Armed With Steele

by Kyra Jacobs

  “Hey, Vanessa. W-what’s up?”

  “Hi Jessica.” She offered me a timid smile. “I was hoping this was your place.”

  Worry buzzed in the back of my mind. “Um, yeah, it is. How did you—”

  “Milo,” she cut in. “I…I needed to talk to you about something. So he pulled your address for me.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed the excess saliva now flooding my mouth. So much for confidentiality.

  “Plus, there was this nice gal jogging down the street.” Vanessa laughed. “She could tell I was lost. Said she knew you and thought this was your place. Was where she usually saw your boyfriend park his car.”

  Katie. I mentally cursed. Out of habit, I reached up and touched my nose. “Lovely.”

  “Can I…can I come in?”

  Whatever it was she wanted to discuss, it had her pretty upset. She trembled like a leaf, and her hands clutched her purse like it was her only worldly possession. I thought about letting her in, then stopped. Warning alarms began to sound in my head. Why was she here? Couldn’t Milo have just given Vanessa my phone number?

  And why had she made up all those lies about poor Frank Pitzen? I’d walked into his office that afternoon, fearing for my life. Discovered Frank was not only not a sexual predator, but a local minister who was happily married. Had pictures of their charity work and mission trips plastered all over his office.

  But beyond all that, there was a much bigger reason not to let her in—I had photos of Grace everywhere in the room behind me. Definitely something I couldn’t let her see. So I tried to think up a quick excuse to get her off my porch.

  “Sorry, Vanessa. I’ve…I’ve got company.”

  “Yes, you do.” A deep voice came from directly behind me. Before I could turn around, a hand holding some kind of cloth clamped over my mouth. I tried to scratch and claw my way free from his grip, but I was no match for my intruder.

  A second later, everything went black.

  Chapter 32

  I had no idea how much time had passed, but eventually I began to drift back toward consciousness. Wherever I was, it was dark. I couldn’t see anything, and seemed to be lying on my side. Felt vibration below me, followed by sporadic jostling that clipped my head each time.

  The sound of voices reached my ears. Partially muted at first, like they were coming from the other end of a long hallway. Then I heard crying. And shouting.

  “I told you I wanted out.” It was Vanessa’s voice. She sniffled. “First you hurt poor Grace. And now Jessica. It’s got to stop, Marcus.”

  “Shut up,” my assailant snapped. Hearing him speak sent ice through my veins. “You never complained about your role before. You leave now, and you’ll lose everything. Your condo, that Mercedes…”

  “I don’t care.” Vanessa began crying in force now. “I want out. I don’t want your damn money anymore. J-just let me out. It’s got to stop!”

  Crack! Someone’s face got open-palmed. From the whimpering that followed, I could only guess it was Vanessa.

  “It don’t stop until I say it stops,” Marcus said. “And I got far too many people demanding money from me to close shop just because you got your damn panties in a wad.”

  Vanessa had a part in all of this? Nausea swept through me. How much of my whereabouts had she shared with Marcus? And to think I’d trusted her! Then again, so had Grace. And look where it’d gotten us both.

  All this thinking had my head pounding. Traces of whatever I’d been drugged with remained on my nose, its smell repulsive. I went to reach up and rub it away, but my hands were bound behind me. My feet were tied with something as well.

  Panic began to clear the fog in my brain. As more and more of my senses began to reawaken, I noticed my mouth was horribly dry. I tried to swallow, but something got in the way of my tongue. Some sort of gag. I tried to look around, get a sense of my surroundings, but everything was pitch black.

  I fought back an overwhelming sense of despair. And regret. Why, oh why, hadn’t I listened to Nate? Traitor or not, he would have kept me safe.

  “Where’re we taking her, boss?” a third voice piped up. It belonged to a man, but I didn’t immediately recognize it.

  “Back to Maxwell,” said Marcus. “Since Vanessa’s been worthless this month, this gal’s gonna have to spill the password herself.”

  “And after that?”

  “She’s all yours.”

  “No!” Vanessa cried.

