by Dawson, Zoe
He pressed Dozer’s speed dial and almost lost it as he related what had happened and sent him the video. Dozer was raging, his voice uneven and full of terrified fury.
“I’m going to kill that fucker with my bare hands,” Dozer said.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Then I need to go to the base. Don’t tell anyone about this.”
“He’s tying our hands.”
“Yeah, but he’s going to find out the hard, permanent way that he should have mourned his brother’s death and left us the hell alone. Revenge is a cold dish, and I’m going to make him choke on it.”
“Hoo-yah,” Dozer shouted.
* * *
Hollywood used his code to access the SEAL cages. He went inside and opened his own. Inside he grabbed a duffel and all the gear he would need along with his weapon and side arm. He retraced his steps and headed for his car where Dozer and Chief Blackmoon waited. His long strides ate up the ground. He was going to kill Eze with his bare hands if he harmed…
He faltered, the fear and concern for his sister and Willow doubling up. He couldn’t take one misstep, and this thinking wasn’t going to help him. He practiced his combat breathing. As he approached the car, someone shouted his name. He whirled to find Dragon jogging toward him.
“Hey, man, you left in a hurry. I was calling you…” The look on Hollywood’s face must have alerted Dragon to something not right. He looked down at the duffel in his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. I might not be part of your team, but I’m part of the brotherhood. So don’t try to gaslight me, man.”
Hollywood wanted no one involved, certainly not Dragon, definitely not Joe, and least of all Willow’s father. What a goat fuck. He was going into the South American jungle with Willow’s dad, and Will would die trying to save her.
“Hollywood. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. Are you being deployed?”
“No,” he bit out.
“So you came here to load up on gear for what?”
“It’s not gear. It’s my lunch. Now mind your own business.”
Dragon looked toward the car and frowned. “Maybe Dozer can give me some insight and…is that Chief Blackmoon?”
When Hollywood stayed silent, Dragon headed for the vehicle.
Hollywood caught his arm, and he spun. “Dammit, Dragon.”
“Tell me.”
They didn’t have time for this. Hollywood rubbed at the back of his neck, estimating his odds in taking Dragon down.
Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “You can try, man, but I won’t go down easy.”
“Fuck!” Hollywood’s adrenaline and testosterone, not to mention his protective instincts for the two women were running high, fueling this primitive aggression. Dragon was only trying to help. Hollywood let out a heavy breath and worked at calming himself. Going off half-cocked wasn’t going to rule the day.
The days that break you are the days that make you. Will’s words came rushing back to him.
“Eze has kidnapped my sister, Emma and Willow Blackmoon.”
“What the fuck! When?”
“Three hours ago. He took them off the streets in downtown near an art gallery. My sister knows the owner.”
“How do you know this?”
Hollywood pulled out his phone and flipped to the video. He pushed play and showed Dragon the screen. The whole ugly scene played out, Hollywood’s gut clenching at his sister’s distressed cry and Willow’s ballsy, “What do you think you’re doing?” and “Let go of me, you bastard.” Her futile attempt to get away as she brought one of the guys down but then moments later being subdued by two men and shoved into the trunk of the car with his sister’s prone body.
Dragon’s features hardened, his dark eyes going steely. He looked up at Hollywood. “You’re going after them? Where?”
“First Panama. Then we’ll get instructions once we get there. If I contact Special Forces, my commanding officer or any other law enforcement agency, he will kill them. He wants me to bring Dozer, the other man involved in his brother’s death.”
“And Willow’s dad?”
“He was there when I got the video. He’s a Navy SEAL. He might be retired, but he won’t stay back.”
“Neither will I. You’ll need overwatch.”
“No,” he said as he grabbed Dragon’s arm. “Don’t you get it? I’ll be off the grid. I have no choice. I can’t let them die. I can’t tell Ruckus. I have to go. This might end my Navy career and yours too.”
“Fuck that. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be six feet under at Arlington with a military burial. I’m fucking coming with you. No one will ever see me. Until it’s too late.”
Dozer opened the car door and shouted, “Come on, Hollywood!”
“I’m going to get my gear.”
The determined look on Dragon’s face was a no-brainer. Navy SEALs were immovable when they made up their minds. “Go. Do it fast.”
“Do you have a way to get to Panama?”
“No, not yet.”
“I know someone. It’s not exactly above board.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” At this point he would take whatever he could. Nothing mattered but getting Willow and his sister back unharmed. “Go, get your stuff. You’ve got five minutes.”
Dragon handed Hollywood the box he was carrying and took off at a run. He looked inside and found Christmas presents. He walked to the car, opened his trunk and set the box inside along with his gear.
Dragon was back in ten and stowed his gear. “Who’s this friend of yours?”
13
Willow woke up in increments, as if she was ascending from a deep, dark pool. It was as if her mind was stirring but her body was paralyzed. She tried to shift but couldn’t. She was trembling, in some kind of traumatic, overloaded capacity. It felt like being suspended, like she was moving through space and time, an off feeling like flying. She’d been through something bad, as splintered, silvery pieces of awareness filtered through her consciousness. She tried to move again then realized her hands were bound and her feet as well. Her jaw ached, and the groggy feeling receded a small bit at a time.
Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking against the light. Across from her sat an unfamiliar man in a dark suit. He was lean and muscular, his head shaven, his eyes a dark nut brown, and something in them chilled her to the bone.
“Welcome back,” he said without warmth.
Everything came rushing back to her, and she gasped. They’d been kidnapped.
Emma. Willow turned her head frantically, finding her friend still unconscious. A bruise on her shoulder stood out in ugly black and purple, her cheeks ashen. But Emma’s chest rose and fell strongly, and relief flowed through Willow.
She narrowed her eyes, anger making her gut clench and her blood heat. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Willow looked around. She was in a private jet, and when she looked out the small, round window, they were over water. The ocean? Oh, God they were being abducted and flown out of the United States.
“Where are you taking us?” She sat up then fell back as her head protested and her stomach roiled. “You have no right. We’re American citizens.”
“Americans think they rule the world,” he spat. “I’m Vyncent Eze, and I do as I please, regardless of your puny laws. You are only a means to an end.” He leaned forward. “Who are you?”
She didn’t want to answer. At this point, she had no information about this guy and what he wanted.
He watched her, an even expression on his face, his eyes roving over her. He gave her a tight smile before his lip curled as if she was beneath his attention. “Don’t lie to me. I know who your companion is, but I don’t know who you are, except a waitress in a diner.”
The muscles in his jaw were taut, his expression compressed into hard lines. With economy of movement, he reached under his left armpit and pulled out a gun.
F
or a split-second, Willow was shocked. Then reality swept in, and she closed her eyes, a chilling comprehension washing through her. He could pull that trigger at any moment, and it would all be over for her. She was helpless.
Her legs went weak, her heart thumping wildly. She closed her eyes again and slipped her shaking hands between her thighs.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and knelt close to her. She could smell his cloying cologne. Wrinkling her nose, she jerked away from him, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair, the gun—big, black and threatening—so close to her face. “Who are you?”
“Willow Blackmoon,” she blurted out, her scalp prickling in pain where he pulled her hair.
“Blackmoon? That rings no bells. What is your affiliation to Jude Lock, a Navy SEAL?”
Oh, God, this was about Hollywood. That’s why they’d taken Emma. “What do you want with Jude?”
“Aw, I can tell by your tone, you know him. How?”
“He was part of a project I was doing for the Navy and Heart and Hand, a charity organization in downtown San Diego. It’s for the homeless.”
His face contorted into a sneer. “Charity, bah. Weaklings and parasites.” He let go of her hair and retreated, folding back into his seat and slipping the gun back under his arm. He buckled his seatbelt and crossed his legs. “Tell me why I should keep you alive, Willow.”
This was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. What value did she hold? She was sleeping with Hollywood, but would that help or hinder him in making crucial decisions on how to get them all out of here alive? She had no doubt that he would be coming for them. Ransom hadn’t been mentioned, and Hollywood was a SEAL, not a rich man. This was personal, which meant knowing that she was important to Hollywood would give this man even more leverage.
His gaze never left her face as he said, clearly addressing one of his flunkies, “Untie her.”
Her hands shook as she worked to contain her panic. The man leaned over her, and she shrank back in the seat, hating that he had to touch her. When she was free, the flunky backed up, but Eze was releasing his seat belt and standing.
“Bring her.”
The man roughly unbuckled her seatbelt and as roughly, grabbed her arm, pulling her upright. He dragged her from the seats, down the aisle following Eze’s slim form. When he got to the door, Eze reached for the handle. “Either you tell me what I want to know, or you’ll take a header off this jet. I’m afraid I can’t spare a parachute.”
Before Willow could say a word, Emma’s shout broke into their conversation. Willow turned to see that Hollywood’s sister was awake. If the anger in her eyes could kill, their captors would be dead. “She’s my brother’s girlfriend. Let her go, you bastard!”
A light winked on in the man’s otherwise dead eyes, and a sly, self-satisfied grin came over his face.
“Girlfriend,” he said in such an oily, villainous way it seemed so surreal as if she was in some kind of Bond movie. But this wasn’t playacting. The gun he’d shoved into her face had been real, with real bullets. “This just gets better and better.” He nudged with his chin to his henchman. “Take her back to her seat and treat her with kid gloves, my friend. She’s valuable.”
As she was being dragged back to her seat, she noted a small, square case on the floor under Eze’s feet and wondered what was in it.
The goon must not have gotten the memo because he shoved her back in her seat. She slapped his hands away from her as she reached for her own seat belt, her chin lifted.
“Untie Emma,” she said. “We can all get comfy.”
As soon as it was securely fastened, she reached for Emma’s freed hand, and they clasped each other desperately. Willow didn’t like the way Eze looked at her. It was clear he hated Hollywood and his revenge on him may not stop with just threatening to kill them. He looked at her body as if violating her would give him great satisfaction. She gritted her teeth. Rape was certainly better than being murdered, but Willow hoped to God it didn’t come to that. For either her or Emma. It would hurt Hollywood to his soul in a way that would change him, she was sure.
