When She's Gone

by Palmer, Jane;

  “What time is it?” Sam asked. She’d dropped her purse when Eddie had shoved her into the back of the van. It had all been part of the plan. She didn’t want the police to track her using her cell phone. “We shouldn’t wait too long before we send the ransom note.”

  “Ransom note?” Nick’s face flushed, and his gaze darted from Sam, to Eddie, and back again. “You guys are kidding, right?”

  “No, we aren’t kidding. How in the hell are we going to get the money if we don’t send a ransom note?” Eddie asked.

  Sam could see the moment Nick realized they weren’t playing some sort of weird joke on him. When he understood exactly what had transpired.

  “You planned this,” he whispered, his eyes growing wide. “Oh my God, you planned this.”

  “Of course we planned it. God, you are fuckin’ slow sometimes, dude. You can’t kidnap people without a plan.”

  “You can’t kidnap people at all!” Nick shouted. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What is wrong with me?” Eddie took a threatening step closer, and Sam knew this wasn’t going in a good direction. Both of the men had fiery tempers—a family trait they did have in common.

  “Eddie, shut up,” Sam snapped, stepping between the two of them. She turned to Nick, held up a hand as he backed away from her. “Don’t worry. I knew all about it. I’m in on it.”

  He stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted another head. “What in the hell—why?”

  “To get back at Oliver. I want to hurt him where it counts. He doesn’t give a crap about me, but he does care about his money.” She caught his gaze, disappointment and anger leaking into her voice. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “Thrilled? Why in the fuck would I be thrilled?” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “This is some crazy shit. Crazy, illegal shit!”

  “I hate to break it to you, Nick.” Gina snapped her gum. “But you already do crazy, illegal shit.” She gestured toward the back of the van where three paintings leaned against the wall of the vehicle. “Stealing artwork and replacing it with forgeries isn’t exactly the work of Mother Teresa.”

  Eddie snorted, his arm swinging over Gina’s slim shoulders. “Mother Teresa. Good one, babe.”

  Sam crossed her arms over her chest. Gina was right. What right did Nick have to act all goody two-shoes now? The rush of her success was being eaten away by his reaction. She’d pulled it off, gotten herself kidnapped. They should be partying, enjoying the high—not fighting over it.

  “My forgeries aren’t the same thing as kidnapping.” Nick’s voice rose, echoing off of the empty warehouse walls. “It’s not even close. Eddie, what the fuck? They are going to be sending FBI agents and all kinds of shit after us.”

  He stepped closer to Eddie, his fists clenched. “I didn’t agree to this.”

  A thunderous look came over Eddie’s face. He unwrapped his arm from around Gina, and pushing Sam aside roughly, stepped up to Nick. They were toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose. Sam sucked in a breath.

  “You didn’t agree to this?” Eddie gave Nick a slight push, forcing him to take a step backward. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Without me, you’d still be doodling in your notebook with nothing but empty dreams and a job at McDonalds.”

  “This is serious shit.”

  “Don’t you think I know this is serious shit?” Eddie’s face turned bright red. “But I’ve got some problems of my own going on, Nick.”

  Something passed between the two men, something Sam couldn’t read. Nick’s temper deflated.

  “What did you do, Eddie?” he whispered.

  “Nothing.” Eddie’s gaze darted toward Sam before turning back to Nick. “I just owe some money. Sam’s kidnapping is the answer to my problems. And to hers.”

  Nick shook his head. “You’re a damn fool. This isn’t the answer to any of our problems. Not by a long shot.” He looked past his cousin and locked eyes with Sam. “This needs to end right now. You need to go home, Sam.”

  “She can’t.” Eddie adjusted his stance so that he was between them. “Didn’t you hear her? Her mom saw us wrestling. It’s too late, Nick. It can’t be undone.” He pushed a finger into Nick’s chest. “I’m your blood, and I’m telling you, I need this money.”

  “We’ll get it another way.”

