by Lucy Score
“Waylay’s a great girl,” I said.
“She ain’t some whiny tattletale like some people,” she said, shooting me a pointed look. “Anyway, I win my bet, you get to spend some quality time with the kid before we head off to our payday.”
She wanted to take Waylay with her. I felt an icy sickness settle in my gut but said nothing.
“We got a deal?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Yes. We have a deal.”
“Let’s get me my hundred bucks,” Tina said cheerfully.
I counted three more swarthy degenerates, all with guns, inside the warehouse. The first floor had nearly a dozen flashy vehicles parked inside. Some were under tarps, some sat with their hoods up and doors open. On the other side of the loading dock were boxes of TVs and what looked like other stolen goods.
It was cold, and I wasn’t dressed for it.
“Let’s go, Goody. Got shit to do,” Tina said, leading the way up the metal stairs to the second floor, an area that looked like it had once housed offices.
My sister threw open the door and strutted inside. “Mama’s home,” she announced.
I hesitated outside the door and sent up a silent prayer to the good twin gods. I was scared. I would have given anything to have Knox or Nash or the entire Knockemout Police Department with me. But that wasn’t going to happen.
I needed to be my own hero tonight or I was going to lose everything.
I straightened my shoulders and crossed the threshold to do what I did best, triage the mess. There was heat inside, thank God. Not much, but enough that at least my lady parts wouldn’t freeze. There was also a distinct odor of old takeout food, most likely coming from the stack of pizza boxes and to-go containers on a long folding table.
Dingy glass windows overlooked the warehouse floor and the exterior. Against a third wall was a futon topped with what looked like very expensive sheets and no fewer than six pillows.
There were two rolling racks of designer clothing that created a makeshift closet. A dozen pairs of high-end men’s sneakers and loafers were organized on another folding table.
The floor was sticky. The ceiling had holes in it. And there was a thick layer of grime on the windows.
I itched to find the Lysol and start scrubbing until I spotted the table stacked nearly a foot high with bundles of cash.
“Told ya,” Tina said triumphantly, hooking her thumb in my direction. “Walked right in, didn’t she?”
I stopped short when I recognized the man in the large, leather office chair in front of the flat-screen TV.
It was the red-haired guy from the library and Honky Tonk. Only this time, he wasn’t dressed to blend in. He was wearing a flashy pair of jeans and a bright orange Balenciaga hoodie.
He was rubbing a cloth over an already gleaming handgun.
I gulped.
“Well, well. If it isn’t my old lady’s doppelganger. Remember me?” he said with a villainous smirk.
“Mr. Flint,” I said.
Tina snorted. “His name’s Duncan. Duncan Hugo. As in the Hugo crime syndicate.”
She was bragging, making him sound as if she’d just told me she was dating a sexy humanitarian lawyer or an orthodontist with a beach house.
“What did I tell you, T? You don’t say my fucking name to any fucking one,” Duncan barked.
“Pfft. She’s my sister,” she said, flipping open a pizza box and pulling out a slice. “If I can’t tell her, who can I tell?”
Duncan pinched the bridge of his nose. A move I’d seen my father and Knox make. I wondered if all Witt women had this effect on men.
“This ain’t ladies’ night out, woman,” Duncan reminded her. “This is business.”
“It’s business after you pay up. You lost. I won. Cough up the cash.”
I didn’t think it was the best idea to taunt the man holding the gun, but Tina did what Tina always did—whatever she wanted to do regardless of the consequences.
“Put it on my tab,” the man said, continuing to study me. He brought the barrel of the gun up to scratch his temple.
“I don’t think that’s a safe way to handle a firearm,” I interjected.
He studied me for several seconds then his face broke into a mean grin. “That’s funny. You’re funny.”
Great. Now he was pointing the gun at me like it was a finger.
“Fuck your tab, Dunc. Gimmie the cash,” Tina insisted.
“Where’s Waylay?” I demanded.
