“You don’t understand Trevor. There are so many things I can’t tell you. He made me promise not to, but if you knew, there’s no way you’d be pushing me to stay.”
“Does this have to do with what happened yesterday?”
“Yes.”
The ticket agent waved them forward and Annie didn’t hesitate to request two tickets on the first flight to Phoenix. There was a nonstop flight departing in forty-five minutes and the tickets were twelve hundred each given the short notice, but she had no qualms. That’s what credit cards were for.
As the agent ran her card she glanced over at Trevor who was typing on his phone. “Oh my god, who are you texting?” she slapped the phone out of his hand and it slammed to the floor.
“What the hell Annie? What’s your problem? I was just texting John.”
That’s what Trevor called him, but she knew what name he really went by: Stetson. He was one of Brax’s private investigators, planted as a love interest for Trevor. “No. No. What did you say? You didn’t tell him did you? He’s in on it Trevor. He’ll tell him. He’ll tell Brax. You can’t say anything. You can’t talk to him again.”
Trevor bent down to pick up his phone, a large crack now graced the screen and he sighed in frustration. “I’m going to need you to calm down. Are you insinuating Braxton knows John? It didn’t seem like that last night during dinner.”
“He was pretending. He didn’t want us to know they knew each other. John works for Brax. The whole reason he was at that biker bar was to keep an eye on me. Don’t you think it’s weird that your gay, jock boyfriend was at a biker bar?”
Trevor inhaled deep. “Now that you mention it, yes, it’s a little strange. I’d ask him about it, but apparently I’m not allowed to talk to him anymore.”
“I’m sorry Trevor. I messed this up for us. Just please believe me. If you tell him where we are, or what we’re doing, Brax will be down here in no time. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to make sure I don’t get on that plane, and I need to leave. I want to leave.” She took the tickets from the agent and stepped to the side, pulling Trevor along with her. “Come on. We have a five-hour flight where we can talk. Let’s go get through security and then you can ask me anything you want and I’ll explain as best as I can.
Braxton sat at the restaurant waiting. He arrived ten minutes early and requested a table on the rooftop so they could overlook the ocean. The place was newly remodeled, but the view was just as spectacular as he remembered. It was the restaurant his mother used to wait tables in. After spending almost every afternoon there when he was a young boy, he hadn’t been back in almost fifteen years. It felt good, like a homecoming of sorts, and he couldn’t wait to show it to Bethany. He sent a text to Greg to find out his ETA when another text came through.
Trevor Barker: 911 at airp 12:54pm
What the fuck? What was he trying to tell him? Fucking auto correct. He considered calling him, but decided to try Bethany instead. The phone rang several times and he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she finally picked up. “Hey B where are you?”
“I’m on my way. You said to meet at one right?”
“Yes, one, you’re fine. I’m just anxious to see you that’s all.”
“Me too. I want to see you be charming for once. Sounds sexy.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Always conceited.”
“Not conceded, just confident.”
She laughed at their long running joke. “I don’t know where this place is, but it looks like we’re in your neighborhood so we should be there soon.”
“My neighborhood? Baby the restaurant’s in Brooklyn. It better not look like you’re in my fucking neighborhood.”
“I don’t know. It all looks the same to me. I’m sure we’ll be there soon. Greg how much longer until we’re there?” She paused for him to answer. “Fifteen minutes. So we’ll be a little late, but not too bad.”
“Then I’ll see you when you get here. I want to talk to you about something too.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
She hung up and Braxton saw Greg had texted him back.
Prob 40 min. Still waiting for her to call for pickup. 12:56pm
Confused by the text he instantly pressed the call sender button.
“Yes boss?”
“She’s in the car, right? You’re on your way?”
“No. I told you. She still hasn’t called for me to pick her up.”
Braxton slammed his fist on the table, the other customers glancing his way. She fucking lied to him. A straight up lie and he was so entranced by her he didn’t even notice. It looked like his neighborhood. That should have been his first clue. “Where is she?”
“I dropped her off at the airport. She said she just needed to run in and get—” He didn’t wait to hear Greg finish explaining and jerked up from his chair, letting it fall backward.
“What airport? How long ago?”
“JFK. Twenty minutes ago.”
Hanging up the phone he ran down the stairs and out to the curb where he hailed a cab. The first cab he’d been in for years. He threw the cabbie five one hundred dollar bills. “All yours if you can get me to JFK in fifteen minutes.”
The cab driver stepped on the gas speeding through the streets, often slipping into oncoming traffic to pass cars blocking his way. If he weren’t so angry he would have been impressed.
Instead of calling Bethany back he dialed Trevor.
“Hey dad, what’s going on?” Trevor’s inconspicuous answer let him know Bethany was close by.
“When’s your flight?”
“We’re about to board in ten minutes.”
“What the fuck happened? You couldn’t have sent me a better text? A little more warning.”
“I know. I thought I was going to have to wait around here all day to get a flight out, but Annie surprised me right when we got to the airport and bought me a ticket.”