  “There is no other way!” Eddie shouted. “Don’t you think I would’ve done something else if it was possible? And the way I see it, you owe me. So stop being a damn pussy about things!”

  Nick’s mouth opened as though he was going to say something, but the look in Eddie’s eyes must have stopped him, because he shut it again. Spinning on his heel, he stomped over to a corner of the warehouse. The clatter of the easel hitting the floor as he kicked it sounded like a gunshot across the space.

  Sam blew out a breath, the tension almost more than she could take. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Leave him.” Eddie swung his arm around Gina again. “He’s just being a baby, as usual. He’ll come around. He always does.”

  Sam bit her lip indecisively. No one knew Nick better than Eddie. They were as tight as brothers, and despite their arguments, the loyalty between them ran deep. But a twinge of guilt had Sam crossing the room anyway.

  Nick was leaning against a workbench, fists clenched. Sam reached out, stroking his long, muscled back, his T-shirt soft against her fingertips.

  “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “This isn’t going to work, Sam.” He spun around to face her. “You’re playing with things you can’t understand.”

  “What things?”

  His gaze darted across the room to Eddie before focusing back on her. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  He ignored her question. “Damn it, Sam, why didn’t you tell me you were planning this?”

  “Eddie told me not to. He said you would try to talk me out of it.”

  “He was right. I would have.” Nick let out a sigh and drew her into his arms. She breathed in the scent of him. “This was a mistake, Sam.”

  His tone was so ominous, so stressed, a tinge of fear pricked her. She fought against it.

  “Stop worrying.” Sam pulled back and tilted her head up so she could look into his face. “No one is going to get in trouble.”

  He shook his head. “I never should’ve introduced you to Eddie. I should’ve known he would talk you into something stupid. Hell,” Nick gestured to the paintings, “he’s already got me doing something stupid. You didn’t stand a chance against him.”

  Nick didn’t like doing the paintings. He was always worried about getting caught, but it was also something he couldn’t stop. The money he got for them went straight into art school, something he couldn’t afford otherwise.

  “Look, no one is going to get in trouble,” she reassured him. “I’m a very smart girl. This has been planned and planned. Absolutely nothing is going to go wrong.”

  She could tell from his expression; Nick didn’t believe her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ara knew from her time with Sam that Kelly wouldn’t be at her house. She would be at Sharon Dade’s. The FBI agents would be spinning their wheels and wasting time. Ara figured she had maybe an hour’s head start. The sooner she got Grant’s location from Kelly, the sooner Sam could be rescued. Luke Patrick might not want her help, but damn it, he was going to get it anyway.

  The clock in the car’s dash read ten thirty. Kelly and Sharon wouldn’t even be awake yet. They would’ve been out, in the city, partying until the early morning hours. If Holly hadn’t insisted on dragging Sam to the gallery opening, she would have been with her friends. It had been one of the last things they’d fought about.

  Ara passed through the massive iron gate and parked her car in front of the Dades’ stone mansion. It was gorgeous, with stunning rose beds and ivy climbing the walls in intricate patterns.

  “Good morning, Ms. Zuyev.” Richard, the butler, could barely cover the
surprise in his voice as he opened the front door and stepped out onto the small porch. “There must be some mix-up. Ms. Sam is not here.”

  “I know.” Her stride toward him was purposeful. “I need to speak to Kelly.”

  “Ms. Kelly is still sleeping. The ladies were out quite late last night.” He took a step back, allowing her enter the foyer. “If you would like, I can arrange for some refreshments and—”

  “No, Richard.” Ara cut him off. She wasn’t going to wait until the girls woke up. “I need to speak with her now. It’s an urgent matter.”

  She began climbing the wide staircase as she spoke. Richard, flustered and thrown off guard by her rude behavior, followed her up the steps.

  “Ms. Zuyev, surely this can wait until this afternoon. Ms. Sharon will be very upset to have you . . .”

  His voice trailed off as Ara swung open Sharon’s bedroom door, flipping on the lights and charging in as if she owned the room.

