Mike pulled the car into the next convenience store he saw and parked near the door, pulling out his phone. Jemma grabbed the plastic bucket from the floorboard, towel and all, and carried it to the dumpster, then headed inside while Tony held the front door open for her. She made a beeline toward the coffee maker and pulled out the biggest Styrofoam cup they offered, filling it to the rim. After taking a few tastes, just to make sure it was drinkable, she filled it back up and snapped a lid on it. At the register, she picked up a pack of mint gum in an attempt to stave off the yuck-mouth that would surely follow, although she wasn't quite sure her mouth could get much worse.
Tony walked up behind her and pulled out his wallet. She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly put her thoughts into words. "Your purse and shoes, for that matter, are in the trunk."
She felt her cheeks blush warmly. "I'm glad someone is thinking."
Mike pushed the door open and poked his head through, grimacing. "Come on. We don't have time to dink around. I gave the police an update. They seem a bit more interested now."
"I know you're anxious to get there, but Dalton probably doesn't have the slightest clue what to do with Kate now that he has her." Jemma patted Mike's cheek as she walked past him to the car. Tony popped the trunk and retrieved her things. She slid her shoes on and climbed in next to him. Once seated, she wished she'd thought to grab an air freshener. The puke may have been discarded, but its memory lived on.
She waved a hand in front of her nose. "Mind if we roll the windows down for a bit?"
Both guys were quick to hit their window buttons in response.
They spent the remaining hour's drive in relative silence, passing cars and wind whipping through the windows the only sounds. Jemma chugged her coffee and pondered her approach to Dalton, what she might say or do. She talked big, but when it came down to it, she probably wouldn't be able to follow through with the prior death threats. She only hoped her brother and Tony would be the same, though she had her doubts. They came upon a sign for the upcoming 85th Street exit, and Jemma's stomach churned. Between her fading hangover and shattered nerves, she kind of regretted throwing away the bucket.
She opened a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth, fervently gnawing on it to quell some of her tension. Mike steered the car onto the exit and peeked over his shoulder, a brow arched into his bangs.
"LeBrea Avenue is about ten blocks away, maybe more. I think you turn right. From there, I'm just going to have to see what looks familiar." Jemma brushed her bangs back from her face with one hand, chewing the edge off of a nail from the other.
Mike's deep sigh spoke volumes.
Jemma propped her arms across the back of Mike's seat, leaning her chin on her hands. "I promise we'll find her. Dalton doesn't have anywhere else to go. I heard last week that his dad is back in prison again, so his mom's house is all he has."
Tony's hand shot in front of her face, a finger waggling toward a sign. "LeBrea Avenue is just ahead."
She swallowed hard, thwarting the herd of butterflies' escape effort, looking around for anything remotely familiar. The houses all looked the same, tiny boxes with shuttered windows and single detached garages. The only defining features being what cars were parked in the driveways, or whether or not the windows were barred. Obviously a tough neighborhood, the neglected lawns and peeling paint on the houses showing just as much abuse as the people who walked the sidewalks. Sallow faces turned in their direction, sunken eyes casting wary stares as they drove by.
An old man stopped on the corner and placed his hands on his hips. "What the hell you lookin' at?"
In barely a whisper, Mike said, "Are you sure we're in the right neighborhood?"
"Oh, yeah. She lives around here somewhere. I recognize the neighborhood now. The trailer is one of those old gray metal ones with the curved ends. It looks like a giant silver hot dog. You can't miss it. I wish I remembered which of these streets to turn onto."
Tony gripped the headrest in front of him, his knuckles turning white. "I can see how a person could get lost in this area. Everything looks the same."
"There! Turn right!" Jemma bellowed, leaning forward and rubbing Mike's shoulder. "That's the park, I know it."
The first row of trailer homes, newer, with well kept yards, stood beyond two cobblestone pillars. Streetlights brightened the gravel road that wound off in both directions.
"Which way do I turn?" Mike asked.
"If I remember correctly, it doesn't matter. Her trailer is at the very back of the park, so take your pick."
