I wind up being asked to do an interview with a station, so I accept. Caleb would have wanted me to. Once the interview is over, I start walking towards the starting line for the run with a microphone in hand. I’ll be announcing the start of the run once Alex is finished speaking. This is when I bump into fucking Donte. I run smack into him because he’s being a dumbass not watching where he’s going. I frown, and I see that he’s got his little thug buddies with him –they all have numbers pinned to their shirts, so I guess they came to do the marathon run. “Yo, Trial!” Donte says my name as though we are old friends.
I frown. “Not now, man,” I warn.
“Come on, I came to be supportive,” he says. “And to get my face on television, of course. You know you really started something with those comments you made about female boxers earlier this year, right? All the media wants to talk about is whether or not this sports guy or that sports guy is sexist or not. Got to make sure they see me running for the fundraiser to help out the ladies, right? You sure did make it easier for me to get some publicity this way. I volunteered at a Girl Scout thing last week, and people went nuts.”
I roll my eyes. “Good for you, Donte.”
“Yo, let’s see if we can’t get one of those anchors to interview us together. Bet that would really hype everyone up for our fight,” he says.
Is this guy serious? Literally every other time I’m talking to him he’s making crude remarks about Brandi, threatening me, fighting with me, or just generally being a dick. Does he really think I’m going to help him with a publicity stunt? “Maybe later, I’ve got to get this thing started,” I say and walk away from him in a hurry.
“Fine, whatever you say,” he says.
I make my way towards the startup line, and my phone goes off again. The text reads: Start talking, or else. What do you know? What did you tell the police?
I glance back at Donte, but he’s not on his phone. He’s chatting with his thug buddies and stretching his legs for the run. I text back: Fuck off, or I’ll call the cops. I grab the microphone, and I speak into it. “All right everyone! Let’s get this thing started!” the crowd cheers. I run through some last minute announcements, and I send the runners on their way. My phone buzzed four time during the announcements, and I roll my eyes.
I flip it out, ready to call the number to see what sort of dipshit I’m dealing with, and I see I have been sent three pictures and a text message. I hesitate opening them, but I do it anyways. My stomach drops. I see Tyler, Mary, and Laurel all tied up with duct tape over their mouths –their eyes wide in fear. I feel a panicky, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I read the last text message that had been sent to my phone: Are you ready to talk now?
83
The runners have just taken off when I read the text message. My heart jumps up into my throat, and I spot Marty, Amy, LaWanda, Katie, Eleanor, and Britany all chatting –about to get in on the run. I run right up to them before they have a chance to join in on the run; I’m in an absolute panic, and they see it in my eyes. “Whoa, easy there, big guy,” Lawanda says, holding up a hand as though to stop me from running right into them.
“Tyler, Laurel, and Mary are in trouble,” I say, and I shove my phone in to Marty’s hand.
He kind of rolls his eyes at me as though he thinks I’m playing some sort of joke. When he sees the message, his shoulders stiffen. “What the fuck is this?” he shrieks. He shows Amy, and the horrified look on her face is enough to get the fighters in on it –they all take the phone to see what is going on.
Because most of the other runners have departed, we stand out from the crowd. Brandi, who is not running the race, comes up to us pushing Ambriel’s stroller. “Aren’t you guys running the race?” she asks.
“Tyler, Laurel, and Mary are in trouble,” Marty says quickly.
“Mary’s parents were just asking me if I’d seen her –what sort of trouble?” Brandi questions, so I show her the texts. “Oh my God! Surely this is some sort of bad joke, right?”
“I don’t think so,” I say.
Mariana suddenly comes running up to us from the carnival rides; she looks annoyed. “Have you guys seen Tyler anywhere?” she hisses. “I’ve been looking for him for half an hour.”
Brandi passes the phone to her, and she covers her mouth. “I’m calling the police,” Brandi says, whipping out her phone.
My phone buzzes. Police= Bodies. “Wait,” I say quickly and show off the latest text message. Another text comes in: Go back to the gym and wait for instructions.
We all cringe, but we obey. We enter into the gym, and I point a finger at Bobby who is behind the counter. “Call the police, Bobby,” I say, and Bobby raises an eyebrow –not having been let in on what’s going on just yet.
“Wait, they said no police,” Britany says.
“What else are we supposed to do?” I snap, and I explain to Bobby what’s going on. “Ask them to send officers in unmarked vehicles,” I say. “We don’t know what will happen to Tyler, Laurel, and Mary if this lunatic hears sirens.”
Bobby gets on it right away. Seconds later, Gabe’s parents are bursting through the door. They have apparently been looking for Mary for close to an hour, and they’ve reached full panic mode. We look at them sympathetically, and Marty pulls them aside to tell them what is going on. I stand aside with Brandi, my hand is shaking.
My phone buzzes, and when I raise it to look everyone looks my way. Your life for theirs. I tell all of them what it says. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jonathan,” Brandi says quickly.
“I won’t,” I assure her.
Put some distance between you and your bitch.
I frown, and I decide not to show it. The phone keeps going off, but I don’t show anyone what’s being said. My mind is going a hundred miles an hour. Come on, Trial, walk away.
