“Who are you? What can I help you with?” Lola asked.
“I’m hurt you don’t already know my name. Someone like you not doing your homework? Tsk. My name is Malcolm.”
“I dropped out of high school. I didn’t do a lot of homework,” Lola said. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?”
“I’ll get to that. But first, I’m going to tell you a story,” Malcolm said. “Do you know what the CMC-15s are?”
“A dime a dozen street gang,” Lola said. This guy was starting to annoy her, but the longer he talked, the more time she had to work on getting her hands free. She wasn’t scared yet. There were still possible solutions to this problem and Malcolm only seemed to want to talk.
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re a business empire.”
“That seems a little grandiose, but we can agree to disagree. Potato, delusions of grandeur, etcetera.”
Malcolm seemed content to ignore Lola’s needling, or was too involved in his self-promotion to notice.
“We had income last year of over ten million dollars. But that isn’t something that can go in the bank. You feel me? But that’s where real businessmen get creative. That’s where your boy Kevin Garvey and Brayden here came in.”
“Wait, you used online fantasy football to clean your dirty ass money?” Lola was impressed. Cleaning that much money was no easy task, and Malcolm had found a creative way of doing it.
“Legit winnings come out squeaky clean the other side. And boy genius here already had all I needed to guarantee I made a little more on top too.”
“You got in bed with these clowns?” Lola said. She was looking at Brayden. He didn’t have to answer. He clearly had no idea where the money had come from or what his algorithm had been used for. How he and his buddies weren’t even the slightest bit suspicious when all that money started pouring in, Lola didn’t know, but willful or actual idiocy didn’t make him a hardened criminal.
“Kevin brought him in, and he brought you in. We’re all in this big comfy bed together. Except, Kevin stole from me, thought he could fix it on his own, and ended up bringing more trouble to me and my boss, which was stupid and had to be dealt with. His debt transfers to Brayden. Brayden can’t pay. Kevin has a big fucking mouth, so I know all about his daughter and her rich girlfriend back East. Which is what you’re here to talk about.”
“Except, as I told Brayden here, I’m not any part of this,” Lola said. Malcolm’s assumption that she and Holt were connected was concerning. He shouldn’t know about that. His allusion to dealing with Kevin was also disconcerting. She was pretty sure she’d found Kevin’s killer, and the fact that he had been dumped in a place where she was likely to run across him wasn’t good, especially if he knew about her connection to Holt and who Holt was. Kevin’s death was starting to feel like a message. So was her kidnapping. Hopefully, it didn’t have the same outcome.
“You’re involved now. The sooner you and Holt realize that and start taking steps to rectify the harm you have done, the better for everyone. Especially you, given your current situation. You became involved when you started snooping around in our business and stirring up trouble with the police,” Malcolm said. “We’re fully aware of who you are.” He pulled a gun and held it to Brayden’s head. “Bring out our other guest,” he said to one of his soldiers.
Lola’s heart rate spiked from anger to genuine fear when Jessica was dragged from a small office in the corner of the warehouse. She didn’t look physically injured, but she was clearly scared. She’d planned on trying to get Brayden out if she could manage it, although he had clearly sold her out, but she would do whatever it took to rescue Jessica.
“I wanted to invite your professor friend to join us, but she wasn’t home when we stopped by. Luckily, Jessica was a willing conversationalist.”
For a moment or two, all Lola could feel was the wave of relief that Quinn had insisted on staying with her. The thought of Quinn scared and alone, being questioned by Malcolm, nearly made her gag. She centered herself like she saw Holt do in the middle of a confrontation. It looked easier when Holt did it. She’d been in plenty of tricky situations, but with a team, or with Holt. She was on her own now.
“And just what is it that you think you know about me? Jessica and I don’t know each other that well. Let her go. You’ve got what you wanted.”
