RunningScaredBN

by Christy Reece

  Riley watched through the strands of hair that had fallen into her face when Larson slapped her. He had just revealed an interesting tidbit. Apparently, the price Dimitri had paid for her was five million. Quite a lot for a human-trafficking sale, but with all the money, time and effort he’d put into her, Larson must’ve felt the asking price was worth it.

  That Dimitri would pay such an amount was the confounding part. Why pay that much for someone he was just going to beat, rape, and torture? Not that the reason mattered, but it was still odd.

  What else could she get out of Larson? She knew she couldn’t ask too many questions without running the risk of making him either suspicious or angry. An angry Larson would haul off and hit her again. A suspicious Larson would be much worse. She would not blow her cover, no matter what.

  “Are you my real father?”

  He didn’t answer her. Just gave her a glare and looked down at a text message on his phone. She couldn’t make anything out from where she was and couldn’t take the risk of leaning forward.

  She tried again. “Is Lorraine really my mother?”

  Larson blew out an explosive sigh. “When did you get so mouthy? I swear, Dimitri’s going to beat you and skin you alive if you talk this much to him. You’d better start practicing silence, girl.”

  Knowing it would do no good to ask him anything else, Riley bowed her head and did what she was told. She became silent. And in that silence, she heard the most wonderful thing of all. Justin’s voice in her ear.

  “You’re doing good, Ingram. Not too many questions, though. Asshole’s not in a confiding mood right now. We’ll get you answers. Don’t worry.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a silent, calming breath. The throb in her cheek from the slap to her face, the ache in her wrists and ankles from being tied too tight, all disappeared. With a couple of deviations, this was what they were expecting. Things were going just as they’d planned.

  ***

  Five hours later, Riley allowed Larson to shove her into a house. At no point in their planning had they ever considered that she’d spend half a day at a spa getting her hair cut and styled, her entire body buffed, and a facial. Hell, she was more exhausted now than she’d ever been on an op.

  Larson had walked away from her for a time, putting Riley more on edge. She wanted the bastard in her sight at all times. According to Justin, who chatted with her during her harrowing beauty ordeal, Noah and the other operatives knew exactly where he was at all times.

  The only tense moment came when the stylist asked about the earbud. It was clear plastic, almost invisible. Larson had heard the question and had looked at her, puzzled. Riley calmly explained that she had a slight hearing impairment in that ear and the earbud was merely a hearing aid. Larson didn’t question her, but she had a feeling it might come up again.

  Losing Justin’s voice in her ear would be a big loss, but it was a luxury, not a necessity. She needed to be prepared.

  The house was small, but elegantly decorated. It smelled like new construction. Riley wondered if this was a house where Larson kept another of his fake families. That was one of the many questions she had for the man. How many times had he done this before? How many children had he sold? How many were being readied to be sold? How many young women and men were in the midst of hell thanks to Larson’s total lack of conscience and morals?

  Shoving her into a chair in the living room, Larson growled at Frederick. “Tie her up.”

  Frederick, for all his strength and seeming lack of intelligence, wasn’t cruel. Though he did tie her to the chair using duct tape, he kept asking if it was too tight and if she was uncomfortable. When she complained that her wrists were hurting, he loosened the binding and then looked up at her for approval. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Poor guy was in way over his head.

  Figuring it would be odd for her not to ask his identity, she said, “Are you a friend of my daddy’s. Why are you tying me up?”

  Frederick sent a panicked look over at Larson. Before he could say anything, Larson snapped, “Keep your mouth shut.”

  She wasn’t sure which one Larson meant, she or Frederick. Didn’t really matter. Being tied up without having any explanation went against every independent molecule in her body. Until he told her specifically to shut up, she was going to keep asking questions.

  “Daddy, why do I have to be tied up? You told Mr. McCall you were happy to have me back. Where’s Mama? Will she be here soon? I thought you would take me home.”

