Taking Her

by Banks, R. R.

  “The next time you want to fight me, you candy-ass son of a bitch,” I say. “You best come do it yourself instead of hiring a couple of punks to bust up me and my car.”

  “Bryant?” Nichols asks, confusion in his voice. “Did you –”

  “I – I don't know what you're talking about,” Bryant mutters. “I've got no clue what he's talking about, Ryan. He's crazy.”

  “Bullshit you don't!” I rage. “I should kick your ass right now for paying to have me beat. If you were any kind of man at all, you'd stand toe-to-toe with me yourself. But no, you pay men to do your dirty work for you because you're nothing but a giant pussy.”

  I flinch forward, feigning an attack, and Bryant shrinks back against his seat, his face a mask of absolute terror.

  “Yeah, that's what I thought,” I say as I stand up again and glower down at him. “Fucking asshole.”

  Nichols clears his throat and Bryant does his best to salvage his dignity. I turn and cast a baleful look at Nichols.

  “And how in the fuck could you do this to your own daughter?” I say. “What kind of a disgusting, piece of shit, excuse of a man are you?”

  Nichols gets to his feet, his gaze angry. “We're done here, Mr. Grigson,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Get out. Now.”

  I let out a derisive snort, my eyes boring into his. “This isn't over,” I say. “Not by a long stretch.”

  “Damn right it's not,” he hisses. “You'll be hearing from us soon.”

  “In the meantime,” Bryant says. “There's something you better wrap your fucking mind around – you're never going to see Zoe again. She's not yours. She's mine. So, fuck off.”

  I stand where I am for a moment and look around the room, catching each man's eye. “You disgusting pieces of filth. Cowards. All of you,” I say. “Mark my words. I'm going to burn this all to the fucking ground. By the time I'm done here, you're going to be wishing you'd never heard of me. And you're sure as hell going to wish you'd never had the idea to fuck with me.”

  ~ooo000ooo~

  I check the map on my phone again, making sure that I'm pulling into the right place. It was strange to think that, given how close we'd grown, I didn't know where Zoe lived. I’ve never been to her place. Since she was always at my house, I never thought to even ask. It didn’t seem important at the time.

  Clearly, that was an oversight on my part. It hadn't been easy to get Zoe's home address, but thankfully, I happen to know a few people with the skills to make it happen. I guess there's an advantage to being a lowlife sometimes.

  I park in a visitor's lot and shut off the engine. The sound of thunder cracks, splitting the sky overhead, and a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the world around me. Raindrops, fat and heavy, pound on the roof over my head, beating a steady rhythm.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, trying to compose and gather myself. I can't even begin to imagine what's going through Zoe's head right now, or what lies Bryant told her. All I know is that she thinks I'm some horrible deadbeat that abandons his child. Nothing can be further from the truth, but she obviously doesn't know that right now. Doesn't believe me.

  I get out of the car and feel the rain beating down on me. I tuck the file folder I'm carrying under my jacket and slam the door, heading for the walkway. It takes me a few minutes, but I finally find the building that houses Zoe's condo. I look up at the third floor, see the lights on in some of the units, and hope that one of those windows is hers.

  I find my way to a bank of elevators and press the button to call the car. I give a glance at the stairs leading up but grimace. I'm not quite in game shape yet, and the last thing I want to do is show up at her door gasping, wheezing, doubled over in pain.

  The doors slide open and I step inside, my stomach churning and roiling as I push the button and let it carry me up. When the doors open again, I step out, looking for the signs that will point the way. Finding it, I follow the numbers until I find Zoe's place.

  Stepping to the door, I take another deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Calm yourself,” I mutter to myself.

  Not giving myself a chance to hesitate any longer, I raise my hand and knock on the door. I wait a couple of moments and when I hear footsteps on the other side, my stomach lurches so hard, I grimace in pain. The door opens and I'm staring into Zoe's wide-eyed face. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, she's wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, and she has no makeup on. Her eyes and nose are bright red, and tears are running down her face – and she's so beautiful, she still manages to take my breath away.

  When she sees me standing there, her eyes narrow and she glares at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk, love,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  She moves to slam the door in my face, but I'm quicker, and jam the file folder I'm carrying in the doorjamb, keeping her from closing it. The sudden movement shoots a bolt of pain through me and I grunt, doing my best to keep from doubling over. She opens the door and stares at me, and I see a flash of compassion in her eyes – but it's quickly replaced with a look of absolute contempt.

  “Get out of here Connor or I swear to God, I'll call the police,” she says.

  “Zoe, wait,” I say, trying to stifle the gasp of pain. “You have it all wrong. You've been lied to.”

  She looks at me for a long moment and then shakes her head. “I can't do this right now, Connor,” she says. “I just can't.”

  “Please, Zoe –”

  Her face hardens, and I see the steel in her eyes. “I can't do this right now,” she repeats herself. “I just need some time to process everything.”

  “This is all bullshit, Zoe,” I plead. “This is your father and Bryant trying to drive a wedge between us.”

