Incognito

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Incognito Page 27

by Siobhan Davis


  “In the flesh.” I know she’s just trying to distract me, but I can’t even summon a smile as I reply.

  “So, are you into it?”

  I frown, and my lips pause around my coffee cup. “Into what?”

  “Threesomes and kinky sex.” She grins, sipping her drink like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  I splutter. “Want to say it louder? Those people across the street didn’t hear you.”

  “Quit stalling, stud.” She rubs her hands in glee. “Dish the dirt.”

  The vibration of my phone saves me from responding. I snatch it up. “Well?”

  Devin’s voice is solemn and littered with concern as he speaks. “She never made the flight, Shawn. She never left the city.”

  Nausea swamps me, and my heart is racing. “What do you mean?”

  “I still have a tracker on her cell. I just traced the location. Her phone is somewhere outside her dorm.”

  I clamp a hand over my mouth, unable to speak over my fear. Tabs wells up when she spots the abject terror on my face.

  “Take Mark and scour the grounds outside her dorm,” Devin instructs. “I’m going to call my old station and campus security and see if I can get access to any camera feeds in the area. Keep in close contact with me.”

  “Okay.” My voice is raw. My fear transparent.

  “Try not to worry, Shawn. We’ll find her. I promise you.”

  “We need to go.” I stand, and Tabs follows me out of the coffee shop. I whisper the update to her, and she starts sobbing. I pull her into a quick hug. “We have to stay strong, and I’m not going to let anything happen to Dakota, I promise. Call Daisy and Elsa, just in case they’ve heard from her,” I suggest, and she dries her eyes, pulling out her cell.

  My new personal bodyguard, Mark, is waiting outside for me. We fall into step, hurrying the few blocks until we come to the side road leading to Dakota’s dorm. “Let’s start looking from here,” he directs, slowing his gait and scanning the path as we walk.

  “Neither of the girls have heard from her,” Tabs says, joining us in closely examining our surroundings. We turn around the corner, stepping onto the main path that leads to the dorm. The grass is overgrown, the shrubbery untidy, in this section so we split up to scour the area. About three minutes later, Tabs yells my name, and we both race to her side. She’s clutching a black bag to her chest, tears streaming down her face. “It’s Kota’s.”

  “Oh God.” I squeeze my eyes shut, and a tight pain spreads across my chest.

  Mark rummages in her bag, pulling out her phone which has since powered off.

  I drop to the ground on my butt, resting my head on my knees while Mark checks in with Devin. Tabs is quietly crying beside me. “Who took her, Shawn? Who has her?”

  I can only shake my head. Is this sheer coincidence or has someone gone after Dakota because of what she means to me? My most recent stalker may be behind bars, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a line of crazies waiting to take his place. Did my declaration of love provoke this?

  My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I slip it out. All the blood leaches from my face as the message loads.

  It’s a photo of Dakota.

  She’s strapped to a chair, her arms tied behind her back, her head lolling forward in a way that indicates she’s unconscious.

  DO AS I INSTRUCT AND SHE’LL COME TO NO HARM. IGNORE MY COMMANDS OR INVOLVE THE POLICE AND SHE DIES.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Dakota

  My eyes flicker open and shut, and I wet my dry lips as I slowly come to. It feels like mothballs have taken up residence in my furry mouth, and my throat is raw and aching. A coarse whimper leaves my lips involuntarily. Slowly, the room comes into focus, and I jerk wide-awake. Blood pumps furiously through my body, and my heart is beating so fast I’m scared I’m on the verge of a heart attack. My neck aches, and my arms throb, but I barely feel the pain as it all comes rushing back to me.

  “Get her,” a gruff voice says from behind me, raising all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

  I scan the desolate room, noting the trash, used needles, and other debris strewn across the floor. A dirty mattress rests in one corner, and three rickety chairs line the far wall. Apart from that, the space is devoid of furniture and fittings. Paint is peeling off the walls, and some of the panes of glass are cracked in the only window in the place. It’s up high on the left-hand side, and, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say I’m in the basement of a large house or warehouse.