My stomach churns slightly. I get sent another picture of Mary, and she’s bawling. Marty looks my way, and he comes up to me, pulling me aside. “All right, show me what you’re not showing the rest of them,” he demands, reading right through me.
I show him the latest texts. “Let the police handle it, Jonathan,” he says. “You don’t know what this is about.” The phone buzzes again while in his hands, and his eyes widen.
“What?” I ask and snatch the phone away. Another picture –this time of Tyler, and his face is bloodied. The text reads: Hurry up.
“Don’t be stupid,” Marty says.
The phone goes off again; I’m afraid to look, but I do. It’s Laurel, and her lip is busted. I can’t just sit here. I have to do something. I bolt before Marty can stop me, heading down the hall and leaving through the back exit. I get a text just as I am headed into the parking lot. Your buddy Tyler is going to be the first to go. I text the number back: Tell me what you want me to do.
I feel someone grip my shoulder, and I spin around to see that Marty and Bobby have both chased me out into the parking lot. “Whoever this is says they’re going to kill Tyler,” I snap. “They want me. I don’t want them to get hurt because of me, all right?”
“Then let us go with you,” Bobby says. “You don’t know what you’re about to walk into. The police are on their way, though.”
“By the time they get here, our friends could be dead,” I say.
My phone buzzes. Get a cab.
It’s not like this freak is giving us any choice. We wave down a cab, and the three of us load up. I give the cab driver the address I had been texted, and we drive just outside of the city. I text Brandi the address so that she knows where to send the police. She texts me back a middle finger emoji with a short rant about running off. She does care, I’ll give her that.
The address takes us straight to the docks; we pay the cab driver and start walking around. I try calling the number, but no one answers. “Man, why are we here? Someone’s going to fucking shoot us,” Marty grumbles, and then we hear it.
“Help!” It’s a distant cry that is almost drowned out by the water.
“Help!” Tyler’s voice sounds gurgled.
“Shit!” Bobby shouts and starts running down the dock, “He’s in the water!”
Marty and I take off after Bobby, and I spot Tyler up ahead. He’s dangling over the side of the docks, his ankles tied and his head dangling in the water. I hear him choking and spitting up water as the tide gets higher and higher. “Shit, shit, shit!” I hear Marty screaming as he drops down to his knees and leans over. “I can’t fucking get to him!”
I climb over the railing after tossing my phone down; Tyler does a pull up to get his head out of the water for a minute, and he coughs and gags. He loses his strength and goes back down, his head going under. “Untie him!” I shout, but Marty and Bobby aren’t able to.
I grab hold of the rope tying his ankles to the docks. With my feet against the wooden dock, I pull back with my body –gripping the rope tight. I hear the wood from the railing snap, and Tyler and I go falling back into the water. Only now do I see that his wrists are tied; I grab hold of him. He chokes and gags, and he’s still in a panic. His face is blood red –probably from being hung upside down for God knows how long. “I got you,” I say to him.
“Oh God, oh God,” he sobs.
I’m not the best swimmer, but I’m not about to go down like this. The swim to shore is ridiculous, and trying to pull Tyler along with me is near impossible. I watch Marty and Bobby walking back up the dock, looking down at us in horror. “We’re going to drown,” Tyler cries when we go under together several times. It’s not like I can stop to get him untied.
Suddenly I am by the edge of the water near where the boats are floating, and Marty and Bobby are hovering over us after having climbed onto an unmanned vessel. “Come on, Tyler, we got you,” Marty says, and he and Bobby pull Tyler up first and then me.
I collapse to my hands and knees, panting. Tyler is shaken, but apart from what appears to be a broken nose and a near drowning experience, he seems all right, that is, until I see him gripping his side and doubling over in pain. “What happened? Are you all right?” I snarl.
“They fucking stabbed me,” he says and holds up a now bloodied hand.
“Shit,” Marty says, putting a hand on Tyler’s shoulder.
“Bobby, call an ambulance,” I say. “Who did this to you, Tyler?”
“It’s fucking Vivian,” Tyler says, and I raise a brow.
“Vivian?” I question. “Vivian? Really?”
I hadn’t expected that. I mean, I know the woman is crazy, but this is a new level of crazy –even for her. “She’s got some muscle with her,” Tyler says to reassure us that Vivian hadn’t been the one to take him down.
“Bobby, stay with Tyler,” I say and head back down the dock to grab my phone. I send a text: I know it’s you, Vivian.
As I am walking back towards the guys, I receive a text. I guess your buddy Tyler made it. Oh, but you don’t know the half of it.
“Jonathan,” Marty warns, “let the police handle the rest.”
“Vivian has Laurel and Mary,” I say. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to ignore that. Stay here with Bobby and Tyler, but I’m going after this crazy bitch.”
“Fine, but I’m not letting you go by yourself,” Marty says. “Maybe we can buy the police some time.”
I receive an address in a new text. Bobby stays behind with Tyler, but Marty and I head straight to the dragons lair.
