by Lane Hart
He shakes his head again. "Overdose," he replies as tears race each other down both sides of his face. “Or attempted…attempted suicide.”
"What!?!" I roar. "No fuckin’ way! Claire wouldn’t touch drugs. They don't know what the hell they're talkin’ about."
"No. She...no. Fuck!” His words turn to sobs as his wide shoulders shake.
"Come on," I tell him. “We need to go.” With a hand on his back, I guide him out the front door and into Senn’s truck.
All three of us are silent on the way to the hospital, except for Mace’s occasional sniffle. Poor guy. I’m a fuckin’ wreck so I can’t imagine how tough this is on him. Claire’s not only his sister, she’s been like a mom to him.
My mind just can't wrap around the idea of Claire bein’ hurt or takin’ any pills. Not when I saw her a few hours earlier, happy and perfect...It doesn't make sense.
Senn lets us out at the entrance and Mace and I quickly find the ICU department. We’re both about ready to break down the damned locked door, waitin’ for them to let us the fuck in the unit.
Finally, a nurse comes out and gets us, leadin’ us to one of the curtained off rooms. The sound of beepin’ machines is loud, but I think my own poundin’ heart might be louder. It takes me a few moments to realize there's actually a person underneath all of the cords, tubes, and mountain of white sheets. Oh fuck.
Seein’ the respirator over her mouth, knowin’ it may be the only thing keepin’ her alive causes a burnin’ knife to sear right through the center of my heart. The pain is excruciatin’; like nothin’ I’ve ever felt. She's not even recognizable, so fragile and pale, with dark circles under her closed eyes.
I hear Mace's sniffles, or maybe they’re my own, as his feet shuffle a few steps closer to the bed railing. He reaches over with a shakin’ hand and brushes the chestnut hair off of her face. The truth suddenly hits me at the same time he gasps.
"Mandy."
Chapter Seventeen
Claire
I wake up with a bright overhead light blinding me, and the faint sounds of people talking. Did I fall asleep in the living room with the TV on again? No. I'm not at home. I'm supposed to be at Linc's. It doesn't smell like his place. It smells...like cheap cologne. Like James. Ugh.
My eyes fly open and I sit up, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I'm in a bed in a small room, empty with white walls that don't quite reach the top of the ceiling. There's only one door that's closed, but I can hear several voices carrying on a conversation just on the other side. When I look down and see I'm still wearing my work uniform, it all comes back to me, leaving the restaurant, the cops pulling me over and suffocating me. I had fought with them until my oxygen ran out thanks to the nasty hand pinching my nose and covering my mouth. Now where the fuck am I? It looks like a fake bedroom, maybe on a movie set. Oh no!
Am I at the VS Production’s studio? The place where Mandy makes her movies? I've never seen it except from the outside while dropping Mandy off a few times, but this has to be it. So what the hell am I doing here?
The door suddenly opens, and Vito Scarfone steps into the room, looking every bit the part of a mafia crime boss from his thick, dark, toupee-like hair all the way down to his black pinstripe suit. All he's missing is a fedora.
"Miss Reed, so glad you're awake," he says with a smug expression. Behind him is James, or at least I think it’s James. His face is so messed up, swollen and bruised that it’s hard to tell. The usual smirk on his face is gone. Instead, James looks really pissed, obviously because after I left, Linc did a number on him. I was worried about leaving him there, and it looks like I was right. He went too far.
"Ah, Mr. Scarfone. What's going on? What am I doing here?" I ask, turning my attention back to the man I know is in charge.
"Nothing is going on. You were just getting a little rest before we discuss your future."
"My future?"
"Sure," he says, nodding like it’s obvious.
"And-and then I can leave?" I ask hesitantly.
"You can leave at any time," he says.
"Really?"
"Sure," he says again, trailing his fingers along the foot of the bed. "But in my world, we live by the motto an eye for an eye. Your boyfriend did some damage to one of mine, and now your sister has paid the price, since I wouldn’t dare damage our new gorgeous star.” Dread causes a shiver to rush down my spine. “Just as soon as you tell me we have an agreement and that you will keep to it, you get to leave. But until then, well, you better hurry, because the doctor overseeing Mandy’s care could accidentally give her too much morphine, and that would be unfortunate given her already dire condition."