  Larson marched toward her. Frederick scrambled to get out of his way. Even though Riley couldn’t glare at him with anger burning in her eyes, she refused to shut up. “Why are you being mean to me?”

  Grabbing her face in his hands, his palms pressed hard into her cheeks. “Shut your damn mouth before I slap you into next year. Do you hear me, bitch?”

  Figuring she’d made her anxiety and fear look realistic enough, Riley gave a rapid nod of her head and tightly compressed her lips.

  Apparently satisfied, both Larson and Frederick left the room. Riley sat alone, wondering just how long she’d have to wait until Dimitri came for her. They couldn’t take Larson down until they knew when, how, and where. In the meantime, she had questions she wanted answered.

  She had to wait longer than she’d anticipated. Three hours later, Larson finally returned to the room. By that time Riley needed more than answers—she was in desperate need of the bathroom.

  Larson never questioned her about the earbud, for which she was grateful. So while she waited, Justin had been telling her corny jokes to keep her entertained. But there was no getting her mind off her need. If Larson didn’t release her soon, he’d have a large puddle to clean up. The image of that cheered her somewhat.

  Behaving like a traumatized victim when all she wanted to do was rip Larson’s ugly face off wasn’t easy. She didn’t have a choice, so she tamped down her anger and said, “Would it be okay if I went to the bathroom?”

  Larson had sprawled in a recliner across from her. When Riley took a close look at him, she understood what he had been doing for the past three hours. His eyes were glazed, so she figured he was either drunk or high. Or both.

  Was Larson a mean drunk or a friendly one? If his guard was down, maybe she could get some answers. But first, she had to go to the bathroom.

  “Daddy, could I please go to the bathroom?”

  He huffed out a breath that sounded like a sick horse and said, “Sure. Why the hell not? Don’t want you smelling like piss when Dimitri arrives.” He went to his feet, swayed a little, and then drew a knife from his pocket.

  Riley didn’t have to pretend to act afraid. Knives made her wary. One wielded by a drunk, even more so. While on an op last year, she’d been stabbed in the stomach and had almost died. Her gut cringed at the memory.

  Larson staggered over and, with surprising steadiness, cut the binding at her wrists and then her ankles. He reeked of bourbon. When she stood, he stumbled back, and then belched in her face.

  Ignoring the stench and hiding her disgust, she turned to leave the room. Asking him where to go would be pointless. The man was plastered.

  She found the bathroom down the hallway, used it quickly, and then drank down gulps of cool water from the faucet. The jerk hadn’t even bothered to provide water for his prisoner.

  She looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. The overly made-up face and too-styled hair was so not her thing.

  She made a quick perusal through the drawers and cabinets. They were disappointingly empty, which was no surprise. This must be a new rental for Larson. Or maybe it was a place he only brought his wayward fake children when they had the audacity to run away.

  A fist pounded on the door. “Get out here, girl!” Larson shouted.

  Manipulating her tired shoulders to get the kinks out, Riley opened the door and walked out. Larson jerked his head toward the living room.

  Riley returned to her chair and sa
t quietly while Larson wrapped duct tape around her wrists, securing her to the arms of the chair and then binding her ankles together. When she complained that the tape cut into her wrists, he looked up at her and grinned. “Good.”

  Refusing to allow her anger to distract her, she waited until Larson was back in the recliner. This time he was sipping something. More bourbon probably.

  As soon as he took another sip, she asked, “Did you kidnap me from my real parents?”

  Larson snorted into his drink. “You still under the misguided notion that somebody out there gives a damn about you? Wants you? Hell, what I provided for you was a million times better than what you would have had.”

  So he had abducted her. A lump developed in her throat. Riley swallowed hard.

  “Easy, Ingram,” Justin murmured in her ear. “Don’t let him see how much knowing this means to you. He’ll shut up just to torture you.”

  Even without being able to see her face, her partner knew Larson’s words had affected her. The man knew her so well. And he was right. If Larson knew how very badly she wanted the truth, he’d refuse to answer anything.

