by Naomi West
“Jackie, be cool,” Zed growled in her ear as he made his way to the elevator, the Pharma-Vitae employees fleeing in front of him like rats from a sinking ship. “I need you to get me to Mark's office.”
“Be cool?” she gasped, beginning to hyperventilate. “Zed, this is so not cool! What the fuck are you doing?”
All around them, security began to swarm. There were four men in clean and pressed white shirts, their pistols raised, just doing their jobs.
Zed felt bad for them, and for Jackie. But, he'd done plenty of things already that he felt bad about, and this was a little like icing on the cake, as far as he was concerned. “Using you as a hostage,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as cheery as he could. “Abby's safe, I promise. This is all to help with our little problem.”
She seemed to relax a little at his words, but not much.
He didn't like using Jackie this way, or having to put her in any unnecessary danger. But, unfortunately, she'd been the closest person for him to grab. If the older lady screaming for security had been closer, she'd be the one he was guiding to the elevator. “I'm going up,” he said to the security guards as he made his way to elevator. “Anyone try and stop me, I decorate your lobby with this sweet thing's brains.”
The men looked back and forth to each other, then to the cops who were swarming up around Abby's Escalade that Zed had so unceremoniously parked in the little concrete plaza.
He didn't wait for their say so, but dragged Jackie the rest of the way to the elevator. “Push the button,” he said.
Jackie pushed it, her other hand returning to his wrist. “Aw,” she whispered, “you called me sweet thing.”
Zed ignored her little aside and, when the elevator buzzed, he stepped away from the button.
People came streaming out of the elevator, anxious to get home from work, and, upon seeing the gun he was brandishing, went running for the exits like the employees in the lobby had, earlier.
With the elevator clear, he and Jackie stepped on.
“Press Letterman's floor,” he growled to Jackie, as he stepped closer to the panel, the gun still at her head.
With a slightly shaky finger—not nearly as shaken as it should have been, though—she pushed the top floor. Mark was the on same floor as Abby, he noticed.
He turned his words back to the security guards stationed outside in the lobby, even though he'd never let his attention from them waver. “You stop the elevator, you have people waiting for me, or you do anything I don't fucking like,” he growled, “I put two in the bitch's head. Got it?”
The doors closed before they could respond.
“Ugh,” Jackie groaned. “Did you really have to call me a bitch?”
Zed chuckled and let her go, releasing his arm from her neck. “Sorry about that. Need them to think I'm for real.”
“Would've fooled me,” she said, tapping her foot as they rose higher through the steel-and-glass tower of corrupt capitalism. “So, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Try to get Mark to admit to everything,” he said with a shrug. “Honestly, I was just doing it to get the cops away from Abby, in case they started shooting.” He wiped a hand down his face, exhausted from the events of the already-full day. “Never thought I'd make it this far, to tell you the truth.”
“You know,” she said, looking up at him. “You two are pretty sweet. When, you know, you're not kidnapping her on national television.”
Zed grunted and shrugged. “I've really made a mess of this, haven't I?”
“Well, you can't make a multinational corporate omelet without breaking a few eggs.”
The elevator buzzed again as they reached the empty top floor. Jackie gave him quick directions to Mark's office and assured him he'd probably still be in there. “Every time we have a fire drill, he just stays in there on his computer. He never believes anything is real.”
Zed thanked her, stepped off the elevator, and stopped when she called his name.
“Yeah?” he asked, as he turned back to her.
“Good luck,” she said, smiling warmly as the elevator door closed. As the doors shut he faintly heard her cell phone begin to ring.
He headed off through the maze of cubicles, following her directions to a T, and went straight for Mark's office. He stepped through the door, pistol in his hand.
“Well, you're a little early, aren't you,” Mark asked, his voice barely surprised, “Mr. Hesse?”
The head of sales for Pharma-Vitae was sitting at his desk, a large over-stuffed duffel bag pushed in front of him, and a pistol in his hands.
Zed glanced from Mark's face to the pistol he was holding, then turned back around and closed the door, locking it. He turned back around and lowered his gun. “Relax, Mark,” he soothed, “I'm not here to hurt you. I just want my money and the truth about Abby Winters. Was that bitch behind Dimalerax, or not?”
Mark didn't respond at first, but Zed thought he saw the beginnings of a smile at the corner of his lips. It couldn't have just been a trick of the light, though, because when Zed focused back in on the reaction, it was gone. This one had a good poker face, that was certain.
“Believe me,” Zed said, “I've had the woman on ice for the last day, and I don't know how the fuck you've put up with it, man. Cold, frigid, and mean. The way she looks at you like you're lower than the low, and she's just some fucking woman who got where she is because of her rich mommy's money and fame. You should've seen her face the first time I spanked her.”