"What-what'd you do to her? I want to see her." I throw my legs over the bed and head for the door. James's arm bands around my waist before I reach the opening, hauling me against his chest. He turns me back around to face Vito as my fingernails dig into the skin of his forearm.
"I didn't do anything," the mafia boss says. "Your sister is a drug addict and mentally unstable, as everyone knows. She overdosed, but thankfully James was able to get her to the hospital just in time."
Oh God. I stop fighting the hold on me when the asshole practically admits to almost killing my little sister. He still might.
"Don't worry. I'm sure she'll make a full recovery just as soon as you and I can come to an agreement, and when I’m certain of your…continued cooperation."
"What do you want?" I ask him. My throat burns from how hard I'm trying to keep from crying in front of these bastards. "More money?"
"In a matter of speaking, yes," he says, straightening the lapels of his jacket.
"Linc paid back everything Mandy owed, plus all the interest."
"I know. We're talking about a much larger amount of money over a longer period of time."
"What do we have to pay for Mandy to be okay?" I ask him point blank.
"Nothing," he says with an evil, toothy smile. "Not a penny." I don't believe him. Money is all he cares about. "I'm just asking that you simply agree to star in a few movies as the new and improved Eve."
"Movies?" I repeat, and quickly swallow the bile back down before I throw up.
"Only say, maybe a dozen scenes?" he says with a shrug like it’s insignificant.
"A dozen?" I exclaim to which he laughs.
"We wouldn't record them all in the same day, darling. I'm talking just one a month for a year."
I hang my head as the tears fall, trying to hide them behind my hair. "Why can't Mandy do them?" I ask.
"She's done. A fucking disaster because of her addiction. Men want to see you, the new Eve from the video with Linc Abrams." He comes closer, his dress shoes tapping on the tile floor. When he’s right in front of me he reaches for my chin but I turn my head away. "A fresh, gorgeous face and curvy body they’re all desperate to fuck. And if they can't have you, the next best thing is to get to watch someone else having you. I bet your boyfriend won’t be too happy about that, but what’s more important, him or your sister?"
I shake my head because there's no way I could do those types of videos with strange men...I just can't.
"You'd receive a very generous payment, say ten thousand for each?"
"No," I say. "Mandy will do it. Just let her get help. A few weeks in rehab and she can get better."
He squeezes both sides of my jaw between his fingers until it's so painful I cry out. "That's not the answer I want to fucking hear. Maybe you need some more time to consider my more than generous offer. I just hope you don't take too long, for your sister's sake." Letting me go, he walks past us, out of the room. As soon as he's gone, James pushes me down face first on the bed with his weight bearing down on top of me.
"You're gonna fucking pay for the damage your boyfriend did to my face," he says against my ear. His arm that’s clutching my waist moves higher until he's squeezing my breast painfully. "And I’m gonna record it and send it to him." Since I'm still wearing my shoes, I try to kick him off of
me with the heel of my boot while attempting to crawl away. "You little bitch. Don't you know the fight only makes it better?"
"James!" Vito yells from the doorway, and the man on top of me goes still. "You don't lay a finger on her without my say so!" As soon as his weight is lifted off of me, I quickly scramble to the head of the bed, as far away as possible. I'm still panting in relief but go cold when Vito looks at me when he says to James, "You'll get your chance if she doesn't come around soon."
…
Linc
"Mace, I'm so damn sorry about Mandy and what's goin’ on with her, but where the fuck is Claire?" I quietly ask the frazzled man as we stand across from each other, lookin’ down at Mandy’s unmovin’ form in the hospital bed.
His jaw ticks and he doesn’t look up at me when he holds the bedrail in a white knuckled grip. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault?” I yell, and then remember to lower my voice. “How is it my fault your sister overdosed?”
