by Erica Penrod
Gemma Stonewall no longer on premises. Departed 11:22 a.m., the automated voice stated.
“That’s so strange. Something must’ve come up, but I’m not sure why she wouldn’t text me back.” Jamon glanced at his phone.
Eddie hit a couple keys and pulled up the footage of the front doors at 11:22. Jamon leaned in and watched as Gemma left the building in a hurry, but she wasn’t alone … a man had her by the arm.
“Can you zoom in?” The camera focused in, and Jamon’s stomach filled with bile when he saw the gun Waylon had pointed at her side.
Chapter Fourteen
Something was wrong with Gemma. She’d been taken hostage by gunpoint, and yet she didn’t panic, at least not yet. Waylon tied a bandanna around her eyes and bound her wrists, then put her in the car.
Fear radiated throughout her body, but she kept her wits about her. She mentally listed her defense strategy:
Remain calm.
Get Waylon talking and distract him.
Pray Jamon found her.
“Why are you doing this?” Gemma asked into the darkness.
“Because you’re the only way I can get my brother to listen to me.” Waylon’s voice shook when he spoke. “Just do what I say, and this will all be over soon.”
The car reeked of old fast food, body odor, and a hint of mint—a combination she hoped to never smell again. Her stomach seized up, then swayed with queasiness, and she had to focus all her attention on Waylon. He was scared; she’d seen that the moment he’d come into the building. His hands shook as he showed her the gun he had tucked beneath his shirt, and his lips trembled when he spoke.
“You don’t have to do this.” Gemma thought if she could get Waylon talking, he might change his mind about what he was doing. “You know Jamon loves you and only wants to help you.”
“If he loves me so much, why doesn’t he give me the money I need?” The cadence darkened in Waylon’s voice.
“Because that won’t help you.” Gemma’s hands were numb. She understood how painful it must’ve been for Jamon to know that no matter how much money he had, he couldn’t save his brother.
“Shut up!” Waylon yelled, and Gemma jumped. “You’re just like him. You think you know what I need? Little girl, you ain’t got a clue. Now sit there and be quiet before I lose my temper.”
Her instincts told her she’d pushed far enough and needed to let him cool down before she tried again. The problem was, the longer she waited, the farther from Jamon she got.
Chapter Fifteen
“What do I do?” Jamon ran his fingers through his hair, pacing the floor.
Eddie stood up. “You can call the police, or you can turn it over to me, sir. Bravo has specialists for these types of situations, and to be honest, you’ve got a much better shot at getting her back with us. Let’s just say we aren’t bound by the same rules law enforcement is.”
“Do it. Whatever you need to do.” Jamon couldn’t catch his breath. There was no way Waylon would hurt Gemma, was there? He thought he knew his brother, but he’d never imagined this scenario. Waylon must’ve been desperate. Jamon closed his eyes and regretted not giving his brother what he wanted, anything if it meant keeping Gemma safe.
“My team is on it. I’ve sent the footage to them, and they’re checking local traffic cameras.” Eddie attached an earpiece to his right ear. “Jamon, they were in a white Toyota car headed north.”
“How long ago?”
“Twenty-seven minutes.” Eddie pulled up a map on the screen. “They can’t be that far out of the city.”
Jamon couldn’t think straight. His mind whirled with different scenarios, none of them good.
“Is your brother familiar with the area?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think the first time he’d ever been to Seattle was to see me a couple weeks ago.”
“Okay, that’s in our favor. We think he’s headed north.” Eddie moved the screen around with his finger, zooming in on different locations.
Jamon’s phone buzzed. He took it from his pocket, and there was a text from Waylon:
I need 100K and the girl comes home safe.
“Eddie, Waylon sent me a text.” He handed over the phone. Eddie read the text and looked up with bewilderment. “What is it?” Jamon’s heart pounded in his chest.
“He’s only asking for 100K?” Eddie’s black brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon, but that’s pocket change to you. Why would he only ask for that much?”