Mark smiled a little more obviously now. It was still subtle, but it was definitely there.
“What about you two?” Zed asked.
“About us two?” Mark asked. “What do you mean?”
“You ever . . .” he waggled his eyebrows. “. . . you know?”
“Us?” Mark asked, arching one brow. “Fuck, no. Couldn't even get her to join us for a drink at company parties.”
“Sorry, Mark, you missed out,” Zed grinned. “Turns out she really likes it rough. Took her a while to figure that out, though. Had her begging for it by the end, though.”
“You . . . really?”
Zed laughed. “Absolutely, man. You think I chose to take her hostage for her stunning personality? Nah, I wanted see if I could get the Ice Queen to thaw out. And man, once I got a little heat in her, turned out she was insatiable. Her cunt went from a deep-freeze to a hot spring.”
Mark grinned, letting himself join in on the sick parody of fun. It hurt Zed to talk about Abby this way, to demean her when she wasn't around, but he needed Mark to think he and Zed were on the same side, at least partially.
“Almost got her to admit what she'd done,” Zed continued, coming around the desk a little bit as he stuffed his gun back in shoulder holster. “But I had to move on this kidnapping thing before people got suspicious and came looking for her. I was this close.” He held up his right hand with his two fingers half an inch separated.
“Well,” Mark said, swinging around to track him a little more closely with his pistol. “She'll never break down. Not on everything. But, between you and me, I've seen the files, and I remember it like it was yesterday. She's the one who pushed Dimalerax out so hard. Said we needed to boost the revenue for her first quarterly meeting.” He paused and looked around. “You didn't bring her with you? I hadn't heard that on the news. Did you . . . you know?”
Zed feigned mock disbelief that Mark would think he was a murderer. “Did I what? Kill her? I left her back at the house, as part of our agreement. I just came for the money.”
“Well, frankly, I don't care if you brought her with you or buried her in the basement. I mean, it's a drop in the bucket, right? And, besides, it's not my money. Hell, we've got insurance for a reason.”
The Air Force vet laughed. “I like the way you think, Mark,” he said, grinning wolfishly and tapping an index finger to his temple. “You're a smart man.”
This was all on the outside, of course. He was calm, collected, and together�
�just sharing a joke with one of the guys. Locker room talk.
Inside, Zed was tearing at the walls of his own prison, itching to get out and rip Mark limb from limb. This piece of shit couldn't be allowed to live or to make anyone else's life worse. Here, inches from Zed's capable hands, was the man who had tried to ruin Abby's life and who had ruined Kai's life. And all for what? Greed. Simple, unfettered greed.
Zed and Mark grinned at each other. Yep, Zed realized, this was the asshole he wanted, right here.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zed
“I tried telling her about my brother,” Zed continued, his eyes focused on Mark's to gauge his reaction. “And you'd think she was made of ivory, the way she responded.”
Mark didn't say anything.
“Told her about how he killed his family while he was on Dimalerax, you see, and about how he's on death row now because of his psychotic break, something the medication was supposed to help him with.”
Still, the PV's head of sales didn't flinch, nor did he add anything to the conversation. Nothing.
Zed repositioned himself, moving a little closer to the other man. He'd had military training and done hand-to-hand combat. He knew the best place to be when his opponent had a firearm.
“Mark,” Zed said, after a while. “What if I told you that I know you're the one who approved everything? That I'd seen the files and your emails and memos pushing for the roll-out of Dimalerax, even though everyone knew it was a failure? What if I knew you were going to pin everything on Abby, when it was all said and done?”
“I'd laugh in your face,” Mark said, smiling a little.
“What if I told you, then, that it was being reported as we speak? That, if you turned on CNN, you'd see the evidence up on the big screen at prime time?”
Mark went to raise the pistol to level it at Zed, but the military vet was too fast. He grabbed the barrel, locking the slide in place, and stepped toward Mark as he pointed the barrel off to the side. He bent the gun in, twisting the other man's finger around in the trigger guard, nearly breaking it.
Mark's preservation instincts forced him to release the pistol and let Zed take control of it. If he hadn't, his body knew it would have been missing a finger by the end of the interaction.
Mark looked down in disbelief at his gun, which was now in Zed's hand. “How did you?”
“Never let someone within striking distance, idiot. Not when you're the one with the gun,” he said, taking a step back from Letterman and aiming the pistol at him. “Now, start talking. I want everything you know. Now!”
# # #
Abby
“Did you speak to them?” Abby asked Det. Reynolds, as he returned with two Styrofoam cups of coffee in hand.
