Road to Freedom

by Piper Davenport

  I was still pretty riled up as I dried off and dressed, partly because Merrick hadn’t come up to check on me or make sure I was okay. Irrational, granted, but I wanted him to apologize and bow before his queen in contrition.

  I slid on a pair of tennies and headed downstairs to find no one but Stump in the great room. He was on his phone, but rang off when he saw me. “Hey, babe. You good?”

  “Have you seen Merrick?”

  He looked at me in confusion.

  “Finch,” I corrected.

  “Yeah, he’s on a call. Back office.”

  I bit my lip, deciding just how mad I was still, before turning on my heel and heading that way.

  “Yeah, Monday,” I heard Merrick say. “Tuesday’ll work. Okay. See you then.”

  I pushed open the door and leaned against the doorjamb. He met my eyes, but didn’t smile. “You feeling better?”

  I shrugged. “Depends on what I’m supposed to feel better about.”

  “I see we’re still at a stalemate.” He closed a file folder and set his phone on top of it.

  “Stop being a dick and we won’t be.”

  “I’m a dick because I want you safe,” he ground out. “Okay, Rem. I’m a dick, then.”

  “Oh my god, Merrick, stop twisting my words.”

  “They’re your words, baby. Can’t twist them when I’m repeating them verbatim.”

  “I have never once said I thought you were a dick for wanting me safe,” I countered.

  He sighed. “I want this to be a teachable moment for you, Remington.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You need to listen—”

  “Fuck you, Merrick. You’re not my father, and I’m not a child. You don’t get to talk to me like that,” I snapped, and stormed away.

  Stump was exactly where I left him, and I closed the distance between us. “I need to run an errand.”

  “Let me know what you need, and I’ll do it for you.”

  “I need to do it.”

  “No can do, babe. You’re locked down.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re locked down,” Merrick repeated as he walked into the room.

  I turned on him. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning, unless I say otherwise, you don’t leave the compound.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I can, baby, and I did.”

  “What about class or the memorial service?”

  “Class is out for the moment, but I’ll take you to the service. I’ve cleared Sunday.”

  “Oh, how generous of you, benevolent one,” I spat out. “Please put some time on your calendar to kindly fuck yourself as well.”

  With that, I headed back upstairs where I locked myself into the room and flopped onto the bed. I was so mad, I couldn’t even cry.

  But I could scheme. And I did. In the form of Merrick’s murder and all the ways I could hide his body.

  Finch

  Remington was still distant with me as I took her hand toward the end of Michelle’s memorial service. We’d made a tentative truce on Friday after she’d given me the silent treatment for over twenty-four hours, but I could still feel her shutting down and I hated it.

  She let me take her hand, but pulled away when the pastor ended the service and she hugged Michelle’s family. Even though I offered my hand again, she didn’t take it as we walked out of the little chapel Michelle had been dedicated in when she was a baby. The whole thing was sad as fuck and I was surprised Remington didn’t completely break down on me. I figured that would probably come later.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said to no one in particular, so I moved to follow.

  “Do you need to watch me pee, Merrick, or am I allowed to do that on my own?” she snarled.

  I sighed. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Thank you, gracious and benevolent one.”

  I rolled my eyes. Apparently, the truce was over.

  “Hey.” I took her hand pulled her against me. “I love you.”

  She stared over me. “Hmm-mm.”

  I kissed her gently, but she didn’t kiss me back, so I watched her walk through the ladies’ door then pulled out my phone to check messages. I had to meet with a client on Tuesday, which meant a long day of travel tomorrow to get back to Portland in time, but at least, Remington would be with me and I’d know she was safe.

  “Where’s Remi?” Kennedy asked.

  I lifted my chin toward the bathroom.

  Kennedy nodded and walked inside, stepping out again within seconds. “Finch, she’s not in there.”

  “Come again?”

  “The bathroom’s empty. No Remington.”

