Broken Process

by Bethany Jadin

  Trigg gets up from the floor as Jude approaches us, his legs looking as unsteady as mine.

  “Emma, I can have my guys on this within the minute,” Jude offers, straight to the point as usual. “The ones I told you about.”

  “No luck with Zoey’s phone?” Trigg asks, his body tensing.

  I already know the answer. If Jax and Daniel knew where Zoey was, the guys would have bolted from the apartment the second they had a location. The fact that they’re all still here tells me the news isn’t good.

  Jude shakes his head with an angry sigh, confirming my fear.

  Another chill runs through me, joining forces with the waves of nausea that grip my stomach. I know they won’t let up until Zoey is safe. But the fist of pain bearing down inside my chest — that’s all my doing, a truth I alone have to wrestle with. If I had taken Jude’s offer earlier, none of this would have happened. I’ve been trying to do this on my own. I thought I could handle things. But somewhere along the way, my desire to remain fiercely independent morphed into sheer stubbornness, and I was blinded by it. I had no idea exactly how far into the deep end I was, but today I’m seeing everything with the painful clarity that tragedy brings. It’s clear to me now that I’d barely been keeping my head above water, but worse than that, I’ve been too busy flailing about to notice that I’d pushed my best friend under.

  Trigg reaches toward me, and I grip his hands, pulling myself up with his help. Jude watches me carefully as I stand and steady myself against the kitchen counter. I don’t trust my legs not to buckle. I glance at the clock on the microwave. That can’t be right — can it? It seems like ages since the guys arrived, but it’s only been a few minutes. The phone call from BHC was over in the blink of an eye, before I’d even fully wrapped my mind around what was happening, but now every second is stretching out to infinity.

  “Emma, given the situation, I think...” Jude pauses and purses his lips. He takes a deep breath and starts again with a softer tone. “We can bring in the police right now, or I can contact my guys. But it’s your call. Just tell me what you want, and it’s done.”

  He’s expecting a refusal, another protest about not wanting to be further in debt to them. But he’s not going to get a fight from me. Not today. Not anymore.

  Whatever he can do, bring it. It’s too late to change what’s happened, but today I’ll do what I should have done weeks ago. I’ll take every bit of help the guys can offer. Anything it takes to get Zoey back safe and sound.

  I wet my dry lips and give him a firm nod. “Yes, call them. Your guys.”

  Jude’s hand is in his pocket in a heartbeat, reaching for his phone before the words have finished leaving my mouth.

  A muffled sound comes from the stairwell leading to our apartment, and the guys instantly go into action, moving with precision and silence. Trigg reaches behind his back for the concealed pistol he carries, Jax plasters himself to the wall beside the door latch, the muscles in his arms flexed and waiting. Daniel slides quietly into the space behind the door, ready to spring a trap, while Jude steps in front of me, and Gunner crouches behind the sofa, his shoulders lowered to charge.

  Footsteps are just on the other side of the door now. I wait behind Jude, my hands on his shoulders and barely breathing, all the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. A familiar metallic noise comes from the entrance — a key sliding into the lock.

  The apartment door creaks open, and I jump, but the guys don’t even flinch. The only movement is a rapid hand gesture from Trigg that I can’t decipher and a curt nod from the rest of the guys.

  The door swings further in, and I let out a loud cry of relief, pushing past Jude to grab Zoey up in a tight embrace.

  Her body shakes as she wraps her arms around me, and her breath catches as she gasps for air. I hold her as sobs rock through me. “Thank God, thank you,” I say to the heavens over and over.

  Zoey clings to me as I stroke her hair. After a few minutes, her breathing steadies, and we untangle slowly. I put her at arms’ length, searching every inch of her for injury.

  “Did they hurt you?” Jax asks, his eyes examining her just as sharply as I am.

  “No.” Zoey says quietly, shaking her head. “They just grabbed me and put me in a van. I’m okay.”

  Trigg and Gunner come barreling through the apartment door, both slightly out of breath. I hadn’t even noticed them leaving.