“I did,” he said with a nod, as he offered her a cup of burnt coffee. “And you're right. They back you up. Also, from the questions the reporters keep screaming past the barricades at me, I gather your story hit the news. But all this still doesn't change the fact that we’ve got your crazy boyfriend out there waving his gun around, and that you're the key to bringing him in. I don't wanna hurt the guy, mainly because I tend to agree with him on Pharma-Vitae with this pill, but I can't have him injuring anyone, either. Ya get me?”
She nodded as she cradled the tiny cup in her hands. “What do you need me to do?”
“Well, there's still charges we gotta press. Whether the DA goes through with 'em, or not, who am I to say? That's above my pay grade, that's for damn sure. But, he ain't looking at a long stretch of time if he does go up. He'll have some restitution, I'd imagine, considering we've had two choppers chasing after him all afternoon, and all these men don't work for free. Now, all this is assuming he doesn't do anything stupid and hurt his newest hostage.”
Abby groaned. “Newest hostage?”
“Some guy, name of Mark Letterman. Works for your company, and I think you know him.”
Some guy was a pretty loose definition of Mark. More like piece of shit. She just nodded, though, and kept her mouth shut.
“If you can get on the phone with him and convince him to come out, it'd go a long ways toward helping him. If he doesn't have a chance to wave his gun at any cops, that keeps his offenses low. But, if he starts that shit, pardon my French, I can't make any guarantees on his safety.”
“How about,” Abby said, looking up at the gruff, but sincere, older detective, “I speak to him in person?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Abby
Pharma-Vitae's home office was on lock down. A ring of steel and guns surrounded the campus, with more guns than had been at her house. Teams were readying themselves to enter the building, to bring Zed and his hostage out.
She could tell from the general feeling, though, that the cops seemed to empathize with Zed and what he was doing. Pharma had targeted first responders as their prime market with a drug that didn't even work.
“Sure we have to even go in after this guy?” one of the SWAT joked. “Seems like a real dick, from the news.”
“Orders are orders,” the officer in charge said, as they walked past. “Until you're signing the city's checks, you gotta follow 'em.”
Abby and Det. Reynolds set up near the front of the line, at a vantage point that gave them a clear line of sight to her destroyed Escalade and the office building's entrance beyond. The detective stuffed a phone into her hand. “You know the number?”
“By heart,” she said. She'd had to call and talk to Letterman more times than she had liked throughout her short tenure at Pharma-Vitae, and she’d had the number memorized in the first week. She dialed the number, then worked her way through the automatic answering service, with its robotic operator.
The phone began to ring. After a few short buzzes, someone picked up. “Mark?”
“No,” the voice on the other end grated, “Mark can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message for this asshole?”
“Zed!” Her heart leapt with joy to hear him safe and sound. “Zed, baby, you're fine!”
“For now,” he said, the smile coming through in his voice. “But, you know, the day's still young. Guess you got out all right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good,” he said, sighing. “I'm glad. They giving you any trouble?”
“Not since the story hit the news,” she replied. “They all know what you're doing, and why you're doing it. Everyone knows. I've just . . . I'm just so worried about you, Zed. I want you to come out of there.”
“That worried, huh?” he asked, his breath heavy on the phone. “You sure you want a crazy vet like me?”
“Well, I wasn't at first,” she replied. “I'll be honest. When I first met you in my office, I really did care about what you and your brother were going through. But, I thought I had to keep my company front and center. I thought I needed to keep my own emotions from coming through. But you've shown me I don't need to hide behind my ambitions anymore, and that there are more important things in my life.”
Silence on his end, punctuated by him licking his lips.
“I just, I want you out of there. I want you back in my life. This past week or so, it's just been the most eye-opening experience for me, and I don't think I can ever go back to the life I was leading before you. You've changed me, through and through. You really have.”
“You …” he began, trailing off for a moment, then speaking again. “You've changed me, too, Abby. For the better. You really have. I was broken before. Just shattered. But I feel like I can have some peace now. I'm not perfect, of course. No man is.”
“I don't want or need you to be perfect, Zed,” Abby said, feeling the wetness on her cheeks from her falling tears. “I just want you to be mine. And in one piece, of course.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I can do that. I think I can get back in one piece for you.”
“You're going to try, then?”
“Yeah,” he repeated. “I'm coming out.”
She closed her eyes, trying
to squeeze the tears to a stop. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” Zed whispered.
“I love you, too, Zed Hesse.”
# # #
Zed
“Well,” Zed said after he hung up the phone, his pistol still trained on Mark. “Looks like I've got everything I need from you. Everything I'd ever possibly need.”
