured the coat and glasses were for show, to appear more official.

  “I know you have a beef with the Eleventh Street Gang. One of their guys caused a wreck yesterday, shot up a few cars before we picked him up, but strange thing is, there’s no driver for the other car. A couple people said a man with light-colored hair was pulled out of a Mustang by a guy driving a pickup truck and left the scene. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Don’t you have another guy, a redneck, that works for you?”

  The ache in Aiden’s shoulder, neck, and back knew all about that, but he’d have to power through it. He resisted the urge to glance behind him to see if John’s truck was there.

  “Sorry, man, like I said, I had a busy day yesterday here.” He thumbed over his shoulder.

  “I don’t believe for an instant you work for the FBI,” Matt said quietly.

  “We both know the truth, Detective.”

  “I don’t believe it. Guy with your record? Not likely. Where’d you get the scratches from?” Matt gestured to Aiden’s forearms.

  When the window broke, the flying glass had cut him, but not much. Aiden held out his arms.

  “Huh. I guess that happened last night.”

  “And last night you were . . . ?”

  Aiden cocked a brow at Matt. “None of your business.”

  The phone in Aiden’s back pocket began to vibrate, except he couldn’t remember which phone was in what pocket. Was that his phone? Or the burner he’d been using?

  “Look, DeHart, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t trust you. What were you doing yesterday?”

  Aiden glanced over Matt’s shoulder. The other two cops were too far away to hear what they were saying. “I had a face-to-face meet with an asset. There was FBI coverage. I bet part of it was recorded. Unfortunately, I can’t share the details of our operation, but I can remind you that you’ve been asked to give us some space, so, Detective? Back the fuck off.”

  “I could arrest you for fleeing the scene. FBI won’t look too kindly on you doing that.”

  Aiden forced his hands to relax. Punching Detective Smith wouldn’t solve any of their problems.

  The other pocket began to vibrate. Who the hell was trying to get ahold of him at close to eight in the morning? Something was happening. And good things rarely happened this early.

  Aiden took a step toward Matt, staring him down. “I don’t want to start a pissing match with Miami-Dade PD. I just want to do my job. Now, unless you’ve got some evidence to charge me with, get off my property.”

  “I’m sure our guys will swab the interior and find something. I’ll pin this to your ass yet, FBI or no.” Matt turned and stalked toward his SUV.

  Aiden waited, watching the detective and two officers load up and roll out. Why did they have to get the detective with a vendetta?

  He turned and strode into the garage, pulling both phones out.

  “Aiden.” Kathy hurried to his side and grabbed his forearm. “Emery just called, said someone’s tripped the alarm at your house.”

  “Anything on the cameras?” While Aiden didn’t stand for cameras inside the house, he had a couple outside, just in case.

  “He’s pulling those up.”

  Aiden unlocked his burner phone and pulled up the missed calls.

  Dustin Ross.

  “I’ve got to get back to my house. Something’s not right.” Damn it. Why hadn’t he left Madison’s phone? Maybe she’d have ignored it?

  He jogged back to his car, Kathy behind him.

  “I’ll get Tori over there too, just in case.”

  “What about the paperwork?” The sooner Madison was gone, the safer she’d be.

  “It’s started, but that takes time.”

  Fucking FBI, with their red tape and a hundred forms. They were dealing with a life here, a very precious life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Madison sucked air in through her nose. The fabric tied around her face cut into the corners of her mouth and wound round her eyes. Her head and shoulder throbbed from where she’d bounced off the metal floor of a van. Her wrists were bound together by what felt like a zip tie.

  “Get her out of there.” That was Dustin. She knew his sleazy voice anywhere.

  Hands grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her onto her bottom before dragging her across the van. Her feet dropped onto gravel and she was yanked upright, but she couldn’t quite tell which way was up or down. She started to tilt, and a hand wrapped around her arm, jerking her in the other direction. She could smell tropical flowers and salt, while the sound of the ocean was so close she almost expected to be on the sand.

  “Inside, now. She better have my money, Ross,” someone else said. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  She whimpered. Another hand squeezed one of her many bruises in a tight grip. Her heart pounded and she was pretty sure she was going to be sick. Bile coated the back of her throat and she found it hard to breathe the thick, humid air.

  Madison was hustled across gravel, dragged up some stairs and into a building. The cool air hit her and she shivered, chill bumps breaking out over her skin. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she was shoved to the side and forcibly turned. The feel of sunlight faded and everything behind her blindfold grew dark.

