by Lara Lacombe
In a way, this was good news. As soon as Big Sal got the pictures, Fiona would no longer be a target. A small, selfish part of him was saddened by this realization, as it meant he’d no longer have an excuse to spend time with her. But then his conscience kicked in, reminding him that getting her out of danger was more important than his pathetic crush on a woman he couldn’t have.
“Fiona,” he called, pushing open the door and entering the house. “I have good news.”
She didn’t respond, so he moved deeper inside. “Fiona,” he repeated, raising his voice a little. Maybe she had her head buried in her closet and couldn’t hear him very well.
Silence hung in the air, and a frisson of unease trickled down his back. Why wasn’t she answering him? He started down the hall, but a strange scent stopped him in his tracks. He sniffed cautiously, trying to recognize it. It was slightly sweet, with a pungent tang that made his nose cold.
Chloroform.
His stomach dropped, and he quickly slipped his gun from its holster. “Fiona?” He made his way slowly down the hall, approaching her bedroom. It was a long shot, but maybe she was still inside...
Hope died when he stepped into the room and found it empty. There was an open bag on the bed where she had started packing, but she was nowhere to be found.
He quickly searched the rest of the house, but it was useless. There were no signs of a struggle, which made him think whoever had taken her had sneaked up on her from behind and incapacitated her before she could raise an alarm. But where had they gone?
Definitely not through the front door. He’d been in the driveway the whole time and hadn’t seen anything amiss. The back door, then. Nate practically ran onto the porch, his head swiveling from side to side as he looked for any signs of her.
Nothing. His throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. He had to find her!
For the first time, he noticed that her yard backed up to an easement, a grassy alley that ran between her home and the one behind it. The easement stretched the length of the street, and it would have been easy for the assailant to knock her out, throw her over his shoulder and escape through the back door. If he’d parked his car at the end of the grassy strip, he could have dumped her inside and taken off without attracting much notice. Nate certainly hadn’t heard an engine start up, and no wonder—the distance from Fiona’s house to the end of the easement was easily a hundred yards, plenty of space to muffle sounds and mask a hasty getaway.
Nate cursed a blue streak, but it did nothing to relieve the heavy sense of dread weighing on his chest. How had he let this happen? He’d promised to keep her safe, and he’d failed spectacularly. What kind of a cop yakked on his phone while a woman was kidnapped mere feet from him?
He hastily dialed Owen, his hand shaking so badly it took several tries to get the number right. “She’s gone,” he said, as soon as his partner picked up. He could hear the thread of panic in his voice, but he didn’t care.
“What?”
Nate took a deep breath to stem the rising tide of impatience. Yelling at Owen wasn’t going to bring Fiona back, and it wasn’t the other man’s fault that Nate couldn’t speak coherently right now. “Fiona has been taken,” he clarified.
Owen cursed. “Did you see who took her?”
“No. But I smelled chloroform in the house. She didn’t put up a struggle.”
“That’s good,” Owen replied. “Means she probably didn’t get hurt.”
Nate hadn’t thought of it that way, but the idea was of little comfort. The fact remained that Fiona had been taken against her will, and right under his nose!
“I’ll send out the evidence-response team,” his partner continued. “In the meantime, you should come back to the station.”
“I can’t,” Nate said. He felt both frustrated and helpless, and he had to do something. Going back to the station felt like an acknowledgment of defeat, as if he was giving up on finding her.
“You didn’t see who took her,” Owen pointed out. “And I’m assuming that means you didn’t see where they went. So what do you think you’re going to accomplish, running around with no direction or clues to guide you? Come back to the station, and we can work together to find her.”
It was a persuasive argument, but Nate couldn’t bring himself to accept it.
“Just send the team here, and go pick up Ben. I want to talk to him. Also, dispatch some officers to check out Joey’s place.”
“You think the guy who tried to rob the store took Fiona?”
“Maybe.” Nate tapped his fingers against the side of his leg, trying to think. “I can’t afford to overlook the possibility. Not when Fiona’s safety is at stake.”
“And where are you going?”
Nate ran a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing what he had to do.
“I’m going to pay Big Sal a visit.”
Chapter 11
Fiona opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t. She was in a dim room, but the small amount of light that illuminated the space pierced her eyes and sent sharp, stabbing pain directly into her brain. She lifted a heavy hand and laid it across her face, wanting to return to the soothing relief of darkness.
Her mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton balls, and she tried to swallow. It hurt, and she choked back a moan as the dry tissues of her throat rubbed together painfully.
Where am I?
She squinted from between her fingers, trying to make out the details of the room. She was lying on a small bed, the mattress lumpy and smelling faintly of mothballs, which did nothing to help her aching head. The carpet had once been beige, but now it looked stained and greasy, and she drew her legs up to make sure she wasn’t touching it. The bed probably wasn’t any better, but she steadfastly refused to look at it.
There was a small window high in the wall, enough to let in some light but not big enough to serve as an escape route. Not that she could use it—her head was spinning like a merry-go-round, and her stomach heaved threateningly. Don’t throw up, she told herself firmly.
