Double Down

by Alessandra Torre

  “This is your best possibility. How many do you have?” Dario asked.

  “Four that look promising.”

  The agent worked through each one of them. Number two was an old car parts factory, eight miles outside of Vegas, on the edge of an abandoned exit. Number three was a horse farm with a ten-thousand square feet barn and underground bunker. And the last one was thirty-seven miles outside of Vegas, a property listed as a water filtration plant and squatted in the middle of a two-hundred-acre lot.

  Dario took a deep breath, struggling to cool his head and find some bit of control. He needed to get to Bell. But all he could see was red. Pure fury, something he had to harness amidst Hawk’s barbarity. He focused on the list, forcing himself to close out the pain and use the anger productively.

  Dario looked over the options. “The horse farm isn’t it. Gwen and I went by there a few years ago. She wanted to have a ranch closer to home. It’s a glorified shooting range. Which isn’t to say that Hawk hasn’t done some fucked up things out there, but the barn was practically a tear-down, covered in cobwebs and dust. He wasn’t using it then, that’s for sure.”

  He pulled the folder from the man’s hand and flipped through the pages. “And the car factory isn’t right.” He pointed to the property map of the factory, his finger tapping on the adjacent parcel. “That’s a military base. He wouldn’t be that close to someone who pays attention.”

  He focused on the map, his hands flipping through to the aerial shots of the two remaining prospects. Both isolated parcels, no neighbors close by. Both buildings large, set in the middle of the land, with no trees or cover to hide behind. It would be a bitch to sneak up on either, which would be perfect for Hawk’s needs.

  The FBI agent circled the perimeter of each lot with the tip of his index finger. “They’re both fenced in lots. High, military-grade fencing. The sort that would cause the average lost or nosy visitor to wander away.” He nodded to the discarded options. “For the record, your opinion on those two just helps to confirm our own thoughts. The likelihood is, one of these two locations is where they’re at. The pencil pushers are running dry on any other options, and they’ve looked at just about every industrial structure in the state.”

  He met Dario’s eyes. “You know, these warehouses could be unrelated to Bell Hartley’s disappearance. We could find the girls, and not her.”

  “I know that.” Dario stared at the map. The pieces had to be connected. They’d find the warehouse, reunite him with Bell, arrest that woman … and they’d get the answers. For now, he needed to focus on one task at a time and forget any other, less optimistic, possibility.

  He would find her. He would save her.

  There was no other option.

  * * *

  BELL

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to cut you just yet.” The girl sat down on the folding chair.

  Just yet. Talk about a barely reassuring statement. I watched her reach back into the bag and tensed, wondering what she’d pull out next. The Taser? A gun? Maybe another needle. Truth be told, the idea of being pricked and sleeping for the next few hours wasn’t a bad option. I thought of Dario’s treatment of John and Johnny, his castration of them, and felt the urge to vomit.

  Maybe we deserved this. Ruining his marriage. Exacting revenge. Maybe everything had led to this moment.

  The blonde pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

  My heartbeat slowed slightly, and I allowed myself a full inhalation of air.

  She flipped the knife over, sticking it butt-first into her back pocket. Moving closer, she tugged at a key that hung around her neck, pulling it over her head. She looked down at me. “Are you left or right-handed?”

  A simple question, yet my mind stalled. Left or right-handed? Seconds passed. Her expression hardened and I forced myself to speak.

  “Right-handed.”

  She dropped the paper and pen on the floor next to me and crouched down until her butt rested on her heels. Working the key into the cuff on my right hand, she popped the mechanism, the restraint springing open. I cautiously rolled the wrist, flexing my hand as she stepped away and brought the knife back out.

  She nodded to the items beside me. “Pick up the pen and paper. I want you to write a letter.”

  I didn’t move toward the paper. “A letter to who?”

  She smiled, and it was the sort of grin that fit better on a Halloween mask than a face.

  * * *

  THE BOSS

  As Bell wrote, Claudia began to pace. It was a useless activity, a waste of energy, and she stopped short, forcing herself to step back, her hands clasped before her, her restlessness under control. If Robert was here, he’d have given her a nod of approval, the sort that caused her heart to swell and her efforts to double. He wasn’t cruel. She had seen it early, had understood the difference between punishment and sadism. He’d always had a purpose behind his actions, a plan in place, a lesson to be learned. A lesson that went right over the heads of almost every woman in this place. He should have just killed them all, but that wasn’t his style. Instead, he had an almost dogged determination to break through to them. To give them opportunities, again and again, over and over again. Punishments and lessons. Reward opportunities and tests.

  Most had failed completely. Others, like the ones in this building, had succeeded often enough to stay alive. Claudia was the only one who had truly understood Hawk’s methods, and it certainly made sense why. She was special, and not just because of her lineage. Gwen had Robert Hawk’s blood in her, and she would have failed. Claudia knew that, the instinct reinforced by the stories Robert had told her. Stories of a baby Gwen, bullied at school. Gwen, in Mexico, needing rescue. Gwen, marrying a man and letting him take control of her life.

  The brunette was being slow, the slanted writing only covering half of the page.

