“Like the Oreo?” Sergeant Quinn referred to Connor’s off-white rental surrounded by the dark Ford Chargers, so dark that in the moon they almost looked black.
“Yeah, I like the Oreo. Thanks.”
“No problem. We’re going to pick up the pace. Drive safely and stay with us.”
“Got it. Thanks.” They all sped up, and Connor pressed the pedal to the floor. This time when he hit eighty, he was surrounded by reds and blues. They were going to make it in time. They had to. If she wasn’t—he couldn’t bear to finish the thought. There was no option. Alex had to be alive.
“Doyle, don’t get your hopes up too much, but your blip has been moving for the past fifteen minutes.”
Thank God. “How much?”
“Normally, a cheap GPS like the one you bought would only track to within a neighborhood block reliably, but I think your partner extended the reach somehow, and with our satellites now tracking it.” He paused for a moment. “Let’s see. She’s been all over that warehouse. Every once in a while stopping, then it’s almost as if she’s pacing. We won’t be able to get a visual feed until we get on site with the TIK.”
“No, this is great.” She was alive and moving. But if that was the case, and she was free to move, why hadn’t she escaped the building yet?
“She’ll be fine,” Quinn reassured him.
Connor went over the potential what if’s in his head. The only plausible solution was that she was staying to protect someone else. Shit.
“Charlotte’s been captured too,” he grunted into the phone. “I thought she was in on the whole thing, but it makes sense.” That was the best reason for Alex remaining there. To do her job and protect another.
“Hold on one sec.” Quinn sounded further away as if he had set the phone down. “Well, fuck.”
“What?” Connor forced himself to stay calm and in control of his emotions so he didn’t slam into the back of the squad car.
“Charlotte’s husband just called the police a few minutes ago. Apparently, she is being held for ransom, and won’t be released unless he pays a million dollars.”
Shit. “What did the man say?” If he told them no, or pissed off the kidnappers, both women would be dead before they could get there.
“He told them he needed to make some calls, bought some time with it being nighttime and all the banks closed.”
A huge sigh of relief left him. They could still make it in time. “When did the ransom call come in?”
“About ten minutes ago. They told him not to call the authorities, or they would start mailing him body parts; that’s why it took him so long.”
“Okay, what’s the plan?”
Quinn let out an evil-sounding chuckle. “This might be a tad different than you’re used to on your force. Listen, we don’t have a vest for you, so you get a different task.” He explained quickly, as a wide smile spread across Connor’s face.
“Man, you’re talking to the wrong partner. I’m in.”
* * *
Alex watched the slim, wiry thug pace the floor, his movements jerky and anxious. She was happy Slim wasn’t holding a weapon right now. With all that nervous energy radiating from him, all it would take was a rat scrambling across the floor to get them all accidentally shot in the head.
Charlotte sat with her hands meekly across her lap, wringing them as the tension built. She looked so pitiful and vulnerable, wide-eyed and scared shitless. The poor woman probably was terrified, but she had done great—getting her arms untied; weeping against Alex long enough to yank the necklace from around her neck; finally begging a young man who looked just barely in his twenties for a hug. Then she had dropped the necklace into his pocket.
Alex had never been happier for saggy, ass-crack showing pants in her life. The GPS in his front pocket, and his cell in his back… hopefully, a good signal could be sent.
“How much longer?” Slim continued to mutter and pace the floor, while checking his cell phone for messages from his crew. “Stay put,” he growled, and Charlotte shrank against Alex for support. “We’re going out for a smoke.”
“Alone again.” Alex smiled. “Ready to put those fake nails back to good use?”
A flash of anger flittered across Charlotte’s face. “I told you before, they’re real.”
“Just try not to open a vein, please.”
“You’re awfully bossy for someone who’s tied to a chair,” Charlotte mumbled and leaned over to start back on Alex’s tight bindings around her wrists. “Has the prickling stopped yet?”