“Not just yet. I’ll wait and see how cooperative you’re feeling,” Malcolm said. He seemed to sense the shift in Lola’s attitude now that Jessica was on the scene. “Kevin had a plan to get my money back through his daughter. So says Brayden. What do you know, her old lady is rich as fuck. Lucky for her. Lucky for Brayden. You know what’s lucky for you?”
“Can’t wait to find out,” Lola said.
“Jessica told me you have a sister. A sister named Holt. Three guesses who the rich lady who’s gonna give me my money back is?”
“Pretty sure this isn’t going to work out the way you think, Malcolm.”
“Uh-oh. Is that because you don’t have a fucking sister?” Malcolm was smiling, but it did things to his face that turned Lola’s stomach. “You think I run an operation pulling in the kind of money I do and not have eyes and ears all over the LAPD? You should have left when you found Garvey alive and well, and we could’ve avoided all of this, but lucky for me, you and Holt decided to stick your noses where they don’t belong.”
Malcolm waved his hand at his soldier still holding Jessica. She was dragged in front of Lola and shoved to the ground at her feet.
“You kidnapped me to get money from Holt?” Lola asked. Holt never would have paid before because Kevin didn’t have anything Holt cared about. Lola wondered how much Holt would pay to save her life. She hoped not a damn penny. She never wanted Holt to be vulnerable to anyone who could get their hands on one of Holt’s crew to extort her.
“Money? This isn’t about the money. Did you not hear me say we had income in the millions last year? You think I would risk pissing off Holt Lasher over a hundred grand? That money was Garvey’s problem, and he’s dead now, problem solved.” Malcolm didn’t look the least bit torn up about Garvey’s demise.
“My beef with you and with Holt is your sticking your noses where they don’t belong. So now we have to send a message. Back the fuck off and stop talking to the police. I’ll start with you. That’ll get my message to Holt. I’d deliver it personally, but Rhode Island’s too far to travel on short notice. I’ll leave my message somewhere she can’t miss it.”
Now was the time to get Jessica to safety. Lola didn’t have time to worry about Malcolm’s plan or her own tenuous situation with the CMCs. She thanked whatever higher power had been looking out for her when her captors had used zip ties and not handcuffs to secure her to the chair. She’d been working on loosening them the entire time Malcolm was talking. She torqued her shoulders, jerking hard against the plastic. It cut into her wrists, but she felt the restraints snap under her assault. Look out, boys.
She lunged forward and hurdled Jessica. “Run,” Lola said as she cleared her prone body. When she landed, she connected a solid hook across the chin of one of her kidnappers, knocking him cold. She fished quickly in his pocket and retrieved the keys. He wasn’t armed so she couldn’t arm herself, but she knew the two who had dragged her in were. She whistled to Jessica and flung her the keys as two of the other CMCs grabbed her.
“Bring her down,” Malcolm yelled from somewhere to Lola’s left. “Don’t kill her. No gunshots.”
As Lola grabbed one off her back and flipped him to the ground, she reached out with a foot and flipped Brayden’s chair. As she hoped, the wooden back broke on impact. He was able to work his hands out from between the cross support, and he took off after Jessica out the door. Lola kept fighting until they were clear. All of the CMCs were either too preoccupied with her, or were unconcerned enough with the others to go after them. It was likely she was the real prize anyway.
One of the men landed a punch to the side of her head,
a second to her body. A third man grabbed her arms and held them behind her back, while a fourth kicked her behind the legs, buckling her knees. Someone punched her in the face again, and then in the ribs. She spat blood on the floor and tried to stand, but she was still being restrained.
She managed to break free momentarily and landed a few additional punches, but they were on her again before long. There were too many of them. Lola took another body shot and fell to her knees. This time she didn’t need to be held down. The pain was overwhelming. She tried to stand but sank down once again. Malcolm appeared in her field of vision. He squatted so he was at her level, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look at him.
“You’re stupid, Lola, but one hell of a fighter. I respect that.”
“Just kill me already,” Lola said. As she said it she thought of Quinn. What she wouldn’t give for one more look at her. She hoped the panic button call had gone through and Quinn was safe. Holt will keep her safe. At least she would die knowing that.