  “No one’s out there,” Trigg reports, tucking his gun away with fierce disappointment. No doubt, he was hoping to put a bullet in someone. “They probably didn’t even slow down when they pushed her out.”

  Zoey looks up, her face pale. “They let me out a few blocks away. I ran back here.”

  Jude turns to her, his tone hard and all-business. “What happened after they put you in the van?”

  “How many guys were there?” Jax asks in a growl.

  “Yeah, who else besides Marcus?” Gunner’s question is practically a roar, his fists clenched. “I need to know who to fuck up.”

  Zoey’s white as a sheet as the guys pepper her with questions, her eyes wide as she looks from one of them to the next. Her hand is trembling as I hold it, and I don’t think she’s breathing.

  Trigg and Daniel toss their questions out, too, and a second later all of them are talking at once, a rapid-fire barrage of angry tones and raised voices.

  “Guys, enough!” I admonish. As good as their intentions may be, they’re all testosterone and pent-up aggression. They’re a den of wolves, teeth bared and growling, with Zoey in the center. I’ve rarely seen my best friend overwhelmed, but she’s shaking like a leaf in a cold wind right now.

  Jude opens his mouth to counter me, a combative expression on his face, but our eyes meet and he pauses, pressing his lips together tightly when he sees the fight in my eyes. I can’t undo the mistakes I’ve made to get us here, but right now I can make sure Zoey’s needs come first. The questions can wait a moment.

  “Give her a second to recover, for godssake.” I take Zoey by the shoulders and turn her toward the living room.

  We ease down to the couch cushions together, and I lean forward, pulling the footstool to us. The guys switch gears as I wrap an arm around Zoey. Trigg lifts her feet up onto the ottoman and gently removes her shoes. Daniel disappears into the kitchen behind us and reappears a moment later with a glass of water.

  “Thank you,” Zoey tells him quietly before taking several large gulps of the cool liquid.

  Gunner grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and unfurls it, spreading it across Zoey’s legs while Jude sits down across from us. I meet Jude’s gaze for a second. I know he’s dying to bark orders and demand answers, but he stays silent, patiently watching as we make my best friend as comfortable as we can.

  His twin, on the other hand, is up to something. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jax slip through the door and shut it behind him with a soft click, but I shift my focus back to Zoey without pausing to wonder where he’s going or what he’s up to.

  Right now, she has my undivided attention.

  “Well, the good news is — as awful as it was — it sounds like they were just trying to scare the shit out of you,” Jude says with a sigh. He shifts his gaze to me before continuing. “Both of you. But the bad news is, they’ve already crossed the point of no return.”

  “Which means they probably won’t stop,” Daniel adds, his face grim. “Next time, it’s hard to tell what they’ll do.”

  Gunner grunts angrily. “There won’t be a fucking next time, not if I have anything to do with it.”

  Jax has been mysteriously absent for the last half-hour, but the rest of us have been quietly listening to Zoey recount the horrid tale of being abducted by BHC. Now that they have the details, the guys are growing restless once again.

  “I’m so sorry, Zoey,” I tell her for perhaps the twentieth time, but it’ll never be enough. “I never meant for you to get caught in the crossfire of this bullshit.”

  “You co
uldn’t have known,” Trigg interjects.

  I shoot him a sharp look, but really the daggers in my eyes are aimed inward. I appreciate his kind sentiment, but the last thing I deserve is to be let off the hook. No, I need my feet held to the fire. To always remember this. “That’s not true. I could have — should have seen this coming. You guys did, didn’t you?”

  My gaze moves to Jude instinctively, because now I know the true gravity of what he was trying to tell me that day in his office. But he shifts uncomfortably, and his eyes land on Gunner instead of me. Something unspoken passes between them, Jude’s expression tight and angry, and Gunner lowers his head. I’ve never seen shame on Gunner before, but I swear that’s what’s written all over his face right now.

  Part of me wants to pull them aside and ask what the fuck that’s about, but today I just don’t have the emotional capacity. There’s a distance in Zoey’s eyes which is haunting me — like she’s not really here. The sense of dread swirling in my stomach had eased when she came through the door, but it’s returned as I’ve sat beside her, listening to her tell us about what happened, her tone vacant.

