Blaze (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 5)
Page 22
“What’s his name?”
“Shaun Davidson, why?”
“Just checking.” He scanned the hallway as he headed for Stasha’s office, stopping just outside her office door, peeking inside. After Megan walked away, he moved just inside the doorway, studying her computer. As he walked closer, he didn’t notice any signs of a struggle, thank God. The computer still humming, he hit the mouse button and the screen came to life. There were two files open on the bottom, one without a name. Clicking on the button, he growled. Another threat. Had this been an attachment? There was no way of being able to tell. He checked for her email, but she’d signed out more than a day before.
Seeing nothing else of interest, he walked to the door, trying several keys before finding the right one. The moment he stepped inside her living quarters, he slumped. The place had been tossed. What little she had had been upturned, furniture thrown or turned over, dishes and glasses smashed. Taking careful steps, he walked through the rubble and into her bedroom. Even her clothes had been disturbed, strewn across the bed and floor, drawers yanked and dumped.
“What the hell is going on?” Without touching anything, he scanned every room, including the bathroom. Whatever the person was looking for, he had to wonder what he could have found. Was Stasha hiding another life? There was a hidden story about San Francisco, however, now she lived simply. Given what she’d told him, he doubted she had any money or items of real value. This was a direct threat to her alone. Hearing the puppies, he opened the door. Given the lack of water and food, she hadn’t been in for at least twelve hours.
Time to call the sheriff.
He only prayed it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 13
Stasha opened her eyes and cringed, unable to focus. Everything was foggy as she tried to remember what had happened. Drake. She remembered being in front of his SUV and trying to say goodbye then everything had gone to black. Stretching, her leg hit something hard. She shifted and tried to understand what she was seeing. Bars. “What?” Her mouth and throat were parched, and her head was pounding.
Moving again, she blinked several times until her vision cleared. Terror swept through her. She jerked up and hit her head. The clanging noise matched the vibrant beating echoes in her aching head. She wiped her mouth and tried to sit up. Then she fully understood.
She was in a cage.
A shiver trickled down her spine into her legs and she slapped her hand on one of the metal bars. Peering out, she could see that she was in a room. The floors were wood, and the closed door was only about five feet away. Both sides were shadowed and as she explored her surroundings, she realized that the cage was located under either a piece of furniture or some other encasement.
Her mind reeled, remembering the very times she’d been caged in Drake’s house, forced to sleep in a confined area under his bed. Oh, God. He’d recreated his home. The man had purchased and installed a play area, a true dungeon. She’d been introduced one night after a romantic dinner, an invitation to see the man hidden behind a mask. Up to that point, they’d merely enjoyed evenings spent at BDSM clubs, handcuffs and his favorite proclivity, spanking.
They were more like whippings.
Shuddering, she studied the enlarged cage then hissed seeing the padlock. She’d become his prisoner. Think. Think! Her thoughts remained muddled. As she looked down, noticing the single blanket and small water bowl, she fell into a time warp, visions of the days and nights she’d spent in the cage a reminder that she’d left the man and her life in San Francisco for a distinct reason.
Sanity.
Holding her breath, she listened for any sounds. There were none to speak of. There was light streaming in the room and she crawled to the other side, pressing her face against the cool metal, just able to make out the corner of a window. How long had she been out? After feeling an odd sensation in her neck, she rubbed her fingers across her skin. There was a small welt, as if he’d injected her with some drug. The bastard.
Where in the hell had he taken her? She stared down at the water and resigned herself to pick up the bowl. Her hands were shaking so badly she sloshed the water all over herself. Disgusted, she dropped it and the sound of metal against metal brought tears to her eyes. A single whimper escaped her mouth and she was surprised when the monster didn’t come through the door, dragging her out of the cage in disgust.
There was nothing but an eerie silence. How could she ever explain this kind of horror to Boone? How could he ever understand that she could allow herself to be fooled by such a horrible man? Allowing the tears to fall, she huddled in the corner, cradling her knees. Dropping her head, she did her best to muffle the sound. The memories came rushing in.
“You’re so beautiful. I’m so happy we’re together,” Drake stated as he swirled the wine glass.
“Thank you. You spoil me.” Stasha leaned her head against her hands, gazing at him over the candlelight. Everything was perfect. For once in her life, she’d found the type of boyfriend that she could trust, and she cared for him deeply. Everything about him was amazing from the way he treated her to the gifts he enjoyed showering her with.
“What are you thinking?”
“That I’m one lucky girl.”
“Mmm… Yes, you are.” He took a gulp of wine then planted his glass on the table, rising from his chair. “I think it’s time we move further in our relationship. Don’t you?”
They’d been dating for almost a year. One glorious year of nights spent in the more exclusive clubs and dinners at the finest restaurants. Maybe this was the night that she’d dreamed of. Becoming his wife would be the culmination. The perfect job. Maybe the perfect husband. “What did you have in mind?”
“Finish your wine. I want to show you something that’s very special to me.”
His expression was authoritative, demanding and while he’d become much more controlling during the last two months, she enjoyed the additional attention. She didn’t even mind being called his possession. She took another sip, knowing how impatient he was, and allowed him to take her hand. “I’m excited.”
