by Debra Webb
Ian had been right, it seemed. Simon would be immensely disappointed in her. She’d not only screwed up a case, her actions would likely get both her and the client killed.
Damn it!
Brandon stared at her, his confusion evident in his rigid posture. He had no idea why she chose not to respond to whatever he’d said.
She had messed up.
Maybe her family and Metro’s top brass had been right about her. She was handicapped and didn’t want to admit her shortcoming. The inability to own her boundaries was a danger to herself and anyone else. The line came up frequently on her performance evaluations.
For years she had fought that issue. Had proven time and again that she could do what any individual who could hear could do.
But she had been wrong. This was proof positive.
She watched the gunman standing above them, his fingers locked on an overhead strap to maintain his balance in the moving vehicle.
Brandon elbowed her. She turned toward him. He leaned in, whispered something against her ear yet again. She shuddered, drew away. She didn’t dare make eye contact with him until they could speak privately. At this point he would be even more frustrated and confused.
The gunman watching over them released the strap and walked crookedly up to the back of the driver’s seat. He glanced at Merri and Brandon before leaning his face closer to the webbing and speaking to the driver.
Brandon was whispering to her again. Damn it! She turned her face to his and whispered, “What?” He attempted to lean close to her ear but she grabbed him by the chin and pointed his face at hers. “Look at me when you speak,” she murmured.
Another of those near constant frowns lined his brow. “What do we do now?” he asked, his nose only a few inches from hers.
Her gaze glued to his lips, she got it. “We remain calm,” she whispered, “until we learn what this is about.” She fixed her eyes directly on his. “No sudden moves. Do exactly as they tell you.”
The muzzle of the weapon was suddenly against her head.
Judging by the way Brandon stared up at the gunman, their captor had said something, but Merri hadn’t heard his approach or his words.
She looked up at the gunman. Part of her wanted to tell him she was deaf and hope that news would somehow influence his actions. But giving him any usable information would be a mistake.
“Go to hell,” she said instead.
The need to grab the overhead strapping to keep his balance prevented the gunman from slapping her but as soon as he had a hold on the strap, he kicked her in the side. The air rushed out of Merri’s lungs. She wrapped her arms around her middle, struggled to suck in a breath. Brandon reached for the guy, but she stopped him. Shook her head.
Brandon looked from Merri to the gunman and back. She wished she could see his eyes better. He had to be confused as hell. She’d told Brandon to do whatever they said and she had lashed out.
Dumb move, Merri. But her goal had been accomplished. Whatever the gunman had said to her, she’d covered for her inability to respond appropriately.
Brandon scooted closer, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. The gunman aimed the muzzle at Brandon’s face. He stared at it, but didn’t make a comment or a move to release his hold on her. The gunman made no further attempt to separate them. She was grateful for that. Somehow she felt safer in Brandon’s arms. All this time she’d fought the idea of a protector and here she was…being protected.
Though the gunman grabbed Merri’s purse, he hadn’t bothered to pat either of them down. Armed or not, the weapon in the bad guy’s hand kept them from attempting any escape. The man with the gun was banking on their fear.
Two more times Brandon whispered something to her. Merri turned to him, hoping he would repeat his comments, but he didn’t. His continued hold on her gave her an unexpected feeling of strength. She hadn’t looked at him that way. But now, with his arm around her shoulders and her upper body supported by his chest, she realized that though he was lean he was well-muscled. Funny, she realized, how first impressions were so many times way off the mark. She told herself that was why she didn’t like to explain her hearing challenge when she first met a person. Her shortsightedness regarding Brandon’s physical prowess was evidence of that theory. Yet their current situation was serious evidence of the opposite…of hiding her own challenge.
With no windows other than those around the driver’s and front passenger’s seats, she couldn’t assess where they were headed. They’d gone south out of the alley. Since no hard turns had been made she had to assume they were still traveling south. She might not be able to see where they were going but she felt every slowdown and turn. So far they hadn’t turned.
As if she’d spoken the observation out loud, the driver slowed and took a hard left. Brandon held her more tightly against him. He smelled good, she realized. No cologne, just the subtle scent of what was likely his soap or his antiperspirant. The urge to close her eyes and enjoy the secure feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed her. She mentally shook it off. What was wrong with her? Yes, it had been a while since she’d let herself feel anything in a man’s arms. But it hadn’t been that long, had it? Not to mention this was a stranger. She didn’t often have reactions so strong to strangers.
Another deceleration for a turn sent her senses on alert. The van didn’t speed up once the turn was made. Merri concluded that they had reached their destination. A hard stop and the change in the posture of the gunman hovering above them confirmed her assessment.
The gunman waved his weapon. Merri understood that he had issued an instruction but it was totally lost on her. Brandon released her and scrambled to his feet. He offered Merri a hand and she did the same.