  An unpleasant moment of silence passes before Daniel speaks up. “Look,” he says, his tone diplomatic. “We can play coulda-woulda-shoulda all day long, but we need to focus on what to do now.”

  “I agree.” I’m getting as restless as the guys, eager to do something. “The first thing we need to do is call the police and get them to take Zoey’s statement.”

  Daniel has his phone out immediately, but Zoey sits forward suddenly, raising a hand in panic.

  “No!”

  All eyes turn to her. The dread claws at me, digging deeper. “Why not, Zoey? What did they say?”

  She slumps back against the couch. “They know so much. Where I work, my Social Security number, the names of my friends and co-workers, where they live...”

  “Go on,” Trigg says gently.

  Zoey’s eyes focus on a distant point. Her voice is resigned, tired. “Just before they let me out of the van, they said if they get wind of so much as an anonymous tip to the police hotline, that they’ll start going down the list.”

  Daniel leans forward. “And do what?”

  A sad desolation comes over her face, and she shrugs. “They told me to use my imagination, but that it would still be far worse than anything I could dream of.”

  3

  Emma

  Helplessness.

  It’s how I feel, and I have no doubt it’s how Zoey feels. They can do whatever they want whenever they want.

  If BHC gets a whiff that we’ve notified the police or that Jude is rallying his troops, it’s Zoey who is going to get hurt now. I was horrified enough when it was my own family being affected. How can I let that happen to hers? How could I have let any of this happen?

  The sound of a strangled sob beside me yanks me out of my inner torment, my attention immediately back on my best friend. That distant look of shock is completely gone now, and I can tell the events of the day are hitting her all at once. If BHC had aimed to frighten, mission accomplished. I shift on the couch and pull Zoey close. She doesn’t hesitate to lay her head on my shoulder and let the tears go. As she cries, I curse myself. I curse what I’ve gotten us into. I curse at how helpless I feel.

  An angry melancholy is overtaking me. The calm tones and quiet movements happening around us are for Zoey’s benefit, but I know these men. Inside, they’re breathing fire, and there’s an epic storm building. I’m with the guys — I want to hurt, maim, and destroy. I want to hunt down everyone connected to BHC and do unspeakable things to each of them until they’re in excruciating pain.

  A knock comes at the apartment door, and my muscles go tense instantly. Before I even look up from Zoey, all of the guys are on their feet, and Trigg’s hand is behind his back, gripping his weapon.

  My chest goes slack as all the air leaves me. I’m ready to grab Zoey and bolt down the hall, but Gunner and Jude step behind the couch, blocking the view of the doorway, their large bodies shielding us. We slink down on the couch and wait.

  I hear soft footsteps as one of the guys — Daniel? — approaches the door. Then a second later, a sigh of relief and the sound of the deadbolt being unlatched.

  “It’s Jax,” Daniel reports before we hear the creak of the door swinging open.

  Jude and Gunner move apart, and I crane my head to look between them, glimpsing Jax striding through the door and Daniel locking it back behind him.

  “Where have you been?” I ask as soon as the door is shut again, an edge to my voice I didn’t expect.

  I’ve poured every last ounce of calmness I have into Zoey, and I’ve been trying to hold it together for her sake, but I’m running out of stamina. Some of the anger and frustration I feel is rising to the surface, and even though I don’t mean to direct it at Jax, it’s worming its way out of me. Curiosity has gotten the better of me, too. Why the hell did he disappear, today of all days? What could have been so damn important?

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he heads into the kitchen behind us, and I can’t turn around far enough to see what he’s doing without disturbing Zoey, so I grit my teeth and wait impatiently. A moment later, he’s back with a fresh glass of water, which he hands to Zoey.

  She gives me a sideways glance, the confusion on her face mirroring mine. I shrug — hell if I know what’s going on — and we both look back at Jax.

  Kneeling beside the couch, he reaches in his leather jacket and pulls out a small, unlabeled medicine bottle and holds it out to Zoey. “Here, take a couple of these — the blue ones and the white ones. Well, maybe just start with one of each.”

