by Chant, Zoe
For him.
It was Shelley’s wedding, and Jan was glad for her friend, but the song was one of love, and promise of rest and peace, and as she sang her mind filled with his image, and memory of his touch, his taste, his masculine scent, and her heart expanded, resonating with truth.
At the periphery, her trained stage sense caught a profound silence from all the listeners. Every performance she gave all her effort, but as she sang to that ardent face sitting there in the first row, she knew that this was the best she had ever sung.
At the end everyone, from the many gardeners to the slowly gathering Willis clan, clapped hard. She bowed and walked down to thank the quartet. After mutual compliments, the leader asked her if she would send JP over. She agreed, and left them exchanging technical talk and stepped down to meet Shelley and JP, where she relayed the message.
“That was pretty amazing,” Shelley said. “There won’t be a dry eye in the house tomorrow.”
“You want ‘em sobbing at your wedding?” Jan asked, fizzing inside at the expression in JP’s eyes.
“I want ‘em to remember it,” Shelley said earnestly. “Because it’s the only wedding I’m going to have.”
JP smiled at them both. He still looked tired, Jan noticed, her heart doing that weird swooping thing inside. “Let me introduce you to Lisa Goldstein,” he said. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see what the quartet wants.”
Lisa, the rabbi who was officiating, was a tall, thin woman their age. Jan wondered if she was a shifter—and then wondered if she was always going to ask herself that question when she met anyone in this town.
Mick walked through the new archway of twined roses, Dennis at his side. Jan noticed that Dennis no long used a cane, though he limped slightly. They greeted the Willises, who roamed around looking and commenting, the kids using the opportunity to race around and jump up and down from the stage.
Lisa motioned for the wedding party to come forward for their rehearsal. Because the ceremony would be so simple, it was nothing more than “This comes first, then you come forward, and after that Mr. Willis can walk Shelley down from the archway . . .”
Her voice was barely audible above the noise of the workers and the Willis kids still running around. They were done in fifteen minutes, after which JP returned to the waiting quartet.
Dennis roared, “All right! Anybody who’s hungry for short ribs, let’s mount up!”
Instantly the crowd became a mob. The Willises swarmed around, everybody talking, or chasing shrieking kids as the gardeners dodged and sidestepped in an effort to carry on with their work.
Jan tried to spot JP, hoping they could sit together again. She glimpsed him still talking to the quartet, then a skinny teenage girl appeared at Jan’s elbow, her thin face anxious, her eyes shifting ferret-like. “Jan the singer, right? Your ride is this way,” she said.
Jan stared at the girl in surprise, then thought: JP’s behind this. The prospect of riding with him instead of cramming into one of the Willis vans sounded like a great idea. “Lead the way.”
The girl flickered a half-smile, then turned and walked swiftly, dodging ferret-quick through the knots of people. Jan had to scurry to catch up. The girl plunged down a side path in the rose garden, one nobody seemed to be using, and they emerged at the grand sweep of the carriage-drive, now full of vehicles.
Ferret Girl dodged all the vans, leading Jan to a low steel-colored Mercedes with tinted windows, and opened the passenger door. Jan slid in and thanked her as she shut the door.
As Jan buckled herself in, she noted a chauffeur in the driver’s seat, a huge guy wearing sunglasses. His short, rust-colored hair spiked.
The front door opened and Ferret Girl slipped into the seat. “Here she is, sir,” she said in that quick, nervous voice as the door locks thunked.
“Good work, Toby,” the man replied, and started the engine.
Jan said, “Wait, isn’t there going to be one more?”
“Eventually,” the man said, smiling into the rear view mirror.
Jan found his smile smug rather than polite. It was that faint curl in the upper lip. Well, she didn’t have to talk to him, and it was only a short ride.
Just as the rest of the crowd began appearing at the edge of the carriage-drive, the chauffeur pulled smoothly away from the rest of the cars and accelerated down the oak-lined road out of the estate.
