I can hear Joslyn in the background, asking, “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer her, but demands, “Tell me everything.”
So I do, along with my suspicions as to what the fuck is going on. “I think this has to do with her brother. He’s been borrowing money from her and acting sketchy. I had Bodie look into it, and her brother has some loose criminal ties. I’m thinking he’s in deep with someone, and they’re using Jaime to force him to pay whatever he owes.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Kynan says, and the calm in his voice grounds me. “I’m going to get Griffin involved as we’ll need law enforcement help, and he’s a better asset for us than the local PD. I’ll have him come to the apartment with a forensics team for evidence.”
Griffin is an FBI agent who is dating the woman who makes so many good things happen for Jameson in the way of information and technology, Bebe Grimshaw.
Speaking of which, Kynan continues. “I’ll have Bebe get all surveillance video from her apartment building and surrounding ones—maybe even street cams.”
And by get, he means Bebe will politely request the video once, but if she doesn’t get it the legal way, she’ll hack her way in and get it no matter what.
“We need Jackson,” I say to Kynan as I’m trying to help with his game plan. “He did me a favor last weekend and trailed her brother to see where he was hanging out. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about it, though, with the mission down in Colombia.”
“Got it,” Kynan replies. “You want Bodie to stay or use Ladd as a backup?”
Bodie’s my best friend, but this is business. He plays an important role in the Vegas office, and he’s headed back there this evening. “I’ll let you make that call.”
“Understood,” Kynan replies, then gives me instructions. “Stay there until Griffin arrives; he’ll want to get your statement. I’m going to send Bodie to Vegas, and I’ll meet with Jackson about what information he gleaned by tailing him. We’ll see what Bebe can come up with as to the ability to track these guys by video—maybe even luck out and get a license plate number of whatever vehicle they were in. Our first priority will be in locating Jaime.”
“And what do you want me to do after I give my statement to Griffin?” I ask, feeling a little left out.
Kynan chuckles. “You’re going to go and introduce yourself to your new in-laws. Tell them what happened. As her husband, you technically have the right to hire Jameson to handle this alongside law enforcement, but you need them on board. More importantly, you need to talk to that shit of a brother of hers and see what he knows. If she was taken so he’d pay money, then he’s going to be contacted soon with demands.”
Fuck. I rub my hand over my beard, wincing at the pain in my jaw where I took a knee. I think of how scared Jaime must be right now, and my blood boils.
“Okay. Get Griffin over here ASAP so I can head to her parents’ house.”
“On it,” Kynan replies, then disconnects without another word.
♦
I open the apartment door, taking in the man standing there with a thick, navy-blue jacket with the FBI crest on the breast pocket and the forensic investigator behind him holding a case to collect evidence. He’s got blond hair, cropped close on the side of his head and just a tiny bit longer on top with a severe part on the side. It’s minimally speckled with silver, but he doesn’t look more than in his late thirties.
“You’re not Griffin Moore,” I say by way of greeting, taking in the tall FBI agent.
The man attempts a smile, sticking a hand out. “Griff’s actually out of state on a case right now, and he asked me to come cover. I’m his new partner, Clay Brandeis.”
I shake his hand. “Come on in.”
The agent steps over the threshold, followed by the forensics man, but they don’t go further. “Walk me through what happened,” he says, taking out a notepad and pen.
I go through all the details I can remember. Because Clay is apparently good at his job, he asks me several follow-up questions, often picking at the same detail until he’s sure I’ve remembered all I can.
We then stand in the kitchen, watching the forensics investigator take photos and roll for hairs and fibers. He doesn’t bother with prints since all the men were wearing gloves.
“So you’re Griff’s new partner?” I ask to make conversation. Griff just transferred to the Pittsburgh office from New York so he could be with Bebe after their own harrowing experience with a psychopath who tried to kill Bebe.
“Yeah… just transferred from the Atlanta office,” he says, but he doesn’t elaborate.
Which is fine. I’ve got shit to do. “Do you need me for anything else right now?”
