by Sam Cheever
Gordon’s gaze skimmed toward his oldest son and then back, so quickly if Franco hadn’t been watching very closely he’d have missed it. “Not directly, no. But I’m afraid there is an indirect connection.”
Franco pushed away from the desk, pacing restlessly as his mind adjusted to the new information and its possible consequences. The obvious question burned in his mind, too painful to ask. But he had to ask it. “Is Nicola in danger of ending up like those poor kids?”
“Very doubtful. In fact, I’d say there’s a good chance she’s safe because she won’t.”
Franco frowned. “Tell me why they wanted her.”
Gordon shook his head. “I can’t. We’ve kept that secret safe for decades and we aren’t going to let it out now.”
“Sir, I can’t protect her...”
Gordon sat forward, his dark blue gaze hard. “You didn’t protect her, did you? In the end, you allowed her to be taken.”
Pain yanked the air from his lungs and made his knees go soft. He reached out and grabbed the back of a chair, dragging air deep into his lungs. “I failed her. I realize that. But I’m going to find her and make it right.”
“No. You’re going to leave this to us now. Things just went from difficult to dangerous and you are no longer qualified to fix it.”
“All due respect, sir...”
“That will be all, Franco. As of this moment you’ve been reassigned back to Elena. Find her. Bring her in. Don’t let me down again, son.”
Franco’s fists clenched and it was all he could do to keep from shouting. He forced himself to nod and hurried out of the library.
Erik and Mike were waiting for him outside the door. They looked up as he closed it very deliberately behind him. Mike’s gaze darkened when he saw Franco’s face. “He cut you out of it, didn’t he?”
Franco nodded, rage turning him to steel.
“He can’t do that!” Erik said too loudly.
“Keep it down.” Mike dropped an arm on the other man’s shoulders and pulled him toward the front door. They went outside and Franco followed. As soon as Franco emerged into the night, Mike turned to him. “I told you there was something hinky going on here, Franc. This family is hiding something really big and those girls are at the center of it.”
Franco was inclined to agree, though he’d pushed back against the idea since he’d taken the job. “What could it possibly be, Mike? You know as well as I do that the simplest reason for a crime is usually the right one. It’s either money or leverage.”
Mike shook his head. “I don’t think it’s either. Just call it a gut feeling, man.”
“Whatever it is, we need to get my sister back,” Erik said, his gaze flashing rage and fear in successive bursts.
Franco nodded. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He headed toward the rented sedan, which he’d abandoned more than parked in the center of the drive right in front of the house. “I need firepower,” he told his friends.
“I have some long guns and a couple of pistols in my trunk,” Erik told him.
Franco jerked his head and Erik and Mike took off to get the guns.
Franco started the sedan and gunned it, spinning around the fountain in the center and stopping beside Erik’s big Escalade.
They stowed the guns in the trunk and joined Franco in the car.
Franco turned to them, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you guys to risk your jobs...”
Mike held up a hand. “Don’t waste your breath. I’m coming.”
Erik lifted an eyebrow when Franco turned to him. “It’s my sister, brah.”
He sighed. “Okay, but this might get ugly. I’m about to piss off the head of one of the richest, most powerful organizations in the states. And later, when he finds out what I’ve done, I’ll be pissing off the second wealthiest man in the country.”
Mike gave him a crooked grin. “Hey, I always say, if you’re gonna do it, do it up big.”
Franco turned the key and stepped on the gas. If he broke all the speed and right-of-way laws in the city he could make it to The Foundation on the south side of Indy in about thirty minutes.
He intended to make it in twenty.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You know he’s not going to walk away from this,” Doug told his father.
Gordon twirled a pen thoughtfully on the top of his desk. “I’m well aware. If I’m not mistaken, that boy fancies himself in love with our Nicola.”
Perry stepped forward, his face taut with anger. “We need to stop him. He’s going to get her killed.”
Gordon looked at Hank. “Did you do what I told you to do?”
