by R. R. Banks
“Give me a couple of days to come up with something,” Adam says. “I'll come up with something good. Something that will stick. If we take the shot at him, we're going to need to hit him hard. The last thing we want is a pissed off Damon Moore on our asses. Our best shot is to get him into a situation that is going to send him to prison for a while. A long while.”
“That sounds good,” I say. “I'll give it some thought on my end and we can compare notes.”
“Works for me,” he says. “I'll talk to you in a couple of days.”
I disconnect the call and lean back in my chair. I look at my phone and consider calling Paige again. Or maybe I should just shoot her another message. I decide against it though. I know that she is pissed and the last thing I want to do is push her any further right now.
Grabbing the remote off the corner of my desk, I turn on the TV and find a game to put on. I turn the volume down low and stand up. I walk over to the bar and pour myself a drink. Carrying it back, I drop down into my seat and lean back, taking a long swallow of the amber liquid. The familiar warmth slides down my throat and spreads throughout my stomach.
I'm tired. It's been a long few days. I try to stay awake. Try to pay attention to the game. But I feel my eyes growing heavier and the fight against sleep getting harder. I probably should go to bed, but I want to stay up a little longer. I want to wait up for Paige to call me back. I know she's going to, it's just a matter of time.
I knock back the drink and pour myself another one. She's going to call. Or text. I know she will.
~ooo000ooo~
The shrill sound of my phone ringing knocks me out of sleep, and I bolt upright, my heart hammering in my chest. I look around, a little disoriented. I'm still in the chair in my office. The game is over, and the highlight show is on. I have no idea how long I've been asleep.
The phone keeps ringing and I reach out, fumbling with it for a moment before I'm able to grab it. I don't even look at the caller ID when I answer the call, hoping it's Paige.
“Paige?” I say.
“No, it's Skyler.”
I look at the phone for a minute, questions running through my mind. Skyler is Paige's best friend. But, why is she calling me? A split-second after that question pops into my head, it's followed by something darker. Something that chills me right down to my very core.
“Is Paige okay?” I ask, a tremor in my voice. “Did something happen?”
“I – I don't know,” she says and for the first time, I hear the fear in her voice. “Is she there with you?”
“No, she's not,” I say.
I hear her choke back a sob and when she speaks, I know she's crying.
“Skyler,” I say, my voice firm. “What's wrong? What's happened?”
“I – I don't know, Liam,” she says. “We were supposed to get together tonight, but she never showed up. I came over to her house because I was a little worried about her. She's been having a hard time lately.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, a lance of guilt piercing my heart.
“Anyway, when I got here, the front door was wide open,” she says. “Her car is here, but she's not. And there are a couple of chairs knocked over in the dining room – like there was a struggle or something. Her purse is here, and her phone is on the ground, smashed to bits.”
A cold chill sweeps through me and I feel myself begin to tremble. I don't know exactly what's happened, but I know, down to my very bones, that somehow Damon is behind it. Damon has done something to Paige.
“Please, Liam,” Skyler says, her voice choked with emotion, “She's my best friend. I don't know what happened to her and I didn't know who else to call. Help me, please. Help her.”
“Okay, Skyler,” I say. “Listen to me very carefully. I want you to hang up the phone and call the police. Don't touch anything in the house. In fact, it's probably safer if you go outside and wait in your car. Make sure your doors are locked. Call the police, wait for them, and tell them everything you just told me.”
I don't think Skyler is in any danger at all. Not only have Damon and his thugs left – and took Paige with them – but it's not Skyler they want anyway. It's Paige. And they only want her to get to me. Because I won't play ball with them and because he wants to get one over on me so badly, he's going after the one thing he knows I care about.
Yeah, that's not going to work for me. I’m going to find Damon and I'm going to make him pay. He's going to pay dearly for this.
She sniffs loudly. “What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to find her.”
I end the call, pacing my office, trying to think about my next step when the phone in my hand rings again. I assume that it's Skyler calling me back, but when I answer the call, I find myself floored by the voice that responds.
“Skyler?” I say.
Her throaty laugh is an instant giveaway and it sends a lightning bolt of fear along my every nerve.
“Is that another of these townie girls you're fucking?”
I grip the phone a little tighter, feeling rage rising to the surface of my body. “Where is she, Brittany?”
“Oh, she's fine,” Brittany says. “We're just hanging out, having a little girl time.”
“I swear to God, if you touch her, I'm –”
“You'll what exactly? Kill me?” she laughs. “You and I both know you don't have the stomach for that.”
“What in the hell do you want?”
“World peace?”
I let out a deep breath, doing my best to control my fury. “Stop fucking around, Brittany,” I say. “What do you want?”
“What I want is what you owe me,” she says, her voice suddenly turning ice cold. “What I want is exactly what you're going to give me.”
“Name the price.”
“I'm going to send you an address,” she says. “And you're going to be there at midnight, tonight. You're going to come alone. If you're even one minute late or bring a friend, your little sidepiece here is going to have a very, very rough time. One I don't think she will recover from.”
