by K. C. Crowne
We were all huddled in the office, trying to figure out what to do next. If I had it my way, I would have sped off in my truck in search of her, but Dylan insisted on thinking systematically.
"Why would he be taking them up the mountain?" Jared asked as he chewed on his thumbnail.
I watched him for a moment and didn't like what I saw. I’d never seen him bite his nails before, not even in Afghanistan. But our baby sister hadn’t been in trouble over there.
"I don't know," Dylan answered when no one else did.
I could tell his mind was ticking over a hundred morbid scenarios.
"We still don't know if something bad is actually happening right now. There's no point in guessing and jumping to conclusions.”
“Don't know if something bad has happened? Nothing good can have come from this. The stolen plates? The sketchy driver? The Giannis sniffing all over town. I got a real gut feeling about this, and my gut's telling me they've been kidnapped.”
We all looked at one another, everyone in turn nodding solemnly as the realization hit us.
"I'm not sitting around here doing fuck all while my sister and Gabby are out there somewhere. We need to find them right now. Dylan, did you start running the GPS on the girls' phones.”
“On it right now.”
"Why is it taking so long?"
"Hey, this isn't freakin' CSI," he said. "It takes a little longer than a thirty-second flashy montage."
I stormed away to pace the room. I flicked on the TV and watched the news. Dramatic scenes were unfolding of thousands of people stuck on the roads on their way to the Roxi Lane concert.
"They should never have let the concert go ahead," Jared said as he approached. "This is just fucking insane."
I turned to face Jared, who stared at the TV, but he was lost inside his head, not taking anything in.
"Don't worry. We'll get them back soon," I said, as much to convince myself as him.
"We have to."
I searched his eyes and had never seen him look so afraid. He continued. "It's my fault. What if something happens to them because of me? I invited them to come up and stay with me and—“
"If it's anybody's fault, it's mine," I countered. "I should have never let them get in the cab. I knew something was wrong."
"Hey!" Dylan called as he waved us over. "I got a hit!"
I dashed to his desk and looked at the screen. Over a map of Station Springs, a red dot was visible on the edge of town.
"That's Gabby," he said, pointing to the screen. “But for some reason, I can't seem to get a hit on Carly's phone. Could be switched off or dead.”
I leaned in closer to the red dot. "Where the hell is that?"
Dylan looked up, an indescribable look of worry flashing across his face. "That's the road up to the Gianni estate.”
Jared's face blanched. "You're not serious."
"Why would the Giannis want Gabby and Carly?" Lucas asked.
Jared and I exchanged a horrified glance.
Had Benny Junior kidnapped Gabby because she wouldn't go home with him? Or had he taken Carly because she was my sister? After the bruise I'd left on his face it would make sense he'd have a vendetta against me. But was he really crazy enough to kidnap the girls? Of course he was.
He was the son of the most dangerous gangster in the country and had spent his entire life trying to live up to his father's infamy. He was crazy enough to do anything.
"Benny Junior," I began. "He's behind this."
"How do you know it's him and not Mario?"
"I just know. Junior was the one Gabby pissed off.”
“She pissed off Junior?” Dylan asked, confused.
“She dared to say no to him,” I explained. “Something he probably doesn't hear too often.” I looked at them. “Come on, we've got to go up there."
"Most of the roads are blocked," Lucas reminded me. "We won’t get far."
"What the fuck are we supposed to do? Wait for the sheriff to head on up there when the road clears? We need to get up there now!"
Jared was already reaching for the door while Dylan watched the red dot on the screen progressively make its way further north.
"What do you say, Dylan?" Jared asked.
"I say we move now. We've fought through worse than snow."
Lucas nodded. "But we're going to need help."
"From who?"
Dylan scratched his stubbly jaw in thought and looked at me.
“Dax Hunter,” I suggested.
“Yup,” Dylan replied with a nod. “There's nobody else dumb enough to brave this weather. And his resort is on the other side of the mountain, right? He can get to the Gianni estate quicker than us.”
Everyone glanced at one another, then nodded in agreement.
"I'll make the call," Dylan said. "Jackson, we're going in your truck."
Under a minute later, we were blustering out into the snow, my heart battering against my rib cage like a jackhammer. Despite the cold, I was burning with anger. Not just at Benny Junior, but at myself.
You're a fucking idiot. You should have stopped them.
Time and time again Jared and I had tried to convince them to stay home, but there was no telling Carly what to do. Since when did she listen to her brothers?
And as I reached for the wheel and stepped on the gas, I realized I really felt love for her. Not the kind I'd had for her when we were kids, or the kind I tried to find in other girls who couldn't come close to her. This was a real, undying, and intense love that propelled me out into the night toward danger in search of her.
Chapter 17
Gabby
My breathing was speeding up, so it came out of me in short sharp gasps as if an invisible band wound itself tight around my chest.
We're going to die up here. And who knows what else they might do.
The snow was piling up around the sides of the car that moved at a snail's pace up the mountain, the engine coughing and spluttering as it struggled up the incline.
Beside me, Carly was holding my hand and crying softly. In front, the driver had one hand on the wheel and one on his gun, his finger still resting on the trigger.