“Good. I hope you’ll always be. Come, princess. We’re about to begin a new chapter.”
Her entire body was quivering as he held her hand, caressing her fingers. She’d learned to be studious of the man. Her man. The thought made her pussy wet. What few friends she had were certainly jealous of the man. As they should be. Giggling, she was as happy as she’d ever been.
“You and I don’t have a conventional relationship. You know that we never will.” Drake kept his tone even and his gait very slow as he walked her out of the dining room and down the hall.
“That’s what I love about our time together. Intimate in so many ways.” Although a little convention would be just fine with her.
“You please me and while you’ll certainly learn to be more obedient, that will come with time as well as intense training.”
“Training?” Obedient. Yes, his rules were strict but at this point, she didn’t mind them. Even the regular punishments he doled out allowed her a sense of peace. She could think clearly, work more efficiently.
He gave her a slight smile as he looked down, his eyes holding a shimmer, a knowing. “Training. Yes. You’ve come a long way, but in order for you to become the perfect slave, you will need more.”
Slave. The word filtered into her mind, her rational thoughts. She stopped and pulled her hand free. “Drake, I enjoy submitting to you, but slave isn’t what I want. I mean…” Now, she was confused, almost afraid. The BDSM clubs had been incredible, opening her mind, but he’d never mentioned anything permanent.
Drake inhaled and remained silent.
The quiet was eerie, almost frightening. “I have my own mind and life. I enjoy what we share but… You’re not serious?”
“Allow me to show you what I mean.” Taking out a set of keys, he unlocked the door.
She realized she’d never seen him lock his bedroom door under any circumstances. As her mi
nd began to go over the last few months, she remembered that she’d only been in his bedroom twice. They’d enjoyed dinners at his house, or what others would call a mansion, but had only been invited to stay on two occasions. Even his playroom was off limits unless he specifically invited her.
Stasha took a step back, attempting to calm her nerves. He was already treating her as if she belonged to him. “Wait.”
“Come. Everything will make sense to you. Later, we’ll begin your obedience training.” When she continued to hesitate, he walked closer, cupping her chin, his thumb moving back and forth across her mouth. “Every woman needs a firm hand. You, yourself have told me that.”
The pressure of his thumb was becoming uncomfortable and she could hear her heart thumping in a ragged manner against her chest. Was she actually afraid? Of the man she’d whispered words of love only hours before?
Leaning over, he dragged his lips across her cheek to her ear, and whispered, “You’re all mine. I can do anything I want to you.” The moment he kissed her lips, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
Her instinct was to fight, to try and get away and she was shocked, unsure of why she was nervous, why anxiety was creeping into every cell. She was locked in a fight of will, but what had changed? He had changed. The kiss was no longer romantic, but powerful, as he if was drinking the life out of her.
Chuckling, he wiped his mouth before opening the door and pushing her inside. “See, my dear, sweet slave? This is where you’ll be sleeping from now on. Just under my feet.”
Stasha clamped her eyes shut, shoving away the horrible memories. She’d been locked in his cage for days, only allowed out for his particular brand of discipline. This wasn’t going to happen again. He wasn’t going to break her. She refused to allow him.
Slam!
Someone had entered the house.
The sound came from beyond the closed door. She strained to hear anything else. There were two sets of footsteps, one heavier than the other. Voices. Yes, they were talking but the sounds were muffled. Scuttling forward, she held her breath as the voices became louder, angrier. She was able to make out a few words, but they didn’t make any sense.
Until she heard a single phrase, but the voice wasn’t what she expected.
“Then the fucking cowboy will have to die.”
When the door opened, she shrunk back.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
Her eyes opened wide as the recognition settled in. “Oh my God.”
“Boone. Calm down. Everything is going to be all right.”
“How in the fuck am I supposed to calm down when Stasha is missing?” Boone demanded as he glared at the deputy. While he’d known Carter Worth since moving into town, his team having coordinated together during several fire emergencies, he wasn’t thrilled that the sheriff refused to see him. Granted, his rather terse call had been met with mixed reactions. He had the distinct feeling he was being pegged as part of some crime ring. “And why can’t I talk with the sheriff?”
“Boone. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours. She could have left,” Carter said in a calming fashion. “Why don’t you come into my office and we can talk?”
“I need to talk to the sheriff. I heard he’s working some joint task force with the Criminal Investigation Service with the National Park System. Is this true?” Boone tried his best to calm down, but it seemed everyone was hiding information.
Carter exhaled and looked over at the other deputies in the room. “My office. Come on.”
“Fine. If this will get me any answers.” Boone followed behind him.
“Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand. If she just left, then who exactly trashed her place?”
“I’ve got men at the clinic now. They’re dusting for prints and checking for any signs of illegal entry. If the perpetrator left fingerprints, we’ll get him.” Carter shook his head. “Just takes time.”
Boone hissed and locked eyes. “And what if he didn’t?”
“They always leave clues, Boone. Always do.”
