by Vonnie Davis
Milt beamed under Quinn’s meager attentions and gulped the water. “Quinn asked me to keep an eye out for a black Kawasaki Ninja bike. We, in the security business, refer to them as crotch rockets.” He drank more water. “I turned my recliner so I had a better vantage point from which to do my reconnaissance out the front window. Kept a pair of binoculars on the end stand. Was just finishing up my second bag of pork rinds when I heard that bike howling down our street like the devil hisself rolling into town to wreak havoc.”
He shook his head once and gulped more liquid. “Zipped his Ninja in the spot right beside Quinn’s Jeep. I used my binoculars to jot down the license plate number.” His trembling fingers reached into his shirt pocket and handed Arlo a neatly printed number. “I watched him unscrew the license plate, too, and take it off.” He turned to Quinn. “Sorry to tell you this, but he used that very same screwdriver on your tires. You got four flats, buddy. Got two pictures of him doing that damage with my cell too.” He motioned toward the phone Ryder was holding. “Just index backward and you’ll see them.”
Poor Milt’s jaw was swollen and starting to bruise. Quinn squatted in front of him. “Did that bastard hit you?”
The old man nodded. “I opened my door in the hope I could take the picture, nonchalant like so he wouldn’t know what I was up to, but Killer charged out and attacked him. Smart dog, Killer. He knows when a person’s no damn good.” Milt nodded once.
“I got the picture just fine, but when I cussed out the man for kicking my dog, he cold-cocked me.” The old man turned to Noah. “For those of you who ain’t in the security business, that means he hit me before I knew what was about to happen.”
To Noah’s credit, he kept a straight face.
“Jace, could you get our hero here an ice pack. Damn that man for hitting you.” Quinn clasped Milt’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Next to Cassie and the men on the force, this gassy old coot was his favorite person in all of Clearwater. He could have been beaten all to hell and back—or worse. All because he wanted to help a friend.
Wolf’s phone rang and he answered. “What do you mean Cassie’s disappeared?” His booming voice reverberated off the meeting room’s walls.
Everyone stood.
Quinn’s heart stopped beating and simply dropped to his feet like a leaden wrecking ball. No, T-Bone couldn’t have gotten her. His angel was under police protection. His heart ticked back to life and then absorbed a hellacious strong dose of I-will-be-damned anger that pounded in his ears like tympani drums, while his chest constricted to the point he didn’t think he could draw his next breath. I will kill that bastard if he took her.
“I’m going to rip that poor excuse of a cop a new one.” Arlo punched some numbers on his phone, speaking to the officer stationed outside Cassie’s room. “My man claims a male nurse took her down for an MRI about an hour ago. Nurse said they might be gone a couple hours for the procedure.”
Wolf tossed his cell on the chair and glared at Arlo. “Jenna already checked with the head nurse on the floor to find out why Cassie wasn’t in her room. None of the nurses had a clue. One of them asked your very observant man, who passed along the same information. The head nurse called down to imaging to check, since sometimes test requests are slow to reach the nurses’ station. No test had been ordered for Cassie. No one in the MRI unit has seen her.” By now Wolf was all but screaming, his face red and his fists clenching. “In fact, no one in that whole damn hospital knows where the hell she is!”
The other beat of Quinn’s heart, the better half of his soul, the sunshine to his darkness, was gone. Neither his mind nor his heart could comprehend it. No, this nightmare could not be happening. A cold chill zipped through his system, leaving his skin clammy. Trembling started in his head and quickly moved to every part of his body until he visibly vibrated. Had Chris—he’d no longer think of him as T-Bone, nicknames were for friends and friends didn’t harm the people he loved—had he hurt her? Was his angel frightened? Was she wondering why Quinn didn’t come and save her? Where in the hell could Chris have taken her? His legs gave out and, in wobbly slow-motion, Quinn fell onto his chair.
As though Jace were speaking in a long, hollow tunnel, he proclaimed Quinn in shock as he took his blood pressure. He draped a blanket over him and forced him to drink a bottle of vitamin-fortified water. When Quinn’s phone dinged with an incoming text, he shook so badly he could barely slide it from the pocket of his jeans.