Jan had walked from the back end so many times that she had forgotten what the front end looked like. However, she could have sworn that the barbeque place was close by, somewhere between warehouses and machine shops. The town wasn’t all that large, so she wondered if he was going the long way around, especially as the buildings were fewer, with more space between them.
And then they turned onto the highway.
“Aren’t we going to the barbeque place?” Jan asked.
“Plans have changed,” the chauffeur said.
“They have?” Jan frowned, then remembered Dennis’s yell about short ribs. “Did they switch restaurants?” A horrible thought occurred to her. “You’re driving for the Volkov-Willis pre-wedding dinner, right?”
The ferret-girl Toby fidgeted in her seat as the man laughed. Jan slid her hand over the latch to open the door, her mind wailing, What is happening? She was ready to open the door the second this car stopped at a red light, or a stop sign, or even slowed down.
But it sped on, telephone poles flashing by, and Jan tried to squeeze the door open, to discover that it was locked. She put her hand to the lock knob—and it wouldn’t lift. The driver had engaged the child-safe lock system. No one could get out until he unlocked the car.
Confusion changed to question, swiftly escalating into . . . not quite alarm. The nice car, the kid, the chauffeur—none of that added up to mugging. Muggers jumped out at you in dark alleys, right? They didn’t drive super-expensive Mercedes?
She had been trained that politeness would get politeness back, something that middle school had taught her was not always true. But one expected civilization from adults if one acted civilized. “I think there is some mistake,” she said. Her voice came out on a strained note, almost trembling. She cleared her throat. “Please take me back.”
“I’d like nothing better,” the man answered. “But for now you are my—let’s call it my guest.”
Chapter Twelve
Dennis shot an exasperated look across the dell at JP, who had just finished talking to the musicians.
“What was all that about?” Mick asked as the two joined JP.
“They insist on some kind of roof over them. If this weather doesn’t break, tomorrow will be even hotter.”
“Can’t blame them,” Mick said, wiping his sleeve across his forehead as he glanced skyward. But if that glare is anything to go by, we’re in for a storm tonight.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve finally rounded up the kids. It’s time to go before they burst out of the vans again.”
“All right,” JP said. “I’ll meet you there.” He looked around. “Is Jan riding with one of you?”
“Not with us,” Mick said.
Dennis held his hands out. “I haven’t seen her since she walked off the stage after the rehearsal.”
“Where did she go?” JP asked.
Dennis shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I saw her talking to some kid I didn’t recognize,” Mick said. “Next thing I knew, she was gone.”
The three turned as Mrs. LaFleur walked down the path bisecting the dell. She held out an envelope to JP, saying, “This was hand-delivered a few minutes ago.”
JP’s gut tightened. While the others watched, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stiff card with a phone number written on it in what looked like fountain pen.
“This can’t be good,” he said, holding it out to the others.
Nobody argued.
JP thought rapidly, then looked up. “I don’t suppose any of you have a burner phone?”
Dennis brightened. “No, but I have
the next best thing, the prepaid I got as my phone is still tied to an international carrier.”
He handed it over to JP, who dialed. It was picked up on the first ring.
“I trust I’m speaking with Jean-Pierre LaFleur?” It was a deep, masculine voice, with a sarcastic edge.
“Who are you?”
“You’re LaFleur?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble,” the man said conversationally. “I did my best to offer you a good business deal. I even tried using the bureaucrats. Nobody gets hurt.”
“Tell that to Alma Jimenez.”
“Was that the female cop? She did a great deal more damage than she received, which is why we are having this conversation. You would not do business with me, so consider this a hostile takeover.”
“By what means?”
“Leverage,” the man replied, laughing.
Then came muffled noises, and Jan’s voice. “JP? I’m sorry, I thought—”
Her voice cut off abruptly, and the man took the phone back. “You recognize the lady?”
