by Ellie Rowe
“Yes. Okay. Tail him for us, but do not be obvious. We’ll catch up with you, we’re on our way.”
“Your PI?”
“Yes. Max is leaving the club right now, and we think that he knows where Becky is. We need to leave right now and follow him to wherever he’s going.”
And just like that, our moment is over. We throw our clothes back on and head for the door.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my forearm. “We’ll continue this later, I promise.”
I smile and pull him into one last quick kiss, before we run downstairs and head off to save our girl.
Twenty-Four
Becky
The past couple days have been the worst of my life. After Max stuffed me in that van, they took me to some basement. I don’t even know the location, for all I know they could’ve hauled me over state lines- they blindfolded me on the way from the van to the basement.
I haven’t eaten anything, and I’ve refused to let myself sleep. Dozed off a couple times though, despite how hard I tried not to.
They bring me a smoothie and a water twice a day that they try to force me to drink, but I refuse. I don’t want to risk them drugging me or something-who knows what they would do to my unconscious body.
Not to mention that if I eat or drink- I’ll have to go to the bathroom. The bathroom which, I’m assuming, is the single, grimy toilet that’s awkwardly placed in the middle of the basement.
This is my worst nightmare. I tried so carefully to not let something like this happen over the months and months that I’ve spent on this case and preparing for it.
I knew that these people were dangerous, I knew that I wasn’t totally safe- I guess I just thought I was being careful, that I was covering my tracks. Obviously, I wasn’t, or this never would have happened. I mentally kick myself whatever I did to give myself away. There goes my career.
I’ve been going over this and over this in my head, retracing my every step over the last couple of months. Trying to find something that I did wrong, something I forgot to do. Max’s words echo in my head ‘I have cameras in my office.’
I have two bodyguards. I don’t know their names, but I’ve been calling them ‘Grunts’ and ‘Jerky’- only in my head of course.
Grunts is pretty self-explanatory. I’ve never heard even a peep out of him, other than a few grunts here and there when being spoken to. Jerky is named after the jerky he seems to have an unlimited supply of in his pockets. He’s always pulling a piece out and chewing on it. I have to say, the jerky does not add to this basement's already unpleasant smell.
When we first arrived, they threw my down onto this weird metal chair and tied my legs to it in three different places. Then they tied my wrists together so tight that if I move even the slightest bit, they start bleeding. I learned that the first night- my wrists are basically in shreds now. I have zero range of motion whatsoever, so even if Grunts and Jerky weren’t here, there’d be no escaping for me.
Max has been gone most of the time. He drops by sometimes and I’ll hear him yelling orders at people or engaged in some heated phone calls. Other than that, he hasn’t even stepped foot in this basement since we got here, and I have to say- I’m thankful for that.
The one good part about this has been picking up on lots of conversations that people are having- conversations that involve information that would be gold for my investigation. If I ever get out of here, that is.
The first thing I’m going to do if that happens, is call my boss. I’m gonna tell my boss everything I heard and saw- every last thing. Any information could help us find hundreds of criminals that are involved in this shit. And if any of it ends up being useful- maybe they’ll spare my career.
If anything good can come from this, it would be catching people we otherwise never would have. I’m taking a mental note of what every single person I see looks like so that I can give the sketch artist as accurate a description as possible.
Of course, all of this is just something I do to take my mind off of the fact that I might not actually be getting out of this alive. But I can’t let myself think about that. I just can’t.
Each day feels like three days in one. I’m starting to get loopy and nauseous from having no food or water. Maybe today I’ll actually accept the smoothie they give me, and whatever consequences that come with it. I won’t survive this if I starve or dehydrate to death.
Actually, I’d give anything to have that smoothie right now. I can’t think about anything else but that smoothie. My mouth is watering, and I can practically taste it.
Suddenly there’s a sound upstairs and I forget about the smoothie completely. All of my attention goes to what’s going on above me. There’s some shouting that I can’t quite make out, and then someone comes barreling down the stairs.
Max bursts through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs, snarling at me. Every bone in my body stiffens and my heart practically stops beating. This can’t be good.
“Hey pretty girl,” he growls at me.
I don’t acknowledge him. Instead, I stare straight ahead.
“Aww, is someone mad? What’s got you upset? Is it that you can’t see your little boyfriends? Or maybe that your little investigation got cut short?” He laughs.
“Well, then you’re about to be a lot more than upset. I’ve got news for you. One of your little boyfriends- Peter, is it? I thought you’d be interested to know that our deal is final. In just a couple hours, his company will be all mine- and then I can proceed with the rest of my plan.”
Fuck. Now Peter’s life is going to be ruined because of me. Along with everyone else who’s employed there.
“Maybe something will happen to Peter as well…” Max hints.
Finally, I meet his eyes.
“You wouldn’t dare. Do not lay a finger on him. On either of them.”
He chuckles.
“Oh wow. You actually feel something for them, don’t you? This whole time, I thought that was just part of the act. Well, then it looks like you have me to thank for introducing you to them, huh?”
“I will never thank you for anything. You’re a horrible person.”
“You know, you might want to be a little nicer to me, considering your life is in my hands.”