“She told you she was staying. I heard her say it. What changed?” He was trying to stay as calm as possible. If he started yelling she might hear him through the phone. “And seriously. Annie? Explain. Now.”
“Dad, can we talk about this later?”
“Stall her. Go get a drink and spill it on yourself. Make her wait around while you clean it up. I’m on my way.”
The cab pulled up to JFK in fourteen minutes flat. Braxton left his gun on the seat and didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop before he was out and running.
When he reached the ticket counter he cut the entire line claiming an emergency and bought a first class ticket to Lansing. The next flight departed in forty minutes. That had to be the one they were on.
He ran toward security and bypassed the line with his priority ticket, but still had to wait for the slow-ass seniors to take their sweet fucking time. When he reached the metal detector he practically stripped down to his underwear to avoid any additional wait and was cleared immediately. He didn’t bother to put his shoes back on, nor did he pick them up. He just ran. Ran as fast as he could until he reached the gate. It was calm. People were still seated, no boarding line formed. He spun in a circle searching for them everywhere. Where the fuck were they?
Reaching for his phone in his pocket he came up empty handed. In his haste to get to the gate he left everything behind at security. Including his cell phone. “Shit!” he screamed out and a mother with two young boys glared up at him from her spot on the floor. “Mind your own business you fucking cunt.”
He didn’t know what to do, go back and get his phone? It was the only option. He ran back the way he came, stopping to check the nearest bathroom on the way. “Annie!” he called out like a mad man, the name flowing wrong out of his mouth. He darted through the bathroom, pushing open stalls, not caring he was in the ladies room.
When he was sure she wasn’t in there he continued back to security. They had his shoes, wallet and cell phone waiting with one of the guards. The officer checked the ID to c
onfirm the items were his and then handed them over. He shoved his wallet into his pocket and dialed Trevor. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Dad. I said we’d talk about it later. I know you and mom are having problems, but I’m literally boarding my flight right now. We should land in Phoenix in less than six hours. I’ll call you then.”
“Phoenix? You live in Phoenix?”
“Yes. Bye dad.”
The line went dead and Braxton thought he was going to puke. She lied to him about everything. Did she tell the truth about anything? Did she have feelings for him or was that all a lie too? He believed her, he trusted her. She said he could trust her. She was so sincere and yet it was all a lie. How could he have been so stupid? He told her everything. She could ruin him.
Running over to the closest agent he demanded the gate number for the next flight to Phoenix. Turns out he wasn’t even with the right airline or the right terminal.
Braxton sat down in one of the waiting chairs, defeated and angry. All his happiness from the morning sucked out of him in less time than it takes to watch a comedy sitcom. He was the joke now. She played him for a fool. If she thought he’d roll over and take this lightly, she was mistaken. She just challenged him to a fight, perhaps unintentionally, but fighting was what he did best. He always won, no matter the cost, and right now he had nothing to lose. She did though. She had everything and he was going to take it from her, piece-by-piece until she had nothing left. Until the only thing, the only person she had in the world was him, and he’d make her crawl back on hands and knees, begging for his forgiveness.
The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing, getting ready for war. He hoped she was ready because like it or not, he was coming for her, prepared to take back what was his.
The first call he placed was to Roland, his PI. No wonder he couldn’t get any information on her, he was given the wrong intel, was looking in all the wrong places.
“Cage, I still have nothing for you. Your girl’s a fucking ghost. I have several hits, but they’re not her. The descriptions don’t add up.”
“I don’t doubt your skills my friend, just mine. I gave you the wrong information. The name you are searching for is Annie Andrews and she lives in Phoenix. I’m going to text you a picture, maybe you’ll get some hits on that because I have no idea if Andrews is even her real last name. Her best friend is Trevor Barker. Check his Facebook page.”
Braxton knew he could get the information out of Trevor, but he didn’t want to wait six hours, he needed it now. And Bethany, or Annie, or whatever the fuck her name is also had six hours to herself with Trevor. Who knew what she’d say, if he’d break and turn back to her side. “And one more thing Roland. I need you to take me off the grid. I want to disappear for a while.”
“No problem. Are you in trouble?”
“No, not me. Someone else. I just want you to erase everything. After tonight I want to be a ghost. I don’t want anyone to know where I am, where I’m going, where I went. I want to be untraceable.”
As he walked out of the airport Greg was already waiting, ready to take him where he needed to go. He continued his calls on the drive. One to Benny, telling him their meeting would be moved up a day and another to his lawyer, David Sance, letting him know he would be MIA for quite some time and that he would sign over power of attorney for Cage Industries to his Chief Financial Officer for a period not longer than three months. Bethany tore him apart in just one week, but he’d need more time than that for what he had in store for her.
During the call David told him something that irked him even more; he knew her name was Annie as well. He tried to tell him outside the police station and Braxton dismissed him, claiming he wanted to hear about it from her, not understanding what David wanted to tell him.