Jace slipped it from Quinn’s unsteady hands and read the text for everyone. “Can U find her before I kill her?”
Quinn roared with fury and futile frustration. On legs that were shaky a minute or so earlier, he stood and heaved an empty chair across the room. Rage replaced Quinn’s shuddering shock. Why? Why would Chris want to kill Cassie? Why not simply walk up to Quinn and put two bullets through his heart and one through his head? Why destroy the most beautiful soul who ever breathed?
Quinn tossed aside the blanket and began to pace. “I will kill the son of a bitch. Ryder, I know you’re always armed. Give me a damn gun. You got a knife strapped to your leg?”
Wolf got in his face. “Quinn, sit your ass back down. Arlo, you might want to leave. We’ll be forming an extraction team and we may use methods you cannot approve of, according to the vows you took to become a police officer.”
Their conversation grew louder as each one made a point in his favor.
“Arlo, I respect that you deal in a world of right and wrong, black and white. But for a day or two, we’ll be dealing in whatever it takes to achieve the desired objective, which in this case is saving my sister. Some things we’ll talk about, maybe even do, you won’t want to know.”
Quinn’s phone rang. This time he was able to snatch it from where Jace placed it on the table. The caller ID once again read Unknown. “Listen you son of a bitch. If you’ve harmed one hair on her head I will scoop your eyeballs out with a jagged-edged spoon. Then I’ll skin you alive with a razor-sharp two-inch knife. Slowly and with great delight. Do you understand?”
“Son? I didn’t think you had it in you. Damn, you had chills going up my back.” The old man’s voice was laced with pride. If only he’d shown that kind of approval for Quinn earlier in his life.
“Dad?” Yeah, sure, my threatening to torture someone would make you proud of me, wouldn’t it?
“Did Chris abduct Cassie?”
“I just got a text from him.”
“You were right. He’s got property in Montana, but he’s also got a warehouse in Tampa. You want the address?”
Quinn smirked. “Do I want the sun to come up tomorrow? Hold on. Need paper and pen.” Someone placed the items in front of him. “Okay. I’m ready.” He scribbled the address his dad gave him. “Thanks. I…” he cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“There hasn’t been a day in over three years that your mother hasn’t told me how wrong I was in how I treated you. I wouldn’t put up with that kind of bitching from anyone but her. I love her like, well, you find a woman you love to the point of madness, by all that’s holy and unholy, you do what you can to hang onto her.”
“I found my love three years ago, but was too dumb to admit it.”
His dad chuckled—or was he having an asthma attack? The sound was so foreign to Quinn, he wasn’t sure. “Then, by damn, you rescue her.”
“We’re organizing a team now.”
“You’ll do best with Noah Steele as your leader. He’s got the most experience. Dan Wolford’s no slouch, but he’s too emotionally involved, Cassie being his sister.” How the hell does he know all this? Does he have a dossier on every person in my life? “Your mother and I are flying down, arriving in four hours. I figure the best place to hook up with you would be the fire station after the extraction. Will they grant us admittance?”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Any equipment you need, you call this number. You go get her, son. I’d kill any bastard who tried to take my wife
away from me. And I’d kill without a moment’s hesitation. I expect you to do the same for your woman. I’ll use any kind of power I have to back up whatever you and your friends decide to do. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Grandchildren. Your mother wants grandchildren.” The line went dead.
Well, hell, if that wasn’t the strangest conversation he’d ever had with his old man. He’d actually given him fatherly advice, spoken to him with pride and genuine concern. Expressing a strong degree of possessiveness for his wife wasn’t unusual. His dad had always doted on his mother, demanding to know where she was and who she was with every moment of the day.
On the other hand, his mother had always been attentive and very involved in Quinn’s life. Had that been the problem between him and his father? Was his dad envious of the attention his wife heaped on him as a youngster and teenager? He couldn’t analyze it at the moment. The only things he could think of were finding Cassie and killing one Chris Mason with his bare hands.
Wolf and Arlo were still exchanging words about who would and who wouldn’t be involved in the rescue of Cassie.