“You fucking bastard—”
“I was going to take the bride, but then I thought, you’d have no stake there because she belongs to someone else. And this one is your mate, isn’t she? I watched that really superlative performance through one of my people.” His voice lowered. “I wonder if I can make her sing for me.”
JP nearly crushed the phone in his hand as the voice broke up in laughter, then said, “I think I’ll give you some time to reflect on how I might be doing that.” The voice hardened. “When I call next, be ready to meet my terms. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out the alternative.”
Click.
JP took a long moment to breathe, to make certain he had control from heartbeat to fingertips. Then he reported the exchange.
His mother looked shocked when he got to the part about mates, and her lips thinned, but she said nothing.
Dennis pounded his fist in his hand, cursing loudly until the workers setting up rose trellises looked up in surprise.
Dennis cut off the stream. Lowering his voice, he said, “What do we do?”
“Find them.” JP turned to Mick. “You have Jan’s cell number, right?”
Mick nodded. “But first thing he probably did was smash her phone, or toss it out of the window.” He smiled ruefully. “That’s what the bad guys always do in my movies.”
“We’ll have Chief Albert put a tracer on it anyway. Mother, the surveillance cameras.”
“I’ll see to it right now,” she said, and walked away.
To the guys, JP said, “I had security cams put in shortly after the vans first appeared. If they were anywhere in the carriage-drive, we should get a good look. Mick, you’d better go to the restaurant. I’ll send some backup, but except for Shelley, don’t tell them anything for as long as possible. Keep them happy—and confined to one spot while we do a sweep.”
“Got it,” Mick said.
“What about me?” Dennis asked.
“I want you to mobilize all your dad’s shifter service buddies, and ours. If this bastard thinks he’s going to roll into town with muscle, I want a team ready and waiting for whatever shape they come in, human or not.”
“I’ll start with Deb Granger. I know she keeps in contact with all her Marine buddies,” Dennis said. Then grimaced. “As soon as I get a new phone.”
“Take mine,” Mick said. “If you have to call me, use Shelley’s.”
Dennis said, “What are you going to be doing, Jeep?”
“I,” he said, “am going hunting.”
“You do realize this whole thing is probably a trap.”
“Of course it is,” JP said. “That doesn’t mean I have to fall into it. And that’s where all of you come in. Let’s cover every contingency. I’d like to act before that asshole calls again and tries to dictate terms.”
He walked away after his mother, then thought of something else, and headed back.
He was not ordinarily an eavesdropper. He despised that kind of behavior, but the past twenty-four hours had ripped his entire world apart. Jan was the good thing, the sane thing, but bottom line, however he felt, he still had responsibilities.
From the other side of a rose trellis, he heard Mick say, “The timing could not be worse, this happening within a day or two of him finding his mate.”
“Which is probably why the bastard chose now to attack.”
Mick growled. “You’re probably right. But I have to say, if I had a dragon in me, I’d probably have let him out by now.”
“And waste half the town?”
JP stopped short, fists clenched as Dennis sighed. “Has he ever gone dragon since that disaster in Afghanistan?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You do realize if he does let the dragon rise he might not only wipe out half the town, chances are good we won’t get him back.”
“So let’s get busy, and make sure it doesn’t get that far.”
JP retreated, wincing inside. Everything they had said was true. So he’d take their words as warning. Don’t let it get that far.
He turned on his heel and ten steps carried him to the house.
* * *
One day with my own romcom, and then I get slammed into a horror story, Jan had been thinking as the kidnapper drove to one of those isolated do-it-yourself storage sites, and pulled the car up close to a middle unit at the outskirts of the property. A huge guy with a semi-automatic weapon carried across his chest bent to open one of those aluminum doors.
They got out of the car, Jan reluctantly, knowing it was useless to regard the car as safe.
There was no safe here.
The driver took off his dark glasses, revealing a pair of poison green eyes. Jan met that amused, malicious gaze once, and averted her own eyes, her insides furrowing with fear.