“Who are you investigating, Carter? I already know we’re talking about the Dreyfus family. Let’s see, there’s Bo and I’m going to venture a guess that the sister’s name is Candy. Right? How do I know this? Because she tried to gather information out of me at the Ziggy’s the other night. She tried to be a clever girl, but she was a lousy actress.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Boone,” Carter insisted.
“Oh no?” Boone paced the room. “But there’s another brother. Isn’t there? Maybe the two boys are arguing over who is supposed to take over daddy’s reins.”
“Boone, I just can’t…”
“Carter. It’s okay. I’ll take it from here.” Sheriff James walked inside. “Boone. Good to see you. I’m sorry to hear about Stasha.”
“Right. And what are you doing to get her back?” Boone asked through clenched teeth.
“Carter, will you leave us alone?” The sheriff gave his deputy a half-hearted smile.
“Sure, Boss. I’ll check with the other deputies to see what they found.” Carter nodded to Boone on the way out, closing the door behind him.
“Boone. Fred Nelson called me. Seems like you have a hell of a lot of information about the Dreyfus family. Care to enlighten me?”
Boone turned toward the sheriff. “Why don’t you enlighten me? You’re working on a task force that you neglected to mention. You have some information on Dr. Parker that you’ve kept from me, or so I’ve been told. Do you have any idea who shot the horse, killed Bobby Jennings or fired at Stasha? Do you have any idea who owns a black SUV with California plates?”
Sheriff James paled. “Black SUV?”
“Yeah. One was parked outside of her clinic last night. Male voice and they were talking inside her residence. Would that belong to Bo Dreyfus by any chance, and don’t you dare tell me that you have no idea what vehicles he owns.”
“Boone, do you remember the license plate?”
“Why?”
“Boone. This is important. Do you remember anything else about the SUV or the plates? Even a few numbers would be helpful.”
The look on the sheriff’s face was one of apprehension. Even fear. He thought about that night and the plates. “They were specialty plates. First three letters were C A Y. That’s all I remember. Now, talk to me.”
“Let me put out an APB. Just hold on, Boone.”
He moved back and forth from foot to foot as the sheriff made the call.
“Just find it. Call me the moment you do.” Sheriff James turned to face him. “Now, Boone…”
“What do you know about Stasha?” Boone interrupted. “Tell me.”
Huffing, he rubbed his jaw before moving back around the desk. “Boone, there’s been an ongoing investigation on a man we believe to be Drake Dreyfus, the youngest child of Robert Dreyfus. Now, he didn’t go by his last name. As a matter of fact, all the kids took their mother’s maiden name after their father was murdered. Drake Brice set up a new life in San Francisco. He had a trust fund, as they all did, and while he, from what we’ve been able to determine, dabbled in certain real estate, he certainly didn’t have a full-time job. He’s been on the radar for some time, not by us, but by the FBI given the father’s murder and the holdings that were amassed during the course of Robert’s tenure.”
“What does that have to do with Stasha?”
“They were dating for over a year. That much we know. She broke it off and a few months later left town, coming here.”
“He found her.”
The sheriff nodded. “And he didn’t have to look very hard. I have no idea whether or not she knew that he was originally from Missoula, but there’s no indication she had any knowledge of his alternate life.”
Boone exhaled. “The reason she was offered the job of veterinarian was to keep an eye on her?”
“That’s what I suspect. Gerald Tucker is a good man, or at least he was, but during our investigatio
n, we found certain payments, no doubt bribes from the Dreyfus holdings. The poor man was in over his head and I suspect had been for some time. There are a hell of a lot of other people involved as well. The Dreyfus family had their clutches into too many fine and normally upstanding citizens.”
“They were threatened as well as extorted.”
Sheriff James nodded. “So, you see. This is much bigger than just some stolen horses, although, we suspect they are being sold to a man with ties to Saudi Arabia. Stuff novels are made of. Lucrative business. The rest is all about revenge. It seems Bo is running the show, paying back his father’s enemies and the men who refused to kowtow to Robert Dreyfus when he was alive. Bo is just getting started, or that’s what we’re afraid of. The fact you came into the picture almost immediately, asking questions, being seen with Dr. Parker put you in harm’s way.”
“We have to find her.” Boone could barely talk.
“How did you find out she was missing?”
“Penny Johnson came to tell me that she’d seen a man come into the clinic and Stasha wasn’t happy.”
Sheriff Boone sighed. “Oh, Penny. She’s gotten herself into the middle of this I suspect. Poor woman cared too much about the kids. How did you find out that Dr. Parker’s home was trashed?”
“The receptionist let me in. She mentioned that Stasha had her change all the locks earlier in the week.”
“Interesting. I wonder who had keys. Would she have been seeing Drake behind your back? I’m sorry to ask, Boone. I gather you care for her.”
“No way. She and I were… getting closer. The receptionist mentioned that there were three sets, but I don’t know if they included Stasha’s residence. She had a copy, Stasha and the technician who works there.”
“Do you remember his name?”
Boone thought about what Megan had told him. “Shaun… Shaun Davidson or David. Something like that.”
“Okay, well, we’ll see what we can find just to rule him out.”
“This is insane. She came here to find a new life. Now, this.” He was shivering both from anger as well as the heightened adrenaline.