Alex grimaced. “Mostly. I think I’ll have full range of function again—well, as soon as I’m free anyway. Thank God these guys like to smoke.” They had left them alone two other short moments during their capture, giving them time to come up with a plan. Now it just depended on her partner getting here. And if her arms were free… yeah, that would be icing on the cake.
She relaxed and let Charlotte continue working on the tight knots.
“I got one,” Charlotte whispered, but the excitement shone in her voice.
Her arms still didn’t budge, and she could feel the bloody scrapes on her wrists where the ropes were rubbing her raw. But… “I think I can move my—” Her legs pulled away from the chair, just enough to let her know which rope had been undone.
“Be careful not to pull your legs completely out or they’ll see,” Charlotte advised.
“Good call.” She left her legs in place, but started stomping and wiggling her feet quietly, trying to work some circulation back into them. “Rope look okay?”
Charlotte tilted her head and swiveled back and forth to see her from the front and the back. “Yeah, you’re—”
“What are you females doing now?” Slim came back in, an angry look on his face as he stormed toward them. If he got too close and really looked hard, he would see how loose Alex’s leg ropes were.
“What the hell do you think we’re doing?” Charlotte screeched at him. “We have been tied up in here forever, and have to pee!” She wiggled in her chair, accentuating the effect with a hard grimace. “How do you think my husband is going to react when he gets his wife back soaked in urine? I have to go to the bathroom!” she shouted again, even louder.
“Damn it! Toby, take her to a corner and let her piss in a bucket. That little princess is no threat.” He glared at Alex. “Cop, you better just hold it.” Then he stormed back out to watch the perimeter.
“Okay, come on.” The younger one, named Toby, untied Charlotte from her chair and helped her stand up on shaky legs. “Sorry about all this.”
Charlotte batted her long eyelashes at him, playing the beautiful, young damsel in distress perfectly. “Can’t you just let us go? I can give you money.”
Toby blinked his eyes for a moment as if thinking about it, but hardened quickly with a shudder. Obviously a double cross wasn’t on the top of the young man’s list of things to do for the night. “Sorry. Please. Just go pee, and get back into your chair.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at him before disappearing behind a large crate. “Just give me a sec. I have to get all these layers off,” she said with a shaky voice.
A few moments later, she was back out, with a relieved look on her face, and she sat herself down in her chair without being told.
“You could have tried to escape,” Alex muttered.
“And leave you behind to get killed? I might be a spoiled princess,” she repeated Alex’s words from earlier, “but I’m not a bad guy. I’m a good girl, remember?” She winked and leaned in for another hug, and left a large shard of glass in Alex’s hand.
“Are you going to tie me up again, or can I stay like this if I promise not to get up?”
The young man appraised her for a second, and then nodded. “Just don’t move. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” His lanky form seemed to fold in upon itself and his gaze begged them not to make him do something he would regret later. No more than twenty, with dimples and unruly dark hair, he should have been
awkwardly hitting on college girls, not mixed up in this. He looked like a Toby. A good kid who had found himself in a bunch of trouble for one poor decision. Hopefully, after they got out of this, she could help Toby—find him a mentor—before he went too far down the wrong path.
“I’ll be good, I promise.” Charlotte gave him her sweetest smile, and Toby began his back and forth pacing on the farthest side of the building. The kid seemed squeamish at the thought of hurting them, and was putting as much distance between them and him as possible. It made it easier to talk game plans, at least for a moment.
“So what’s next?” Charlotte asked quietly.
“We stay alive until my partner comes. Then we kick ass.” She gave her a wicked smile, which was returned by the beautiful blonde.
A few moments later, Max was back, looking as pissy as ever as he stormed into the building. “We’re going to give him an hour, then we’ll cut off Princess’s thumb and send it to the old man as a warning.” How had anyone believed this man was a daddy dom? His eyes were cold and dark, and Alex could see more than just rage in them. She saw death. And this man would enjoy dishing it out. He loomed over Charlotte. “Or maybe I’ll start with that pretty little ring finger of yours.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she squeaked before passing out in a heap on the floor.