His son nodded, his gaze on the tablet he held in his hands. “The tracker seems to be working just fine.” He handed it to his father.
Gordon watched the moving arrow on the screen for a moment and expelled a breath. “He’s heading for The Foundation.”
“What do you want us to do?” Pierce asked Gordon.
“Nothing for now. We won’t be able to keep Franco from doing what he thinks he needs to do unless we lock him up downstairs.” He frowned, seeming to consider the option for a beat. Then he gave his head a quick shake and reached for his cell. “So if we can’t stop him from going to his prey, we’ll just have to make sure his prey isn’t there when he arrives.”
“We could just tell Franco what’s really going on,” Hank offered softly.
His father’s head snapped up and his gaze darkened. “We’ve discussed this. At his core Franco’s still a cop. Worse, he has friends who are cops. He wouldn’t be able to ignore the things we’d tell him. I can’t take that risk.”
“He’s loyal,” Hank said with a shake of his head. “I’d stake my life on that.”
Gordon listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. “You would be staking your life on it, son. That’s why we’re not going to do it.”
After a moment the phone stopped ringing. Gordon didn’t waste any time on niceties. “We need to talk,” he told the person who answered. “Can you meet me at the usual spot in fifteen minutes?”
###
Betty hadn’t moved in hours. Nici had tried talking to her several times but the girl just wasn’t responding. Nici was worried. She couldn’t tell if the teen was even breathing but if she was her breaths were slow and shallow.
Sometime in the last few hours, Nici’s need to get out of that place had been magnified by the young girl’s predicament. She had to save her. In that moment, nothing seemed more important. And if, by saving her, Nici could discover what the hell was going on in the strange medical facility, so much the better.
She hadn’t heard a single spoken word in the place since waking up. After Dr. Ainsley left, only the sound of footsteps in the hallways, and the soft clanking of instruments and trays broke the silence. Nici had strained against her restraints in an effort to see the entirety of the room where she and Betty were. She quickly realized the sick teen had been right. There were no windows in the room. The lighting beyond the door was an unnatural white that Nici guessed was fluorescent.
They were most likely underground. But where?
A door down the hallway slammed and she jumped. She listened carefully as footsteps came toward them, the sound muffled as if the soles of the shoes were rubber. Nici’s gaze frantically scanned the area around her bed, desperate to find a weapon of some kind. She saw nothing. Even the pair of scissors was gone. Dr. Ainsley must have pocketed them before she left.
The footsteps reached her room and stopped. A moment of silence ensued. Nici fought the urge to pretend sleep. She wanted to face whatever was coming for her straight on. If she had any hope of escaping, she’d have to know what she was escaping from.
A man came into the room. He was carrying a tray with a bowl and a glass of water on it. “Dinner,” he announced in a gruff voice.
Nici’s pulse spiked. If she was going to eat he’d have to untether at least one hand.
“Hungry?”
> She nodded, her eyes going wide as he reached out and ran a hand over her arm. The touch was intrusive and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d touched her like that when she was unconscious. Fighting a shudder, she jerked at the restraint, trying to avoid his touch. As his small, brown gaze locked on her, filled with hostility, she quickly spoke up to cover for the movement. “I can’t eat with these things on.”
His full, wet lips curved upward. “Don’t get any ideas, sugar. I’m going to release one hand and you have fifteen minutes to eat. Then the cuff goes back on.”
Nici nodded, her eyes lowered. While he unlocked her wrist and rolled the tray over the bed, she quickly scanned his person for something...anything...she could use against him.
She didn’t see anything obvious but one of his pockets bulged with promise. “What is this?” she asked as she looked at the thick, yellowish glop in the bowl.
“Oatmeal.”
She frowned, shoving at it with a plastic spoon. “It’s a weird color.”
“Just eat, princess. This isn’t your rich daddy’s kitchen. We work under a budget.”