  “Shut up!” Marcus roared. “So help me, Vanessa, I’ll kill you myself tonight if you don’t knock it off. Matt’s had to pick up your slack lately, so it’s only fair I give him this little cutie. It’ll be like an early Christmas bonus.”

  The two men laughed. I was awake enough to feel the color drain from my face. Matt? Matthew Findley? I could still picture in my mind the look he’d given me in the stairwell that day. Like a wolf, staring down his prey.

  I had to find a way to get out of here.

  The vibration beneath me lessened—our vehicle was slowing down. Panic coursed through me. Along with the fear of not knowing what would come next. And whether or not I’d survive.

  Vanessa’s whimpering subsided, but her sniffling continued. I almost felt badly for her. Clearly she was in way over her head. But then, she wasn’t the one about to get thrown to the wolves. I was.

  I said a quick prayer. Thanked God for keeping Grace from having to go through all of this. Then prayed for a miracle.

  The vehicle stopped. Doors opened, then shut. A door near me burst open. Still I could see no light.

  “Okay, sleeping beauty,” Marcus said. “Let’s go.”

  I felt myself being hoisted up, and realized for the first time that I was actually inside of something. A large bag of sorts. Marcus suspended the bag in the air for a moment, then lowered it down.

  The surface beneath me shook and shimmied. Wheels clattering. Something flopped on top of me. Not too heavy, but definitely flimsy. And another.

  Rugs. I was being buried beneath rugs in an industrial-sized laundry basket. No surveillance camera would ever see me. My heart sank.

  The van door creaked on its hinges as someone slammed it shut. Then a pair of hands clamped onto my entrapment and shoved it forward. Steered me back into the bowels of what I’d aptly referred to just hours before as my own…personal…hell.

  * * * *

  To say the ride into the building was uncomfortable would have been a major understatement. But I had bigger worries than that. Like what Marcus needed me for. And what Matthew was planning to do to me. And would I ever see the light of day again?

  The cart climbed a ramp, rolled over a bump—a door jamb, perhaps. It continued on down a long, smooth hallway, then stopped. Ding. Elevator doors swished open. We moved forward. Stopped again.

  Another swish of the doors, and we began our ascent to what I could only guess was the second floor. Probably my very own office. At the back of the building. Which faced the meadow completely surrounded by woods. No one would see what was happening. No one would know to come to my rescue. I fought back tears and prayed even harder.

  Another ding, and we were on the move once more. Gliding across a carpeted floor. The air around us silent but for a wobbly wheel, rattling below me.

  We came to another stop. Keys rattled on a ring, then a door opened. Probably to the Marketing lobby. I could picture Vanessa’s desk. The water feature. Would I ever see any of that again? Or would they…would they…

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Refused to travel any farther down that thought path.

  The laundry cart lurched forward once more, the lobby doors snapped shut behind us, and a lock clicked. Then the rugs that had buried me in the basket were removed.

  This was it. There was no use fighting—how could that possibly help? I couldn’t walk, talk, see. All I could do was wait. For God knew what.

  I was suddenly lifted into the air. Had the wind momentarily knocked out of me as I was tossed over someone’s shoulder, my mi
dsection landing square on a bony socket. The person below me began to walk. They gripped the bag, along with the seat of my pants, to keep me from sliding off.

  I’d never felt so helpless in all my life.

  Eventually my captor stopped. Unlocked a door. Stepped inside and dropped me to the floor.

  My back screamed from the pain, but I kept silent. Didn’t want to appear any weaker than I already did.

  I heard the sound of a long zipper. Blinked as light began to filter into my confined space.

  “Looks like someone’s decided to wake up and join the party.”

  I stared up at the sneering, scarred face of Marcus Phillippe. Felt an instant hatred toward the man. Threw daggers at him with my eyes.

  “Oh, and does she look pissed.” He looked off to the side. “You got yourself a feisty one, Matt.”

  Dark laughter echoed in from the hallway.

  “Come on, princess,” Marcus said, turning his attention back to me. “Let’s get you up into your chair so we can get this show on the road.”