Jamon’s shoulders fell. “Because he’s not a bad guy and he has no intention of hurting Gemma. He’s desperate and looking for his next fix.” Guilt and pain held on to Jamon like a vice. “He can’t see beyond that. Waylon isn’t thinking about tomorrow, just right now.” But how long would that last?
“I think you’re right. So, if he’s thinking in terms of here and now, I’d say he doesn’t want to get too far from the money. Let’s see what’s within a twenty-mile radius, headed north.” Eddie pressed his finger to his earpiece. “Okay, yes.” He looked up at Jamon. “They’ve located the car in a parking lot of Discovery Park. Just about thirty minutes from here.”
Jamon was halfway out the door when Eddie put his hand on his shoulder. “It might be best for you to wait here. Let us do our job.”
“I’m going.” There was no way he could sit here while Gemma was out there with Waylon in withdrawal. Jamon had just found her, and he wasn’t going to lose her now. He saw her pale blue eyes in his mind, and his stomach knotted as he imagined what she looked like frightened.
“Then come with me.” Eddie closed the door behind them. Outside, Eddie’s black SUV was parked up front. He should have bought the chopper last week; at least then they’d have a straight shot to Gemma. Jamon hopped in the passenger seat, and Eddie took off.
Jamon prayed he wasn’t wrong about his brother and that he wasn’t the monster this situation made him out to be. But even the best-case scenario, this was still a nightmare.
* * *
Gemma’s arms were wrapped behind her back and she was tied to a tree. They ached, feeling stretched in the wrong direction. No amount of yoga could have prepared her for this.
The blindfold was gone, allowing her to see that she was in a heavily wooded area, a lot like the back five of Jamon’s land. Only this was no picnic. She tried to focus on Waylon and not the fear ebbing its way into her mind. Waylon paced back and forth, checking the phone in his pocket every twenty seconds or so.
“What’s the holdup?” He glared down at her, and Gemma worried he’d collapse any minute. His skin was clammy, and his hands continually shook. “He should’ve responded by now.” He held the phone up to the sky.
“Do you have service?” Gemma tried to keep her cool, but she had no idea where she was or whether Jamon could find her. “Maybe he didn’t get the text.”
Waylon’s face contorted. “I sent it before we got here, and it says I still have service.” The phone vibrated, and he swiped at the screen. “‘Stay where you are; I have the money. Do not hurt Gemma,’” he read out loud. “How does he know where we are?” Waylon’s eyes darted between her and the phone. “I didn’t tell him.”
Gemma exhaled and realized she should’ve thought of the crack security team sooner. Her heart took courage knowing they were involved. “Bravo.”
“What?” Waylon sneered at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Bravo Security. They work for Jamon. You met part of their division when you passed through security at The Cove.” Gemma felt like she could breathe again. Jamon would send Bravo after her. She’d been a part of selecting the company that guarded The Cove residents. They recruited black ops veterans, continually trained in their area of expertise, and even had an explosives expert and an underwater recovery specialist on the team. “They’re the best of the best.”
Waylon crouched down like he was being watched. The fear in his eyes reminded Gemma of a cornered animal. Terror seized her, knowing the situatio
n had just taken a turn for the worse. No matter how good Bravo was, if they didn’t find her soon, Waylon might lash out, and she wasn’t sure she’d live through it.
She had to calm him down, reassure him if that was possible. “Waylon, I know you don’t want to do this, and I know you’re not going to hurt me.”
His eyes softened for just a second and then immediately narrowed again.
Hope sprang in her chest. “Jamon is your brother. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but you have to remember he’s been right there with you too. His pain might not be as visible as yours is, but it’s just as real. He lost his parents—” She gazed up at him. “—but he also lost his big brother.”
“I’m still here. He didn’t lose me.” Waylon sat down on the ground, and the despair in his voice cut through her like a blade. “He just got all that money and got too good for me.”