With a jolt she realized he didn’t know who she was. He thought she was Elena. She tucked the knowledge away, hopeful she could use it later. She took a bite and grimaced as a slightly sour taste suffused her taste buds. Clearly they’d doctored the oatmeal with something. Dropping the spoon into the glop she pushed it away. “I’m not hungry after all.”
He reached for the bowl, his smile widening. “Pretty smart aren’t ya? I told ’em it wouldn’t work.” Quick as a wink he reached out and grabbed her arm. “That’s okay. I like to do things the old fashioned way.” The needle was through her skin and the plunger lowered halfway before she even thought to react. She slammed the heel of her hand into his nose as hard as she could. He grunted softly and crumpled forward, landing with his face in the doctored oatmeal. He started to slide downward and Nici realized she’d only have one shot at getting hold of the keys for her restraints. She grabbed his shirt with her tethered hand, trying to hold him on the gurney long enough for her to reach into his pants pocket. Her hand closed over the Taser in his pocket but he slipped away before she could extract it. Her fingers caught on the circular ring as he fell, crashing loudly against the tray and then crumpling to the floor.
Nici clasped the keys close for a moment, saying a prayer of thanks that she’d gotten hold of them, and then quickly tried to unlock her left arm. The first key didn’t fit. Her hands were shaking so hard she was afraid she’d drop them. She tried the second key but the keyhole in the cuffs kept sliding out of focus. Her hand kept missing.
Whatever he’d injected her with was starting to work. Nici worked faster, but her fingers felt like sausages and she kept dropping the key ring onto the bed. The door down the hallway slammed open and she knew she was almost out of time. The footsteps pounded toward her at a run and she panicked, dropping the keys again and barely catching them before they fell off the side of the bed.
Nici gritted her teeth, thought of Betty, and tried one more time. The key slid home and she turned it. The cuff snapped open. She shoved the sheet down and slid to the floor, her knees buckling out from under her as the door slammed back and a man with a gun filled the opening.
###
The building was locked up tight, the lights in the lobby dimmed. A guard sat behind a curved island in the center of the lobby, his gaze on the computer screen before him. Franco knocked on the door and the man looked up. He frowned and shook his head, pointing to his watch.
Franco knocked again and the guard made a shooing motion with one hand.
Franco grabbed Mike and shoved a gun to his head. “Sorry man.”
Mike contorted his face into one of terror. “No worries man. It’s all for the cause right?”
The guard’s eyes went wide and he reached for the phone.
Erik stepped forward into the light, a massive rifle pointed right at the guard.
“Did you even remember to put bullets in that thing?” Franco asked Nic’s brother.
His friend gave him a crooked grin. “It needs bullets?”
The guard moved toward the door with his arms up, his fat face pasty white with fear. He stuck a key in the front door and shoved it open. “Don’t hurt me. I got a wife and ten kids.”
Franco shoved Mike through the door, pushing the guard back with Mike’s big body, and Mike quickly divested the man of his nightstick and Taser. “You won’t be needing these,” he told the guy as he handed Franco the Taser and pulled a zip strip out of his pocket.
The guard’s jowly face wobbled with surprise. “Wait a minute. I thought you was a victim.”
Mike frowned as he cuffed the guy’s hands behind his back. “Yeah. Sorry about that little ruse. I don’t like to lie as a rule.”
“Technically it was me who did the lying,” Franco offered helpfully.
“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Mike agreed.
Erik lowered the rifle. “You really got ten kids, man?”
The guard shrugged. “You’ve got your lies and I’ve got mine.”
Erik snorted. “It seems ours worked better than yours.”
Franco stepped up to the guard. “What floor is Osgood’s office on?”
The guard shook his head. “No way. I need this job.”
“For your ten kids?” Erik asked on a laugh.
The man’s shaggy brown eyebrows peeked. “I have five kids, three dogs and a wife. Those damn dogs are eatin’ me out of house and home.”
“Dogs are good for your blood pressure,” Mike said.