  She waited until he had almost finished his drink, then said, “How old was I when you found me?”

  He drained his glass, shrugged. “Four, maybe five. You were a cute baby. Got ugly for a while when you got older. Thought I was going to have to offer you at a bargain discount. Then you got better looking. Blossomed, you might say. Soon as Dimitri saw your profile, he had to have you.” He belched and added, “Paid top dollar, too. Most money I ever made on a sale.” He glared and added, “Then you had to ruin it, you selfish bitch.”

  Refusing to allow him to get sidetracked, she tried to appeal to his ego. “Abducting a child must be difficult. How did you carry it off?”

  He stared at her and then let loose a loud guffaw. “I didn’t kidnap you, you clueless idiot. Lorraine is your real mother.”

  Justin cursed vehemently. He remembered the mic and covered it for the rest of his explosion. Riley sure as hell didn’t need to hear him lose it. But dammit. How could a mother do that to her own daughter? What kind of pond scum was she?

  Or was Larson really telling the truth? Maybe this was just another way to torture Riley. He had a sick feeling that this was one time Larson was telling the truth.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Kelly, get hold of yourself.”

  McCall’s harsh reprimand told him he hadn’t hidden his fury as he’d hoped. Hell, he was doing Riley no good. Best he could do was continue to encourage her, and when he finally had her back in his arms, he would remind her what a remarkable person she was. And how very much she was loved by a lot of people, including him.

  He listened as Riley softly asked Larson question after question. Her calm, unemotional tone, her pointed, specific questions regarding her upbringing amazed him. Justin knew she was suffering. Knew that finding out the bitch who’d raised her really was her mother was devastating. But not once did her pain come through. She was out for answers, and nothing would prevent her from knowing the truth.

  And what a gold mine she was uncovering. Larson, his tongue loosened from both alcohol and arrogance, began a litany of his accomplishments over the years. Not only had the bastard been trafficking humans for over two decades, he named places where he conducted business, described procedures he used to find the perfect victims, and outlined how he arranged for the sales of his “merchandise.”

  McCall would take this information to the FBI. Kids who had been missing for years might be found. Families could be reunited. Lives could be saved. And Riley Ingram, once a broken, abused young woman, now a warrior, would be responsible for it all.

  “Company just arrived.”

  Thorne’s gruff voice pulled his attention away from the conversation. Justin had positioned himself in the backyard, behind a clump of shrubbery. He had wanted to be as close to the house as he could be in case he needed to get inside pronto. Thorne, Fox, and McCall were parked out front in an SUV about twenty yards from the house.

  Thorne continued to report, “Big-assed Hummer. Two men getting out. One’s about six-two, two-twenty. Other guy’s about five-five, two hundred. Both carrying concealed under their shirts. They’re heading to the front door. Once they’re inside, I’ll mosey over to the Hummer and take a peek inside.”

  Adrenaline surged through Justin, but he forced himself to stay put. Was one of the men Dimitri? Neither of the men fit the description Riley had given them of the bastard.

  How’d they get here so fast? All signs had pointed to him living in Greece, or a nearby country. He probably had contacts all over the world. Maybe these guys were hired goons Dimitri had called in for the job.

  Or were these men here for a different reason? Maybe they weren’t related to the business with Dimitri at all. Could Larson have something else going on? Something they hadn’t anticipated?

  The doorbell chimed. Larson cut off mid-brag and said in an almost gleeful voice, “Jessica! Daddy’s home!”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Riley was glad for her ability to compartmentalize. While one corner of her brain was still reeling from the disappointing and revolting knowledge that the woman who had raised her really was her biological mother, another part absorbed the wealth of information Larson was spilling. She would deal with the rotten truth of her parentage on her own time. For now, she let Larson spill his guts and hang himself at the same time. What a pleasure it was going to be taking this disgusting piece of humanity down.