  Fighting back was useless. She was still light-headed from the smack to her face when she’d tried to kick someone after they’d bound her wrists. Why had she left the bedroom?

  “Put her there,” the familiar voice said.

  She was shoved onto a hard bench or seat. Someone jerked at the knot holding her blindfold and gag combination together and the fabric fell away. She spat out the taste of the material and blinked around her. It was a dark, interior room that could have been in any building. She was in a metal chair, and a few others lined the walls. A matching desk was shoved in the corner behind the three men staring at her.

  Some goon she didn’t recognize. Dustin Ros
s. And Michael Evers.

  “W-what’s going on?” Fear curdled her stomach. This was oh so very bad. She was fucked. Royally so. There was no coming back from this.

  “I’m hurt.” Michael Evers spoke without emotion or even the semblance of feeling. “Hello, Madison.”

  “What the hell?” Her voice trembled when she spoke. She twisted her wrists, but the plastic refused to give.

  I’m dead. This is it.

  “Did you know I’ve been protecting you? Dustin here wanted to kill you when you filed for divorce.” He gestured at her ex-husband. “I told him no, because then people would ask questions and make a mess. It was far easier to let you live. Go on about your sad, miserable life. I did that. And this is how you repay me?”

  She glanced at Evers, then Dustin. Dustin glared at her, the open hatred hot enough she flinched away from him. It wasn’t a surprise he wanted her dead, she’d heard it herself a couple of times, but Evers had played a role in it?

  “What are you talking about?” There was no way they were going to just let her go. She sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “Help!”

  Dustin crossed the floor in three strides and backhanded her so hard she twisted and fell off the chair. Her head throbbed and firelike pain licked her skull. She curled up, bracing for a kick, something. Her head swam once more. It hurt so bad.

  “Ross,” Evers snapped. “Touch her again and I’ll give her a baseball bat and a go at you just to watch you scream like a little girl.”

  “She’s the reason we lost the drugs.” Dustin thrust his finger at her, gaping at his boss.

  “Would she have if you had left her alone like I told you to? And you’re the reason the money is gone.” Michael stared Dustin down, his expression cold. He gestured to the third man. “Pasha, help her up.”

  Pasha wasn’t gentle, but he hoisted her back onto the chair before backing away and taking up a place at the door. Her face stung and she could taste blood now.

  Michael grabbed another chair along the wall. The room was plain, light gray walls, polished concrete floors. Easy to clean up. He dragged the chair over to her and sat, face-to-face.

  “I understand wanting to get back at Dustin. He hasn’t been fair. I tried to stress to him that an amicable parting would make things go smoother in the future, but for some reason he seems intent on making things difficult. I propose a trade. You tell me where my shipment is and where my money has gone, and I make sure he leaves you alone.” Michael nodded toward Dustin, who’d taken a few steps back.

  “Then where were you when he burned my car? Or when he sent one of his idiots after me to scare me?” Fear turned into anger. He wanted to pretend like he gave a fuck? That he’d actually leash Dustin?

  “Those were unfortunate instances.” Evers glanced at his nails. Liars could rarely look someone in the eye.

  “Bullshit.”

  He sighed and lifted his gaze to her face. Now she felt the power of his cold, calculated stare. She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to stare right back at him. He took one step toward her, wrapped his fingers around her jaw, and forced her to look up at him.

  “Where’s my shipment and my money, Madison? I know you copied the drive, and I’m betting you were involved in last night’s theft. I’m giving you options when I don’t have to. I could let Pasha question you. He was in the Russian version of the Special Forces. They train anything human out of their men.” Evers leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d suggest he start with your fingers.”

  She was going to be sick.

  She couldn’t give up Aiden and his crew. She wouldn’t. No matter what Michael Evers or her low-life ex-husband did, she’d take the knowledge to the grave if she had to, just to spite them.

  * * *

  Aiden pushed the front door of his house open, his heart hammering against his ribs.

  “Madison? Madison, you here?” he called out.

  “I told you—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Emery.” Aiden ducked into the bedroom—but the comforter was thrown back and she wasn’t there. The living room was as he’d left it, even the laptop on the coffee table, but the back door was open.

  “She’s gone. They grabbed her behind the house,” Emery said quietly. He’d called as soon as he’d gotten the feed up, but Aiden couldn’t believe it. Not without seeing it with his own eyes.

  He paced out back to the barn and punched in his entry code. Maybe—just maybe Emery had gotten it wrong? He stepped into the makeshift garage, but it was silent. The cars sat in their stalls, the workbenches untouched.

  Madison was really gone.