  I shoved past her and pushed into the bathroom, checking every stall, and Kennedy was right. She’d disappeared. I saw a window at the back of the room was open, and my blood ran cold. “Fuck,” I snapped, and grabbed my phone, texting Alamo.

  “She’s probably back inside,” Kennedy said. “You just didn’t see her leave the bathroom.”

  “I would have seen her, Kennedy.”

  “Let me go look.”

  Mouse was heading our way and I gave him a chin lift. “You stay here, babe.”

  “What’s up?” Mouse asked.

  “Remington’s missing, lock Kennedy down. Eyes on her at all times.”

  “No problem,” Mouse said, although Kennedy wasn’t too happy with my edict.

  I didn’t give a fuck as I headed outside and tried to figure out where the hell she was, calling Booker on the way.

  “Hey, Finch.”

  “Need you to track Remington’s phone.”

  “Shit, she okay?”

  I filled him in on what I knew, hanging up just as the sound of pipes roared around me. Alamo, along with three other Dogs, rode into the parking lot and I walked toward them.

  “What do we know?” Alamo asked.

  “Rem was in the bathroom, then she wasn’t. I think she got out through the window at the back, but there’s no sign of her.” I dragged my hands through my hair. “I have no idea if she left on her own or someone took her. Booker’s tracking her phone.”

  “Okay. Get Kennedy to give you a list of where she might go to be alone. We’ll start—”

  “Finch!” Kennedy called, rushing toward me, Mouse hot on her heels. “Remington dropped her grandma’s ring.” She handed it to me. “She would never let that out of her sight. She always used to joke that the only way anyone would get it was off her cold, dead body.”

  I hissed out a breath and Kennedy shook her head. “Not that I think she’s dead. Far from it. She would have dropped it to let you know she didn’t go of her own free will.”

  I stroked the platinum band with a nod, then slid it onto my pinky finger. It would stay there until I found her.

  * * *

  Remington

  My head felt like a vice grip was squeezing it and my mouth was as dry as wallpaper...I figured out pretty quickly it was dry because I had a gag over it. I also discovered my hands and feet were tied...tight. I glanced down my body and bit back tears. Cable ties. Not easy to work your way out of.

  I forced a deep breath through my nose, trying not to panic. I was horribly claustrophobic and suffocating to death was my biggest fear, so a gag in the mouth was not conducive to me not panicking. I looked around the room, trying to determine where I was, but it was dark, other than a little light coming through a transom window above me. I was on a mattress with no bedding, and I was freezing.

  The sound of a door slamming and footsteps on wooden stairs had me closing my eyes and trying to relax my body enough to pretend like I was still out.

  A feminine voice was whispering in Russian, but I could only make out a couple of words...they weren’t nice, which indicated to me this person wasn’t happy.

  “No one saw me, brat,” she snapped, switching to English.

  Brother. She was speaking to her brother.

  “The medicine will take a lit
tle while to wear off. You have time to get here.”

  Shit. Get where?

  “No, she’s out cold. Da. So easy. Okay.”

  The woman shuffled closer to me and I felt her breath on my cheek. “I don’t understand what is so special about you,” she whispered. “But I suppose we’ll soon find out, won’t we?”

  I forced myself not to react, and it was hard when she touched my face, but I kept my breathing even and when I heard her footsteps move away from me, I waited a few minutes before opening my eyes again.

  Rubbing my face against the mattress, I managed to slide the fabric tied around my mouth down, letting it settle around my neck. I took a couple of deep breaths, reminding myself I was still alive. I maneuvered my body in a way to slide my feet behind me and through my arms, tugging at the bindings around my wrists. Thank the lord for ballet, because I could pretty much contort any part of myself in any direction, so I was now able to sit up with my hands in front of me. The plastic was too tight to worm my way out of, so unless there was a knife somewhere around, I wouldn’t be able to break the hold.