  Zoey accepts the bottle from him and opens it, peering inside. She pours a few of the pills out in her hand and rolls them around with a finger. I don’t recognize them, but Zoey’s eyes go wide. “Where did you get these?”

  Jax shakes his head. “Better if you don’t know. But they’ll help you rest.”

  My best friend shoots me a look of incredulity before dumping most of the pills back in the bottle. She keeps two — a tiny blue one and a bigger white one — and swallows them down with a few sips of water. “Thank you,” she says, holding the bottle out to Jax.

  He waves it away. “No, you keep them.”

  Zoey blinks hesitantly but retracts her hand after a moment and grips the bottle tightly, pulling it to her chest. “I appreciate that, Jax. Very kind of you.”

  He begins to rise, extending his hands toward her. “We may want to get you to your bed. Those will take effect pretty quickly.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I tell her, scooting forward to push the ottoman out of the way.

  I stand up and wrap my arms around Jax’s neck and whisper thank you as I hug him. He puts a strong arm around me, running his hand down my back, pressing me against him, and I let out a sigh of contentment at his embrace. I just want to stay right here, wrapped around him for the rest of the night, but my best friend is waiting, so I let go and pull myself away.

  Zoey lets us help her from the couch, and she accepts Jax’s guidance as he steers her down the hallway to her bedroom. I follow closely behind, not wanting to leave her side.

  Just before we reach Zoey’s bedroom, I hear footsteps behind me, and Jude lays a hand on my shoulder. I stop and look up at him. There’s a tempest brewing in those eyes, but his gentle grip is calm and reassuring. “We’ll keep an eye on everything while you two rest.”

  I stand with Jude for a moment, watching as Jax guides Zoey into her bedroom, his head bent down to hers, his lips speaking what must be comforting words, because she gives him the hint of a smile.

  They disappear through the doorway, and I turn to Jude, putting my palm on his chest. I hope he can feel the gratitude in my touch, in my voice. “Thank you for being here and helping us. I really appreciate it — all of you. I don’t know what I would have done without you guys today, really. I... I’m in over my head, Jude.”

  He draws a deep breath and
nods, a mixture of worry and pride on his face. “We’ll get it sorted out, I promise. Go be with Zoey. Get some sleep. And don’t worry — we’ll be right out here.”

  Jax was right; whatever mixture of drugs he’d given her worked quickly, and Zoey has been sleeping soundly for hours.

  I, on the other hand, have barely been able to shut my eyes for more than a few minutes. My barely-contained rage from earlier has drained out of me and left me hollow. I feel like I should be upset or angry or depressed or at least confused, but there is nothing. For the last few hours, I’ve felt utterly empty, like I’ve been sucked into a void.

  I’ve laid awake all evening, trying to run through scenarios in my head. To formulate a plan. The steps I need to take to fix this. What I should be doing.

  But nothing useful is coming to me.

  Instead, three thoughts have become all-consuming, one leading to the next and then to the next and back again on an endless loop.

  At the forefront of my mind is an overwhelming desire to disappear. To just grab Zoey and go start over somewhere far away from here. Forget this life existed and reinvent ourselves anew on the other side of the world in some small, remote village.

  But I know that’s no solution. No matter where I hide, things will catch up with me eventually. We’re in this situation because I refused to acknowledge the seriousness of what was happening. Physically running from it won’t have any better results. BHC’s reach is impressive — terrifyingly so. I doubt there’s any corner of the world where they couldn’t find me if they wanted to. And of course, that’s just me. Even if I take Zoey with me, which would disrupt her life completely, that still leaves everyone else I care about vulnerable to the malicious whims of BHC.

  The second thought is that I wish I’d never written this code. I could have picked a million other projects. Designed a cute social app. Created patches for OS flaws. Worked on blockchain platform development, or even AI and AR technology. But no, I had to stick my nose into cybersecurity. I wanted to decrease vulnerability, lessen the risk of our increasingly digital existence. And what do I have to show for it? I’ve put myself and those I love at risk. We’re vulnerable, targeted, bullied. I’ve never felt less safe. Irony is a cruel mistress.