by Debra Kayn
"Yeah." Wayne blew out his breath and stood. "Bowers."
"Are you going to be around today in case I have any questions?"
"I'll be at Vavoom's until it closes. You can call me on my cell." Wayne walked out of the room with him and went right when Gomez went left.
In the lobby of the station, Wayne nodded at Officer Carson. His mind reeling around all the details and adrenaline filled him. This was the closest they'd got to Thalia's killer.
"How are you doing, Wayne?" asked Officer Carson.
"All right," he said automatically. "How about you?"
"Pretty good. I can't complain." The policewoman smiled. "Do you have plans on your day off?"
"Yep. I'm going to see a pretty girl at Vavoom's." He turned at the door and pressed his back against the bar-handle. "Best way to waste my time."
"Woohoo...to be single and free." Jane sobered. "You might want to take Thirty-Seventh Street. There's a car accident at the intersection of Lombard and Interstate."
He stepped away from the door. "What kind of vehicles?"
Jane looked at her computer screen. "The first responder noted a gray Honda and an older, blue sedan."
His gut tightened. "Injured?"
"An ambulance was dispatched, they're transporting one female to St. John's Hospital." Jane frowned and touched the screen. "That's odd."
His pulse raced. Clara drove a gray Honda. "What?" he snapped, needing to leave and find Clara.
"A call is going out for a missing female from the accident." Carla looked up and met Wayne's gaze. "The other driver is also missing."
"Fuck." His heart burst in his chest, and he rushed back through the lobby and down the hallway. "Gomez!"
Torn between rushing to the hospital or going to the scene of the accident, he made his decision instantly. There were doctors at the hospital to help whichever twin was injured, and no matter if it was Clara or Gracie who was missing, he needed to find her immediately.
Gomez pushed out of the stairwell, spotted Wayne, and jogged forward. "I just heard the call go out over the radio. Follow me. I'm going with lights and siren."
"I'll meet you there." He turned and ran through the front of the police station and toward the parking lot.
He'd make better time on his motorcycle.
Chapter 27
The intercom came on, interrupting Wayne's worry. He checked his phone again and gritted his teeth at the temporary block of signals in the hospital elevator. The doors opened, and he stepped out, looking down at the screen. None of the Notus members had texted him after they forced him off the road, promising to find Gracie if he went back to the hospital to check on Clara.
He wasn't good for anyone when he couldn't control his need to make sure Clara was okay.
The time after arriving at the crash a blur as he went through the steps to contact his club, get the details from an upset Paxton, and most of all, find out the condition of Clara while only wanting to be by her side.
He stopped at the nurses' station. "Clara Nelson's room?"
The attending nurse took one look at his vest and said, "Room 312."
He was halfway down the hallway when the nurse called for him to sign in. Ignoring the request, he pushed through the door and spotted Paxton hovering beside the bed. He dropped his gaze to the white sheet, and his chest tightened. Clara, half reclined, laid with her eyes closed, white gauze wrapped around her head like a headband, a slight lump peeking out at the edge of the bandage. He looked down the length of her sheet covered body and back up to her face as he stepped forward.
"How is she?" he whispered, slipping his hand under her limp fingers, unable to take his gaze off her beautiful face, marked by the accident. A swollen eyebrow, a couple shallow cuts on her forehead seemed to be the only injuries outside of the bandage covering her hairline.
"They sedated her." Paxton shook his head. "She kept screaming for Gracie. The poor thing was distraught. She and her sister are so close. I could tell that from day one of working for them. They do everything together."
"Yeah, they're close." He'd never seen two women, two sisters, twins, closer than Clara and Gracie. It wasn't only the way they finished each other's sentences and looked the same. They touched all the time, reassuring each other that they were together as if they needed to connect.
Clara moaned, and her head turned on the pillow. Wayne leaned down and whispered, "You're okay, sweetheart. I'm going to bring Gracie back to you."