“What am I even doing here? Who are you working for? What’s the fucking end game here?”
“Ahh, yes. You know, I’ve been waiting for you to ask that one. Who am I working for? My boss is Don Carlos. Do you know who Don Carlos is? I’ll tell ya.”
He walks closer to me and leans down so that his mouth is next to my ear, and I can smell his rancid breath.
“Don Carlos is the drug lord who killed your father.”
He backs away and stares at me, waiting for a reaction. My blood boils.
I try not to give him that satisfaction, but my anger gets the best of me. I can’t believe that this guy is connected with the sick fuck that killed my Dad. In this moment, I want to scream, yell, and hurt someone, very, very badly. But most of all, I just really want to fucking cry. This is too much. I don’t want to be here anymore.
“How did you know about that?” I manage to sputter out.
“Honey, I know everything about everyone that sets foot into the Wiggle Jiggle. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out who you were? We’re professionals- why do you think we’ve gone this long without getting caught?”
Another chuckle. Man, this guy’s laugh alone really makes me want to punch him in the balls.
“anyway, Becky, it’s the end of the line for you. Peter’s money will be all mine in less than a couple hours. You’ve been deemed unnecessary by my boss. Which means that I can do anything I want to you as long as it ends with you being buried next to your pathetic father-”
“Don’t talk about him, do not talk about my father!” I scream, tears running down my face. I try moving my hands to hit him, not caring about the pain that gives me.
He grabs my neck.
“Do not interrup
t me,” he whispers, tightening his grip around my neck and spitting on my face as he talks.
“Oh, Becky Becky Becky,” he trails a finger up my thigh, and I recoil as much as I can under these ropes.“I am going to have so much fun fucking-”
There’s a loud commotion upstairs, like what sounds like people fighting.
He looks from the stairs to me, seeming to decide something. He makes his way to the stairs, and something tells me that whatever’s going on upstairs might be the thing that saves me.
Twenty-Five
Darian
“You really think he won’t see us?” I ask Peter. “I mean, an Aston Martin isn’t exactly discrete.”
“It’s more discrete than a fucking limo,” he replies, throwing an annoyed glance my way. “I’m keeping my distance. He won’t see us coming, I promise you.” True to his word, Peter keeps three cars between us and Max’s Hummer. Like the asshole that he is, Max enjoys being driven around New York in an extravagant Hummer with spinning rims, as if he’s some kind of hip-hop mogul.
“Now, how about you get us some backup?” Peter says. “I mean, we have no idea where Max’s leading us. For all we know, he might have an army waiting for us. I think I can take a couple of guys on my own, but...”
He leaves the rest unsaid.
“Yeah, on it.” I grab my phone and make a quick call to my head security. Once I have his assurance that his men are on the move, I push the phone back into my pocket. Up ahead, Max’s Hummer makes a sharp turn left, heading straight into Queens. The traffic’s as thick here as it was on the main avenues, and so we manage to remain undetected. For how long, I can’t really say.
“Alright, he’s pulling in.” Peter pulls the Aston over, and we watch as the Hummer rolls into the underground level of some weathered building. “What do we do now? I say we burst in and beat that fucking asshole into a pulp. ‘Cause if he has Becky...”
“We can’t roll in like that,” I tell him. Jesus, sometimes it feels like I’m talking to a kid. “You’ve said it yourself. We have no idea how many of Max’s minions might be waiting inside. We have to wait for the cavalry to get here.”
Thankfully, it isn’t long before three Range Rovers pull up next to us. A small army of my own, clad in black suits and earpieces instead of armor, climbs down from inside the cars. I point at the building and Townshend, my head of security, gives me a quick nod. Just like that, his men start surrounding the building.
“No way am I going to let these guys take the lead,” Peter snaps, and then he’s out of the car. For once, I don’t protest. He has the right of it. We have these guys as backup, but we should be the ones dealing with Max.
We lead the way into the building, Townshend’s men trailing after us, and we’re immediately greeted by two giants with shaved heads. Their eyebrows shoot up once they realize just how many men they’re facing, but they still reach for the guns on their belts. Before they can get to them, Peter and I let out a warcry and charge them, tackling them to the ground like linebackers.
“Where’s your boss?” I growl, pinning one of the men to the ground. He snarls something intelligible, and so I slap some sense into him. “Where the fuck is your boss? Tell me right fucking now, or I’m going to rip your tongue out and make lasagna with it.”
Afraid of a new career as a lasagna, the man points a meaty finger to a rusty door. “The basement,” he whimpers. “He’s down in the basement...with the woman.”
Peter and I exchange a glance, and then we’re off. We go down some wobbly staircase and emerge in a dank and dimly lit basement. There, my eyes are immediately drawn to the center of the room. Becky’s there, tied up to a chair, and blood is welling up from a cut on her lip.
“Motherfucker,” I growl, rage taking over me.
I look around the basement, looking for someone I can unleash my rage on, and that’s when I notice Max. He’s surrounded by four men, all of them carrying guns, and his eyes widen when he notices us. In fact, they widen so damn much I’m actually surprised they haven’t jumped out from their sockets.