Clay shakes his head. “I’m going to head over to Jameson when I’m done here. I’ll get up with you later to let you know if we uncover anything.”
“I’ll be there in a few hours,” I say. I figure it’s going to take at least that long to explain everything to her parents, calm them down, answer questions, and interrogate her brother if he’s there.
I nab my phone to order an Uber. I’m going to Jameson to collect my Maserati as there’s no sense in hiding that anymore, then I’ll head out to Hazelwood and hope her parents are home. I am not looking forward to delivering this news.
♦
While I had never seen pictures of Jaime’s childhood home, I’d heard her talk about it enough that it is just how I envisioned it. It’s completely representative of the low end of the middle class in Pittsburgh, and she has nothing but fond memories of growing up here.
There are two vehicles in the narrow driveway that runs along the side of the house with what looks like back-alley parking as well. One is a later-model truck that I assume is her father’s, and the other is a small economy car I presume is her mothers. I have no clue if Brian owns a vehicle, but since he has no job and no means, I expect not.
Reluctantly, but with determination, I trudge up the steps to their front door and rap sharply on the outer storm door. In moments, a woman answers. There’s no doubt it’s Jaime’s mother as they have the same hair and facial features.
She smiles pleasantly, but she doesn’t open the storm door.
“Mrs. Dolan?” I inquire.
Her smile stays in place, but I can see a slight bit of irritation in her eyes. I bet she thinks I’m here to solicit something. Quickly, I move to disabuse her of that. The only way to do that is to give her the most pertinent information that will get me in the door. I hope it doesn’t shock her too much.
“My name is Cage Murdock,” I say. Before I can continue, her smile broadens and she pushes the door open. She clearly recognizes my name.
“Come in,” she urges, stepping back. “Jaime told us about you.”
Yeah… bet she didn’t tell you we’re married, I think wryly.
As I step into the cozy home, Mrs. Dolan starts to move through the living room a few steps, but she suddenly turns back with fear on her face. As if she just realized how weird it is for me to show up unannounced when we’ve never met before. “Why are you here?”
“Is your husband home?” I ask instead.
“Is Jaime all right?” she presses.
“I don’t know,” I reply truthfully, “but I’m going to do everything in my power to find out the answer to that. I need to talk to you and your husband, though.”
Mrs. Dolan points to the living room, ordering me to take a seat. As I heed her demand, she runs upstairs, calling for her husband. I hear harsh, frantic whispers, then two sets of feet come stomping down the stairs. Her dad runs into the living room, skidding to a halt when he sees me.
I rise from the couch, sticking my hand out. “I’m Cage Murdock.”
Ignoring my hand, he demands, “What’s wrong with Jaime?”
Dipping my head, I rub at the nape of my neck as I try to figure out the right words. I’d practiced what to say on the way over here, but none of it seems right.
When I lift my gaze t
o meet his, I just lay it out as succinctly as I can. “You clearly know I’ve been dating Jaime. What you don’t know is we got married last weekend in Vegas. She was going to tell you in person this weekend, then bring me over some time after that to meet you.”
“What in the—” Mr. Dolan starts to say, but I cut him off.
“That’s not the worst of what I’m about to tell you,” I say calmly, holding up a hand that says, Please bear with me. “A few hours ago, Jaime and I were at her apartment when four masked gunmen burst in and kidnapped her.”
Jaime’s mom makes a keening sound low in her throat, clutching onto her husband.
“I’m pretty sure I know why it happened. I’ve got my people working on it, along with the FBI.”
“Your people,” her dad says, his face awash with confusion. “Your car salesman friends are looking for her, you mean?”
Fuck… that didn’t come out right.
“No. I’m not a car salesman. I’m an agent with a private security firm called Jameson Force Security. I’m a former Navy SEAL, and I work a lot of dangerous jobs to help people.”
“And Jaime couldn’t tell us about your real job to protect you?” her mom surmises.