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she sleepily said, "Wayne?"
"Yeah, it's me." He stroked her cheek gently, careful not to hurt her more. "I'm right here."
Tears filled her eyes, and she squeezed his hand. "There was a man."
"I know." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Don't worry. Paxton gave us a good description of the man from the accident. The police, Notus, even the media, is on this. We'll find Gracie and bring her back to you."
"I need to talk to you." A tear fell from her eye. "You need to go look—"
"Ms. Nelson?" A male voice spoke behind Wayne.
Wayne looked over his shoulder, not moving from Clara's side. Nobody was going to get close to her.
"I’m Dr. Sabough." The doctor walked to the end of the bed. "I was the attending doctor when you were brought in after the car accident." Dr. Sabough flipped open a metal folder. "You've got a mild concussion, which can leave you slightly nauseous and give you a headache, along with some blank spots in your memory around the time you hit your head. We've given you twelve stitches in your hairline that'll need to come out in ten days. The good news is you can go home if you have someone who can monitor you for twenty-four hours."
"I will." Wayne squeezed her hand.
"Good." Dr. Sabough wrote on the paper. "I'll write a prescription for eight hundred milligrams of Motrin. She can take one pill every six hours as needed for pain. She'll be tired for a while because of the sedative we gave her upon arrival. Your job will be to check on her when she's sleeping. Every two hours, you'll need to wake her. You can call her name, touch her arm to see if she responds to you. You don't have to fully wake her. Just check that she's responding to your voice and touch."
"Okay," said Wayne.
"Motrin can upset her stomach, so make sure she eats a little food or drinks milk when she takes the medicine. If there's any vomiting or her headache gets worse, bring her to the E.R." Dr. Sabough stepped around the bed, shook Wayne's hand, and held his hand out to Clara.
Clara let go of Wayne and shook with the doctor. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. The nurse will be in with your discharge papers, and we'll call your prescription into the pharmacy downstairs. It should be ready to pick up when you go down." The doctor nodded at Paxton and left the room.
"Can you take me to the police station?" Clara touched the bandage on her head. "Shit. I don't have a car anymore. Can someone bring me Gracie's car? There's an extra set of keys in my purse." She winced. "Where is my purse?"
"The police took care of the crash, sweetheart. I'm sure they have your purse. We'll find it." He looked up at Paxton. "Can you drive her to my house. I've got my bike."
"Sure will." Paxton stepped closer to the bed.
The nurse came in. Wayne moved out of Clara's way. He should've ridden home, picked up his truck, and came to the hospital, but all he'd thought about was getting to Clara's side.
Wayne interrupted the conversation. "Sweetheart, I’m going to step outside the door and make some phone calls."
Clara nodded, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Wayne stepped out and put another text out to all the Notus members to check in. The man who caused the wreck abducted Gracie and had to have been on foot because the sedan—which turned out to be stolen—had remained at the crime scene.
Then, he made a call to update the Police Department in hopes he'd get any new information.
"Lieutenant Gomez," answered Gomez.
"It's Wayne." Wayne turned his back
to the couple walking down the hospital hallway. "Anything?"
"No. The local news stations have alerted everyone within a block of Lombard that there is an abduction and the abductor is on foot and possibly armed. The streets are practically cleared. With most everyone notified, if he's in one of the houses, hopefully, we can flush him out."
"Good. Do not give up." Wayne thrust his hand in his hair. "Clara's been discharged. I need to stop downstairs at the pharmacy and then I'll be taking her to my house. It'll probably take me an hour. I'll call you when I've got her settled."
He pocketed his phone and walked back into Clara's room. He caught her gaze. The pain, both physical and emotional, in her eyes, punched him in the gut.
"I'll go get a wheelchair and take you down to the front door. If you want to get your car and park in front, I'll have her down there in a few minutes," said a female.