The door slid open and the gunman hustled them out. Merri immediately took stock of her surroundings. She blinked to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. Large warehouse. The van had driven directly into the warehouse, and the drive-through door had immediately closed. A couple of unopened wooden crates sat against one wall. Another van similar to the one in which they had arrived and a generic four-door black sedan were parked inside. She counted six men, all wearing black from boots to masks. They milled about as if the abducting folks were an everyday affair. To them, it seemed, loading something into the back of the van was paramount. They paid no real attention to the arrival of the hostages. And that was what they were—hostages.
Stop, she ordered herself. Pay attention to the details. There was a second floor at the back of the building. Beneath that were several doors leading to what appeared to be offices.
The two masked gunmen who had picked them up led Merri and Brandon to one of the rooms or offices. The room was empty. Once they were shoved inside the door was closed and, Merri presumed, locked. Just in case, she rushed over to the closed door and attempted to open it. Locked. Definitely.
She turned back to Brandon who stood in the middle of the well-lit room staring at her.
“They’re going to kill us.”
She couldn’t argue with his reasoning. “They’re going to try.” That was a given. Sometime during the run or struggle that followed she had dropped her cell phone. The fact that the 911 dispatcher had been on the line might or might not prove useful. But, as soon as the Colby Agency was contacted, and they would be contacted, that would be a step in the right direction. The agency would pull out all the stops to find her.
“We have to…”
Merri waved to him. “What?” That he’d turned around in a circle and thrust his arms up when he spoke had prevented her from getting all that he said.
He shifted to face her more fully. “Don’t you get it? These guys have guns. Do you have a gun?”
“No.” She had a weapon at home. But unless she was on assignment, she wasn’t supposed to carry it. She wasn’t supposed to be on assignment. She wasn’t supposed to have a client. She wasn’t supposed to allow a client, if she had one, to believe she had no physical challenge.
She was batting a thousand on all counts.
“I came to your agency for help.” He turned to pace. “And I got…”
Okay, time to tell him.
Merri swallowed back the lump rising in her throat. She hated this part. “Brandon.”
He just kept pacing and rambling about something. She could see his lips moving but not from a view that allowed her to understand every word. She could imagine, however, that whatever he was saying about her wasn’t particularly flattering.
“Brandon!”
He turned, glared at her.
“There’s something I should have told you.” The blood pounded in her skull. If she hadn’t lost her hearing, the whooshing sound inside her right now would be overwhelming. She braced herself, looked him in the eye and prepared to confess her disability.
Disability.
The word. She hated that word.
“What?” He motioned for her to spit it out.
Just do it, Merrilee.
“Brandon, I—”
That he was staring beyond her now and his eyes had widened with worry warned that someone had walked into the room. She turned around. A man, his mask shielding his face, slammed the door behind him.
Merri focused her gaze on his lips, or what she could see of them. The mask was a little close around his mouth but the bright light helped her to distinguish between the two.
“Against the wall,” the man ordered. The pistol in his right hand was leveled on them.
Merri backed across the room, never taking her eyes off the man with the weapon.
When her back hit the wall, she demanded, “What do you want?”
The man glanced at Brandon. “He knows what I want.”
Merri assessed the size of the man with the gun. Too tall and heavy to be the one Brandon had seen meeting with his roommate. It appeared to be their original abductor, the one in the alley. Merri turned her face toward Brandon. He was shaking his head and saying something. The best she could tell it was that he didn’t know what the man was talking about.
The muzzle of the weapon suddenly bored into the soft underside of Merri’s chin. The man’s face was close to hers but she didn’t miss all that he said to Brandon. “You’ll cooperate or…”
She didn’t have to see the movement of his lips to know he’d threatened her life. If she’d had any doubts about what had been said, the terror on Brandon’s face told her all she needed to know.
“What is it you think I can help you with?” Brandon asked.
Merri shifted her gaze to the man in front of her. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. She blocked out the pain caused by the muzzle.
“I want the video.”
Video? Had Brandon’s roommate actually had an incriminating video? Brandon had mentioned a video. Merri supposed it was related to the story somehow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brandon said at last.
Strangely, Merri felt relieved that he hadn’t lied to her. Not even by omission. He evidently knew nothing of any video. Other than the bizarre clues he’d shared with her.
“By the time I get through with your girlfriend here,” the masked man warned, “you’ll remember everything I need to know.”
With her head immobile, Merri had to strain her eyeballs to see Brandon’s response in her peripheral vision.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Please don’t tell them I’m with the Colby Agency. Merri prayed he would keep that info to himself for the moment. They would know who she was from her ID in her purse. But there was a difference between being a friend or girlfriend than being an investigator on official business.
“If this is about my friend…my roommate,” Brandon told the man, “I don’t know anything about his work or his murder. I’ve already told the police that trying to get information from me is a waste of time. There’s nothing to get.”