Gemma’s heart broke, watching the anguish of this grown man. She thought she understood just a sliver of how Jamon felt. Yes, Waylon was a mess and he’d done some terrible things, but deep down inside he was still the broken kid carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Waylon, please let me go. Let us help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” Waylon stood up and pulled the gun from the back of his pants. “And I better get some money, or there’s going to be consequences.”
Gemma looked at the gun. Her body quivered as fear consumed her. “Waylon—”
Something nailed him in the shoulder and he dropped to the ground with a thud, the sound of contact fleshy.
Gemma screamed. No, no, no, no. She struggled against the restraints. This wasn’t what she’d wanted. Waylon wouldn’t have hurt her. Jamon shouldn’t have to have to bury his brother too. That was too much to ask of one man, too much pain and heartache for one person to bear. Gemma’s body began to shake uncontrollably, and her head whirled as the world around her blurred.
All at once, men emerged from the trees, emerging into view in their camo gear, guns raised. “Are you okay, miss?”
Her vision cleared as someone untied her hands from behind the tree. She tried to breathe, but she couldn’t get her lungs to cooperate. Tears fell down her cheeks as she willed her body to function. She had to get to Waylon. “Did you …” Gemma could hardly force the words out. “Did you shoot him?”
“He’s been tranquilized.” The man helped her up, but her knees buckled. She clung to him as she stared at Waylon crumpled on the ground. “Hold on. Mr. West will be here any minute now,” he assured her.
Thank you, God. Gemma let go of the man and wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep herself upright. “He wasn’t going to hurt me.” The Bravo team brought in a stretcher and loaded Waylon to the board, strapping him down.
She glanced down at Waylon’s face. He seemed younger in his peacefulness, and she got a glimpse of the boy he used to be. Her heart broke all over again. A switch flipped in her brain, as if her mind knew her body couldn’t hold up to the ordeal much longer, and her self-defense mechanism kicked in. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure Mr. West will want to keep this as private as possible. With the grand opening of his research facility—”
“Do you ever stop working?” Jamon came through the trees. He swept her up in his arms, and she melted into him. She needed his strength and his love more than she’d ever imagined. Gemma clung to him and felt his body stiffen. He let go and backed up as she tried to steady herself, his face appeared paralyzed in fear.
“Jamon, are you okay?” Gemma’s eyes widened, and her body began to tremble all over again. Panic swept over her as moisture collected along her brow and the nausea resumed in her belly. Even with his gun, Waylon hadn’t scared her as much as the look she saw in Jamon’s eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
“I don’t understand.” Gemma found Howard in the living area of the barn. He’d just taken a can of soda from the fridge. “He won’t talk to me.”
“Would you like a Coke?” Howard held the can towards her.
Gemma shook her head as she glanced at the Pepsi label. “No thank you, and that’s not Coke.”
“I forget I’m not in Texas anymore.” He popped the top. “Back home, every soda is called a Coke.”
She learned something new about Texas every day, but she was more concerned about the Texan cowboy who’d pushed her away since the moment he’d discovered she was okay. It was as if Waylon had taken Jamon instead of her, and all that was recovered was an empty shell of the man she loved. “Has he said anything to you?”
Howard walked around the bar and pulled out a stool for Gemma. She sat on the edge of her seat as Howard took a chair beside her. “Nope, doesn’t need to.”
“He doesn’t?” Gemma raised a brow.
“No.” Howard took a big swig of his Coke. “Nope, because I know what that boy’s thinking.”
“You do?”
“Yup. I’ve known that boy since he was just a pup, and he’s got a gentle heart—almost too gentle. Life’s kicked him around a few times, and hearts like that don’t mend easily.”
“But he always seems so happy … except where Waylon—” Gemma’s shoulders slumped. “—and now me are concerned.”
Howard touched her arm. “You’re a smart woman. Think about it.” He tapped his temple with his finger. “You know that boy loves you.”
Gemma exhaled. “I thought I did.”