  He hooked a hand under my right arm and lifted me into a standing position as if I weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers. Then he reached into his back pocket and produced a six-inch long knife. Its sharp edge gleamed beneath the room’s fluorescent lighting.

  “Jessica, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Slash. You play nice, and he’ll leave you alone. Resist me…” He glanced at the knife, then drove it to the hilt into the top of my desk. “And he’ll have to get up close and personal. Capeesh?”

  I tore my eyes away from the knife. Nodded vigorously.

  “Good.” Marcus grabbed my upper arms. Pulled me across the room. Shoved me down into my office chair. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to untie your hands, and you’re going to write down your password for me. Understand?”

  I stared at him, shocked. I’d been kidnapped for a damned password? Hell, he could have just asked me for that at knifepoint on my front porch. I would have coughed it up in a heartbeat!

  “Understand?” Marcus repeated, impatience in his voice.

  Somehow in my panic-stricken state I managed to nod.

  “Good.” Marcus retrieved his knife and reached behind me. I braced myself for some immense oncoming pain. But instead of cutting me, the knife tore through whatever had bound my hands together. The binding fell away, and I slowly moved my hands forward to try and massage out the throbbing indents in each wrist.

  “Now.” Marcus shoved my chair to the side desk, then slammed a pen and notepad down before me. “Your password.”

  I tried to lift my hands. Truly I did. Wanted to pick up the pen. But my muscles were suddenly frozen with fear.

  Marcus’s face came back into view, eyes narrowed. “Do we need to go back over our introductions with Slash?”

  My gaze shifted from the pen to the knife in his hands. I managed to jerk my head back and forth.

  “Good girl. Now write.”

  Somehow I managed to reach out my trembling hand, grab the pen, and scribble down my network password. The writing was barely legible, but it was the best I could do. I just hoped it was enough.

  Matthew piped up behind us. “We’ve got company.”

  “Shit. Well, go on—stall him. I can handle Miss Priss here.” Marcus cast a dark look upon me. Ran his fingers along the knife’s blade. “Sounds like that boyfriend of yours picked up on our trail.” His gaze shifted to the wall clock. “Though I don’t know how. Been driving in circles for an hour, waiting for you to wake up. No matter. This will only take a second.”

  He looked at what I’d written then and growled. Something hard slammed into the back of my head. I cried out in surprise, the sound muffled by the gag in my mouth. Pain radiated from the point of impact.

  No one but Marcus could hear my cry. And from the look on his face, he couldn’t have cared less. “I need the password to get into Orange Financial, not this. Hell, Matthew got us this a week ago!”

  He shoved my chair toward the computer. Reached around me. Held his knife to my throat with one hand, fingers on his other flying across the keyboard. A moment later my computer was running through its network initialization sequence.

  “Now.” He whipped my chair back over before the notepad. “The other password. And since we’re running a little short on time, I’m going to hurry this along by counting to three. If it’s not on that paper by then, that blow to the back of your head is gonna feel like a day at the spa compared to what I’ll do to you next time.”

  I wanted to obey him. Wanted like crazy to avoid any more pain. But fear had suddenly wiped my memory clean. I stared down at the notepad, pen in hand, trying desperately to remember my password.

  “One…”

  Come on… I closed my eyes. Wracked my brain.

  “Two…”

  Nothing.

  Tears began to trickle down my cheeks. Why couldn’t I remember?

  “Three.” His hand reached out, grabbed a fist full of my hair, and slammed my face down into the desk. “Don’t think you can hold out for a rescue, sweet thing. You give me that password, pronto, or all your boyfriend will find is pieces of you scattered around this office.”

  I trembled beneath his crushing grip, and the pen slipped from my hand. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks in rivers now, pooling around my face on the desk. “I…I ’ant ’member.”

  He lifted my face a small distance up from the desk and slammed it back down again. Stars dotted my vision. “Find a way to remember. My patience is running thin.”

  I tried to nod, the pool of tears smearing across my face. More pain as the fist in my hair tugged me upright once more.