  A door creaks open and shut behind me, and then two sets of legs appear in front of me. I lift my head, shooting daggers at the man and woman before me. The girl looks about my age, and I’d say she was pretty one time, before drugs ravaged her face and her body. She’s wearing skinny jeans that are hanging off her skeletal frame, knee-high boots, and a ratty sweater that’s seen better days. But it’s the sunken cheeks, hollowed-out eyes and parchment-paper skin that are the telltale signs. Her hair hangs in limp strands down her back. The guy isn’t much better. He’s got to be at least ten or fifteen years older than she is. His hair is closely cropped to his head, and he’s supporting a straggly goatee. Tattoos cover his arms and his neck, and the crazy, unfocused look in his eyes has me shivering all over.

  I’ve never seen either of them before, and I’ve no clue what they want with me. Ignoring the chattering of my teeth, I try to steady my voice when I speak. “Why am I here? What do you want?”

  “You’re bait,” the girl replies. “Provided you do as we tell you, no harm will come to you.”

  The guy runs his eyes over my body from head to toe, and her assurances fall flat. A heavy weight presses down on my chest as panic surges to the surface.

  I think I might puke.

  Thoughts of Mom threaten to unravel my composure, but I force those troubling fears aside, telling myself to keep calm and maintain focus. The best thing I can do for my mother is to get out of this alive, and I need to keep my cool and not let terror consume me.

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re his midnight dancer,” the guy sneers, mocking me. He leans in, tracing a filthy fingernail across my cheek.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” I scream, flinching at his touch.

  He chuckles. “I don’t think she’s getting this,” he says to the girl.

  “Leave her alone, Eric,” she snaps, yanking his hand back. “He won’t hand over the cash if she’s harmed in any way. Put your dick back in your pants and start using your brain.” She prods at his temple, and he shoves her away.

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Cheyenne. This is my show.”

  “Don’t piss me off, jerk face. This was my idea, and if I hadn’t come to you with it, you wouldn’t be here. I’m calling the shots. Not you. I’m the one who knows him, not you.”

  Eric’s whole demeanor changes in an instant. Grabbing Cheyenne to him, he demolishes her mouth while he fondles her ass. “I love it when you get all feisty. It really fucking turns me on.” As if to prove his point, he directs her hand to the bulge in his pants and lets her feel.

  I’m seconds away from puking. Although, watching their live porn show is far preferable to whatever Eric was dreaming up when he leered at me a few minutes ago.

  “But it’ll have to wait, sexy,” he says, nipping at her lower lip. “I need to set things up at the drop-off point.”

  She rubs her palm along the length of his erection, stroking him through his jeans, while smirking. “Don’t be too long.”

  He swats her on the butt, before sending me a sleazy look on his way out. I release the breath I’d been holding, but the sense of relief doesn’t last long. Two more guys appear in the room, taking the seats at the far wall, both of them eyeballing me with the same intensity Eric displayed.

  It’s not in any way comforting.

  But I r
emind myself to maintain a calm veneer, even if I’m quaking on the inside.

  I know the best thing to do is to keep the kidnapper talking, so I attempt to strike up some kind of camaraderie with Cheyenne. “You know Shawn?”

  “I’ve known him since we were kids.”

  “So why are you doing this?”

  She drags a chair over and straddles it, facing me. “Did he tell you about Matt and Nick and how he came to find fame and fortune?”

  I shake my head. I know nothing about that side of his life, but admitting that out loud probably won’t help my cause.

  She snorts, and a bitter look crosses her face. “Figures. Shawn’s a selfish asshole who doesn’t deserve his success. Nick and Matt were his best friends growing up, and they started a band when we were fourteen. Some YouTube videos of them performing went viral, and in a flash, they were whisked to L.A. by one of the biggest labels.”