“Oh, yeah. Where’s the kid?” Tina asked, glancing around.
Duncan’s grin got wider and meaner. With his boot, he gave the chair next to him a kick. It rolled across the floor, the seat slowly spinning to face us.
“Mmmph mmm!”
Waylay, wearing pajamas and sneakers, was gagged and tied to the chair. She looked mutinous, her expression mirroring her mother’s. Waylon was sitting in her lap. His tail thumped when he spotted me.
I forgot all about being scared and almost felt sorry for the red-headed moron. If Tina or I didn’t kill him for tying up Waylay, Knox would for stealing his dog.
“Why is she tied up?” Tina demanded.
Duncan shrugged and used the barrel of the gun to scratch an itch between his shoulder blades. “Little bitch called me a dickweasel and tried to kick me in the balls. Fuckin’ bit me too,” he said, holding up his forearm to show off the bandage.
“Well, were you bein’ a dickweasel?” my sister asked, crossing her arms.
Waylay, eyes narrowed, nodded vehemently.
“Me?” He pointed the gun at his chest, all innocence. “I just told her not to eat another piece of pizza, else she’d get fat, and no one likes fat chicks.”
Tina stomped over and drilled a finger into his chest. “You don’t tell my kid about getting fat. That shit goes to a girl’s head. Body dysmorphia and shit like that.”
I was impressed.
“Bitches are so sensitive,” Duncan said to me as if he could expect my agreement.
“Give me my money and untie her,” Tina demanded.
I couldn’t help but notice the order of her priorities and tabled my newfound respect for my sister.
Exasperated, I started toward Waylay. Waylon scrambled off her lap and tried to approach but was stopped by his leash.
“Uh-uh. One more step, and we’re gonna have a problem, Not Tina.” The warning was accompanied by the racking of a gun as Duncan came to his feet.
I glared at him. “My name is Naomi.”
“Don’t care if your name is Queen Latifah. I need you to stand right where you are.” He gestured with the gun. “Now, Waylay—whatever the fuck kind of name that is—where’s the fucking flash drive? You got ten seconds to tell me, or I’m gonna shoot your aunt right between the eyes.”
The cigarette in Tina’s mouth fell to the floor as she gaped at him. “The fuck? That wasn’t part of the plan, you asshole!”
“You shut your mouth, or I’ll drop you next to your sister. Hey! What’s sadder than a dead twin? Two dead twins!” Duncan howled at his own feeble humor.
“You dirty double-crosser,” Tina snarled.
He stopped laughing. “Now hold on there, T. I ain’t double-crossed you yet. I meant what I said. We can take the drive, sell it and start building something real. Something that’s got nothing to do with my fuckin’ dad or the fuckin’ family business!” His arms flailed, the barrel of the gun pointing everywhere at once.
“Could you please gesticulate without the gun?” I suggested.
“Christ. Again with the daddy issues,” Tina scoffed at Duncan. “My daddy is a big-time crime lord. It’s so hard to live up to his example. Boo-friggin-hoo.”
Again I began to inch my way toward Waylay.
“You know I don’t like it when you talk to me like my mom,” Duncan howled.
“You’re actin’ like you’re large and in charge. But who’s the one who tricked the kid into the car by pretending to be my sister? Who’s the one who got Naomi here?”
<
br /> “Hey! I’m doin’ this for you, T. We could finally get the equipment to make those fake IDs you’re always runnin’ your mouth about. Or set up a black market organ donor farm.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Gross! Is that a real thing?”
“Don’t you yuck my yum, Hot Tina,” he said to me.
Oh, boy.
Tina backhanded him in the shoulder. “What did you just call her?”
I used the distraction to sneak closer to Waylay.
“Ow! I meant Not Tina,” Duncan insisted.
My niece chose that moment to heave herself forward, trying to tip the chair over, only succeeding in knocking into the table with the fat stacks of cash.