The sounds of a horn and screeching tires preceded a loud crash into the dumpsters out front, and all hell broke loose. Three of the goons opened fire outside, and Alex could hear their bullets punching holes through the metal.
“Shit!” Toby froze in his spot, his eyes rounded and dilated, so scared he almost wasn’t breathing.
“Get her behind some boxes before she gets shot!” Alex screamed at the young man.
Toby still wore the panicked expression, but scooped up Charlotte into his arms, laid her behind the largest crates, then sprinted out the back door.
Damn kid shouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with. Grunting and fighting for all she was worth, she scooted her chair to the side closest to Charlotte, and tried to get her damn hands free. That little piece of glass wasn’t working fast enough, and all she had succeeded in doing was cutting her sore fingers.
The door on the other side of the building crashed open, and a sea of dark blue stormed through the opening, taking down two of the big bads. Where was Connor?
Max pointed his weapon toward her and fired at the same time a flash of denim dove in front of her.
Chapter Fourteen
Connor had waited for his cue, while a small unit did TIK surveillance. Under the cover of darkness, the two-man unit had used their specialized Tactical Inspection Kit to see and hear what was going on inside. As soon as he received the text, Connor placed his car on cruise control and sent it flying into the dumpsters right before jumping out and racing for the side entrance. While the assholes tore up his rental car, the rest of his temporary team of Rosemont’s finest converged through the front and back entrances. When the head dick in charge had started talking about cutting off fingers, they had made the decision to move forward. Connor as the distraction, and the others as the cavalry.
Their team took down the bads pretty easily, and Connor moved stealthily along the side to connect with the largest of the assholes, Max. Yeah, he had promised to stay outside and lay low, but there was no way in hell he wasn’t going in for his girl.
Everything happened at once, like in slow motion. Charlotte’s partner from the party trained his weapon on Alex. Connor sprinted and dove. The weapon fired with a loud explosion echoing through the room. Connor fired his weapon in return. Pain exploded in his ankle just as the other man stumbled back with a bright red dot in the center of his forehead. Max fell dead to the ground, as Connor scraped over Alex’s lap, tumbling to the floor.
Cops swarmed in and kicked the dead man’s weapon out of the way. Others pulled the two thugs who were still alive into handcuffs and read Miranda rights, as they walked them out to the squad cars.
The Rosemont captain was in the building, barking orders left and right, as more squad cars screeched up out front.
“You okay, Pip?” Connor looked up to see the shell-shocked expression on her face.
“You took a bullet for me.”
Connor looked down and winced, as the pain finally registered in his throbbing ankle. “Holy fuck. I guess I did.” The pain was excruciating, and he felt the worst pain radiate up his leg, and then more blood seeped from the center of his t-shirt. Stars danced before his eyes, and he listened to the ambulance sirens from the distance.
“Crap, Con—”
“I know, baby. Let’s talk later.” As much as he wanted to express his undying love for her, now wasn’t the time.
“No. Listen to me, damnit.” She started rocking back and forth on her chair.
Someone should untie her. But he was feeling a little too funky to get up. Maybe one of the other nice officers could help her out.
She continued shimmying on her chair, looking angrier than he had ever seen her. “I need to tell you—”
“I love you too, baby,” he interrupted her and laughed like a crazy kindergartner hopped up on gummy worms and ice cream.
Before he could move, a thin figure darted out in front of Alex, his gun held high, yelling for everyone not to fucking move or he would blow off the bitch’s head.
A blur of blonde hammered a huge wrench down on the man’s hand, breaking his wrist most likely, sending the gun tumbling to the floor. Alex raised her chair off the floor and turned her whole body in a move Connor knew Arnold Schwarzenegger would have been proud of, crashing the whole chair against the man’s torso, before giving a quick jump kick to his solar plexus, sending him flying and tumbling with a groan right at the feet of a set of cops. She tumbled backwards to the floor, and her chair broke beneath her.