  There was a moan from the king-size bed. Sharon, her hair a wild mess and mascara ringing her eyes, jolted upright. She blinked in the sudden light and, seeing Ara and Richard standing in her room, drew the covers up over her chest.

  “What do you think you’re doing in my room?” Her face flushed. “Get the hell out.”

  The bed covers shifted, and another moan came from a lump in the center. “Oh God, don’t yell. My head.”

  “Get up,” Ara snapped. She marched around the side of the bed and yanked on the blankets, throwing them to the floor. “Get up right now.”

  “Ms. Zuyev, please.” Richard stood in the doorway uncertainly, his eyes wide.

  “What are you doing?” Sharon screeched. “Get out of my room, both of you!”

  Richard fled as though the devil were coming after him.

  Kelly pried open one eye and spotted Ara standing over her.

  “Rise and shine. I need to talk to you.”

  Kelly tried to bury herself in the pillows until Ara removed them. “Get up now, or the next move is to dump cold water on you.”

  It was either the threat or Sharon’s continuous stream of curse words—or perhaps a combination of the two—that finally got Kelly sitting up. She yawned broadly and swiped dirty-blonde hair out of her puffy face.

  “What is going on?”

  “Sharon, shut up,” Ara ordered.

  “Screw you,” the teenager spat back in a final insult before hurling a pillow in Ara’s direction.

  Ara let the room grow quiet, making sure she had both girls’ attention before focusing in on Kelly.

  “I need to know where Grant is.”

  Kelly’s forehead creased in confusion. “You busted in here to find out where Grant is?” She gave another yawn before throwing herself back down on the bed. “How should I know? I’m not his mother.”

  “Sam’s missing.” She carefully watched every emotion as it crossed Kelly’s face. “And I think Grant might have had something to do with it. Where can I find him?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She was taken last night from a restaurant by a man in a mask. She’s been missing for almost twelve hours, and I’m trying to find her.”

  Sharon shook her head. “You’re screwing with us.”

  “No,” Ara said flatly. “I’m not.”

  Kelly’s face paled more and more as the realization of what Ara said sank in. “Sam’s . . . missing?”

  “Yes.” Ara sat down on the bed. “I need to know about Grant. I need to know where I can find him.”

  “But why would you think Grant has anything to do with this?”

  “Because,” Ara said, “he’s been selling drugs to Sam.”

  Kelly glanced at Sharon, and some silent message passed between them. Ara took a guess.

  “He’s been selling to all of you, hasn’t he?”

  The girls joined hands, and Kelly bit her lip. “He sells to everyone at school—not just to us.”

  “What is he selling?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “What was he selling to Sam?” The question lingered in the air. Neither of the teenagers seemed eager to answer it. “Look,” Ara continued. “I need your help. I need you to tell me the truth.”

  Sharon sighed. “He started off selling her pot. We used to smoke it at parties, you know. But lately, Sam’s been into pills more. Uppers and downers. She likes to mix them with booze.”

  Ara had always had her suspicions about the drinking and the pot, but she’d never been able to confirm it. Sam had always been careful to do it in places where her security detail wouldn’t see, like at friends’ houses or sleepovers.

  “She owes him money.” Kelly’s voice was low, near a whisper. “She owes him a lot of money.”

  “How much?”

  “A few thousand,” Kelly said weakly. “She kept telling him she was good for it, but her stepdad cut her allowance off after she failed her last three classes. She could only get money from her mom and it wasn’t enough to party on.”

  Sharon’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, God, Kelly . . . the fight.”

  “What fight?” Ara’s gaze darted back and forth between the girls. “What fight?”

  “They got into it bad a few nights ago.” Sudden tears flooded Kelly’s eyes. “Grant threatened her. Said that if she didn’t pay, he would make her sorry.”

  The words churned Ara’s stomach, and her heart beat faster. “Where is he, Kelly? How do I find him?”