Mike turned and drove slowly, dodging potholes and small children running around. The homes regressed in model year as well as maintenance level. Doors hung from their hinges, windows were shattered, lawns overgrown.
At the last curve, Jemma spied the trailer and clamped her hand onto Mike's shoulder. "There it is. Dalton's car is parked just around the corner. I can see the tail lights."
"Stop here and shut the car off," Tony barked.
Mike shot him a brief look of contempt, but shook his head and did as he was told. Jemma began to push her door open.
Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. "You stay here. You could get hurt worse than you already are."
Jemma's eyes narrowed, her lips puckering into a scowl. Tony leaned away from her. "I don't think so," she announced defiantly. "I can help."
He returned her glare, pausing in an obvious attempt to figure his odds of winning the argument.
Mike offered a pearl of wisdom. "It's useless, man. You can tell her to stay here, but she won't. Telling her to do something is the surest way to get her to do exactly the opposite. I'm pretty sure this could be used against her sometime in the future, if you're sneaky about it." He got out and closed his door with a quiet click.
Tony muttered, "Fine, just stay with me."
Jemma raised a brow at his command.
"Please?"
"Fine." It wasn't fine, but Jemma chose not to argue. There'd be plenty of time after they found Kate. They all snuck around the perimeter of the giant wiener-shaped home, wading through grass that reached Jemma's knees. The trailer stood on blocks, raising all windows out of their view.
Tony leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to lift you up so you can see inside. Be careful so no one sees you."
"Gee, really?" Jemma huffed but allowed him to hoist her onto his shoulders. "And to think, if I hadn't insisted, you'd be popping my dainty little brother up here."
Tony's grip tightened around her waist briefly as he guided her toward the first window at the back of the trailer. She leaned slowly to the side to peer into the dark room. Confident of no movement, she waved him along to the next. A dim light shone out through the dingy, smudged window. She pressed her forehead against the dirt-covered glass. Something moved, and Jemma pushed away, almost throwing herself off of Tony's shoulders. His strong hands grabbed her waist and steadied them both. Her heart fluttered, and she sucked in a deep breath, inching her face back toward the window. As her eyes adjusted to the light in the room, she made out a distinct human form sprawled on a small bed. She squinted into the room and saw Kate's dark hair splayed across the stained pillow, duct tape still binding her hands and feet.
Jemma looked down at Tony, nodding. "It's Kate," she whispered.
Tony lowered her to the ground.
"What are you doing?" she argued in a hushed tone. "I need you to keep me up so I can open the window and get in there to set her free."
Tony whispered, "I am not putting you and her in danger again. Mike and I will go to the door. One of us will distract Dalton while the other goes down the hall to get Kate."
"Okay, and who's going to take care of Stacy and Dalton's mom?"
Mike said, "She's right. One of us needs to get into the bedroom and undo Kate, so we can get her loose before anyone else even knows we're here."
Jemma looked back and forth between the two bulky men and murmured, "And which of you little petite guys wou
ld like to try and shimmy through that tiny window up there? I'm not even sure I can fit through."
"That's another good point, Tony," Mike said.
Tipping his head back and staring into the night sky, Tony growled. He finally looked back toward Jemma. "Okay, I guess the burden falls on you. Will you promise me something, though?"
Mike patted his shoulder. "You're a quick learner, my friend."
Jemma contemplated punching her brother, but glared daggers at him instead. Again, plenty of time later. Then, turning her attention back to Tony, she said, "Depends on what you want me to promise."
"Just go in there, undo the tape, and wait for us to take care of Dalton, his mother, and Stacy. Don't try to play the hero. Please? I'm only asking this of you because I'm worried." Tony held one of Jemma's hands and stared deeply into her eyes. "Please?"
"Okay. I promise, but only if all goes as planned."
Tony looked desperately at Mike, who responded, "Hey, that's as good as you're going to get under these circumstances."
Cursing under his breath, Tony grabbed Jemma by the waist and lifted her back onto his shoulders. She reached for the window, but Tony dropped her back down to the ground and spun her to face him.