She took a few deep breaths, which seemed to help a little. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was standing in her bedroom, folded shirt in hand, packing a small bag of essentials. She’d heard footsteps in the hall and had assumed it was Nate, but he hadn’t responded when she’d called out to him.
She frowned, having trouble focusing her thoughts. The memories were there, but they were shrouded in fog, making it hard for her to pick out the details and piece them together to form a complete picture. It hadn’t been Nate, but who was it?
I never saw his face. Whoever it was, he had come up from behind her and clapped a hand over her face. A horrible scent had flooded her nose—sweet and cloying and vile. She’d gagged, but before she could try to push him away, her vision had narrowed and quickly faded to black.
How long have I been out? Hours? Days? The thought that she may have lost so much time sent a chill down her spine and made her guts cramp. She could be anywhere at this point—there was no way to tell, unless she could get a glimpse of what lay outside.
Determination gave her the strength to roll over onto her stomach, and she drew her knees up and pushed until she was kneeling on the bed. The movement made the room tilt dangerously, but she clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath until she felt stable again. It took a few, painful moments, but eventually she was able to stand on shaky legs, gripping the wall for support.
Unfortunately, the view didn’t tell her much. The window was obscured by a tangle of brown vines that blocked her view, and she bit her lip to keep from crying in frustration. All that effort, wasted!
She sank back onto the bed, causing the mattress springs to squeak loudly in protest. Think, she had to think! There had to be a way to get out of here, or at the very least, to summon help. She patted her pockets halfheartedly, already knowing she wouldn’t find her phone. That was still in her purse, which was back at the house.
Did Nate even know she was g
one yet? Maybe her kidnapper had left some clues, and he was even now on his way to rescue her. It was a nice fantasy, and for a moment she comforted herself with thoughts of Nate breaking down the door, gathering her into his arms and carrying her away from this dingy, dreary place.
“Not likely,” she muttered. This was real life, not some adventure movie, and if she was going to get away she would have to do it on her own. But how?
Before she could come up with an answer to her own question, the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps coming closer. Fiona scanned the room for a hiding place but came up empty. There was no closet, and the bed she sat on was the only piece of furniture in the place. She had nowhere to go, no way to protect herself from whoever was on the other side of the door.
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the metallic scrape of a key turning in a lock. The door flew open, and a tall figure stood on the threshold, his height nearly filling the space. She blinked and instinctively shrank back, but there was no escaping him. If he’d come here to hurt her, she was totally defenseless.
“Good. You’re up.” He took a step inside and closed the door behind him, trapping her in the room with him. She swallowed hard, determined not to let her fear get the better of her.
“Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”
The man ran a hand over his head, knocking the hood of his jacket back and revealing his face. Fiona got her first good look at his features and gasped in recognition. It was Joey, the guy who had tried to rob the store! But why had he taken her? Was he upset she had decided to press charges?
“Ben said you have the photos. I need them.”
It took her a moment to register what he was saying. Pictures? That was the cause of all of this? He had taken her because he wanted the pictures Ben had handed her? She shook her head, equal parts dismayed and aggravated. Unfortunately, the gesture only served to exacerbate her headache, and she reached up to rub her forehead.
“All you had to do was ask,” she said, a little testily. “I would have given you the damn things. You didn’t have to kidnap me.”
“You ran away from me earlier before I could say anything,” he pointed out, sounding a little pouty.
“Because you broke into my home!” Did she really have to explain her reaction to his break-in? What was wrong with this guy?
He shrugged, wincing slightly. His shoulder must still be bothering him, she realized. That wasn’t surprising—he’d been shot only two days ago. Could she use that to her advantage?
“It doesn’t matter now,” he replied. “Just give me the pictures, and I’ll let you go.”
Fiona’s stomach dropped. “I... I don’t have them.” She watched him carefully, trying to anticipate his reaction. Would he attack her? Her muscles tensed, and she clenched her hands into fists, preparing to defend herself. He definitely had a size advantage over her, but maybe she could land some good hits before going down...
He took a menacing step toward her, but drew up short before he hit the edge of the bed. “What do you mean you don’t have them? Are you saying Ben lied to me?”
Fiona’s mind whirred with possible responses. If she sent him back to Ben, it would give her more time to work out an escape. But could she really do that? She didn’t like to think she was the kind of person who would deliberately put someone else in danger, but, in Ben’s case, she might be willing to make an exception.
On the other hand, what if she told the truth? How would Joey react to the news that the photos he sought were in police custody?
Probably not very well, she thought, eyeing him thoughtfully. If he felt there was no chance of retrieving the pictures, there would be nothing to keep him from hurting her. He was already desperate. Adding hopelessness to the mix would create a volatile combination of emotions that would likely break the apparently tenuous hold he had on his self-control.
In the end, self-preservation won. “I don’t know what Ben told you,” she said. “But the last time I saw the photos, he was taking them out to his car. He’s probably got them at home.” There. Let Joey track Ben down and leave her alone.