  The dress I was wearing had pockets, but my phone had been removed, leaving me with a Chapstick and tissues. My purse was also nowhere near me. I wish I hadn’t given Merrick the cold shoulder. He’d tried to apologize, and I’d still given him monosyllabic conversation. God damn my ability to hold a grudge. It got me nowhere and I still held onto my anger. Merrick was going to think I ran away again and that was on me.

  Shit! I was on my own here. I mean, what were the odds they’d find my grandmother’s ring? I did have a modicum of hope that Merrick would at least look for me, but he was in an unfamiliar city, so his chance of finding me quickly were slim.

  Plus, I had to pee.

  I heard the door again, so I pulled my gag back up and contorted my body back the way it was, laying back down on the mattress. Unfortunately, the bedframe squeaked, so I couldn’t continue to feign being unconscious.

  “You are awake,” a deep voice observed, and I froze. “Good.”

  Vitaly.

  * * *

  Finch

  Savannah didn’t have many bad spots, but the place we were currently hauling ass toward certainly qualified as one of them, if not the worst. Alamo, Doom, Badger, and Dash rode tight behind me as we sped our way to the south side’s industrial district, a mostly derelict part of town that had been abandoned after the industrial crash of the late seventies. I took Doc’s Fatboy directly from the memorial, needing the comfort and speed of a bike, rather than the cage of my rental.

  I kept my thoughts focused on the road ahead, rather than allowing myself to think about what that animal could be doing to Remington, or what I’d do to him when I found him. If I found him. Fuck that. I had to find him; the alternative meant losing Remington, and that was not going to happen.

  I signaled to the others and we turned right into a small housing development that looked like it had seen better days. We passed through darkening streets lined with dilapidated houses with boarded up windows and overgrown lawns until we arrived at the address Booker had given me. I’d reached out to my VP to track her again, and he’d had trouble, considering her phone was off. But he was able to trace the phone up until the signal died, and this was where it led us.

  We killed our engines, parked our bikes around the corner, and made the rest of the way on foot.

  “What the hell is this place?” I asked as we reached the only two-story house on a street of otherwise modest single story, ranch style homes.

  “This development was built for the employees of Kimble and Graham, back when they used to have a big factory here,” Alamo explained. “The plan was to keep the employees close to where they worked to increase productivity. This house belonged to the factory foreman. When the plant closed in the early eighties, the neighborhood became a ghost town. All the families were relocated when the company moved out west, and all of these houses have been empty ever since. About ten years ago the meth heads moved in.”

  “Remind me to call HGTV when we get back. I’ve got a show to pitch them,” Badger said.

  “Well, according to Booker, this is where they’ve got her,” I said as we arrived at the house. My phone buzzed so I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Hatch. “Fuck.”

  “What?” Alamo asked.

  “Vitaly. He’s not in Russia. He’s here.”

  “How do you want to play this?” Alamo asked.

  “We can’t see shit from here,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “Hold on.”

  “No. Vitaly’s got her,” I argued.

  “We don’t have any idea at all what we’re walking into here. We don’t even know if it is Vitaly or how many people are in that house,” Doom said.

  “Or if she’s even in there. Could just be meth heads like Alamo said,” Badger said.

  “Booker’s intel is always solid, as you well know. If he said she’s here, she’s here,” Alamo said.

  Or she was here when someone turned off her phone. I could only hope she hadn’t been moved since.

  “Then what the fuck are we waiting for? I’m gonna move in closer to get a better look,” I said, and started walking toward to the house.

  “Finch, goddammit! Get back here!” Alamo whisper shouted, but I ignored him.

  I crept through the high grass to the east side of the house and crouched beneath a window that had been replaced with faded plywood. I stayed very still and listened but heard nothing.

  Goddammit. I should have followed her into the fucking bathroom.

  I’d never been more worried or scared in my entire life, yet I still managed to be angry over the fact that by icing me out, she’d allowed herself to be placed in this situation. Why did she always have to be so damned headstrong; so difficult? Why couldn’t she just fucking trust me?