  This was his fault. He should have never brought her back to his place, not after Dustin had picked her up. He’d thought Dustin would be too busy to worry about Madison, but he’d been wrong when he couldn’t afford to be. This was all on him. What had he done?

  “Talk to me,” Emery said.

  Aiden couldn’t reply. He covered his mouth with his hand and left the barn.

  He stood in the space between the house and the barn. He’d had the slab poured to serve as a patio area, and Kathy had fussed at him about adding some color, so she’d put in some flowering plants along one side. The gravel ran right up to the concrete. This was where they’d grabbed her. And he hadn’t been there to protect her.

  “Julian’s almost there. We’re going to put together a plan. I’ve got some ideas.”

  “Shut up, Emery.” He jabbed his Bluetooth, ending the call.

  Michael Evers wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Sure, he might not pull the trigger, but he had no qualms about ordering it done. They didn’t have enough solid evidence to charge Evers, but they knew he was responsible.

  Aiden’s phone began to vibrate, but the Bluetooth remained silent.

  He jerked his burner phone out of his pocket and stared at Dustin’s name floating on the screen. A ransom call?

  “What?” Aiden didn’t try to hide his frustration. Couldn’t if he wanted to.

  “Hey, Aiden.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore, Dustin? You know, after you wanted to kill me?” Aiden paced the length of the patio.

  “It was nothing personal.” Dustin’s tone was far too . . . nice.

  “What do you want?”

  “While you were working Madison over, did you get any information about who she’s hanging out with? Talking to? Maybe someone offering her a job?”

  “What?” The shock was real. Dustin hadn’t figured it out? It wasn’t obvious?

  “She’s more of a bitch than I thought she was. She pulled one over on me and I need to know who helped her.”

  Julian’s black GT-R pulled around the house, spraying gravel with the speed of his stop. Aiden stepped back, staring at Julian as he jumped from the car.

  “Let me call you back. I might know something, but I have to look into it.” Aiden needed off the phone. He had to gather his wits, come up with a story, something Dustin would believe long enough for them to figure out how to save Madison.

  “Great. Good.”

  “Dustin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s going to cost you.”

  “Whatever it takes. Just bring them to me. Today. Understand?”

  Dustin was desperate. He must also be in a panic if he were being this straight with Aiden. The job he’d done for Dustin before had taken a considerable amount of vetting and scrutiny.

  He ended the call and turned to face Julian, who stood at the edge of the slab.

  “What are his demands?” Julian asked.

  “They don’t fucking realize it was us.”

  Julian’s gaze widened. “The hell?”

  “I’m serious. He wants to know who Madison’s been hanging out with. Who I think might have helped her.” Aiden paced up and down the slab.

  Who did they know that was in town? There were plenty of guys running this or that scam. Miami was a hotbed of criminal activity.

  “You aren’t going
to like this suggestion, but I need to at least put it out there.” Julian crossed his arms over his chest.

  Aiden stopped, staring at his friend. The job and war had changed Julian into someone Aiden barely recognized at times, but when it came down to a rock and a hard place, Julian was the only person Aiden wanted at his back.

  “We could let Madison take the fall for us. She knew the minute she got involved with the job last night—”

  “No. Hell no. Don’t even say it. Don’t you fucking say it.” Aiden crossed the distance between them before he realized what he was doing, fists balled up.

  Julian took a step back and brought up his hands, palms out.

  “Wow, right then—I told you I had to say it, not that we’re going to do it.”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “Okay, then we come clean to Dustin.”

  “If we do that, it’s all over. We need a plan. Something else.” Aiden glanced at Julian’s car. Who was the only other group that had a beef with Dustin and Evers? It was stupid. Kind of crazy. And destined to fail. But they only needed it to be believable long enough to snatch Madison.

  “What are you thinking, man?” Julian shifted from foot to foot.

  True, Aiden sometimes had crazy plans that didn’t always work, but right now, they needed crazy. That extra shot of nitrous oxide just before the finish line.

  “Call Emery,” he said.

  The Bluetooth chirped once before ringing.

  “Yes?”

  “I need Raibel Canales’s cell phone number and hopefully his location. Also, tell Tori and John I’ll need them as backup.”

  “Is this a MacGyver plan?” In the background, Aiden could hear Emery typing.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll warn Kathy.”

  “We might not want to tell CJ and Kathy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they probably won’t like my plan.”

  “This should be fun then.”

  “The number, Emery.”

  Emery rattled off Raibel’s phone number. Aiden punched it into his contacts and saved it, just in case.

  “. . . Aiden?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try to not get Tori hurt?”