“Gah!” She grimaced.
Connor crawled his lame ass over to her and was about to help her from her pile of ropes and wood, but the blonde beat him there.
“I got it.” Charlotte nodded at him and helped Alex to her shaky feet, untying the last ropes.
Connor wanted to be the one to help Alex up, run his hands over her whole body; check for wounds; kiss her senseless; hold her in his arms. But between all the cops in his way, Charlotte mother-henning all over his girl, and the fact that his vision kept trying to go out on him, he didn’t get the chance.
“Officer down. Get him to Mercy right away,” the captain yelled.
“…going into shock…” Faraway voices from a long tunnel kept talking about him as if he wasn’t right there. “…chest and ankle…”
Connor watched through a fog as his girl sloshed to him, like through a storm of angry waves.
“…going… be… okay.”
He furrowed his brow, and shook his too-heavy head.
“Love… too.” The blur of her form tried to hug him, but he was wrenched away and tossed onto a firm, moving stretcher before she could reach him. The ceiling of the warehouse moved quickly above him, and more blurred shapes meshed with a cacophony of sounds—shrill high-pitched wailing, loud talking, crackling radios that sounded like they were in between stations. His own heartbeat, which had been hammering in his throat, finally calmed and slowed to a low thump, thump. The door slammed behind his feet, and he tuned out the beeps and whistles.
He had done it. Saved his partner—the woman he loved. She thought he was kidding when he said he would take a bullet for her. But the agony ripping up his leg and the bloody mess of chest hair as they cut open his shirt indicated otherwise. He should have been happy. He had been there for his partner—took a bullet for her. It still didn’t make up for losing Frank, but it helped. He had vowed ever since it happened that he would protect Alex with his life, and would never lose another partner.
But a crushing weight pinned his body down, and as the pain slowly receded into nothingness, he realized he wanted more. He didn’t want to die for her. He wanted to fucking live for her.
Hold her in his arms; stroke her; spank her. Love her. She was the one who made him… his thoughts fizzled out on him. Why couldn’t he think straight? Her twisted humor, and the way she… Damn it. He just needed to close his eyes for a second and turn his brain back on. Yeah. Fevered body, red ass, Daddy talk… nothing. Too much to remember.
His body felt like it was floating, and funky lights flashed in front of his eyes.
“We’ve given you morphine to help with the pain. Just stay with us.” The voice sounded like it was a million miles away.
So relaxed, so tired. He would just rest for a few minutes. The beep, beep, beep in the background became slower, tinnier.
“Damnit, if you think I am letting you go, you’ve got another think coming, asshole!”
He knew that voice. He tried to smile, but wasn’t quite sure if his lips had actually moved or not. “Whatcha doing here, Pip?” His mouth didn’t quite work as well as he wanted, and the words came out garbled and choppy. Kind of like the adults on those old Charlie Brown shows. “Wa, wa, wa.”
A sound between a laugh and a sob caught his attention, and he focused on her shallow breaths.
“Pip, ‘s ‘kay,” he slurred. “I’m just going to sleep for a little bit. I’ll meet you on the mats tomorrow.”
“No.” A soft hand stroked his cheek and he smelled her tears and tasted them when one spattered onto his lips. “We’re going to the mats right now, jerk-ass.” She took his right hand in hers and squeezed firmly. “Come on, let’s play it out. For me?” She coaxed and a soft hiccupping cry left her throat.
He could never say no to her. “Okay, Pip. But I’m not holding back.” He wondered if she could understand him. When he talked, everything came out garbled and far away. But maybe that was just his ears playing dumb with him. Or shock. Nah. “Only wusses go into shock.”
Undercover Daddy Page 14