He raised his hand and a flight attendant came over immediately.
“Refreshment?” he asked as if he were being the most gracious host.
“My brother is going to come for us,” Emma said.
Eze’s expression hardened, a glint of steel and satisfaction in his eyes. He leaned forward with a cold, smug smile. “I’m banking on it.”
* * *
Hollywood was the only one awake on the cargo plane, its web seating much less comfortable than the ones on the C-130 the SEALs used for transport. Dragon knew a guy who would fly them to Panama, no questions asked. He’d been a high school buddy from New York City, and he did everything, from conventions to hotel to residential moves. He was hauling something big that took up the center of the plane, but Will, Dragon, Dozer and Hollywood didn’t take up much space.
He should be sleeping. He closed his eyes wearily, but every time he tried, all he could remember was Willow’s warmth, the feel of her body against him, the sliding silk of her hair and the way she’d loved him.
Then if that wasn’t bad enough, there were an overwhelming avalanche of memories about his sweet sister—them growing up together, how they had been so close and still were. If anything happened to Emma, he’d have to face his mom with the news. He’d have to tell her it was his fault, and he would carry that guilt until the end of his days.
“Don’t be doing the negative thing,” Dragon said softly from the dim shadows.
“How—”
“Because it’s your sister and your…what is she actually to you?”
“I’m sleeping with her,” Hollywood said, not exactly ready to admit to anything out loud. Will was farther down next to Dozer and they were both still asleep.
Dragon straightened. “Is she the woman you were talking to me about on our last trip out here?”
“Yes, she’s the one.”
“Okay, so there’s more there, just not solidified.”
“You could put it that way.”
“I know you’re scared, Jude, but we’re going to get them back, and we’re going to get Eze, that fucking SOB. Maybe even score those triggers.”
Hollywood shook his head. He was scared down to his bones, to his soul, all the way to his heart.
“Get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”
“Copy that,” Hollywood said. But when he closed his eyes, there was Willow. He used those images that popped into his head associated with her: snuggling up to her, making her laugh and getting those promised pirouettes.
When they landed in Panama City, it was pouring rain. To keep anyone watching guessing, Hollywood separated from Dozer, Will and Dragon. They rented separate cars. Then they checked into adjoining rooms at the Crowne Plaza Hotel to wait.
It was well into late morning when Hollywood got a video call from an unknown number. It was Eze, and he was on a video chat standing with nothing but jungle around him. “I trust you are in Panama City.”
“We are.”
“Good. You brought him?”
“Yes, I brought him. Stop fucking around, Eze.”
“Whoa, Mr. Lock. You’re not giving the orders here. I am. One word from me, and you will lose your precious sister and your beautiful lover, Willow.”
Hollywood clenched his teeth, and Dozer swore under his breath and started pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching. It was Eze’s game until Hollywood could put a bullet in his head and end any threat to his family or to Dozer and his family. “What are your orders?”
“Right now, it’s to wait. Impatience causes nothing but mistakes. What is your Americanism? Haste makes waste. I’ll be in touch again.”
“What?” Dozer said. “You piece of shit! Let me talk to him.”
“He hung up,” Hollywood said, running his hand through his hair.
“Let’s take another look at that video,” Dragon said. “This time on my laptop.”
He smiled widely. “I know where they are.”
* * *
Willow stirred, her hip and back aching from spending the night on a cold dirt floor that was only covered with straw. She and Emma had been locked up in a cell with nothing at all but them, rats and bugs. No table or chairs, no mattress, no drinking water and nowhere to go to the bathroom. The heat was oppressive, the air heavy with moisture, and Willow’s throat was dry. The only way out was through a locked steel door with bars. A guard sat at a small table just outside the cell, his automatic weapon propped against the wall to his right. His back was to them. Chillingly, he would periodically look over his shoulder to check on them and leer at them lewdly.
The small jailhouse was only yards from the main house that looked like a mansion. It was a replica of a Spanish inspired hacienda with beautiful arches and a terracotta-tiled roof. It was so strange to see it after that trek from the small, crude airport where they had landed. The runway had been nothing but hard-packed dirt.
To find such beauty and opulence in the jungle seemed incongruent to the ugliness of why she and Emma were here, living in squalor in a cell so close to the magnificent house. So much beauty spoiled by the people who had lived here. She had heard the guard say the house had been built by a woman who had run the country with an iron fist, a cocaine drug lord.
She recognized her name from the news, but not the small country that butted up against Columbia. It fit that Eze had taken it over, his affiliation with her broken after U.S. forces had come to the place and saved three aid workers right out from under her.
Eze had forced them into a SUV, and they’d driven for a long time into the middle of nowhere, jungle thick and oppressive around them. When they came to a dirt path, barely wide enough for the SUV to pass, the caravan turned off. The two vehicles were filled with men. All of them carried automatic rifles and steely, mercenary looks. Branches had slapped at the windows and sides of the vehicles as they traveled for miles into the jungle. She had no idea where they were.