“No,” I say again, this time a little shamefaced. “Jaime thinks I’m a car salesman. It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you about it another time after I have the opportunity to explain myself to Jaime. But right now, we are short on time. I need to talk to your son, Brian.”
“Brian?” Mrs. Dolan exclaims. “What does he have to do with it?”
“Is he here?” I press, clearly agitated over the time being wasted. “Because if he is, get him up here. You can hear right along with him why I think he’s involved.”
“Go get him, Elizabeth,” Mr. Dolan says, wary eyes still pinned on me.
“He’s sleeping,” she says as she heads that way. “Let me go wake him up.”
Sleeping in the middle of a Saturday afternoon while his sister is kidnapped because of him. Fucking great guy.
Mr. Dolan and I don’t speak while his wife gets their son. I can see a million questions in his eyes, as well as distaste for me. I’m not sure how much of that is that I married his daughter behind their backs, I lied to her, or I’m here delivering dire news.
Finally, Mrs. Dolan exits the basement with Brian following behind. He has the same features as Jaime, and he tiredly rubs at his eyes.
When his gaze lands on me, he looks to his dad. “Who’s that?”
“Your sister’s husband, apparently,” Mr. Dolan mutters dryly. “He has some questions to ask you.”
Brian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Her husband? When did that happen?”
I step forward, moving past Jaime’s parents and coming toe to toe with her brother. “I need you to shut up and listen.” It’s obvious Brian is inherently a coward, as he doesn’t even bow up against my rude treatment. Instead, he stares at me with wide eyes and nods. “Jaime was just kidnapped by men wearing face masks who had distinct Irish brogues. I happen to know you’ve been hanging out with some unsavory Irish thugs lately.”
Brian’s face crumbles, his cheeks flaming red. “Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
“Brian,” his mother exclaims, quickly grasping he has something to do with this.
I hold my hand out to her, indicating she should hold her tongue.
“Why would they take her?” I demand. “And where?”
“I owe them a lot of money,” he whines, sounding like a child. “They unloaded some stolen goods on me. Gave me an advance of money. I was supposed to sell the stuff, then turn the profit over to them. Except I’m not good at fencing that crap, and I couldn’t sell it. I spent the money, and they’ve been threatening me.”
“Which is why you’ve been borrowing money from Jaime,” I growl.
Brian’s face goes cherry red. “Yes. I was holding them off, giving them a few hundred here and there. But why would they take Jaime? They know she doesn’t have the type of money I owe them.”
“I suspect they’re holding her for ransom,” I spit out, totally disgusted with him. “Check your phone for messages.”
“It’s downstairs,” he mutters, then hurries that way. While we wait for him, Mr. and Mrs. Dolan get in an argument over their son’s misguided ways and how to handle the situation. Mr. Dolan suggests kicking him out of the house. Personally, I think it’s a moot issue as he’s probably facing jail time for fencing stolen goods.
Brian comes running back up the stairs, jabbing at his phone. He stares at something, gasps, and then turns it to show me.
A simple text from someone listed under the name Boyle. If you want your sister, bring all the money. We’ll be in contact as to where.
“Shit,” I mutter. Another exchange of money for a kidnap victim. It’s my specialty, but I never thought I’d be using my skills to save my wife.
Brusquely, I take his phone from him, planning to have Bebe do an analysis on it. I order all three Dolans to grab their belongings. “You’re coming to Jameson with me until we can get this figured out.”
“What about Laney?” Mr. Dolan asks. “Is she in danger?”
“Probably not since they have Jaime, but I’ll send someone over to pick her up. You’ll need to call her now to fill her in about what’s going on.”
Mr. Dolan nods, nabs his cell phone out of his pocket, and dials his youngest daughter.
CHAPTER 21
Cage
It’s been a whirlwind of activity for the last three hours. Every minute that ticks by that Jaime is not by my side is a minute that builds my fury and fear. It’s not a good combination, and I feel like a bomb ready to go off at any provocation.