“I never had any intention of killing you,” Malcolm said. “This,” he said, indicating her battered body. “This was always going to happen. But this was a surprise.” He pointed to his men, a few of whom were still on their backs. Lola could barely see and was having trouble staying conscious, but it looked like she’d landed more than her share of punches.
“Now,” Malcolm said. “It’s time to end this and move on to round two. Stand her up. I can handle the police, Lola, but when you start snooping around and worrying my colleagues, you make my life difficult. I can’t have that. Walk away now and forget everything in LA, or I will keep coming for you.”
Lola felt herself being lifted. She saw Malcolm draw his fist back and vaguely felt it connect with her abdomen, but she was beyond feeling. Then she watched his fist come closer and closer to her face and the world faded to black.
Chapter Sixteen
Quinn sat on the sofa in Lola’s apartment and stared at the missed call tally on Lola’s cell phone. So far it was up to eleven. Quinn’s phone was silent. She desperately wanted, needed, to hear from Lola, but she couldn’t will that to happen. It had been six hours and twenty-eight minutes since Lola’s apartment had fallen eerily silent, and Quinn had worked up the nerve to emerge from the closet.
She’d called the police and reported the violent abduction. The police had come by, done their jobs, and now she was once again alone in the apartment, the silence only broken by the frequent buzzing of Lola’s cell phone. Quinn thought about answering a few of the calls, but she didn’t recognize any of the names. Holt hadn’t shown up on the caller ID. She didn’t know what she would say even if she’d answered. She had no information, nothing that felt relevant, like who took Lola or where she was. She’d told the police what she’d heard, which wasn’t a lot.
One of the things she liked about science was the order and control it afforded. You asked a question and worked hard to find an answer. There were no answers to be found in this situation, and she didn’t even know what questions to ask. All she was left with was her overwhelming feelings—terror, sadness, anger.
“God, what if I never see her again?” Quinn said to the empty apartment.
Lola’s phone rang again. The caller ID said “Moose.” It seemed fitting that a giant reindeer was trying to get in touch with Lola. When her phone stopped ringing, a text came through.
“I’m already on my way. Don’t get dead.”
Quinn wasn’t sure if she found that comforting or worrying. But he seemed to be coming to help. Maybe he would have some ideas about how to find her. She thought about calling her father or one of the other cops in her family, but she wasn’t sure they would help. She couldn’t see her dad dropping everything to help her search for a woman she cared for.
For lack of anything better to do, Quinn tried Jessica’s cell for the third time. As with the other times, it went straight to voice mail. Quinn hoped she’d found someone hot to spend the night with and had been enjoying her day cut off from the world. As much as she needed the support of her friend, she liked thinking someone was having a really great day.
As Quinn was contemplating her next move, she heard screeching tires just outside the apartment. She jumped up, her heart pounding, the blood rushing in her ears. Were the men back? Should she hide again? Quinn took a deep breath. It was more likely just a reckless driver.
It took a few seconds, but she worked up the courage to peek out the window. A black SUV was at the curb directly in front of Lola’s building. Quinn watched in disbelief as the rear passenger door was flung open and a person was dumped out onto the sidewalk. The SUV drove away with as much screeching of tires as it had arrived.
Quinn focused on the person lying in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. They weren’t moving. Recognition was slow in coming, but when it did, she sprinted for the door. How could she have not immediately seen it was Lola lying there, so obviously hurt? She hoped that was all she was. She thought about what Moose had said, “Don’t get dead.”
“Don’t be dead. Do. Not. Be. Dead. Don’t you dare,” she said as she skidded to a frantic stop in from of Lola. Now that she was next to her, it was no wonder she didn’t recognize her right away. Lola was a bloody, swollen mess. “Oh, God. Baby, what did they do to you?”
“I’m not dead,” Lola said. She spoke slowly, as if the words hurt coming out of her mouth. It looked like they did. “And would you believe me if I said the other guys look worse?”