Jace shifted his chair to talk quietly with Quinn. “I take it that was your dad?”
“Yeah. Strangest, damn thing. I called him first because I was so frantic to help Cassie, swallowing my pride seemed miniscule, you know?”
Jace nodded. “I’d do the same for Wendy Anne in a heartbeat.”
Quinn still couldn’t grasp it. “Next thing I know he’s giving me advice, hunting down property Chris Mason owns. He and my mother are flying here. Why, I haven’t a damn clue. And he said if we needed any government equipment to let him know. After all these years—all my damn life—of trying to make him proud of me, he sounded like he was.”
“You’re right. That is strange. Sounds like maybe he had some growing up to do too. Give him a chance.” Jace winked. “Bet’cha Cassie has him eating out of her hand in the span of an hour.”
“I hope you’re right.” Quinn could barely choke out the words. I hope we get her back so she can give the old man hell.
Arlo finally left, taking Milt’s phone containing pictures of Chris along for evidence. Wolf wiped off the whiteboard. “All right, children. Now that we know who the bad guy is, we don’t need all of this shit.” He glanced at Quinn. “What about Milt? Is he staying?”
Quinn gave the old coot the once-over. To edge him out of the action now would be just cruel. Hell, thanks to him they’d been able to identify Chris. “He’s in.”
Ryder slapped Milt on the shoulder. “Hell, yes. He’s got experience in the security business and everything. He needs to stop eatin’ those pork rinds though. Can you fire a weapon, Milt?”
“Shot a B-B gun once.”
“See?” Ryder winked. “The man’s experienced in firearms too.”
Wolf marched over to Milt, stooped in front of him and aimed a stern expression that made the old guy squirm for a beat. “But can you follow orders without arguing? Because we aren’t going to have time for any drama. Noah’s the best man to head this team. Whatever he says, goes. There will be no back talk. Just action to get my baby sister back—unharmed.”
Milt nodded. “I’m your man. I love Cassie as if she were my granddaughter. Ain’t no one on this earth any sweeter, nor anyone who can throw a tantrum any more comical than her. God, that girl can make me laugh.” He leaned forward and looked Wolf in the eyes. “Now listen, I’ve got a Cutlass V-8 that runs like the wind when you open her up. Has a huge trunk to hold guns and whatever equipment you need.”
“Runs like the wind?” Quinn exploded. “Hell, it couldn’t go over thirty on the way to the hospital last night.”
Milt narrowed his eyes at Quinn. “That’s ʼcause you needed a good, hard talkin’ to, son. I drove like a snail for a reason. Did you good to agonize a bit over what you said to that lovable young woman. Made you face up to the fact your actions have consequences, flashbacks or no. You still have to consider other people’s feelings.” He turned his attentions back to Wolf. “Have no fear. My car will purr at a hundred and ten, don’t you worry about that.”
Wolf stood and grinned in a manner that could only be described as pure evil. “Damn, I like this old motherfucker. Noah, start doing your magic and get a plan organized.” He patted Milt’s back. “Looks like we got our driver right here.”
Noah lowered the movie screen. “I’ve used our location software—”
The station’s alarm went off, and everyone in the room groaned. The dispatcher’s voice sounded loud and clear as she announced the location of the fire. Noah held up his hand. “Remain where you are. I called in six extra people, four from another shift and two from another station to help us out for a couple days. We’re covered. Greg and Eduardo will be in charge while we go after Cassie.”
“Chris won’t expect me to know the address of his warehouse.” Quinn glared at Ryder. “I asked you this before. Need a gun and a knife. I can be in and out in a few minutes. He’ll be dead and Cassie will be with me.” He stood and paced the room, nerves crawling up and down his skin like ants. “I can’t sit through another long session of listing facts and figures and making damn charts.” His hands opening and closing. “I need to get to Cassie!”
Wolf stood, puffed out like a cobra ready to attack. “Sit. The fuck. Down. You think I don’t feel the same way? You think Jace and I don’t want to go to this warehouse, half-cocked, charge in and maybe make a helluva mess of things? Maybe get our Cassie killed in the bargain? We’ve got a hostage situation here. Forget that it’s Cassie. Think only of the hostage. The hostage is our mission. And our mission will succeed.”