  * * *

  Huntington Country Club was elite, sophisticated, and exclusive. Ara breezed through the entrance, giving a nod to the doorman. The staff recognized her on sight, thanks to Holly’s frequent visits, and no one stopped her as she crossed toward the banquet room.

  The gathering was in full swing. The photograph of a chubby-cheeked baby in a snow-white dress was propped up on an easel. The room was decorated in pink and silver. Ara passed by a table loaded down with gifts in glittery paper.

  A baptism after party, perhaps? Or a delayed baby shower? Whatever the occasion, the infant was obviously the guest of honor.

  Guests mingled, drinking mimosas out of fluted champagne glasses in front of large windows overlooking the golf course. Ara wandered around the room, looking for Grant. The crowd made it difficult, and her patience had started to wane when she finally spotted him. He was speaking to an older man, nodding politely. Grant had handsome, natural good looks. His dark hair gently waved away from his face, making the most of his square jaw and almond-shaped eyes.

  Before she could move, Grant placed his champagne glass on a waiter’s tray and casually walked out of the ballroom.

  Damn it.

  She hurried across, muttering apologies as she bumped people. She caught a glimpse of his back as he turned the corner. The direction he headed was for club personnel—the kitchen, maintenance, and other offices were that way. Where was he going?

  By the time she made it to the corner, there wasn’t any sign of him. She stood for a moment, uncertain, but the click of a door handle sent her moving forward.

  The maintenance closet.

  Her eyes narrowed. Grant was obviously doing something he didn’t want anyone else to know about. Good. That much better for her.

  With a last look over her shoulder, Ara turned the handle and slipped into the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What are you doing in here?” Grant quickly fumbled with the dollar bill he was rolling. He shifted his body in a desperate attempt to block the white powder sitting on the shelf in front of him.

  “This isn’t the ladies’ room?” Ara creased her eyebrows in confusion. Her gaze quickly darted over the shelves. Gloves. Napkins. Toilet paper and scrub brushes. A broom, along with a mop and a bucket, sat in the corner. He could use one of those for a weapon. Bash her over the head with the stick, jab it in her ribs. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Nothing. I just needed a minute of peace.” He glared at her, his statement pointed. A fine sheen of sweat coated his f
orehead. “Away from everyone.”

  “I understand that feeling.” Ara leaned against the door, managing to both block the entrance and appear casual. “My boss is a real bitch, but the pay’s good, so I put up with it. Still, there are times I have to escape.”

  Grant’s wary expression didn’t waver, but he took a second look at her. No gleam of recognition flashed in his eyes, and he continued to be silent. She sighed wearily and peered out at him from underneath her lashes. “I’m Ara.”

  “So?” He didn’t lose his guarded expression. If anything, his body seemed to tense more.

  “And you are . . .”

  He smirked. “None of your business.”

  “You look familiar. Don’t I know you?”

  “I doubt it.” He passed a glance down her wrinkled slacks. “It’s not like you and I run in the same circles.”

  She snapped her fingers, and Grant jumped slightly. “No, I do know you. You’re Grant Turner.”

  “Listen, I’m not sure what you want, but I’m not interested in having this little chat. Get out of here and leave me alone.”

  Ara shook her head. “Sam told me you’d be a pain in the ass. She warned me.”

  Grant’s whole body grew rigid. “Sam?”

  “Sam Harper. You know her, right? You’re her supplier. You’ve been giving her drugs for a while.”

  He stood stock-still, barely breathing, his gaze fixed on the floor.

  “I know she owes you money. I can get it for you. Whatever you want.” She stepped closer. “I work for the family. This can all be taken care of, it can all go away, if you just work with me. I can help you, Grant.”

  He jerked his head up. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but you need to go.” He threw out an arm, nearly hitting Ara in the face. “Get out of here. Now.”

  “No can do.” Ara grabbed his shirt, pivoting her body suddenly, and smashed Grant up against a wall.

  “Hey, let me go!”

  “Where is she, you little piece of shit?”