“Goddammit, Brittany –”
The line goes dead in my hand. She hung up on me. The bitch hung up on me. My head pounding and my heart racing, I pace the office. Hemingway, obviously picking up on my mood – the rage and anxiety coursing through me, retreats to one of the guest bedrooms. He's a sensitive soul and has never wanted to be around extreme displays of emotion.
A moment later, my phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. It contains an address that I don’t immediately recognize. So, I do a quick Google search of the address.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
They are having me meet them at an old, abandoned cannery on the edge of town – a place that's set to be demolished and redeveloped by Damon Moore's company.
Could these clowns be any more cliché?
I look at the time and see that it's already after ten. I don't have a lot of time to prepare. They are not going to dictate terms to me. I'm going to show them that I am not a man to be fucked with. They are going to pay for this. And they're going to pay big time.
I punch in a number on my phone and hold it to my ear. A moment later, the call goes through and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey, it's me,” I say. “I have an emergency and I need your help. I'm sending my helicopter to pick you up at the ADE building. I need you to bring a few things...”
Chapter Thirty-One
Liam
The time on my watch reads 11:53 p.m. as I shut off the car in the parking lot of the old, abandoned cannery. I get out and walk across the cracked pavement with weeds springing up everywhere – some of them as tall as my hip – as the forest slowly, yet surely, begins to reclaim the land. I look around and idly wonder what in the hell Damon intends to put out here.
There's a side door standing open and I see light inside.
“This is obviously, the place,” I mutter to myself.
Adj
usting the ball cap on my head, I wince at the decorative pin that digs into my scalp. Tucking my hands into my pocket, I fight off the waves of nervousness and step through the door. If it were just me, I wouldn't be half as worried as I am. But, given that Paige's life is on the line, I'm scared. If I fuck this up, she's going to pay the ultimate price. I can’t risk that.
“Come in, Liam.”
I step around a stack of crates to find Damon and Brittany standing there. Behind them is a large man who looks like a complete idiot – I take him to be Travis Waltham.
“Phone,” Damon says. “Take it out of your pocket and set it on the table.”
Klieg lights had been set up, casting a small circle of bright light on the people standing there, while the rest of the warehouse remains lost in thick, inky shadow. In the center of that circle of light is Paige. She's zip-tied to a chair and there is a gag in her mouth. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I see an expression that's a mixture of relief and fear flit across her face.
“I'm here,” I say, stepping into the circle of light, setting my phone on the table. “Now, let her go.”
Waltham walks over and checks it – obviously to make sure I'm not recording. He nods at Damon and steps back, taking his place next to Brittany. She looks at me and pulls the large man down into a kiss, grabbing at his crotch as she does so. She steps back a moment later and looks at me, a predatory smile on her face.
“Was that supposed to make me jealous or something?” I ask. “It doesn't, in case you wondered. You can go ahead and fuck him right here for all I care. Doesn't bother me. I'm not into skanks.”
“Fuck you, Liam,” she snaps.
I turn my attention to Damon. “Let Paige go,” I say. “Now.”
“Patience, patience,” Damon says and turns to Brittany. “Jesus. Was he always this rude and demanding with you?”
“He was worse,” she says.
“Yeah, all I did was try to give you a good life by catering to your every goddamn insane whim,” I say, derision dripping from my voice. “It must have been so terrible for you.”
She shrugs. “It wasn't a picnic, that's for sure. You don't enjoy the money and lifestyle you have, Liam. All those lessons your daddy taught you about being humble and frugal? Total bullshit and you took them to heart a bit too much for my liking.”
“Fuck you, Brittany,” I snap. “Don't you dare mention my father.”
“Oh, did I hit a sensitive subject?” she asks, feigning surprise. “Oh, that's right, you're still not over mommy and daddy's death, even all these years later.”
She and Travis laugh together like it was the funniest thing they've ever heard. I know they're trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to get under my skin. I can't let them. I need to stay focused. I need to stay sharp.
“Whatever,” I say and turn to Damon. “What the fuck do you want?”
“The same thing I've always wanted,” he says. “Port Safira. I tried to ask you nicely not to shit in my sandbox. And yet, here you are, doing just that. Mayor Goodrich and I have a great thing going on. He funnels me non-competition contracts for a small fee. It's a beautiful system that's working for us and you just had to come in here and fuck it all up.”
“Fine,” I say. “I'll back off. Just let Paige go, and Port Safira is all yours, man.”
“Yeah, it's too late for that.”
“Then, what in the fuck am I doing here?” I ask. “What do you want?”
“The price has gone up, Liam,” Damon says, his tone cool. “You've pissed me off and now you're going to have to pay an asshole tax to save your dear, sweet Paige's life.”
“Done,” I say. “Name your price.”
“Your ass,” he says. “I want everything you own. Everything.”
“Except for that house on the hill,” Brittany chimes in. “I actually like it and want to keep it. Maybe as a summer home or something. Either way, it's mine.”
Paige struggles against her bonds, trying to scream through her gag, but it only comes out as muffled mumbling. I give her a look and a shake of the head, trying to tell her that everything is going to be okay. Not that I know it actually will be, but I don’t want her freaking out.