The two men stood and glared at each other for several tense minutes.
“You know I’m getting damned tired of you ordering me around. Fuck all, man, you are not my big brother.”
Wolf showcased that evil smirk he had. “I will be once you marry my sister. Think about it. A good, sound plan. Well executed. Smoothly and successfully achieved.”
Quinn evaluated what Wolf said, found it sound and sat. Damn, I’m so tired of fighting everyone.
Noah popped open another soda. “Like I was getting ready to say, I’ve already entered the address to Chris’s warehouse.” He punched a couple of buttons and the screen filled with the image of the brick building, deserted by all appearances, with boarded-up windows, and located in a rough-looking neighborhood.
As Noah tapped a directional key, they scanned the three-hundred-sixty degree view of the building. “Barclay, why don’t you work on the best and quickest route to get us there since you’re more familiar with that area? And the fastest damn route out, preferably open highway where Milt can show us what that Cutlass of his can do in case we’re followed.”
“There won’t be anyone left to follow us,” Wolf stated.
Ryder nodded in agreement. “In and out. Clean kills. Boom. Done.”
Milt swallowed so loud everyone in the room had to have heard him.
Quinn, who’d finally bought into the wisdom of Noah’s detailed planning, rested his elbows on his thighs and dipped his head to peer into Milt’s eyes. “You going to be okay with this?”
“I…” The old man’s face paled.
“You’ll probably be in the car the whole time, keeping the engine running. Jace will be with you, too, unless we signal him for help. But I don’t suspect we’ll need him. Between the five of us in and around the building, we’ll be one hell of a surprise.”
Milt nodded. “Asshole kicked Killer. Made him cry.”
Ryder glanced up from the list of weapons and ammo he was compiling. “I’ll make sure he never kicks another dog, buddy.”
One by one, ideas were shared, discarded, improved upon and written on the whiteboard. Soon Ryder had the list of equipment they’d need. Some was readily available. The rest, Quinn procured with a call to his dad, who asked for thirty minutes to arrange a pickup spot.
Bar
clay and Ryder took off to do some recon of the building and the neighborhood. They were to take note of any security cameras. Depending on the foot and car traffic, Ryder would install some listening devices and a couple of cameras of their own. Signals were arranged. Meeting places planned. Jobs assigned according to everyone’s past military experience and training.
Quinn, Wolf, Jace, Noah, Barclay, Ryder and Milt had dubbed themselves the Unholy Seven—and damned if they wouldn’t be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Cassie’s nose wrinkled at the putrid odor of something decaying as she slowly woke up. Where the heck was she? This didn’t smell like a hospital. The room was totally dark. Was she in the MRI tube? Shouldn’t there be some mechanical noise?
A few men talked excitedly in another room, almost as if they were playing video games. One raspy voice was that of the nurse. Nothing made sense. What the heck was going on? She tried to roll over, but couldn’t. Raising her head from the pillow, she struggled only to find her arms and ankles were tied to the bed.
The door flew open and a bare bulb snapped on overhead. Two men walked in. They looked enough alike to be brothers.
“So, you finally woke up? The buzzer I put under your pillow works great. As soon as the weight of your head lifts, the control board in my game room lights up.”
“You’re my nurse. Jimmy. Where am I?”
He pulled a chrome handgun from the back of his jeans. “You’re one bullet from hell, Cassie Wolford.” His other hand cupped her breast and she nearly vomited at his touch. “At least after I’m through playing with you.” His laugh was maniacal. “What do you say I tear off this nightgown and take a selfie of my hand on your bare boob? I’ll send it to your boyfriend, and he’ll go freaking insane.”
Cassie tilted her head to get a better look at him. He’d changed out of his turtleneck and scrubs into a t-shirt and baggie jeans. There were thick scars around his neck. “Aren’t you T-Bone, Quinn’s friend?” He’d told her about finding his only remaining team member hanging by a chain in a deserted warehouse. Why would he turn against Quinn?