I’m proud of everyone at Jameson, and I really appreciate the FBI agent helping us out. Clay seems to have his shit fully together, and he coordinates his resources with ours. We turned over all the information both Bodie and Jackson had gleaned on Brian, then Clay interviewed Brian himself. Jaime’s parents and her sister Laney were safely tucked upstairs in the common area with Joslyn and Anna keeping them company, probably going crazy with fear.
It’s going on nine PM, and Jaime’s been gone for almost seven hours. In my mind, that’s six hours and fifty-nine minutes too long. I’m frustrated we’re still sitting around this conference room table making plans.
“Enough,” I yell, bringing my fist down on the table and getting everyone’s attention. Six people turn their eyes to me—Jackson, Kynan, Bebe, Malik, Clay, and Ladd. “Enough with talking this to death. We have a solid plan. Let’s go do it.”
Kynan’s eyes aren’t warm with empathy for my plight, despite the fact he knows a little something about what I’m going through. Not all that long ago, his wife was being hunted by a stalker and he lost her for a time, too.
Instead, his expression is hard. It says, I’m the boss, and we’re doing this my way.
“We’re being thorough,” Kynan says in a warning tone. “A lot of lives are going to be at stake when we move in to rescue her.”
“Yeah, Jaime’s life,” I snarl. “It’s in peril right now.”
“Calm down, brother,” Jackson says quietly from my left. “We know she’s not been hurt.”
We’ve been told that, but do we really know that? Once I got back to headquarters, and after Clay interviewed Brian, we had him contact the kidnappers. They were indeed a semi-legit, lower-level Irish gang working under a larger mob-controlled organization. If there’s any credit to be given to Brian, it’s that he didn’t hold back any information, spilling everything he knew without even asking for protection or immunity in exchange. I’ll grudgingly admit he seems to feel horrible about Jaime’s current plight, and he’s willing to do anything to fix it.
We have their names, their addresses, and their regular haunts. Brian provided information on how weaponized they were and their skill level in using the guns they’d brandished. They are all young, stupid kids who don’t know their asses from their heads.
&nbs
p; Mainly, what we learned is these guys aren’t very smart. They truly thought this would be an easy little kidnapping, which would knock Brian back in line and force him to get the money by whatever means possible.
Clay carefully coached Brian what to say in a text response to the man known as Glen Boyle, the leader of their little ring. He got Boyle to spell out exactly what he wanted, which was the money plus a moderate amount of interest. Clay then instructed Brian to buy some time by telling him it would take a few hours to get the cash.
Most importantly, Brian asked where they could meet, and Boyle gave him an address.
Kynan immediately deployed Malik, Ladd, and Jackson to do reconnaissance on the address. It was an abandoned ice warehouse, ironically not all that far from Jameson, which is in a very sketchy area of Pittsburgh. Using high-speed infrared scopes, they were able to confirm five people in the building, one sitting on a lone chair, presumably Jaime. It was a classic brick construct, two stories high with a row of dusty paned windows with rotten wooden frames. It was in serious disrepair, and it made the perfect hiding spot for these morons.
Three of the men sat at a table and appeared to be playing cards, and the fourth paced back and forth.
Armed with that information, plus photos of the building from every angle, they came back to Jameson for us to make our plan.
Twenty minutes ago, Clay had Brian call Boyle and demand to talk to Jaime to ensure she was okay. While we didn’t want him to put it on speakerphone, which might alert Boyle others could be listening, Bebe had tapped the signal. It had allowed all of us to sit around the conference room and listen on ear mics.
The relief upon hearing her voice was overpowering, and I had to restrain myself from not grabbing the phone from Brian to tell her I was coming to get her.
“Jaime,” Brian had said when her voice came on the line. His own voice quavered, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but her tone was clipped and angry. Boy, she’d sounded pissed at her brother.
“I’ve got the money,” he told her, which he didn’t. There was no way these scumbags were going to get anything other than handcuffs. “I’ll be bringing it soon.”
Code Name: Rook Page 14