  She starts coughing, and it’s a horrid, dry, coarse sound. One of the pricks brings her a bottle of water, and she greedily knocks it back. When she’s done, she tosses the bottle on the floor, grabs the guy down to her level, and plants one on him. “Thanks, baby.” He grabs her boob through her sweater, and a moan flies out of her throat before she shoves him away. “Not now. Go sit down.”

  He saunters back to his chair, flashing me a flirty look once he has reclaimed his seat.

  “Where were we?” Cheyenne says, not needing any encouragement to continue. “Yes. Nick. So, Nick was chasing me for ages, but I wasn’t interested. He was cute, but nothing special, certainly not in Shawn’s league.” Her lips curl into a sneer. “But I wasn’t good enough for that pompous dick, so I had to downgrade my options. When they started the band, and it became obvious they were onto something, I gave in to Nick. Fucking killed me to be his girlfriend, but I was in it for the long-term gain.”

  The longer she speaks, the more I despise her.

  “I knew the guys were going to hit the big time, and I was going to get that ring on my finger, pop out a kid or two, and then divorce Nick’s boring ass and walk away with a nice paycheck. Except Shawn fucking Lucas ruined everything.”

  She gets up, pacing the room in agitation. Venom practically seeps from her pores as she spits out the rest of her tale. “The label didn’t want Nick or Matt. It was clear Shawn was the star. Instead of sticking up for his friends, he sold them out. They got a shitty payoff and were sent packing. I found out I was pregnant a couple weeks later. It wasn’t a shock. I had planned it, but I didn’t realize I was now tied to a loser, with his loser kid growing in my belly, but what could I do? I was fifteen and pregnant, and I knew my parents would kick me out when they heard the news.”

  “Man, you’re a cold-hearted bitch, Cheyenne,” the other guy pipes up.

  “Shut up, assface, or you can forget about getting a cut of the ransom,” she says, flipping him the bird.

  She refocuses on her story. “So, I had the stupid kid and came up with a Plan B, but Nick is too fucking soft and too sentimental for his own good. I told him to go to Shawn and tell him we needed cash. Guilt him into it, but Nick was having none of it. He refused to blame Shawn, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.”

  She sits back down. “Your boyfriend is a fucking asshole. He changed his number, but I got a hold of his assistant’s number and called him. Left messages with her for an entire week. Pleading poverty. Sent him pictures of the snotty-nosed kid. And he just turned around and said it wasn’t any of his business and he was not going to be our cash cow.”

  I’m betting, one hundred percent, that Shawn never got any of those messages. That bitch probably thought it was his kid, and she wanted to keep Cheyenne away from him. “His assistant never showed him the messages or the photos. I can guarantee you that. She’s a fucking bitch.”

  Cheyenne’s brows climb to her hairline, and a broad smile fixes across her face. “Interesting, and I’m tempted to ask for deets, but this isn’t your story. It’s mine. I want you to memorize every word I’m telling you, so you can relay it back to him later. I want him to know what he did and why it’s his fault you’re here today.”

  She tucks her greasy hair behind her ears and continues. “All he had to do was deliver the cash, and then I would have skipped off into the sunset, but he wouldn’t cough up. Nick took a job as a mechanic and spent all his payoff on a small apartment. Fucking idiot. Expected me to stay home and play mom. To stay in that deadbeat town. But Cheyenne Williams was destined for better things.”

  Yeah, obviously, she’s come far. “Like felony kidnapping and extortion?” I blurt before I can think better of it.

  The guys at the back laugh, and Cheyenne’s smile withers and dies. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, girl. Trust me. I’m the only thing standing in those guys way. I just have to say the words, and they’ll be inside you like that.” She clicks her fingers, and I shiver as rising panic returns.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, hating myself for saying it, but self-preservation has kicked in. “Go on. What happened next,” I encourage.

  Like the flip of a coin, she smiles at me again. This girl is either doped to her eyeballs or just plain bat shit crazy. Her eyes keep rolling in her head, so I’m sure it’s the former and probably the latter too. All I know is I need to keep her on side and keep her talking.