He glared at her for a moment, digesting her words. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
She shrugged, trying to look convincing. “Look at me. You know I don’t have the pictures on me, and I’m assuming you searched my house while you were waiting for me.”
He nodded in the affirmative, which sent a spike of anger coursing through her system. How dare he paw through her things and invade her privacy like that? She wanted to slap him but took a deep breath, instead. Not now, she told herself. Just get him to leave.
“Well then, you know I don’t have them,” she concluded. “Ben’s the only one who could.”
“I guess so,” Joey said slowly. He frowned, apparently confused by this new twist.
“If you really want those pictures, you should let me go and track down Ben. He’s the one you want.” She tried to sound convincing but not too eager. Joey seemed like a spiteful kind of guy, the type who would deliberately do the opposite of what she wanted just because she wanted it. He reminded her of a confrontational child who misbehaved to test his limits, only Joey was big enough to be dangerous.
“Maybe,” he replied. He narrowed his eyes at her. “But I can’t just let you go.”
“Sure you can,” she coaxed.
“No,” he said, more definitively. “You’ll just run to the police, like you did the other day.”
Fiona shook her head. “I won’t,” she said firmly. “I’ll forget this ever happened.”
He rocked back on his heels, his head tilted. “I don’t think so. You’re staying here until I get what I need.”
Dammit. Still, it was better than the alternative. “Fine,” she said, not bothering to keep the resentment out of her tone. “Then get out of here. The sooner you find Ben and the photos, the sooner you’ll have to let me go.”
A small smile flitted across his face, as though he had a secret he wasn’t willing to share. “Sure thing,” he replied, taking another step closer. Fiona pushed back on the mattress, but her back hit the wall and she couldn’t put any more space between them.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving,” he said. “But before I go, I need to make sure you don’t try anything while I’m gone.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe.
Fiona kicked out, panic making her movements frantic and uncoordinated. “Don’t touch me,” she warned, trying to sound tough.
“Or you’ll what?” he taunted. He stood there for a moment, smirking down at her. Then he lashed out like a snake, grabbing an ankle and tugging sharply so that she was knocked flat on the bed.
“Stop it!” She pushed against him, trying to break his grip, but he only tightened his fingers. Moving quickly, he pushed his knee into her stomach and leaned forward, cutting off her ability to breathe and effectively immobilizing her. There was a sharp sting in her thigh, and after a moment, he moved off her.
Fiona curled into a ball, trying to protect her bruised stomach. Gone was the desire to fight him—she just wanted him to leave her alone.
A tingling sensation radiated from the sore spot where he had injected her, quickly extending down her leg and up into her abdomen. Numbness began to set in, and her limbs grew heavy. Joey stood at the edge of the bed looking down on her, his eyes bright with an unnatural gleam that made her think of a venomous spider watching the death throes of its prey. She tried to glare at him, but her facial muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
“Sleep tight,” he said, his voice taking on a singsong quality that sent a chill down her spine.
Fiona fought to keep her eyes open, but it was so very, very hard. Joey laughed and waggled his fingers in a disturbing little wave, and then she gave up the battle and let the darkness settle over her.
* * *
Nate threw the gearshift into Park and forced himself to take a deep breath before climbing out
. He wouldn’t get anywhere if he went storming into Big Sal’s office making demands. Big Sal was the kind of man who fancied himself a gentleman, and from what Nate had heard, he insisted on acting the part.
At least in public.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Carl had warned. After a career spent working in the vice squad, Carl had been Nate’s go-to source for information on Big Sal. And he hadn’t disappointed. He’d given Nate a quick but thorough rundown of Big Sal’s operation and habits, and while Nate didn’t feel as prepared as he would like, at least he wasn’t walking into the situation blind.
He walked into the building and was surprised to find a young woman sitting behind a desk. He hadn’t expected to encounter a receptionist, and he supposed it was meant to make the operation seem more legitimate.
She looked up from her desk and offered him a polite smile. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Salvatore.”
She nodded. “And your name please?”
“Nate Gallagher.”
Her brows drew together in a small frown as she consulted her computer. “I’m sorry, I don’t see you on Mr. Salvatore’s schedule for this afternoon. Would you care to make an appointment?”
Nate shook his head. “Nope. That won’t be necessary.” He showed the woman his badge and stepped around her desk. “I’m sure he can make time for me.”
“Sir!” She sprang up from the chair and darted in front of him, physically blocking him from moving forward. “You can’t just barge in there!”
He lifted a brow as he stared down at her. “Ma’am, I suggest you move. Now,” he added, injecting a bit of steel into his voice.
She regarded him with wide eyes. “I can’t,” she said, her voice soft. “If I let you in there, he’ll fire me. And I really need this job!”
There was genuine fear in her eyes, and for a brief moment Nate felt sorry for her. But he couldn’t let this unknown woman’s situation keep him from talking to Big Sal, especially when Fiona’s safety was at stake.
“I’ll tell him you tried to stop me,” Nate promised. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her aside, ignoring her pleading gaze. “Follow me closely and make a scene, and he won’t fire you.”