He felt like an utter schmuck. He’d been played and looked like an idiot. How many times in front of her friends had he called her Bethany? No one even flinched to correct him. And Trevor, why the fuck in God’s name didn’t he say something before today. They had a deal. The only one who remotely came close to telling him was Sara and that’s just because she was drunk. She let it slip twice and he still didn’t catch on. Who else saw him make a total ass of himself?
Before stopping at home, Braxton had Greg swing by BNY Mellon. He needed to make a withdraw. He still had her debit card in his wallet and it made him sick to think he trusted her enough to add her to an account worth twenty-five million dollars, but at least he never gave her the card. He wanted to close the account, was going to use the money to finance his new little endeavor, but his calls in the car steered him in a different direction. He couldn’t stand the idea of one more person knowing how stupid he’d been. It’s not like he would outright tell his banker what happened, but he’d probably assume.
“Mr. Cage, good to see you again so soon,” said Tom, reaching out a hand to shake. “How’s your fiancé? She’s a beautiful girl. You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it. She’s doing good. Out west visiting family, but she’ll be home soon. I’ll bring her back by, this time with an ID,” he laughed.
“Good good. Well what can I do for you?”
“I need to make a withdraw. How much cash do you have on hand? Thirty million?”
Tom whistled before replying. “The most I could get you today is ten. When do you need the rest? I could move things around and get it to you within a week.”
“No, a week’s too long. I leave tonight for that business trip I was telling you about. Ten will be just fine. I have other assets I can use to make up the difference.”
“Yes sir. What account did you want this pulled from?”
“The joint off-shore will be just fine. I think my girl can manage with only fifteen,” he joked while plastering a fake smile to his face. She’d never fucking touch that money. He was going to cut up that debit card into little fucking pieces.
The SUV pulled up out front of his high-rise and Braxton instructed Greg to standby. He briskly walked in, cursing the elevator for making him wait.
When the doors finally opened to his loft, he took the stairs two at a time and found two, large, black duffle bags. The first he filled with clothes, not bothering to take them off the hanger as he tossed them in the bag.
Then, removing a wall panel in the back of his closet concealing a recessed safe, he entered the six-digit code to spring open the door and reveal what he kept hidden for years for an emergency situation like this: a passport, ID and over twenty million dollars in bonds and cash cards; all made out to a person he thought about every day, but the cops would never think to look for. They probably didn’t know he existed or had any relation to Braxton in the first place.
He replaced the ID in his wallet with the new one, and moved the safe’s contents to the second duffle. After closing the safe and replacing the wall panel he went back downstairs to his office, checking his laptop for any new emails. The one he was waiting for was on top. He printed the documents, signed them and scanned and emailed them back to David. Everything was coming together.
Before leaving he went online and chartered a private jet listing two stops needed, the first to Attica, and the second, Phoenix, Arizona. He picked up the two duffels resting by his feet and brought the straps over each shoulder. As he walked out he sent a text to his girl. He always was a symbolic motherfucker. She might think she’s safe, that she fooled him and he would never find her, but she thought wrong.
Two wings of the great eagle were given to the woman so that she might fly to her place and be nourished for a time from the face of the serpent. 1:40pm
Two
THE BEGINNING
Southwest flight 573 pushed from the gate. The blue clad, ground crew waved their lights to help the plane taxi toward the runway while a flight attendant stood up front, holding a seat belt to demonstrate how to sit properly secured.
Annie hated flying, it made her feel out of control. She didn’t like having to trust her life in the hands of s
omeone else. Who did? But it was especially trifling for her. She was a control freak. Sure she pretended to be easy going, but on the inside, that was a different story. Everything she did was calculated, thought out, planned. If it weren’t, people would see right through her. They’d notice she was a little off, her mind playing by a different set of rules.
The plane picked up speed down the runway, the noise of the engine echoed loud in her ears and the pressure of lift off pressed her deep into the seat. Annie’s hands held tight to the metal arm rests, squeezing until they turned white. Trevor reached over and placed a hand on top of hers, the comforting gesture doing little to subdue her fears.
A child seated in the row behind them kicked her seat and every time his foot hit, her heart would jump from her chest, sure of their imminent demise. And it didn’t help she was seated in coach, when she should have been in first class. It felt so much better up there, safer even. In first class you’re nestled near the cockpit, but far back enough to not be affected as hard from an emergency landing. You’re also away from the wings. What if one breaks off and you’re sucked out of the side of the plane? What if the plane crash lands and you live through that, but are then trampled on the way toward the nearest exit? In coach there are fifty plus people fighting to get out one door. In first class, it’s usually less than twenty. Annie had thought a lot about this. Every time she flew her brain would take over and think of every disaster that could possibly happen. It only ended once they were safely in the air, coasting at a smooth altitude, and if turbulence hit, forget it.
After fifteen minutes of pure hell the plane finally evened out, the fasten seat belt sign turned off and her erratic heart beat returned to normal.
“Feel better?” Trevor asked, letting go of her hand and wiping the sweat on the leg of his pants.
“Getting there. A vodka diet would help.”
“I’ll get the first round.”
“You don’t have to do that Trevor. You just lost your job, I’m not letting you pay for my drink.”
Caged Page 3