I wasn't aware I had been shaking until I felt the muscles in my back aching. Digging my fingers into the underside of the seat's upholstery, I clung on.
Please... If there's a God.
The road narrowed as we reached a sharp bend. Then we were moving up an even steeper slope, the car's wheels skidding on the snow.
"Fuck," the driver grunted. "Motherfucking piece of shit car."
At last, after pumping the gas until the engine groaned, the car was on the move again.
"Where are we going?" Carly whispered.
I had listened intently to Jackson and Jared. Their stories of gangsters up in the mountains were unforgettable, and I'd come face to face with Benny myself. Knew what he was capable of. But still, it all felt surreal. Like something out of a movie.
"The Gianni estate," I said in little more than a breath. “Where else?”
Her nails sunk into my arm as she pulled me closer. "Are we gonna die?" she asked, her tears splashing onto my coat.
"No," I said. "We'll get away. I promise."
But as I held her hand, I felt like a rotten liar. I had no clue how to escape any more than she did. And even if we did, where would we go in this weather? Squashing up close to her, I tried to seek comfort in being beside her.
"Here we are," the driver announced.
Looking out the front of the windshield, I could see the headlights flash onto the front of ornate golden gates that must have reached at least thirty feet toward the sky. On the front, large gold letters spelled out the initials BG.
The gates glided open and the cab passed through before coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the road. The driver climbed out and jerked the back door open.
"Get out," the man ordered.
I looked around. Why were we getting out here? There was nothing but forest an
d snow.
"I said get out!"
We both jumped at the anger in his voice. Carly meekly stepped out and stood by his side, but I stayed put, just watching, waiting to see what he would do. If he was going to hold me captive somewhere, he was going to have to drag me kicking and screaming.
"Don't make me pull the trigger," he said, aiming the gun at Carly. "I'm not telling you again. Get the fuck out the car."
I glowered at him and remained still. He reached into the car and pulled me by the hair. I screamed as my scalp felt as though it had caught fire and lashed out, kicking him hard in the knee. He howled like a wounded animal and staggered backward before the rage in his eye intensified.
"I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you."
He raised the gun at my face, his finger poised and ready to pull the trigger. All he had to do was give one quick squeeze and I'd be gone. I waited, frozen as time stood still.
"Don't," came a voice. "Benny wants her alive and unhurt, remember?"
We all turned in the direction of the voice. At first, I couldn't see where it came from, but then my eyes focused on a dark, blurry shape in the ground; a figure crawling out of what looked like an oversized manhole in a small clearing in the snow. The man dressed in black with a scarf pulled up high over his nose stared at me. All I could see were his eyes, but I recognized him immediately from the bar. He was Benny Junior's right-hand man, the brains behind the brawn.
"Shut up, Larry," the driver said. "I was just trying to scare her. The little fucker took a chunk out of me."
Larry pulled himself up through the hatch and walked closer. He was wearing nothing but a slim-fit thermal shirt, gloves and hiking pants and appeared completely unfazed by the cold.
"Get her inside," he told the driver. "And no funny stuff. I'll take this one."
He grabbed Carly’s arm and led her to the hatch.
"Let go of her!" I screamed.
The sight of his hands on her made my blood boil, and before I could think, I was running at him, my fists beating off his arms. But he was bigger than me and built like a bull. He pushed my tiny body away with minimal effort, and I tumbled backward like a rag doll.
"Relax," Larry laughed. "It's not her we want. She's…how do I put it? Collateral.” He smirked. “Don't worry, we won't touch her. For now." He pointed to a ladder that lay beyond the hatch and said, "Go, I’ll be right behind you."
I was so busy worrying about her I didn't notice the driver creep up beside me. When his hand landed on my arm, I jumped, the act of fear betraying my tough guise.
"Come on, sweetheart. You're next."
"What's down there?" I asked.
"You'll soon find out."
I stood at the top of the hatch looking down. Toward the bottom, I could see the top of Larry's head and just below him, Carly as the sound of their boots on the steps echoed up from the hole in the ground.
Looking down into the darkness, my mind went to only one place.
If you go down there, you're not coming back up.
Looking over my shoulder, I tried to gauge how fast I could run and how far I could go, but I couldn’t run, couldn’t leave Carly.
"Come on, come on," the driver growled, kicking me in the ankle to speed me up.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
"Just get the fuck down the ladder."
Grabbing the first rung, I lowered myself down step by step until I could see the hole above me shrink away. Any light that filtered down was soon eclipsed by the sight of the bulky driver following me down, his heavy, dirty boots in my face as I descended.
The sound of metal scraping metal jarred against my ears as he pulled the cover closed. When I looked up, there was no hint of the night sky, of fresh air, of freedom. There was just the bottom of the cover, and the overwhelming sensation of being trapped. I lowered my bottom leg and reached for a rung that wasn't there. Instead, my foot came into contact with the hard ground.
Where the fuck am I?