  Of course, I knew the answers, but having her push me away still hurt. More so now that I was in danger of losing her. I already knew that I loved her, but now I knew that I truly needed her.

  She was difficult. She was stubborn, moody, and dramatic as hell, and I loved her. In truth, she was the most perfect woman in the world and she was the love of my life, but she was also in grave danger. At that moment, I knew two things for sure. I couldn’t stand to lose Remington, and if I didn’t find her right now, she was going to die.

  “Fuck this,” I whispered to myself and stood up. I motioned for the others to spread out and made my way to the front entrance.

  Alamo quickened his pace when he saw me going for the door and began waving his arms wildly. I paused and allowed him to catch up.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered.

  “I’m not waiting any longer,” I said. “If you want to stop me, you’re gonna have to shoot me.”

  Alamo pulled out a .9mm and raised it. My body locked briefly, but then he handed it to me and nodded.

  “I’m right behind you,” he said, before producing a revolver from his rear waistband.

  I quietly tried the front door knob and found it was unlocked. Slowly pushing the door open to a dark and quiet home, Dash, Doom, and Badger joined us we made our way inside. Doom headed upstairs, Dash and Badger followed, and Alamo and I split up to do a sweep of the first floor.

  The kitchen, dining room, and den all appeared to be as empty as the entryway. In fact, there were little to no signs of recent activity anywhere in the house.

  “Didn’t you say this neighborhood is filled with squatters and druggies?” I asked Alamo as we continued to sweep the spacious downstairs.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Isn’t this place a little clean?”

  “Looks like a shithole to me,” he replied.

  “Sure, but if you were a homeless junkie wouldn’t you want to crash at the nicest pad on the block?”

  “I guess so, sure.”

  “Then, where the fuck is everyone? Why aren’t there scumbags everywhere? This place is too clean and too qu
iet for a neighborhood like this.”

  Dash and Badger came downstairs to join us.

  “The second floor’s all clear,” Dash said. “Doom’s checkin’ the attic.”

  “I hate to say it, but it looks like no one’s here,” Alamo said.

  My heart sunk. Where the hell was Remi? Did they somehow know we were coming and move her? Was she ever even here? My pulse raced, and my head began to throb. A dull echo pounded in my skull as my thoughts went to Remington in the hands of Vitaly. What choice did I have now? All I could do was think. I sure as hell couldn’t act on any kind of a plan. I had no idea where she was. I couldn’t be more helpless. I couldn’t get any lower.

  Lower.

  “There’s a basement.”

  “What?” Alamo asked.

  “There’s a lower floor,” I said. “This is definitely Vitaly’s place.”

  “What? I don’t get it.”

  “That’s why the place is so clean. Vitaly probably pays the junkies to stay clear of the place, and he keeps the house empty, so no one knows what he’s up to.”

  I quickly went back to the hallway and began to look for any kind of basement entrance but found nothing. “It’s gotta be here somewhere,” I said.

  “Look, man, maybe we just have the wrong place,” Dash said.

  I ignored him and went back to the kitchen and noticed that the walk-in pantry door was wide open.

  “Did you open that door?” I asked Alamo, who shook his head.

  I raised my gun and made my way to the pantry, the others behind me. Sure enough, on the pantry floor was a trap door with a silver handle and an electronic security keypad.

  “Shit,” I breathed out.

  Remington

  Vitaly limped toward me and I grimaced at the sight of his ugly face. “What do you want?”

  He was supposed to be in Russia. I had no idea how he even got here, or how far he’d go to make me pay. I’d been scared before, but now I was terrified.

  “What you didn’t give me before,” he spat out.

  I scowled. “You’ll get nothing from me, you piece of shit.”

  He ran his hand up my leg. “I’ll get what I came for, Remington, and you’ll like it.”