  Tears roll down her cheeks as she looks at me. “You never denied it, Connor,” she says. “I gave you the chance and you never denied –”

  “You didn't give me a chance though,” I say. “Listen, I know –”

  She shakes her head firmly. “Give me some time,” she says. “Give me some space. I deserve at least that much.”

  I let out a long breath and sigh. Thunder crashes overhead and the flash of lightning seems to make her skin glow. Slowly, I nod.

  “Okay,” I say. “If that's what you need.”

  “It is.”

  The door slams in my face before I can even reply. I stand there staring at it as I hear her throwing the locks, my heart sinking further and further with each one that snaps into place. To me, it's the sound of finality. The sound of that wedge being driven between us permanently. The metaphor of the closed, locked door between us isn't lost on me.

  Feeling twin threads of grief and rage twisting and twining themselves around my heart, I make my way back down the elevator. As I step out of the elevator car and look at the rain coming down in sheets, my cell phone rings. Hoping it's Zoe, calling me back up to her place to talk, I snatch it out of my pocket in a hurry. My heart sinks in disappointment when I see the call is coming from a blocked number.

  “Yes?” I answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Connor, it's Nico,” he says. “We need to talk.”

  “Can it wait until morning?”

  “Afraid not, pal,” he says. “You need to hear this. Now.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let's meet.”

  ~ooo000ooo~

  Half an hour later, I'm sitting in a booth in a bar called Molly's. It's an older place that's a bit on the seedy side, but it's quiet. The music isn't too loud, and the crowd is usually pretty absorbed in the drinks.

  Nico slides into the booth across from me and I push a bottle of beer to him. He salutes me with the bottle and takes a long swallow. Nico is an old friend of mine with a particular set of skills. He's great with computers and can find out anything about anyone. He's the one who got me Zoe's address – which was just one of the things I'd tasked him with recently.<
br />
  Obviously, the way he operates may not be legal, in the strictest sense of the word, but he's effective. There's no denying that. And at the moment, I'm paying him quite well to do some digging – or what was it Bryant called it? Oh, that's right – opposition research.

  “These two guys – Nichols and Brooks?” Nico starts, “Fascinating cats. Between the two of 'em, they've got enough skeletons in their closet to start their own cemetery.”

  “I'm not surprised,” I say. “What do you have?”

  “First of all, I found a large money transfer,” he says. “Your boy Brooks pulled five-hundred grand out of an account, and a couple of days later, Nichols deposited five-hundred grand. Odd, right?”

  “Odd, but not damning,” I say. “Though, it does raise a lot of questions.”

  I lean back in the booth and take a long pull of my beer, letting my mind play it all out. I recall that when Bryant had called to threaten me, he mentioned something about a deal being made. That was mixed in the whole tirade about Zoe being his property.

  Could Bryant have bartered some kind of a deal with Zoe's dad? Five-hundred grand for her hand in marriage? Seems a little far-fetched – but is it?

  “Why would Nichols need five-hundred grand?” I ask. “The guy has got to be worth millions.”

  Nico shakes his head. “Actually, he's not,” he replies. “He’s got a pretty lucrative stock portfolio, but in terms of cash on hand, he's damn near broke. I dug a little deeper and found that he's basically drained his law firm of money too. They're on the verge of being bankrupt.”

  “How is that possible?” I ask. “Zoe says they've pulled in tens of millions of dollars over the years. How can they possibly be broke?”

  “Nichols does a good job of playing a shell game with his money, I'll give him that,” he replies. “Always manages to make it look like he's got more than he does. He's had to take out some private bank loans to cover payroll a few times, and manages to keep their head above water by winning a settlement here or there. But, it's only a matter of time before this strategy catches up with him. Looks like it might be starting to, actually.”

  “How though?” I ask. “If they've taken in the tens of millions Zoe says, how can they be broke?”

  “This is where things start getting interesting,” Nico says, obviously enjoying being able to spin this story. “Turns out, Nichols has a gambling problem. A big-time gambling problem. Dude has lost millions. At one point, he was in debt to some dude by the name of Marco Bolla – guy thinks he's a mafia boss or something – for a cool million. He had to take that out of his firm's coffers to avoid getting his kneecaps blown off. And from what I've been able to gather, he's into Bolla for a large amount of cash again.”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “As terrible as this dude is at gambling, you'd think he'd stop,” Nico replies. “But nope, he just keeps on going back for more.”

  A theory starts coming together in my head – although it sounds outlandish, even to me. But, the more I think on it, the more I think I might be onto something. Maybe. Or maybe I'm just seeing conspiracies where there are none.

  “So, here's what I'm thinking,” I say. “Nichols is in deep shit with this Bolla guy. Owes him a ton of cash – cash he doesn't have since he bled his firm's coffers dry. Bryant gives him the cash to get Bolla off his back, but makes the old man promise to marry Zoe to him.”

  Nico shrugs. “That fits with what you've told me about this whole fucked up mess so far.”

  “And now, they're squeezing me for a pile of money to set themselves up for life.”

  “Yeah, that fits,” Nico says. “It's fucked up, but it fits.”

  “I'm no lawyer, but it sounds like we've got him on extortion, human trafficking, and embezzlement,” I say. “You have documentation on all this?”