He closes his eyes and hangs his head sadly, makin’ me feel even worse. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m being an ass, but I’m just really worried about Claire.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, and finally looks up at somethin’ behind me. “Fuck,” he grumbles. “We need to go.”
“Go?” I say in surprise, since we just got here a few minutes ago.
“Yes. Now,” he says. “This way,” he says noddin’ to the exit next to the nurses’ station.
“Okay,” I agree, and follow him. After we slip out the door into the mostly empty hallway, Mace breaks out into a jog.
“Hurry,” he says as he looks over his shoulder and runs for the stairwell. When I look back, I see two men followin’ us. They look shady even though they’re wearing suits. At first I can’t put my finger on it as I face forward and go after Mace, leaping two steps at a time down the steps. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask him over the stair rail, since he’s an entire floor below me goin’ to the basement level.
“We need to get out of here…call Senn…find out where…truck’s at,” he says between pants, right before the stairwell door above us comes open from the second floor where we just left. “Those guys…Vito’s men… and they’re packing heat.”
Fuck. I pull my phone out and hit Senn’s contact as I try not to break my neck runnin’ down the stairs. When I get to the bottom, I slip out the first exit, which I assume Mace also took.
“Where are you guys?” Senn answers.
“On the way out,” I say quickly. “Please tell me you’re still in the parkin’ lot.”
“Nope, I’m in the lobby but heading that way now.”
“Where’s your truck?” I ask. “Do you have the keys?”
“Ah, yeah, and it’s in the next to last row on the far left. Why?” he asks.
“Parkin’ lot and on the left,” I whisper-yell to Mace when I catch up to him ducked down in some shrubbery on the side of hospital. I can’t believe this shit is really happenin’, whatever the fuck is goin’ on. “We’re sort of in a hurry to leave,” I say into the phone to Senn. “I’ll explain later…just get your ass out here…literally make a run for it.”
Mace and I take off for the front parkin’ lot, searchin’ out Senn’s yellow Ford F150. It, of course, stands out like a fuckin’ spotlight in the darkness. Great. Why couldn’t he have picked out a nice, dark, black one?
“Fuck. Holy shit.”
I hear curses bein’ muttered from behind me and turn to see Senn runnin’ to catch up.
“Is this some…new part…of training?” he asks. “Are those dudes chasing us?”
I look over my shoulder and… goddamn it. Honestly, I thought Mace was full of shit, but now I know he was serious. They really are following us at a fast clip. But why?
No time to figure that shit out now. We all jump in the truck. Senn fires it up and we burn rubber out of the lot.
“What the fuck?” Senn asks, takin’ side road after side road in case they are followin’ us in their own car.
“No clue,” I say. “Mace?”
“Vito’s men,” he tells us from the back.
“Did ya’ll at least get to see Claire? How’s she doing?” Senn asks.
“Not Claire. Mandy,” I explain. “Why didn’t you tell the nurse the truth?” I turn to ask Mace.
"I think Vito's up to something. I don't know what, but if I start screwing around with his plans..."
"Vito?" I say. "You think he has somethin’ to do with Mandy?"
"Hell yeah, I do. I just don't know why. Well, other than you fuckin’ with James," he grumbles.
"He had Claire pinned against her car, so I smashed in his face on her hood and with my fists a couple of times," I explain in my defense. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
"Goddamn it! Didn't I tell you not to go and fuck with him? I knew this shit would happen!" Mace exclaims.
"You think he put Mandy in the ICU and kidnapped Claire because I punched a guy? Seriously, Mace?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yes!" he yells, tuggin’ on his hair with both hands. "If he has Claire...I don't know what the fuck we can do."
"We need to go to the police," I tell him. Mace immediately scoffs in response. "You got a better idea?"
"Fuck. I don't know," he says slumpin’ back against the seat.
"I think you should go to the police," Senn offers, before taking another random turnoff. "There's no sign of her, so Vito is the only possible explanation for her disappearance, right?"
"Fine," Mace mutters. “Go to the police station in Durham.”
Half an hour later, more than a few eyebrows raise when the three of us walk into the same police department I was just in a few hours ago. At least we get noticed.