“Don’t even think about it!” Townshend bellows, his gun at the ready. Max’s minions, who were about to reach for their own guns, hesitate. Knowing they’re defeated, they take a step back from their boss and hold their arms up.
“Take care of them,” I tell Townshend, “but leave that fat asshole to me.”
“And to me,” Peter echoes, and the two of us march toward Max, cracking our knuckles as we go.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Max shouts, taking a step back. He spits at our feet, and then reaches for a gun he keeps tucked on his belt. Before he can pull it loose, I close the distance between us and introduce him to my fist. I feel his nose breaking with a satisfying crunch, and Max stumbles back and falls over.
“What does it look like?” Peter asks him, standing over him like an executioner. He points an angry finger at Becky. “Did you really think you could mess with her? Did you really think we were gonna let that happen?”
“I don’t give a shit about the woman,” Max snarls.
“But you do give a fuck about your business,” I say, glaring at him. “You thought you could use us, didn’t you? Too bad we saw it coming from a mile away.”
“Did you?” He laughs and, when he does, his teeth are covered in blood. “You saw nothing, you idiots. Peter here has already signed the papers. You’re too late, fuckers. The money is already working its way through Peter’s company, and it’s my legal right to have a seat at the table.”
“Is that so?” Peter grins, and then goes down on one knee in front of Max. He pinches the fat bastard’s nose with his thumb and index finger, and only lets go when the man starts to whimper in pain. “Well, here’s something you don’t know: I knew what you were doing, so I got in touch with the banks. I have powerful friends in the banking sector, and they were more than happy to hear about your entrepreneurial spirit. So much that they got in touch with the FBI, which in turn called their friends at the DOJ.”
“What...what are you talking about?” Max stammers, his confidence giving way to panic. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Oh, you can bet your ass it is,” Peter laughs. “All the money you were trying to launder is now seized. And do you want to know the best part? The DOJ has offered me a 25% cut as a reward. So, yeah...not only are you about to take residence in a federal prison, your ass is now broke.”
“I’m gonna get you for this,” he growls, his panic now replaced by unbridled fury. “You’re as good as dead. The man I work with will not stand for—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I punch him in the nose again. Max slumps to the ground, unconscious. “Fucking hell, all that yappering was givin’ me an headache.”
“Guys, do you mind giving me a hand?” I hear Becky say. Still tied to the chair, she arches one eyebrow and gives us an amused smile. “I appreciate you coming here, but I wouldn’t mind being untied. Unless that’s what you guys are into.”
“We’re into anything,” Peter laughs. “Just as long as you’re a part of it.”
Twenty-Six
Peter
My heart only stops hammering once we arrive at my penthouse. It’s the closest apartment to the location where Becky was being held, and no one protested when I suggested it.
“I guess I have some explaining to do,” I admit, slamming the door shut with my heel. Sighing, I watch as Darian leads Becky to the couch. I gotta get used to the sight of them together. “Or, rather, I think I owe you an apology. I should’ve been upfront about all this.”
“You should,” Darian says, but there’s a warmth to his voice. He had every right to be angry, since I kept him in the dark about my plans, but he isn’t. Just like me, he only cares that Becky’s safe...and now she is. The rest doesn’t really matter. “You could’ve trusted us on this, Peter. We could’ve helped you.”
“Maybe.” I cross the room and sit beside Becky, my legs brushing against hers. Just that little is e
nough to make my heart race. “I just wanted to make sure Max would follow through. I didn’t want to tell you about it and then…” I shrug. “Well, I didn’t want Max to bail at the last moment. That would just make me look like a fool. But had I known that he would try to hurt you…”
“He tried.” Becky smiled, her parted lips the color of a ripe pomegranate. Someone should create the ‘Most Kissable Woman on Earth’ award, and deliver it to her doorstep. Fuck me, her lips look like God’s gift to men. “But you didn’t let it happen.” She lays her hand on top of mine, and then turns and does the same with Darian. “You came through, the two of you. When I needed you the most, you put your differences aside...and you came to me. You saved my life.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
I just look deep into her eyes, my mind drawing a blank.
For the first time since we left Max’s hideout, I realize that Becky isn’t rattled. Any other woman would be sobbing, still reeling from everything that happened...but that’s not Becky. She has hidden pools of raw strength inside her. That just makes me like her even more. I don’t even know how that’s possible, but there you go.
She’s beautiful, she’s charming, and she’s strong.
“You’re right,” I finally say, the words coming out of my mouth so easily you’d think I had rehearsed them. “We did what needed to be done, and we stopped acting like complete assholes.” I suck in a deep breath and turn to Darian, locking my eyes on his. “And I owe you an apology, man. Not just for the last couple of weeks, but for the last couple of years as well...hell, I should even apologize for what happened back in college. That shit with Vanessa...”
I hold my breath, not sure of what he’s going to say.
Then, Darian smiles.
He fucking smiles.
“Apologies accepted,” he says, that warmth returning to his voice. “But I think I should apologize too. You weren’t the only one to blame, after all. I guess you could say I’ve been acting like an asshole too.”