  “Internal emails, voicemails, the whole shebang,” he says. “I'm having everything printed out and put into a file for you.”

  “Very good, Nico,” I reply.

  “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

  I nod and drain the last of my beer, my head spinning as I play this situation in my head over and over again. No wonder Bryant is so possessive and territorial of Zoe. In his fucked-up head, he bought her lock, stock, and barrel. In his head, he owns her.

  Of course, the simple fact that he thinks he can own another human being just goes to show how fucked up Bryant really is.

  “There's one more thing you need to know,” Nico says. “I don't know if it's related or not, but your boy Brooks has chartered a private plane. Pilot filed a flight plan out of the country – bound for Switzerland. I looked into it and he's got a family home there. Remote, secluded area. Perfect for maybe, keeping somebody out of sight for a while.”

  When the words fall from his mouth, I feel my blood turning to ice. I wouldn't put it past him to kidnap Zoe and take her out of the country, if for no other reason than to keep her from me. But, taking her somewhere in fucking Switzerland of all places would also prevent her from running away after being forced into a marriage she never wanted.

  Bryant doesn't have to be a lawyer. I understand that he comes from a family with more money than God. He does it for the prestige. Which means, he can also afford to walk away from it if he were to, say, move to Switzerland.

  “Shit,” I say. “When is the flight?”

  “Tomorrow,” he says. “Scheduled to depart at six a.m. That's why I said we needed to meet tonight. Just in case.”

  Regardless of how much she hates me right now, she's not going to go with Bryant willingly. That much I am positive of. I’m also positive that he knows that. Which means, he’s going to take her forcibly. And, given how early in the morning the flight is, if I were in his shoes, I'd probably kidnap her sooner, rather than later. Maybe, keep her drugged until we touched down in Switzerland. I mean, once she's there, what can she do? She'll be trapped.

  All of that means I need to get to her first. I need to get to her, so I can keep her safe. I look over at Nico, who seems to be waiting for his orders.

  “You still in touch with Zane?” I ask.

  Nico nods. “I can be.”

  “Then I need you to be,” I say. “I have a job for him. And it needs to be done quickly and quietly.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zoe

  I sit on the couch in my darkened living room, listening to the rain beating against the window, and watching the flashes of lightning briefly illuminate the world outside. It's beautiful. I've always enjoyed thunderstorms. But, the somber mood it inspires is pretty fitting for where I'm at mentally right now.

  It took some serious balls for Connor to come over here, knowing that I found out about his dirty little secret. I'm disgusted. I never would have thought he was like that. Never in a million years. He just doesn't seem the type.

  But then, I didn't know him during his “rock god” days. And given some of the stories I've heard about big stars like that, I guess it shouldn't surprise me. He certainly wouldn't be the first and he won’t be the last.

  That doesn't mean though, that I have to be okay with that. Or want somebody who would do that in my life.

  Soft jazz music is playing over my sound system as tears roll down my face and I wipe them away angrily. My heart feels like it's been torn into a million little pieces. First, all the crap with my father and Bryant, and now finding out that Connor isn't who – or what – I thought he was, is really weighing me down. It's messing with my mind as well as my emotions.

  I hadn't seen a single indication that he already had a child. None. Had I just been so caught up in him that I was blind to it?

  “There were none,” I say to my empty condo.

  Nothing at all.

  My cell phone rings and I let out a long sigh. It’s probably Connor trying to reach me. Again. He's called about a thousand times tonight. You'd think he'd take a hint that right now is not the time to be pestering me.

  Snatching the phon
e up off the couch, I look at the display and see that it's coming from a blocked number, not Connor. Of course, it's possible that it still is Connor, but something tells me it's not.

  Connecting the call, I hold the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Zoe Nichols?'

  I don't recognize the voice, but it's low and gravelly. Something about it sends a chill slithering along my skin.

  “Who is this?” I ask, grimacing at the nervous tremor in my voice.

  There is silence on the other end of the line – though I know whoever it is hasn't hung up yet. I can hear him breathing. A crack of thunder overhead is powerful enough to rattle the windows of my condo and set off a car alarm in the parking lot below.

  The mysterious caller still isn't speaking and I'm starting to get really creeped out. I'm on the verge of hanging up when something occurs to me. Something that makes my pulse begins to race and nausea rise up in my belly. My mouth goes completely dry and knots in my stomach constrict painfully, making me wince as I strain my ears and listen even harder.

  I realize that on the other end of the line, I can hear the echo of the car alarm that's going off in the background. Meaning, whoever the mysterious caller is, he's standing in the parking lot below my condo. Quickly disconnecting the call, I jump up and run to the window, trying to peer through the darkness and the rain to the parking lot below.

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

  Below me on the sidewalk, I see two men coming up the walkway toward my building. At least, I think I do. It could be shadows. It could be my mind playing tricks on me because I'm scared. The only thing I know for sure is that whoever just called me was not Connor, and they were in the parking lot of my building. And the way he called me made it seem like he was checking to make sure I was home – not because he wanted to drop by for a friendly chat.