I raced forward, untangling dog leash and rope.
“One more move, and both of them get it,” Duncan warned, the gun trained on me as he stared at Waylay. “You got five seconds, kid, to start talking. Where’s the drive?”
Waylay’s eyes were wide and scared and pinned to me.
“Five…four…three…two…”
FORTY-SEVEN
MISSING
Knox
“What the hell did you do with Naomi?” Fi demanded, waving her lollipop in my face when I hit the bar floor.
I noticed Naomi’s parents were gone, and their table had been turned over.
“I talked to her. Nicely,” I said when her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Couldn’t have been that nice since all her tables are getting restless with empty drinks.”
I peered over Fi’s shoulder, doing what I always did, looking for Naomi. But Fi was right. She wasn’t there.
“If you chased her off in the middle of a shift—”
“I didn’t chase her off. We talked. It was good. We’re good. Did you check the bathroom?”
“Now, gee, why didn’t I think of that?” Fi said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Did you ask him what the hell he did with Naomi?” Max asked as she buzzed by.
Something cold settled in my gut. Ignoring my employees, I pushed through the doors into the kitchen. “Naomi in here?”
Milford looked up from the chicken he was grilling and tilted his head toward the door to the parking lot. “Went out a couple minutes ago to make a call. She looked upset. You say something mean to her again?”
I didn’t bother answering. Instead I went straight for the door and shoved it open. Fi was on my heels. The night air had a crisp bite to it that did nothing to thaw the icy fear inside me. There was no sign of Naomi.
“Fuck.” I did not have a good feeling about this.
“She’s probably just getting some fresh air since you broke her heart and then embarrassed her in front of half the town,” Fi guessed, scanning the lot with me. But she didn’t sound sure either.
“I don’t like this,” I muttered. “Naomi!” But there was no response.
“Naomi, Knox is sorry for being an ass!” Fi shouted into the night next to me.
Nothing.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I yanked it out.
Nash.
“What?”
“Just a heads-up. I’m on my way to Liza’s. She said Waylay’s gone. Took your dog out for a pee break, and neither one of them came back.”
The ice in my gut turned into an iceberg.
“How long ago?”
“About forty minutes. Liza went out looking for them. Thinks she saw tail lights heading for the road. Said she tried to call Naomi, but she’s not picking up her phone. I tried too and got voicemail. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I need you to tell Naomi.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My heart was hitting like a damn bass drum.
“Naomi stepped out to make a call, and no one’s seen her since. I’m standing in the fucking parking lot, and she’s not here.”
“Goddammit.”
“I don’t like this,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m gonna go look for them.”
“Do me a favor first and call Naomi’s parents. I’m gonna get Liza and have some of my guys do a sweep of the woods.”
“She’s not gonna be there,” I told him.
“Gotta start somewhere. Call you back,” Nash said.
I immediately dialed Naomi’s number and headed back inside. Fi followed me with wide, worried eyes.
I snapped my fingers at her. “Get on the security feed for the parking lot.”
She didn’t give me an ounce of shit, just bobbed her head and hurried off in the direction of the office.
“Naomi okay, boss?” Milford asked.
“She’s not out there.”
“Hey! I could use a hand out here. The natives are gettin’ restless and thirsty,” Max said, swinging through the kitchen door. She took one look at us and stopped in her tracks. “What?”
“Can’t find Naomi,” I told her as the phone rang and rang in my ear.
“What the hell did you say to her this time?” Max demanded.
“Hi, you’ve reached Naomi Witt. Thanks for calling! Leave a message.”
I hit redial as worry crept over me like an icy, black cloud.
“Come on, Daze. Pick up,” I muttered.
“Let me try,” Max said, pulling out her phone.
“Tell me the second you talk to her. I need to know where she is.”
“What’s happening?” Silver asked, sticking her head in the door.
“Waylay and Naomi are missing,” I snapped.
All eyes landed on me.