  When Aidan’s low voice said, “We’ve got company,” her senses went on alert. Dimitri was here already? How was that possible?

  She mentally shook away her disquiet. It didn’t matter how he’d gotten here so fast. She needed to be ready. After all these years, she was finally going to see the devil again. Her stomach roiled, and she was suddenly grateful that Larson hadn’t bothered to feed her. The small amount of water she had consumed was churning in her stomach like an angry ocean.

  A doorbell sounded, and Larson stopped in the middle of bragging about his sale last year of teenage twin boys to a Russian politician. He jumped to his feet as a grin split his face in two. “Jessica! Daddy’s home!”

  Larson came toward her, and Riley couldn’t prevent the instinctive need to shrink away from him. Instead of hurting her, though, he fluffed her hair, then stood back and eyed her critically. “Good. The makeup hides the bruise on your cheek.”

  Seconds later, Frederick walked into the room. Two men followed behind him. Riley held her breath. One was tall and broad-shouldered, with olive skin and emotionless black eyes. The other was much shorter and thicker, with a jagged scar running down the side of his face. Both men had expressions so blank and cold, they could pass as cyborgs. Disappointment and relief created an odd mishmash of emotions inside her. Neither man was Dimitri.

  “We’re here for the girl.” The bigger man’s accent reminded her a little of Dimitri’s, though this man’s was much thicker.

  “She’s here.” Larson waved a hand at her. “But where’s Dimitri?”

  “He’s too important to trouble himself with something so trivial. We’re here to take her to him.”

  Even though they had known this was a possibility and had planned for this scenario, Dimitri’s absence made things a little more difficult. She waited to see if Larson would ask questions. That was a useless hope. Larson’s only objective was to get rid of her. He was about to accomplish that goal.

  “Take her, then. Tell him I expect him to keep his end of the bargain.”

  “That’s between you and Mr. Dimitri,” the shorter man intoned. “We are here for the girl. Nothing more.”

  Knowing there was no other choice, Riley whispered into the mic embedded in the pendant hanging around her neck, “Now.”

  Only seconds later, the house exploded with action. The front door burst open, and Noah, Sabrina, and Aidan rushed into the room, shouting, “Drop your weapons!”

 
The larger of Dimitri’s men did as he was told, but the shorter one looked as though he was going to refuse, until Justin growled behind him, “Weapons on the floor. Now!”

  Larson, his reaction time slowed by alcohol, took longer to take in what was going on. When it finally clicked, he whirled toward Riley, snarling a curse. It was too late. Riley had already pulled the blade hidden in her belt and cut the tape on her wrists and ankles. The minute she was free, she lunged for Larson. She couldn’t rip his face off, as she wanted, but she allowed herself one solid hit to his jaw. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went down like a felled tree.

  Grabbing the duct tape from the shelf, she was quick and efficient in tying his wrists and ankles together. She thought she was being very generous, because she didn’t bind him nearly as tightly as he had tied her.

  She looked up to find both of Dimitri’s men lying on the floor, hands and feet secured. And poor Frederick was sitting in a corner. Hands tied behind his back, he was sobbing like an infant.

  Justin stalked over to Riley, his eyes roaming her from head to foot as if making sure she wasn’t injured. When his eyes darkened, she knew he’d spotted the bruise on her cheek.

  “It’s nothing,” she said softly. “I’m fine.”

  He held her gaze for several more seconds, and she saw in them what she was feeling herself. They were on a mission, they were partners, not lovers. Still, the warmth in his expression felt like a hug.

  “Hungry?”

  She nodded. “And thirsty.”

  He held out a bottle of water and a PowerBar. Gladly accepting the sustenance, she took a giant gulp of water and followed it with a man-sized bite of the bar.

  Things hadn’t gone perfectly, but as she looked around the room, she couldn’t help but be pleased. All in all, this part of the op was a success. Now to get to the questioning. Between Dimitri’s two men and Larson, they would get what they needed to find the devil.