"What's wrong?"
Tony answered her question with a hard, deep kiss.
Extremely grateful she'd gone with the gum earlier, she answered his urgency and kissed him back.
Mike placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling them apart. "It's all going to be fine. We need to get Kate."
Tony's eyes shifted back to Jemma. "I know this isn't the most romantic of places for me to declare my feelings, but I want to make sure you know. I love you, Jemma Keith, wedding photographer."
Jemma's heart melted and tears brimmed along her lashes. She ran a finger across his bottom lip. "I feel the same way, Little Ant'ny."
Tony kissed her on the forehead, spun her around, and hoisted her back onto his shoulder. She leaned her forearms against the metal of the trailer, carefully sliding her fingers between the sash and the window frame. The metal window protested with a high-pitched squeak. Kate rolled over toward her, the bed squeaking in a similar fashion, and locked gazes with Jemma.
Dalton's faint voice carried from somewhere in the depths of the trailer. "Go see why Kate is flailing around so much, Stacy."
"Why do I have to go tend to your wife? Maybe you should go back there so you can wake your mother from her drunken stupor. It's time for her to self-medicate," Stacy spat.
"Just do what I tell you!" Dalton yelled.
Stacy's loud footfalls echoed closer as she stomped like a child toward Kate's room. Jemma turned sideways against the trailer so she wouldn't be seen through the window and waited.
Stacy's hate-filled whispers filtered through the paper-thin outer wall of the trailer. "You know what, Little-Miss-Rich-Bitch? All Dalton has ever wanted, from you or from that other skank, was money and clout. He never loved either of you. He only loved me this whole time." Jemma heard a hard whack and Kate whimper. "He just wanted to be able to take care of me the way we both deserved to live. Your daddy-dearest will fork over whatever amount me and Dalton want for your safe return. What he doesn't know is that I'm going to slit your throat and dump you in a ditch somewhere so I can finally be rid of you. I'll wait until we have the money though. Dalton might be mad at first, but he'll get over it and understand eventually. So, kick and roll around on this squeaky bed all you want. No one is going to hear you."
Jemma felt physically ill at what she overheard. She looked down at the inquisitive eyes of Mike and Tony, but decided against letting them know what Stacy planned. She placed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion and listened to Kate groan in an attempt to talk through the tape over her mouth.
Finally, the room quieted. Jemma looked back through the window. Kate lay on her side, her head raised, looking toward her. She winked at Jemma and flailed around on the squeaky bed to mask the sound of the window opening.
With background noise, it only took a few seconds to shove it open fully.
Jemma stuck her head in and wriggled her body through until her hips wedged. Stacy's hateful voice carried down the hallway, bringing Jemma's efforts to a sudden halt.
"I told you! No one can hear you. All you're accomplishing is noise."
Kate resumed her wriggling and squeaking, and Jemma squeezed herself the rest of the way through. She turned around and gave the guys the thumbs up then tip-toed over to Kate's bedside.
Jemma leaned in close and whispered, "When I rip this tape off of your mouth, it's going to hurt like hell. Are you ready?"
Kate nodded emphatically.
"Okay, start squeaking the bed again."
Kate released a groan and rolled her eyes, wiggling her legs back and forth.
Jemma worked a corner of the tape loose until she produced enough to grip between her fingers. She raised an eyebrow at Kate to make sure she was ready.
Kate nodded her reply. The wiggling of her legs became a pain reaction when Jemma tore the tape from the tender flesh of her mouth.
"That is the worst one, I promise." Jemma stared at the swollen red rectangle framing Kate's lips. "Hey, at least you won't have to wax your upper lip for a while now."
Kate gave a low, almost silent groan, muttering, "Only you would be able to find a bright side to this kind of situation."
Jemma busied herself pulling pieces of tape from Kate's hands. As she was finishing her ankles, the doorbell rang, startling them both.
"That's Mike and Tony, I bet," Jemma whispered.
Kate released a sigh of relief.