  “I left that deadbeat town and Nick behind and came to L.A.”

  I think she did Nick and her kid a solid by leaving, but I don’t articulate that thought.

  “Found my squad and dabbled in a few things until I met Eric a year ago. He was fresh out of jail and looking for his next scam. I was hellbent on revenge, so it was a match made in heaven.” She throws back her head, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing ever.

  “And we played this so perfectly.” She grins. “It was all a setup to divert attention from the real stalker, namely me. It pissed me off that Shawn went into hiding, but we adjusted our plans accordingly, knowing it would draw him out. Discovering you was the icing on the cake.”

  “So, are you saying the stalker the police have in custody is innocent?”

  She laughs, slapping her thighs. “Hardly! It was all part of the plan. We hired those three idiots to do all the donkey work and sent them to Shawn’s house the second time knowing they would get caught. Eric’s brother, Aaron, agreed to take the fall for a bigger share of the pot. He hasn’t done time before, so the sentence will be more lenient. And when he gets out, he’ll have all that lovely money waiting for him.”

  She presses her mouth to my ear. “Or so he thinks,” she whispers, winking conspiratorially as if I’m in this with her.

  She sits back down in her chair. “We knew Shawn would call off the bodyguards once he believed his stalker was no longer a threat, so we bided our time until we could get to you. And now here we are,” she says, just as the door creaks open behind me. “About to be rich beyond our wildest dreams. You can tell Shawn he could have spared you this, spared himself all the shit we did to him in the last year, if he’d just paid up in the first place.” She straightens up, slanting me a superior look. “No one messes with Cheyenne Williams and gets away unscathed.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Shawn

  We dropped Tabs off at her place before heading to the bank and then on to my penthouse. Devin is here, plugged into his cell as he taps away on his laptop. A couple of other guys from his team are also in the apartment, heads focused on their laptops and screens as they converse in hushed tones. The place is a hive of activity, but it does little to quell the brewing storm in my head. Devin ends his call and comes up to me as I step foot in the room. He slaps me on the back. “How you holding up?”

  “I’m not.” I draw exaggerated mouthfuls of air into my lungs. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten jealous, I never would’ve taken the bodyguard off her and she wouldn’t have been taken.”
>
  Mark and Tom drop the duffel bags by the door and stand guard.

  “You don’t know that, Shawn,” Devin replies. “Besides, there didn’t seem to be a legitimate reason to continue protection.”

  “That’s neither here nor there now. We need to focus on finding her. Any updates?”

  Devin sits back down, nodding at the empty chair beside him, and I sink into it. “They are using an untraceable cell to send you messages so that’s a dead end. However, we might have another lead.” I lean forward on my elbows. “The rendezvous point is interesting.” A second text had come in a little while ago with a set time and place to meet along with a demand for five million dollars.

  We haven’t notified the police because Devin is an ex-cop, and he has this in hand. It needs to look like we’re cooperating, hence why the guys are guarding my five mill in the two duffel bags. I thought the bank manager might keel over when I made the demand, but he came through with the cash in record time.

  “You remember I said I wanted to tie up loose ends with Aaron Hunter?” I nod. “A few things were niggling at me, and I’ve uncovered something interesting. Aaron is half-brother to a guy called Eric Spencer. You ever heard of him?” I rack my brains and shake my head. “Eric is an ex-cop. He was dirty to the core, and an addict to boot. Was involved in tons of illegal shit until he was caught and put away for five years. Guess who he did time with?”

  “Santa Claus?” I snap, having no patience for this. Not when my girl is out there being held by these assholes.

  Devin ignores my little outburst. “The three hired guns who gave up Aaron.”

  “Hang on. I’m getting confused.” I try to sort this out in my head. “So, Eric is a dirty cop who was in jail with the three assholes who broke into my house and tied up my mom and he’s the brother of the guy who worked for the security company who turned out to be my stalker?”

  “Correct. Except I don’t think Aaron Hunter was the mastermind.”

 

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