Wayne lifted his gaze and discovered the nurse had directed the instructions to him. He looked at Paxton and nodded for him to go ahead and go out. "I'll stay with Clara."
The nurse left with Paxton. Wayne squatted in front of Clara, rubbing her thighs. "Hang in there, sweetheart. I'll get you home, and you can rest."
"I can't. I need to talk to you about Gracie." She clung to the front of his vest.
"I've got the search for her covered. Gomez has a whole team out looking for her." He straightened, looking at the top of her hair, knowing the pink tint in her blonde strands were blood they'd tried to clean off her. He was going to kill the motherfucker who hurt her and took Gracie.
"Wayne, the man who has Gracie. He's the sa—"
"Here we go." The nurse rolled the wheelchair clear to the bed. "Go slow when you stand up. You could get dizzy and feel sick to your stomach if you move too fast."
Clara pressed her lips together in determination and stood, reaching out for the arm of the chair. She cried out before she made contact and brought her shoulder up near her ear before she sat down.
"Slow down." The nurse stepped around the chair and slid her hand under Clara's arm. "Your muscles are spasming from being in the accident. The Motrin you'll be taking at home should help with some of that. Also, a heating pad will loosen your muscles as they get sorer over the next few days."
Wayne took note of the nurse's advice and would ask for a pad down at the pharmacy. Afraid the physical pain would increase when he got her home, he wanted to make sure he had everything she'd need because he planned to lock her in his house with protection twenty-four/seven.
Clara stared up at him, the bandage only emphasizing the frown pulling her brows down. The sheer panic he understood. She worried about her sister. But, there was something more. A leeriness lurking below the surface and he had no idea where that fear came from. She belonged to him. They'd been seeing each other, practically living together. She had no reason to be afraid of him.
He followed the nurse pushing Clara out of the room. He passed them in the hallway and pushed the button for the elevator. Clara rode with her head cradled in her hand, her gaze on the floor. He stood beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder wanting to ease the pain and fear and knowing only one person could help her. Gracie.
He had to figure out how to take care of Clara, make sure she remained safe, and get out on the streets and hunt for Gracie.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He stepped out and held the doors from closing until the nurse could push the wheelchair over the slight bump on the floor.
"I'm going to stop at the pharmacy before we go." Wayne put his hand on the handle of the wheelchair closest to him. "I'll take her from here."
The nurse nodded and bent down and spoke to Clara. "Read the after-care instructions on your paperwork. If you have any changes, come back to the emergency room."
"Thank you," said Clara.
Wayne pushed Clara to the pharmacy on the other side of the lobby. Not wanting to leave her sitting, he took her with him to the window, then stood off to the side with her until they called her name five minutes later, and again when he paid and picked up the items he bought.
Outside the hospital, Paxton sat in his truck waiting to chauffeur Clara back to Wayne's house. He helped Clara go from the wheelchair to the truck seat and buckled her in.
"I'll be right behind you on the way to the house." He kissed Clara's upturned lips.
She stared at him as he shut the door and jogged to his motorcycle. The hollowness and lack of reaction from her bothered him. Hopefully, when they were alone, she'd open up. It wasn't good for her to keep everything bottled up inside. They would find Gracie. She had to believe in him and stay strong.
Chapter 28
His plan worked perfectly. Nobody even watched him carry her to his car parked down the block. Everyone's attention went to the car he'd stolen and used in the crash and the other lookalike of Barbara in the car.
The twin he'd stolen stared up at him from the couch. He paced in front of her. Finally, he'd found his Barbara. It was almost too good to be true.
There was no extra work needed to make her look older or younger. She was perfection. His Barbara.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He fisted his hands and shook them. The excitement almost unbearable, he needed to touch her, feel her skin, feel her hair. The same blue eyes. The pursed mouth. How could it be?
He'd killed Barbara. He'd been too rough. He'd gone too fast.
He squatted down in front of her. "You remember me."