84
After almost losing Tyler, I am damn near ready to strangle Vivian. I had no idea she was this crazy… I mean, she did total my Ferrari and show up to my job to sexually harass me in front of my clients, but this? This is next level psychotic. Marty and I arrive outside of an old, abandoned warehouse, and we scope out the place before getting to close. We’re able to climb up a fire escape and peer in through a high window, and there’s Vivian.
In the corner, we can see Laurel and Mary tied up and two big guys standing nearby watching them. Vivian’s on the phone, getting ready to send a text. Probably to me. I text Brandi and give her the address –letting her know so that she can tell the police exactly where to go. I get a text back from Brandi that reads: They’re on their way. Stall, but don’t do anything stupid, Jonathan, please!
I send Brandi a reassuring text that I won’t just as Vivian’s latest message beeps in. It reads: Tick-tock. The kid is next.
“We can’t go in there,” Marty says. “They’ve got guns, and they’re obviously after you. She’ll shoot you dead, man.”
“Brandi said to stall,” I say, so I send Vivian a text. “Let’s try this.”
I text her: We’re on the way. I can’t find where you’re talking about. Are you sure that’s the right address? Please don’t hurt them, I swear, I’m coming.
“She’s not going to fall for that,” Marty says.
“Let’s just hope it gives her time to think about it,” I say. “The police should be here soon.”
“If she hurts Mary, I’m going to kill her,” Marty says. “She’s just a kid. Why would she bring her into this?”
“I don’t know, but this is messed up,” I say. I stare down into the window at Laurel. She looks more pissed than scared. That’s my girl.
“We should get down before they spot us,” Marty says just as I hear a gunshot.
“Fuck!” I shriek, and I look down at the ground where a third guy is pointing a gun up at us. What takes place next happens so suddenly, yet I feel as though I am watching it in slow motion. I glance over, and I see Marty gripping his side. I see his eyes widen and then narrow, and he steps back. I fling my arm out to grab him, but I’m not fast enough. He falls –far. I hear a loud thud as he falls two stories down, landing flat on his back. “Marty!” I scream, and I feel my throat tighten.
“Come down,” the man with the gun says. “Or I’ll put a bullet in his head.”
It’s not like I have a choice. I climb down the ladders, and my initial instinct is to go towards Marty. He’s laying out flat on his back, his eyes closed. “Marty?” I question; he doesn’t move.
“Inside,” the man says to me, and I look at him for the first time.
In my panic, I hadn’t realized who it was. “Donte,” I growl. I try to keep my head. I look over at Marty. “He needs an ambulance.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Donte snarls. “Inside, now, or I’ll finish the job.”
It’s not like I have a choice. Fucking Donte! I fucking knew it. But a lot of this still isn’t making sense. Why are Donte and Vivian working together, and what the hell do they even want? I glance back towards Marty. “Marty!” I call out again, hoping that he will at least flinch to let me know that he’s okay. He doesn’t move.
“Go!” Donte snaps, and I feel the hot barrel of the gun burn through my shirt against my back. I do as he says. I keep glancing back at Marty. I can’t lose another one of my friends. I’m going to kill this son of a bitch.
85
We enter into the warehouse, and I can see Vivian smirk my way. That’s not all I see, though. I see Laurel quickly flinch and return her hands behind her back; she had been trying to untie Mary. I try not to smile at the realization that Laurel had untied herself. Good. I glare at Vivian. “What the hell is this about, Vivian?” I snarl, and Vivian just huffs my way.
“You’re finished, Trial,” Donte says to me.
“Fine, but let them go. They didn’t do anything to either one of you,” I say, nodding towards Laurel and Mary.
“You really think I’m going to let them go after everything they’ve seen?” Donte looks towards the two men standing by Vivian. “And good job letting Tyler go, dipshits. He only saw this bitch, but I bet she’d double cross me for a little less jail time in a heartbeat.”
Vivian rolls her eyes. “You know me so well, Donte. We’ll handle Tyler. You know I have connections.”
“What sort of connections do you have, Vivian?” I question.
“Remember that model
ing job I got?” she smirks. “I only got it because their original model had a little accident. I had my guy handle it. I think you’ve seen his mug shot, but there are more of them.”
“What the fuck, Vivian? How did you even meet people like that? How the fucking hell do you know a bunch of damn hitmen?” I question.
“They’re cousins of mine,” she says as though it’s nothing. Then Vivian waves her hands towards Donte. “Where do you think Donte found the guy that took at your buddy Gabe?”
“What the fuck, Vivian?” Donte shouts. He puts his gun to the back of my head.
“Please don’t!” I shout. “Why did you kill Gabe? Why were you even after me then?”
“You answer my questions first, and I’ll tell you,” Donte says.
“Fine,” I say, still holding my hands up at my sides. I keep glancing Laurel and Mary’s way. Mary looks terrified, but Laurel –despite her bruised face –looks merely observant. They both have duct tape strapped over their mouths to keep them quiet.
“Other than your buddy Caleb, who else knows about the steroids and the sleeping pills?” Donte asks.
“So you admit that you were using drugs to win?” I question, and he beams me in the back of the head with the gun, sending me to my knees. I shriek and instinctively grab at the back of my head. I can hear Mary crying under her duct tape gag.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 157