  She sighed. “You’ve got two more minutes, then you’re done. So write it quickly or don’t say it at all.”

  Bell’s pen scratched more quickly across the surface. It was cute, all of the thought she was putting into this. Cute, the dogged concentration on her face, the intent desire to flood all of her feelings onto the page. Robert Hawk hadn’t had that luxury, hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to anyone. Which was one reason out of a hundred that solidified her decision to use this letter like a knife. She’d present it to Dario, wave the emotional tidbit in front of him, and then snatch it away before he had a chance to read it. Light his love’s final words on fire and watch him drop to his knees in tears. Then, she’d bring out the video, and let him watch every excruciating minute of Bell Hartley’s final day.

  It’d be a good day. A long day. One of those Robert Hawk specials. Maybe she’d bring in a prop. Borrow one of the other prisoners and let Bell Hartley watch everything that she was about to do to her. After all, she’d been trained by the best—a walking encyclopedia of torture.

  What she hadn’t decided yet, was whether to finish the girl’s kill on videotape, or wait for that final finale until she had Dario here. Decisions, decisions. Decisions that she should have made hours ago, but was still waffling over.

  She leaned over and snatched the page from Bell’s hand, the last word not fully formed. No biggie. He wouldn’t be reading it anyway.

  She left the right handcuff off and sat down on the folding chair, lifting the page and reading the cramped cursive writing.

  Dario,

  I’m not scared. I want you to know that, if anything happens to me, that I’m not scared. And I don’t regret anything. If I had to do everything all over again, I’d still walk up those steps to see you in that club. I’d still let you kiss me. I’d return your texts. I’d come to that suite in the middle of the night. I don’t regret anything except that I wish I’d had more time with you. I wish I’d moved in to that suite, the moment you gave me the code. I wish I hadn’t gone to Louisiana, but stayed beside you throughout all that you had to endure. I wish I’d had a hundred more nights with
you, a hundred more days, a hundred more kisses.

  I know my death will bring you pain, but don’t let it bring you guilt. Or regret. Or any more pain than it needs to. I knew what I was getting into. I would make the same choices now, because I will never regret getting the chance to love you. To be loved by you. It’s been the greatest blessing of my life. I love you.

  Forever yours,

  Be—

  Forever yours. Cute. Her hand tightened on the knife and she pushed herself to her feet, the letter fluttering to the ground. This girl thought that she loved him, but she didn’t. She told him that she wasn’t scared, but she was. She thought that she’d made the right decision, destroying the marriage of a Hawk?

  Wrong statement to make, stupid girl.

  Forever yours was going to be a very, very short time.

  Twenty-Five

  DARIO

  Dario hung up the phone, letting out a frustrated breath. The heat signatures on the first warehouse had come back. Live bodies inside, and that was enough to cause a full monopoly of their attention. The agents were now coordinating with local SWAT, a process that had gotten him escorted to the door, thanks to his civilian status. He leaned against the back wall of the police station and scrolled through his phone, working through a new plan.

  “Hey.”

  Dario looked up, recognizing the blond friend of Bell’s. Lance. Beside him stood the other one. “Hey. No word yet.”

  He wasn’t surprised to see them, his eyes moving past them and to the large Humvee taking up a spot and a half. Some mental gears clicked into place.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Rick asked.

  A gate to the left opened, a SWAT van slowly rolling out, followed by a second vehicle. The men watched the action, looking to Dario for clarity.

  Dario nodded slowly. “They’re headed to a potential location, one that might hold some of Hawk’s pets.”

  “And Bell?” Lance asked.

  In the tone of those two words, Dario heard all that he had suspected. This man, probably both of them, loved her like a sister. They were as afraid as he was. As invested and frustrated as he was.

  Dario tucked his hands into his pockets. “Maybe. We don’t know. I’m hoping that the woman who took her is connected to the warehouse in some way. Otherwise—”

  Otherwise, they didn’t have shit to go on.

  Otherwise, the chance of saving Bell was nil.

  Rick flipped his keys over in his hands. “You know where they’re going?”

  His eyes met Dario’s, and Dario nodded.

  “Then, let’s fucking go,” Lance said.

  “Wait.” Dario reached out and grabbed Lance’s arm. “They’re going to their best prospect. But there is another option, a different place she might be. They didn’t have the manpower to hit both locations, so they’re going to the most likely first.”

  It was a risk to get involved with them, bringing them into a scenario that he was still figuring out for himself. But the men didn’t hesitate.

  “We’ve got guns. Vests. Rocket launchers. Pretty much anything they have in there.” Rick offered. “If you know where the second location is, let’s head there. Cover all possibilities as quickly as possible.”

  Dario gave them a final lifeline. “The Feds aren’t going to like that, us using their intel to break into private property, weapons drawn.”

  Lance scrunched up his face, looking up at the sky as if to consider the ramifications. Then he dropped his gaze back to Dario’s and shrugged. “Checked, and nope. No fucks given.”

  He glanced over at his friend. “Rick? You? Any fucks given?”

  The man grinned and slapped his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Nope. Let’s do this shit.”