“What are the odds that they’d both go missing at the same time?” Max asked.
I shook my head and scrolled through my contacts. My hands were shaking. I dialed Lou’s number.
“I know it’s date night, and I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but I think we’ve got trouble,” I told him when he answered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Liza said Waylay went missing again. She and Nash are out looking for her now, but Naomi walked out of the bar to make a call, and I can’t find her either.”
“I’ll meet you at Honky Tonk in two minutes,” he said.
“If something happened to them, Lou…” I couldn’t even finish the thought.
“We’re gonna find them. Keep it together, son.”
“Knox.” The worry in Fi’s tone had me turning fast.
“I gotta go,” I said and hung up. “What did you find?”
“Her coat and bag are still behind the bar. And the camera has her getting into a car in the parking lot about ten minutes ago.”
Ten minutes felt like a lifetime. “What kind of car? Who was driving?”
“I couldn’t tell. On either count. Some dark, crappy sedan. But it looks like she got in willingly.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Wraith demanded, poking his head into the kitchen. “There’s gonna be a revolt out here soon if someone doesn’t start pouring beers.”
“Naomi’s missing,” Fi told him.
“Fuck me.”
“Waylay too,” Max added with a tearful sniffle.
“Double fuck,” Wraith said, then disappeared back into the bar.
“Her phone,” Fi said.
“She’s not answering.”
“But she’s on your family plan, isn’t she?”
My mind was going a million miles a minute. I needed to get out there and start looking for her. Every second I wasted was one second that she got farther away. “Yeah.”
Max slapped me in the arm. “You can track her!”
Technology for the fucking win. I shoved my phone at her. “Find her.”
As she moved deft fingers over the screen, I headed for my office. I grabbed my coat and keys and returned to the bar.
It wasn’t the pandemonium I’d expected from pissed-off drinkers on a Saturday night. It was organized chaos. Wraith stood on the bar, boots planted between beer glasses. Everyone was gathered around, shrugging into coats.
“Last seen getting into a dark gray four-door shitmobile wearing a
denim skirt and long-sleeved shirt that says Honky Tonk.”
“What the hell is this?” I demanded.
“Search party,” Silver said as she shoved her arms into a gray tweed coat.
The front door opened, and everyone turned expectantly.
It was Lou and Amanda.
“Let ’em through,” Wraith ordered. The crowd parted for them, and they hurried forward.
“I got her!” Max said, holding my phone up triumphantly. “Looks like she’s just off Route 7 near the Lucky Horseshoe Farm.”
I snatched it out of her hand. “Call Nash,” I said, pointing to Lou.
Lou turned to Amanda. “Call Nash. I’m going with him.”
I didn’t waste time arguing. We hit the parking lot, and I had the truck started before either of us closed the doors. I floored it out of the lot, fishtailing onto the road.
“Who took her?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I said, gripping the wheel tighter. “But if Waylay’s missing too, my money’s on Tina.”
Lou swore under his breath.
My phone rang. It was Nash. I hit the speaker button.
“You find Way?” I asked.
“No. I’m bringing Liza J into town. Got some footage off the Morrison’s doorbell cam. Dark, shitty sedan pulled out of Liza’s about an hour ago. A big, black SUV was parked on the shoulder, waiting for it. Headlights set off the motion sensor. Timeline fits for Liza seein’ the brake lights. Also got a call about a hit and run. Someone smashed through the Loy’s fence along the road over at Lucky Horseshoe.”
Lou and I glanced at each other. “We’re on our way there now, tracking Naomi’s phone.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Nash ordered.
Lucky Horseshoe was a short drive, made shorter by the fact that I hit 90 miles per hour.
“Should be right up here,” Lou said, peering at my phone.
I let off the gas. Then hit the brakes hard when I saw the fence. “Shit.”
Tire marks swerved off the road and smashed right through the rail fence. I turned the wheel so my lights could follow the path and put the truck in park.