“No. But I’d believe they look just as bad. I’m really, really glad you’re not dead. I was so worried about you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“We have to get you to the hospital.”
“I’ll go,” Lola said. “But I need my phone first. I have to call the bat phone. They’re probably going nuts.”
“Your phone has been ringing nonstop. I didn’t know if I should answer.” Quinn helped Lola sit up. The process seemed to be a little more than she could handle, and she faded out in Quinn’s arms. Just before she did, she pointed to her phone. Quinn hadn’t realized she was still holding it.
“Bat phone.”
Although Lola had stated her order of priorities, Quinn didn’t agree the hospital should wait. She called nine-one-one first. Once she was satisfied an ambulance was on the way, she used Lola’s thumb to unlock her phone and scrolled through her contacts looking for the bat phone. When she went to hand the phone to Lola, she saw she’d passed out, so she called herself and cradled Lola’s head in her lap.
“Update.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded stressed, but more than a little relieved.
Quinn didn’t know how to respond to the unusual greeting. She didn’t say anything right away. Apparently, she waited too long for the woman on the other end.
“What the fuck, Lola? You hit the panic button, then go off the radar for hours. I need a report. Do you have any idea what condition H’s in? Not even Isabelle could stop her, so they’re both on a plane out there. Max was ready to redirect satellites, and this time I was going to help her. You know I can’t go back to prison, but for you, anything. But that shit isn’t summer camp, you can’t pick your roommate, you know what I mean? And the handcuffs there aren’t for my kind of fun. Conjugal visits, don’t get me started. Lola?”
“Um. This isn’t Lola.” Quinn didn’t quite know how to answer the kinetic force on the other end of the line. “She’s with me, but she’s hurt. I’m taking her to the hospital. She asked me to call the bat phone, but she’s unconscious at the moment.”
Now it was Quinn who waited for a response. “Hello? You still there?”
“Unconscious? Jesus, Holt is going to have kittens. Is she going to be okay? You must be Lola’s Professor Hotty.”
“It looks like she was beaten. She was conscious for a little bit when they threw her out of the car, but she’s in and out now. You were kidding about redirecting satellites, right?” For some reason, sitting on the sidewalk, cradling Lola, waiting for an am
bulance, and talking to a stranger who didn’t want to go back to prison, that seemed vitally important.
“Yeah, sure. If you want. The cavalry is on its way. Keep her phone with you and everyone will find you at the hospital. You don’t need to update us. When Moose gets there, tell him Holt is riled. He’ll know what that means. Between Moose and Isabelle, they should be able to handle her. Look, keep Lola safe for us for the next couple hours.”
Quinn wanted to ask just what the woman on the other end of the phone meant by her warnings regarding Holt, but the ambulance pulled up and interrupted.
The next few hours were a flurry of activity as Lola was poked, prodded, evaluated, scanned, bandaged, stitched, cleaned, and patched. Throughout the process Lola politely refused Quinn’s offers to give her privacy or space and the hospital staff’s gentle encouragement that Quinn wait elsewhere. Lola held on to her hand whenever possible, and when it wasn’t possible she asked Quinn to wait nearby until it became possible again.
Quinn didn’t know if it was for her benefit or Lola’s, but she didn’t care. She sat next to her and held her hand as Lola’s body stiffened in pain, and she tried her best to soothe her when Lola turned to her, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
Even if Lola had asked her to leave the room, she wouldn’t have gone far. Lola felt safe, even flat on her back and half dead, when nothing else in Quinn’s life did right now. She knew she was overly focused on Lola’s care, probably to avoid thinking about the horror movie her life had turned into recently, but avoidance was working for her. It sure felt better than falling apart.
By the time Lola was wheeled upstairs to a room for overnight observation, she looked far less like a combination of rare hamburger and roadkill. Remarkably, there was nothing that was going to cause lasting damage.
“Just lie to me and tell me I look like my old self again,” Lola said. She cracked half a smile, which looked like it took all the energy she had left.
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