  “Good,” he said, his voice unnaturally smooth. Then his voice changed back to rough-verging-on-psychotic. “Now write.”

  I reached a quivering hand out to pick up the pen. Shook so badly that I dropped it. Fumbled to pick it up again.

  Marcus tightened his grip on the knife. I forced myself to look away. Focus on the tear-stained notepad on the desk.

  Think, Jessica, think! What’s the damn password?

  And then it came to me.

  AntEater22.

  Michael and his stupid passwords. No wonder Vanessa hadn’t been able to guess it on her own. I had half the word scratched onto the pad when a gunshot rang out. The pen froze in my hand.

  Oh, God, no. Please, not Nate. Don’t let him be—

  Marcus’s knife materialized below my chin in the blink of an eye. “Focus, Jessica. Don’t make me cut this pretty little throat of yours.”

  I swallowed hard. Felt the blade press into my neck as I did. Willed my right hand to finish its work.

  “Good girl.” Marcus shoved my chair over to my computer once more. Reached around me to type the password in. “For your sake, it better be right.”

  The clicking of his fingers on my keyboard echoed through the dead quiet of my office. But my mind wasn’t on the clicks. Or the ensuing embezzling. Or Maxwell.

  It was on that lone gunshot. And Nate.

  Chapter 33

  “You in yet?”

  Matthew Findley reappeared in the doorway, and a part of me died. All I could think was the old story about how two go out, and only one comes back. But I tried to force myself to be optimistic, even in the midst of the terrifying mess I was in. Maybe he was checking in to say Nate had gotten away. That Marcus needed to call off his plan, their time was up.

  Marcus turned his head. “Yeah, we’re in. And our uninvited guest?”

  A grin stole across Matthew’s face. “Taken care of.”

  My last sliver of hope evaporated. Utter despair moved in to take its place.

  Marcus nodded. “Well done. And to reward you for your work…” He set his foot on the base of my chair and gave it a good shove. I clutched at the armrests to keep from tumbling over. Matthew caught the chair, and looked down at me. His animalistic smile told me all I needed to know.

  “Give me your hands,” he b
arked.

  I did as I was told. What was the point of fighting? No one was coming to save me. Especially not Nate—he was dead. All because of me.

  Matthew reached into his back pocket, eyes never leaving me, and produced an unused zip tie. He pulled my hands behind me, laced the tie around my wrists, and pulled it tight. I ignored the responding ache. Figured it was nothing compared to what I was about to endure.

  “Marcus, you got that knife handy?”

  A cold sweat broke out along my hairline. I began to tremble uncontrollably.

  Marcus bent down before me, knife in hand. His dark eyes locked with mine. Savored the fear he saw there. A quick flip of his wrist, and the binding around my ankles fell away.

  I knew better than to run. If it’d only been one of them, I might have stood a chance. But escape from two? No way. And I didn’t relish the idea of being reintroduced to Slash if I got caught trying.

  Marcus stood and looked past Matthew. “Where the hell is Vanessa?”

  Matthew rolled his eyes. “She’s coming. Once she’s done in the bathroom, puking her brains out. Again.”

  “Well she’d better hurry up,” Marcus snarled, turning the knife round and round in his hand. “We ain’t got all night.”

  “I’m here.” A feeble voice came from the hallway.

  I looked up to see Vanessa, a green tint to her face, yet white as a ghost.

  “Finally.” Marcus stepped aside. “Now get over here and do your part. I got customers waiting.”

  “Yes, Marcus,” she said, drifting past. She refused to look at me. Her shoulders were slumped, head hung low. She knew what was coming next for me.

  So did Matthew. He ran a clammy finger down my cheek. “How long I got, boss?”

  Bile crept up my throat. I swallowed hard.

  “Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.” He tipped his head to the door. “Make it quick.”

  Matthew reached over and set both hands on Vanessa’s shoulders. “Do me a favor. Type slow.”

  Marcus shoved him away. “Just get moving already. But stay close,” he said without looking back. “In case there’s trouble.”