"Can I help you?" A middle-aged woman with a pixie cut asks through the speaker of the bulletproof window separating the lobby from the department.
"We need to report a missin’ person," I tell her.
"Adult?"
"Yes."
"Have they been missing for at least twenty-four hours?" she asks with a frown.
"No, but-"
"Then we can't help you. Come back tomorrow night-"
"Listen, is there an officer we can just talk to for a few minutes? We think Vito Scarfone has her and is pretendin’ she's in the hospital when it's actually her sister in the hospital," I start explainin’, even though it sounds crazy. A big, broad guy with a close, military shaved head stands up from his desk and approaches the window as I ramble on. “She left work to go home and there hasn’t been any sign of her or her sister’s car, but she’s not the one in the hospital.”
"Did you say you think Vito Scarfone is involved?" the man asks, adjustin’ his shoulder holster that's hangin’ on the outside of his black tee as he assesses all three of us closely.
"Yes."
"Buzz them back," he tells the grumpy woman. At the sound, I pull open the heavy door and lead the way back to his desk. He offers me a handshake first. "Detective Fury, organized crime division."
"Linc Abrams. This is Mason Reed and Senn Duncan."
"MMA fighter with new assault charges, right?" he asks as he pulls up a third guest chair from an empty desk.
"Yeah."
"Let's hear it," he says, sittin’ down across from the three of us. Ironically, he then takes a sip of coffee from a mug that says, “How about a nice, warm cup of shut the fuck up?”
Mason and I both recant everything from the time we saw Claire leavin’ work until we were chased out of the hospital, includin’ my mornin’ assault on the asshole.
"So you think Scarfone put your sister Mandy in the hospital under Claire’s name and made it look like an overdose when he actually drugged her and then kidnapped the other sister all because you roughed up one of his men?" he asks when we’re finished the recap.
"Yes," Mason and I both say.
The detective sits his coffee down and then leans back in his chair with his thick arms crossed over his chest. "I've been a
fter Scarfone for five years, for charges from murder to petty failure to report cash profits. I’m talking everything under the fucking sun, and nothing ever sticks. But even I have a hard time believing he's responsible for a blatant kidnapping and OD. He doesn't get his own hands dirty and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to have it come back on him."
"Well then, his guys are behind it. James…what's his last name?" I ask Mace.
"James Foster?" the detective offers. "Oh yeah. I know everything, including their shoe sizes, about all of his men. Still, trying to pin something this big on any of them is not gonna be easy. This is the organized crime unit, where we don’t even deal with kidnapping cases. You have no evidence, only speculation that’s vague at best, and completely superfluous at worst. We’re not on CSI. In real life, judges and district attorneys need more than a fucking hunch to grant search warrants and charge someone with a crime."
"Look, Detective, do you have a sister or a wife?" I ask, glancin’ at the single photo on his desk, one of a young woman with long, jet black hair of an Asian descent. I'm bettin’ she’s one or the other, especially after he bristles at the question, squarin’ his shoulders and clenchin’ his jaw.
"Wife. Why?" he asks gruffly.
"What if she went missin’? Would you sit around and wait to see if she turned up or would you go after a hunch, no matter how small, if you know something’s going on?" I ask.
He relaxes back in his squeaky chair again and exhales a breath. "I get where you're coming from, really, I do. And I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough for a search warrant. All I could possibly do is maybe pull together some surveillance, but if we're talking about Scarfone's house, that's mission impossible, since it's out in the middle of fucking nowhere."
"Come on," Mace jumps up and pleads. "There has to be something you can do!" He’s gettin’ increasingly upset, his fists clenched and veins poppin’ out on his forearms. He looks like he’s seconds away from divin’ across the desk and throttlin’ the man who’s refusin’ to help us.
The detective picks up a pencil and taps the eraser on the edge of his desk. "If you three were to decide to show up at Scarfone’s house and ask about her, well, there's nothing I can do to stop you. I'll talk to my captain, see if he'll let one of you wear our wire. If you manage to get something concrete recorded, then I might, still a slim chance, but might be able to get a search warrant."