“Now, we wait for a phone call,” he said, and leaned against the car.
Toby stood next to Jan, her thumb picking at the cuticle on her forefinger. Jan noticed that all the cuticles on the girl’s thin fingers were raw, some scabbed.
A cell phone burred, within seconds all Jan’s fears were realized as she listened in horror to the conversation. And when the man finally let Jan at the phone, he didn’t even let her get far enough to apologize.
When he hung up on JP, he reached for Jan, who backed again—straight into the big bodyguard.
The man gave Jan a derisive grin as he took her purse, fending her off with an easy thrust of his hand when she tried to grab it back. He rooted around in it, grabbed her cell phone, then offered the purse back with an air of mockery.
The bodyguard then pushed Jan into the shadowy interior of the storage unit. In her one brief glance around, she saw that it was completely bare. Then the door was rattled down and locked from the outside, leaving her in darkness.
She sank to the cement floor, breathing shakily, her mind racing. She had to get a grip. Escape. She hated the thought that she was being held hostage to threaten JP. Her stomach boiled with helpless fury.
She reached into her purse, squashing an impulse to toss it away after that creep had had his filthy mitts in it. She found the little water bottle she always carried with her, and took a tiny sip. Who knew how long she’d be stuck there. Best not to drain it all at once.
The horrible thought of being stuck there for days harrowed her, then she thought, Stop it. Don’t borrow trouble. It’s bad enough now. Get ready to run.
She kicked off her sandals, left her purse on the floor next to them, and felt her way toward the thin strip of sunlight below the door.
She bent down to peer. All she saw was an inch or two of cement. Without much hope she felt all long the door for some kind of latch or lock or opening mechanism. Nothing.
So she returned to her purse and sandals, trying to do stage breathing. That lasted . . . an hour? Probably five minutes. Finally she lay down on the cement, and actually managed to doze off in
to jumbled anxiety dreams, waking abruptly when someone fumbled with the lock.
The light was gone. The door rattled up. She grabbed up her purse and shoes, ready to spring, then fell back when two figures confronted her, a huge one and a small one, limned in wavering light.
The latter was the ferret-girl Toby. The huge one carrying the halogen lamp, which he shone straight into Jan’s face. She shaded her eyes with her hands, and caught sight of a rifle bandoleered across his chest.
Toby carried in a sack. “I brought you some dinner,” she said, her voice nervous.
Jan heard the nervousness, and squashed down her anger. She suspected that she would only get anger back. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked quietly.
Toby’s face, sharply shadowed by the blue-white light, was averted.
“No talking,” the man snapped. “Drop the food and out.”
Toby set down the sack by Jan’s feet. “I hope you like what I brought.” And louder, to the man, “I know. Just because this is my first mission, don’t think I don’t know the rules.” Jan heard anxiety under the bravado.
Toby stepped out and the door rattled down once more.
“What about a bathroom?” Jan called through the door.
No answer.
She sighed. She was glad she’d gone before walking down to the rehearsal with Shelley. She didn’t have to go, but maybe if they let her out she could make a dash for freedom. It was the only plan she could think of.
Pretty stupid. But she refused to do nothing. She felt her way back, mostly guiding by the smell of fast food, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since half a roll that morning. In the bag she found a tall coke, a cheeseburger, and fries.
She scarfed the food down, then sipped enough of the coke to remove the taste of grease, because of said bathroom issue.
Her stomach full, she lay back down again, and firmly tried to concentrate on good things—like her visit to JP’s grotto.
She fell asleep and dreamed that JP had transformed into a golden eagle, flying high above the earth. It was weird, how much this was like her occasional flying dreams, when she would go too high and then be afraid she would not recognize LA from so high above. Afraid she might get lost, though the lights were always so pretty. She remembered her first plane flight, surprised that LA looked pretty much like her dreams.