She shook her head and pushed her back into the cushion. "No. I want to leave."
"You don't want to go. You're mine." He tilted his head. "It took me a long time to find you. And yet, you haven't changed a bit. You're exactly the same. You probably think I'm an old man now."
"I-I just want to go home." She tried to sit up and cried out when she grabbed the couch to try and sit up.
He frowned. Her hand hung limp and cockeyed. When he'd found her, she'd been unconscious, and yet had no head injury. From the angle of her arm, she'd broken her wrist. That wouldn't do. She had to be perfect.
He straightened and grabbed the blanket off the other end of the couch and covered her. "Rest. I'll get ice for your hand."
Leaving her alone, he walked to the kitchen. He had no ice, only a pack of frozen fries. Now that Barbara was back with him, he'd need to make sure he had the proper things all wives want. Pretty towels, a clean house, and tea. She probably liked the little cups, too.
A rattle from the other room caught his attention. He rushed into the living room and found Barbara at the door, trying to open the locks. Anger exploded in his head. He grabbed her.
"You belong to me." He shook her. "Don't make me hurt you. Don't make me kill you."
"I-I won't. I won't." She cried. "Please. Don't hurt me. Please."
He groaned. She made it difficult to remember. To be patient. He wanted her.
Forcing her to walk, he pushed her to the bedroom. She stumbled and fell to the floor. He picked her up by the arms and flung her on the bed, half falling on top of her. She stilled. He stroked the hair off her face, and she cried.
"Sh. Sh. Sh. That's it. I'm going to wait. I'll wait." He reached over to the T.V. tray set by his bed and grabbed the rope he'd cut into two-foot pieces. "Don't push me," he muttered.
Tying her wrist to the headboard, he worked deftly making sure the knots were tight. Then he moved up her body, ignoring her yips of pain and grabbed her other wrist. Her body convulsed underneath him and his cock hardened. His breathing accelerated, and his hands shook as he tried to tie her.
"You're so beautiful," he said through his teeth.
The pure scent of her fear filled his nostrils, and once he had her hands tied, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. "My Barbara."
"I-I'm not Barbara," she screamed.
He ground his cock against her and got up. Tying her foot with the rope, he bent down and looped the end around the leg of the bed. Then, he tied her other foot. Sprea
d-eagled on the bed, Barbara thrashed her body and yelled for help.
He stroked himself through his jeans. She could yell all she wanted. Nobody was going to hear her.
Soon, she'd quiet.
They always quieted.
Chapter 29
Paxton had left the house after bringing Clara back to Wayne's house. It was only him and Clara. Before she rested, she needed to tell him everything. It was detrimental that he find Gracie before anything else happened.
Clara pushed against his shoulder. "Wayne, put me down."
He ignored her and set her gently on the bed, piling all the pillows behind her. She sat up and grabbed his hand.
"Stop, please. Listen to me." She held on tightly.
He sat down on the bed. "Okay, but you need to rest, and I need to make some phone calls."
"Not before I tell you I know who kidnapped Gracie," she said, practically shouting.
He stilled. "Did you tell the police?"
"No, because I could be wrong and I need them trying to find her." She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them. "I need you to go after the man I believe took her. It has to be you. You have to save Gracie, and I don’t care if you tell the police now as long as you believe me. You have to save my sister."
"Who do you believe took your sister?" he asked.
"I was going to tell you after he broke into our house, but Gracie and I weren't sure it was him." She pressed a hand to her forehead and a hand on her chest. "I think my heart is breaking."
"Jesus Christ, sweetheart." Wayne cupped her face, his thumbs sweeping under her eyes. "Take some deep breaths and tell me what you know."
Her throat tightened with emotion. "Twenty-four years ago, we lived in St. John's. My mom was kidnapped and later found murdered." She moistened her dry lips, her voice breaking. "Remember, I told you my mom was dead? I didn't lie. God, it's so important that you believe me."