Merri swung her gaze to the man poking her with the gun. “We’re not the police, Thomas,” the bastard warned, his lips twisting slightly with smugness. “We don’t care what you’ve told anyone else. You will tell us what you know before you die.” He shifted his attention to Merri. “That’s a promise to both of you.”
He drew the muzzle away from her and backed up a step. “You have one hour. Think long and hard about your answer before I come back. If you don’t have what I’m looking for, then you’ll both die.”
When the door had closed behind the gunman, Merri turned to Brandon. “You okay?” She struggled to slow her breathing. Damn, that was close.
Brandon closed in on her. “Am I okay?” He looked her over. “You’re the one who had the gun in your face. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” She dragged in another deep breath, told herself to remain calm. She’d been in similar circumstances before. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d faced the threat of death.
“You were going to tell me something,” he said, suspicion in those dark eyes again. “Something you said you should have told me already.”
“First,” she offered, she was rationalizing, using excuses to avoid the inevitable, “we have to find a way to get out of here.”
He glanced around the room. No windows. One locked door. “You can’t be serious.”
Merri summoned the fire that she refused to let die. “You came to me for help. Trust me. We will get out of here before that bastard comes back.”
She had no idea how, but somehow.
As for her deafness, no need to worry her client about that right now.
She could tell him later…when staying alive wasn’t an issue.
Chapter Four
9:20 p.m.
She had to think.
Fifty-five minutes and they could very well be dead.
“These men…to kill us.”
Merri stared up at Brandon. Struggled a moment to fill in the parts she had missed. Clearly he had never been in this situation before and he was scared. As he should be.
“Unless you give them what they want,” she countered, an idea coming to her.
Her suggestion wasn’t exactly a palatable option, but it might buy them a little much-needed time. Unless she came up with something better, that might very well be their only option.
He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Maybe she had.
“Just let me do the talking,” she said, in case anyone was listening. “Neither of us wants to die just because your roommate was into something he shouldn’t have been.” When he would have interrupted, she held up a hand to silence him. “These guys don’t want us at all. They want the video Kick had. This isn’t really about us. I know you want to clear yourself with the police, but this is about saving our lives. We can deal with the police later.”
The confusion marring his brow told her that he didn’t get it. Thankfully, however, he did as she’d asked and kept his mouth shut.
Heart thudding, Merri turned and strode to the door. She had to do this right the first time. If she missed anything their captor said, she could screw this up. There wouldn’t likely be any second chances. She tightened her fingers into a fist and pounded on the door.
She swallowed, prayed that whoever was on the other side of that steel door hadn’t responded verbally to her banging. When five trauma-filled seconds had passed, she reached up to beat on the door once more. It swung inward, she scarcely backed up in time to prevent the damned thing from smacking her in the face.
“Eight minutes,” proclaimed the same man who had pushed them into the room. “Didn’t take too long to decide that staying alive was more appealing than being dead. Aren’t we proud of ourselves?”
Oh, yes, proud beyond words. And he had been listening. “Look.” Merri braced her hands on her hips and stood toe-to-toe with the man. He was a good half foot taller than her and his age was showing. What she could see of his hair was gray, and he had a bit of a thick middle. No doubt the guy in charge at field level. “All we’re trying to
do is stay out of trouble,” she allowed. “Brandon didn’t kill his roommate. The guy was a total jerk but he didn’t deserve to die.” She shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved. I didn’t know him that well. The only thing we’re trying to do is stay out of trouble with the police. Problem is, we don’t have a clue what Kick was up to, but we do have some idea of where he may have hidden what you’re looking for.”
The corners of those watchful eyes crinkled as he narrowed them in suspicion. “If you don’t know what he was up to, why would you think you know where he’d hidden what we’re looking for?”
Fair question. “Because he told us he was in trouble.” That was the truth as far as Merri knew. “He gave Brandon a package in case something happened to him.” Since she’d made up that part of the story, she glanced briefly at her client to judge his reaction to where she was going. His brown eyes were wide with worry. “We can take you to the package. My guess is that’s what you’re looking for.”
“How ’bout you give me the location and I’ll check it out. If the package contains what we’re looking for, I’ll tell my men to let you go.”
Though she couldn’t hear the nuances of his tone, she didn’t miss the haughty expression, the certainty in his eyes. He wanted the information, then he wanted both her and Brandon out of the way. There would be no letting them go.
“We could,” she offered, “but that scenario wouldn’t be in our best interests. Neither of us presents a threat to you. We take you to the package, you get what you want and we get our freedom. Seems like the perfect compromise to me.”
He studied her eyes a moment. Assessing. “I checked out your ID, Ms. Walters. You work for a private investigations agency.”
She lifted her chin in defiance of the fear that niggled at her determination. “That’s right. I’m a researcher. That’s why Brandon thought of me when he followed Kick’s bizarre order.”
The gray-haired man looked from Merri to Brandon and back. “How do I know you’re not an investigator? Maybe he—” he hitched his thumb toward Brandon “—hired you to find the video for his own purposes.”