  Dario, for the first time in four hours, felt his own mouth curve into a smile.

  “Good. I’ll make a few calls. I have some resources we can call in.” Hang on, Bell. Please, for the love of God, be strong and hang on.

  * * *

  It was night in Vegas. A clusterfuck of photo-taking tourists and restaurant-seeking locals. For the first time in a decade, Dario cursed his premiere real estate locations, set in the heart of The Strip. He was in his own version of Lance’s Hummer, a Land Rover Defender that hadn’t been off the showroom floor but could crawl over a wall if need be. He pulled out of The Majestic’s parking garage followed by six company SUVs, each one packed with the best private security that Vegas offered. There was a reason retired Special Forces gravitated to Vegas. Pussy and pay. He had always paid the most, and they could trip over pussy leaving work each day. Now, with fourteen ex-military bad-asses behind him, they rivaled anything the LVPD was sending to the other location.

  She had to be in one of these two locations, safe and waiting for him. He couldn’t handle any other possibility.

  “You’re leaving The Majestic unprotected.” His head of security shifted in the seat, pulling the phone away from his mouth to deliver the opinion. “Someone comes in, wants to clean us out? Now would be the time to do it.”

  Dario shrugged. The Majestic was the last thing on his list of concerns. He got onto the highway, his throat tightening at the knowledge that they’d pass the location, just a few miles ahead, where Bell had been put into a car and taken away.

  Was she in pain right now? Was she scared? Each minute that passed felt interminable. Who was this woman? And why the fuck, of all things to do, would she take Bell?

  Tire track analysis had put the bitch’s vehicle as a large SUV. A Yukon, Suburban, Escalade or Expedition. It was a classification that barely narrowed things down, especially in this town. His phone buzzed and he reached for it, opening the incoming text message. It was from Laurent.

  —Landed. Where do you need me?

  Dario swallowed the emotion that unexpectedly thickened in his throat. Sometimes, the people you didn’t call were the ones you needed the most.

  * * *

  BELL

  This bitch was crazy. I hadn’t taken her opinions into consideration when I’d written the letter to Dario. I’d been thinking only of his mindset, and how he would feel and react if I died. I was trying to calm his fears and lessen any guilt. I wasn’t thinking about her reading it, and certainly hadn’t expected the reaction it created.

  She shoved to her feet, holding the page out, the wide-lined page trembling from her outstretched fingers. Night had fallen and taken most of the light with it. I peered at her through the dimness and tried to understand the rigid set of her body. I think she was angry. I thought back over my letter, trying to see what I might have written that would have caused that emotion.

  Then, I thought over what she had said to me.

  “We were so close,” she had whispered. “All you had to do was die, and everything was going to be okay.”

  The we of the statement had stuck with me, almost as much as her mention of her father, his disappointment, his death… it had all pointed in one giant arrow to Robert Hawk. The devil. Who, possibly… passed his evil down to this woman.

  Or, she was delusional. Or, just as likely, both.

  “It’s cute that you think you love him. But Gwen… Gwen loved him too.” Her dark outline stepped closer. I couldn’t see the expression on her face, but her voice was a mix of amusement and disgust. In her question, Gwen’s name stood out as if it was printed in Las Vegas neon. Her one-syllable name had been said with reverence, the sentence arching up to that finish, as if no one should dare to offend GWEN.

  This was personal. Whatever dynamic I’d entered into when I’d first kissed, touched, and fell for Dario … the girl had been part of that dynamic. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe Hawk hadn’t ordered the hit. Maybe this girl had had her own agenda, her own role that had played out in this disaster.

  “We were so close...”

  She reached forward and I saw the glint of the knife in the moment before she scraped the blade’s tip along my outer thigh. “Listen, you spoiled slutty Vegas whore. You don’t get to love
Dario Capece. And he doesn’t get to fuck around without having serious consequences brought down on his shoulders.”

  I could see the white flash of her teeth when she smiled.

  “Robert,” she drawled. “Before he died, before you all TOOK HIM FROM ME…”

  The blade bit into my thigh, her weight toying with the pressure, and I gasped at the pain, my mind scrambling for time, for a way to distract her with conversation. “I know you killed her.”

  It was a wild card, and probably untrue, but it worked. The knife stilled, the pain dulling, and the dark shadow tilted her head. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve been through. What I’ve SACRIFICED.” She moved closer, her breath hot on my face.

  I had bought a few seconds, nothing more. I kept my right hand still, hidden by my side, and hoped she had forgotten about it. I needed to do something. Right now. Something to stop her.

  I thought of the martial arts lessons I took freshman semester. Tried to find something that my free hand might be useful for. Box her on the ears. That might give me about five seconds of time. Cup my hand, swing it around, putting the force of my body into the motion … she’d fall to the side and experience a few seconds of disorientation.

  But a few seconds was useless when I was chained to the wall by my other hand. I tried to remember what she had done with the handcuff key. Had she returned it to her neck? Was it over in the bag? Was it still hanging from the handcuffs? I couldn’t risk looking, broadcasting my search, especially not right now, with her staring at me, waiting for me to respond to her psychotic dialog.