I looked around, expecting to see nothing but a small space under the earth. But what I saw was a cavernous lair decked out with luxury furniture. Varnished oak floors were covered in antique furniture. Paintings lined the walls, all obviously originals, all most likely stolen.
At the far end of the room, a gigantic television was sprawled out across the wall. The place looked more like an underground palace rather than the freezing bunker I was expecting.
My fingers began to warm up and my cheeks flushed with warmth, and I realized the source of all the heat was a roaring fireplace where a log fire was burning.
"Gabby, I've been waiting for you."
The voice was coming from a leather couch in front of the television. All I could see was the back of a head, but I knew who it was. You don't forget an accent so crass, or a voice so sleazy.
Inch by inch, Benny Junior’s head slowly rotated toward me. His face was pink from the heat of the fire. Meanwhile, a purple and red bruise spread out from his right eye toward his cheekbone, the result of Jackson's fist.
"Come join me."
It wasn't a question, but an order. I froze, not wanting to be anywhere near him.
"What? You deaf or something?" the driver grouched. "You heard the man. Sit beside him."
I glanced at Carly, who was still shaking, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot, her eyes watery and red. “Don't hurt her," she begged, looking up at Larry.
He just sneered at her and shook his head. "You shut your pretty little mouth," he ordered, then addressed his boss. "Carly and me are gonna take a walk."
"Don't!" I called after him. "Leave her alone."
He ignored me and grabbed Carly’s arm, leading her to a wooden door. "We'll give you some privacy, boss," he said before marching Carly away.
“Get your fucking filthy hands off me,” Carly yelled as she fought against him.
There was a look of fear on her face I'd never seen before, a look that propelled me toward her. If they were going to take my best friend away, they'd have to kill me first. My hands reached for her in a futile attempt at pulling her back to me, but his grip on her was too strong and he yanked her out of my grasp.
The three of us struggled, a knot of limbs and anger.
I felt a fist connect with the back of my head, felt Larry's meaty fingers as he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. Then I felt the hard, wooden floorboards crash into my limbs as he tossed me to the ground.
“Why you always gotta be the hero?” he laughed. “Stupid bitch!”
I struggled to get up, cradling my head as my skull filled with pain. “Bastard,” I seethed as I reached my feet.
He was dragging Carly down the long hallway, the door slamming in my face as they disappeared. Benny and I remained in the room alone.
"Come sit," he repeated, a dangerous tone in his voice.
“Fuck off.”
“I said come sit!”
“Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking dog!”
A wicked smirk twisted his lips, distorting his face, making him even uglier. “Don't do as I say and I'll make one call to Larry. And that pretty friend of yours,” he shrugged ridiculously. “Her brains will be all over the wall.”
Thinking of Carly, I approached him gingerly. I glanced at the TV; he was watching some old gangster movie, the kind with cheesy one-liners and more gun shots than dialogue. His eyes were glistening as the actors delivered the lines, his pudgy face mouthing the words by heart.
Taking a seat on the couch as far from him as I could get, I tried to figure out a plan.
I could fight him. He's smaller than me. And it's just the two of us. But what then? How do I save Carly? And how the hell do I get out of here?
Play it safe, the rational part of my brain told me. Be smart, be calm, keep your cool. Your best bet is to wait it out and call for help at the first chance.
I held my breath, trying my hardest to look as though I was in control of my emotions when all I wanted to do was hit and scream and las
h out.
Then a thought struck me.
Play nice for a while. Make him trust you. He'll be weakest with his guard down.
"So, what’re you watching?"
"The Hawkeye," he said. "My favorite movie of all time."
The strong stench of liquor on his breath joined his words.
"Oh, yeah? How many times have you watched it?"
"Oh, like a million," he replied. "See that guy there? He's the Hawkeye. They call him that because he's a predator and sees everything in the city. Ain't nothin' he doesn't know. And he can kill anyone just like that."
He snapped his fingers and grinned.
He sounded like a little kid fantasizing about his favorite comic book character. I couldn’t believe I was even scared of him.
"What's your favorite movie?" he asked.
"Salem's Lot," I replied.
"You're kidding me. I thought chicks like you were into all that schmaltzy romance shit."
"I'm not the romantic type."
He finally pulled his eyes away from the TV screen and looked my body up and down lustfully. Although I had no idea exactly what he was seeing as I huddled beneath a thick coat, sweater, snow boots, and jeans.
"Not the romantic type, eh? More of a fun time gal?"
"I guess you could say that."
"And you into music?" he asked.
"Sure."
"What kind? You into country. I love country music."
"Yeah, I love country."
I was going along with what he was saying, nodding and grinning in an attempt to make him believe we had some sort of rapport. Even if I did want to strangle the life out of him.
"You've got a real nice place here," I said, looking around the room.
"Yeah, my dad built it in the seventies. He had some wild parties here."
"I bet."
He grinned again, reveling in the memory of his dad.
"You must really miss him," I said, trying to pull at his heart strings.
"Yeah," he sighed. "One visit every month to Sing Sing isn't exactly quality time. And now...you know..."
"I heard," I said, faking a sympathetic nod. "He passed away in jail. That must have been horrible. Not being able to say goodbye..."