With Kate free, Jemma inched her head out into the hall until she had a view of the living room. Dalton crouched by the front window, pulling the shade away far enough to see who stood at the front door. Stacy sat in a tattered rocker near the kitchen, pointing the remote at the television, flipping through channels with nonchalance as though this were just another evening at home.
Dalton's head whipped around toward Stacy, his jaw clenched. "Turn that damned thing off now."
Stacy switched back to disgruntled child as she clicked the television off and threw the remote control across the room at him. Folding her arms across her chest, she tucked her fists into her armpits in a huff.
"Damn it all to hell." Dalton slumped down onto the floor and sat with his back propped against the wall.
"What? Who's there?"
"Kate's cousin and Jemma's brother."
"How in the hell did they find us up here? I thought you said no one but me knew where your mom lived."
"Jemma knows, but it was a long time ago. Plus, I didn't think anyone would find her in the cellar. Damn it. That bitch has the memory of an elephant." Dalton crawled toward a bag next to Stacy's chair.
"And an ass to match, if you ask me."
Jemma scowled and clenched her fists to her side, a heartbeat away from barreling down the hall and slamming them into Stacy's face.
One more thing to add to her later-list.
Dalton pulled a shotgun from the bag. She sucked in a breath of panic and turned to Kate, mouthing the words 'he's got a gun.' They exchanged fearful glances.
Dalton barked at Stacy, "Here, you aim this toward the hallway in case Kate gets loose or something."
Staring at the open chamber of the gun, Stacy asked, "What good is an unloaded shotgun?"
Jemma shrugged her shoulders. Okay, so maybe Stacy isn't a complete moron.
"It's for show. I don't expect you to actually have to use it."
"Well, if I'm smart enough to know it isn't loaded, then Tony and Mike will probably know it, too. And what if someone comes after me, and I need to defend myself?"
Dalton cussed under his breath as he pulled two shells from his bag, slipping them into the barrels. "I can't stress to you how much money you'll cost me if you fire this shotgun. This is a collectible American Arms Grulla #2 hammerless double barrel, and the only way I'll ever get my money back out of t
his is if it remains unfired." He placed a finger under Stacy's chin and forced her to look directly at him. "Do you understand me? Do not, under any circumstances, fire this gun unless someone is trying to kill you. You can act as menacing as you want, but if you pull that trigger, I'll use the gun on you myself."
"I thought you loved me." Stacy sucked her bottom lip in and inhaled a staccato breath.
Dalton squeezed her chin, shaking her head with one hand, while shoving a finger in her face with the other. "No. None of the drama, I can't…" He shoved her away. "No, I won't deal with it now. Just point the shotgun down the damn hall." He turned his attention back to the bag, pulled out a handgun, and snapped a full magazine of ammunition into it with the butt of his hand. "Now this one, I can fire it all I want."
Jemma stared, frozen in fear, trying to figure out how to warn Tony and Mike. She slid back into the bedroom and stared at Kate, who mirrored the terror in her own eyes. "What do we do?" Jemma whispered.
Kate placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Tony and Mike will be fine. It won't do us any good to run out there and get shot."
"So, what, are you reading my mind now?" Jemma released a quiet snort.
The doorbell rang again and again. Finally, Tony started yelling, "I know you're in there. Open the door and face me like a man."
Jemma peeked into the hallway again just as Dalton flung the door open and shoved the pistol inches from Tony's face.
"Is this man enough for ya?" Hatred and anger overcame Dalton, replacing any shred of common sense he may have had, not that there was ever much to begin with.
Tony didn't flinch, and Mike appeared beside him.
"Well, here we are again," Dalton huffed, "just like the night of my wedding, only this time the playing ground is a little more fair." He traced the gun barrel down Tony's nose, chin, and neck, coming to a stop at the center of his chest. Dalton tightened his finger on the trigger, gripping the handle with both hands.
Mike reached around and put a hand up in between the men. "We can settle this without violence or bloodshed. We want Kate back. That's all we came for. You and Stacy can disappear and have your own little warped happily ever after."
My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding Page 15