“Fine,” I say. “I'll rescind the divorce order and sign everything over to Brittany. Happy?”
“No, not yet,” Damon says.
“What the fuck else is there?”
“I need to make sure that I'm never going to have to deal with you again,” he says. “You're going to have to die tonight, Liam.”
I feel a jolt of fear tear through me, but I hold it down inside. I'm not going to show that to them. They don't deserve it. I look at Paige again and see tears rolling down her cheeks. She's shaking her head, trying to tell me not to do it. Not to trade my life for hers.
“So, what?” I ask. “One of you is going to kill me?”
“No, a random homicide brings up too many questions,” Damon says. “And we want to avoid that, if at all possible.”
“You are going to kill yourself,” Brittany chirps. “And personally, I can't wait to see it.”
“That was one of the conditions for her assistance,” Damon says dryly. “She wanted to be here to watch you die. Clearly, you've pissed this woman off in ways I've never seen before. Kudos to you on that, Liam.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I say.
“Always the charmer,” Damon says. “Now, this is how it's going to work. I'm going to have you sign some documents that gives Brittany full control of your share of ADE, as well as sole ownership of all your assets. And after that, you're going to hang yourself.”
I follow his eyes and see something I hadn’t noticed before – a noose loosely hanging over a steel beam. It's low enough that I'll be able to hang myself with it.
“And if I do this,” I say, “you will let Paige go?”
“You have my word,” he says.
“Which is worth about as much as a pile of dog shit.”
He shrugs. “It's all you have.”
“Fine,” I say. “I'll do it.”
Paige struggles and squirms, trying to shout at me from behind her gag. She's looking at me and shaking her head furiously. I give her a small smile and then lean down, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. Her muffled wailing echoes around the warehouse.
“Over here, Liam,” Damon calls.
I let out a long breath and turn, walking over to where Damon is standing by the small table where I'd set my phone earlier. He has some papers spread out in front of him and hands me a pen.
“I took the liberty of having my attorneys draft up the appropriate paperwork,” he says smoothly. “You'll find that everything is in order.”
I take the pen and look down at the paperwork in front of me. He really had been thorough. I sigh and shake my head.
“Oh, wait,” Brittany cries. “You forgot the best part. You're leaving a suicide note. Travis, show him.”
With a big smile on his stupid face, Travis pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolds it and walks it over to me. I take the paper and look down at it. It's a suicide note, of course, but it's very heavy on the praise of Brittany as well as the apologies to her for everything I've ever done. For all the pain and misery, I caused her. For being such a rank disappointment as a man and as a husband. And for a million other things that I'm not even going to bother reading.
“That's quite the suicide note,” I say.
“I know, right?” Brittany beams.
I sigh and shake my head. Idiots. All of them are idiots. They hatch this grand scheme to not only steal my company but kill me in the process – and not one of them thought to check me for a wire.
“Come on,” Damon says. “Sign the paperwork, time's wasting.”
“Yeah, I'm not going to be signing anything tonight.”
A look of dark anger crosses his face as he stares at me. “Oh, I think you will,” Damon says. “If you don't, your sweetheart here is going to have a rather large hole in
her pretty little head.”
Waltham takes a gun out of his waistband and points it at Paige. Her eyes grow wide and her muffled cries become panicked. I sigh and shake my head. It's time to put an end to this farce.
“Do you have everything you need?” I ask.
Damon looks at me like I've lost my mind. He must think that I’m talking to myself, but I decide to enlighten him and press my finger to my ear – more specifically, to the radio transmitter in my ear. Everything that has been said and done in this warehouse tonight has been recorded.
Realizing what's happened – what I've done – Damon's eyes grow wide. A vicious snarl crosses his lips, and he looks like he wants to tear me apart, limb from limb. He won't, of course. He's a pussy that will never take me head on. He takes a couple of steps back, looking around wildly, knowing the only noose that's tightening is going to be the one around his neck. He's ready to flee, he just doesn't know where to.
“Boss?” Waltham asks.
The big man is distracted for a moment and not looking at Paige, so I seize the opportunity. Moving quickly forward, I lash out with my foot, knocking his gun hand away and taking the barrel away from Paige. At the same time, I drive my fist down and plunge the pen I'm holding into Waltham's neck. A geyser of blood shoots out of the wound and the big man clutches at the pen, his eyes wide, his face racked with pain.
An unearthly shriek erupts from Brittany's mouth as she rushes to Waltham, dropping to her knees beside him, frantically trying to halt the flow of blood.
The sound of police sirens fills the air and all of a sudden, the room around us is bathed in red and blue strobing lights. There are men in uniform – some in SWAT gear – rushing all around us. The abandoned warehouse is suddenly a hive of activity, with the cops shouting commands at Brittany, Damon, and the wounded Waltham.
I rush to Paige and pull a pocket knife out. I quickly cut through the zip ties that are binding her. And when she's free, I stand her up and pull her into a tight embrace, crushing her body to mine. Her entire body is trembling and she’s sobbing into my shoulder. I just hold her to me, stroking her hair, telling her that she's safe. That everything is going to be okay.