The guard grimaced. “Not when they weigh a hundred and thirty pounds. Then they’re only good for eating you out of house and home.”
“Great Danes?” Erik asked. “I had one of those when I was a kid.”
“One’s a mastiff,” the guard responded.
Franco lifted his eyebrows. “Boys?”
From across the lobby, Mike called out. “Looks like we need to visit the tenth floor.” He was standing in front of a board which had the office numbers listed on its bronzed surface.
The guard’s fleshy face wobbled in panic.
Franco frowned. “You’re kidding me. They have his private office listed on that board?”
Mike grinned. “Nah, I just took a wild guess. That’s the top floor and a guy like Osgood would want to be above everybody else. But judging from the guard’s expression I guessed right.”
Franco looked at the unhappy guard. “Hey, man, I’m really sorry.”
The guy’s brown gaze narrowed. “For what?”
Franco shot the Taser at him. He twitched for a few seconds and collapsed heavily to the floor, still convulsing.
“For that.” Franco shoved the Taser into his pocket, reaching for the guy’s arms. “Help me drag him behind his desk,” he told Erik.
Five minutes later the elevator doors opened on a sigh and they stepped out, guns drawn. Franco pointed toward the office at the end of the hall, which was behind double glass doors. Clearly it was an office for someone important.
Mike made quick work of the lock and stepped back, motioning for Franco to precede him into the office.
“Remind me never to ask you how you got so good at picking a lock,” Franco told his friend.
“A misspent youth,” Mike responded nonchalantly.
The outer office was empty. They moved quickly past expensive leather furniture, heavy metal sculptures and paintings that probably cost more than all three of them made in a year, to a door made of ash with a gold handle. Franco pressed against the door, listening. He couldn’t hear anything. With his gun preceding him into the room, Franco pulled the door open and slipped through.
Mike came in low behind him and Erik waited a beat before following. They immediately spread out, their gazes sliding around the room to assess the threat.
The man standing with his back to them didn’t move. He stood with his hands clasped at his back and his gaze focused on the street
below.
He was tall, thin, and dressed in an impeccable blue suit with jeweled cufflinks that caught the light from his desk lamp.
His gray hair was thick, swept back from a wide forehead and tidily cut. When he turned, the light sparked off his horn-rimmed glasses. His wide mouth turned up in a grim smile. “Mr. Martin. I’ve been expecting you.”
Franco barely managed to cover his surprise. He shrugged. “You maybe should have told the night guard. I’m afraid he’s all a-twitch because of our arrival.”
Osgood shook his head, the smile fading away. “I trust you didn’t do any permanent damage?”
“Would you care if I did?” Franco’s tone made it all too clear that he believed Osgood wouldn’t.
The older man sighed. He motioned toward the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Please, gentlemen, sit.”
“I don’t think so,” Franco told him. “We won’t be long. I just need you to tell me where Gordon’s daughter’s been taken.”
Osgood’s gaze widened slightly. He looked down, placing the tips of two fingers on his desk as if to support himself. “I was afraid of that.”
Franco and Mike shared a look. Osgood’s reaction didn’t give Franco a good feeling. “You were afraid of what?”
Osgood pulled his heavy leather desk chair back and lowered himself into it. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m afraid the events of the day have taken their toll on me.”
Franco’s grip tightened on the Glock. “I’m really sorry that kidnapping Gordon DeVitis’s daughter has stressed you out, sir. But I know just the thing to make you feel better.”
“And what would that be, Mr. Martin?”
“You can tell me where she is.” Franco moved quickly, reaching over the desk and placing the muzzle of the gun against the old man’s head. “Or I’ll just shoot you. Death is a great stress reliever.”
To Franco’s surprise, Osgood laughed. “Don’t tempt me, son.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to believe this but...” he lifted his hands in front of him, palms up. “I don’t know where Elena is. I sent them to pull her in...I’ll freely admit that...but I lost contact with my man hours ago and I’m worried.”