“Consider what he’s been through and all the loved ones he’s lost. His parents’ death was bad enough, but to lose his brother piece by piece, year after year, is a tragedy that he has to live with every day of his life.” Howard put his rough hand on hers. “I’m not saying he’s right in pushing you away, but I get it. He’s only got me and Koven for kin, and why do you think that is?”
Tears collected in her eyes, and her chest tightened as understanding filled her heart. “He’s scared.” Her words weren’t much more than a whisper. She knew Jamon hurt in ways she couldn’t understand, but now his behavior made sense.
“You know he’s never dated a woman more than once or twice?” Howard took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her as the first tear fell down her cheek. “Look, I know that boy like I know the back of my hand, and he loves you. Heck, he loves you so much, he’d rather live without you than risk losing you.”
She dabbed at the tears on her face as the clarity of Howard’s words illuminated her mind. The problem was that Jamon loved her, maybe more than she realized. She had to fix this. Gemma had to find a way to convince Jamon they were worth the risk. “And what happened with Waylon just reminded him of losing someone he cares about all over again?”
Howard grinned a toothy smile, and there was a twinkle in his deep-set eyes. “Now you’re talking.”
Gemma sat up tall as hope filled her heart. “Thank you, Howard.” She squeezed his hand. “I know what I’ve got to do now.” She stood up, smoothed her skirt, and wondered how fast she could run in heels.
“What’s that?”
She put her hands on her hips and grinned. “It’s time to make that man cowboy up.”
Howard’s laughter followed her out the doors as she headed towards the house. She had some plans to make.
* * *
Jamon went out to the barn looking for solace, and found an ornery old man saddling a horse.
Howard handed the reins to Jamon. “You know, what you need—besides a swift kick to the hind end—is a good long horse ride.”
He took the leather straps in his hands and rolled his eyes. Jamon was twenty-eight years old, and there were times when Howard still treated him like a rebellious teenager. “Why do you think I came out here?”
“I thought you were looking for my advice.”
“Nope.” Jamon cocked his head. “Not this time.”
“Then I guess you better climb up in the saddle. It’s where I do all my best thinking, and boy, you got a lot of thinking to do, pushing that girl away from you.” Howard chewed on a toothpick lo
dged in the corner of his lips. “I knew you’ve been bucked off a few times, but you’re actin’ like you been kicked in the head.”
Jamon pushed his cowboy hat down on his head. “Thanks, but I think I got this.” He swung his leg up over the saddle.
“Why don’t you go check on the back five? See the progress they’ve made on that outdoor kitchen?”
His throat tightened. “I’m not sure I want that project finished anymore.” Everything around this place made him think of Gemma, even though he’d done all he could to avoid her since the ordeal with Waylon. He didn’t want to think about Gemma and all he’d lost; the pain was almost unbearable.
Jamon knew he’d done the right thing, no matter how much it hurt right now. At some point, a man had to protect himself—that, or drown in sorrow. He was tired of trying to keep his head above water. He had to quit loving Gemma, and he prayed he’d quit aching for her sooner rather than later. He didn’t want to fire her—he needed her too much—but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to work with her and not want to take her in his arms. He’d communicated with her by email and text as much as possible, but even then Jamon saw her everywhere: in the schedule that popped up on his screen, the rare blue of an afternoon Seattle sky, and every night when he closed his eyes. Everything reminded him of her, but the back five, the place where he’d told her he loved her, might be the most painful reminder of them all.
“Well, I think they’ve already got a good start on it. Why don’t you ride out and check on it, and then maybe you can decide what you want to do from there.”
Jamon chewed the inside of his lip. “Yeah, I guess.” He wasn’t in the mood to argue, and he’d have to face the back five sooner or later. “I’ll see you later.”
The horse walked on and out of the barn. Jamon drew in a breath, then released it into the damp air. The sky was overcast, and thick grey clouds huddled together. Last night’s rain still lingered, but he was getting used to the humidity now and the weather felt appropriate for the way he was feeling.