Kidnapped Hearts

by Cait Jarrod

  “For obvious reasons, you couldn’t be in a regular room, not with Sanjar or the Black Scorpions looking for you. This area is secluded. As soon as we get the okay, I’m taking you to my house where it’s more secure until this case is over.” He stepped closer and held out his hand. “I need the note.”

  She gave him the wadded papers.

  “Two notes?”

  “I found the other one in my office’s bathroom trashcan before Cocktail Hour.”

  Jake stuffed them in his pocket. “I’ll…”

  A loud commotion reverberated outside the room.

  He raised his hand and said, “Keep quiet.”

  Not again.

  Jake snatched a paper towel from the dispenser near the sink, pressed it against her arm where the IV connected to her skin, then pulled the IV out. He tugged her hand, and she took over applying pressure to her arm. She went willingly, despite the throbbing in her head. Once they were pressed against the wall, he pulled his gun from the waist of his pants.

  She clutched the tail of his shirt and decided it was more important to hold her gown together. She let the paper towel drop and clasped the flaps of her gown. She hated that this scene felt familiar.

  Chapter Eight

  Warm air tickled his neck while soft, feminine curves pressed into his back. At any moment, the door would fly open, generating a threat toward Pamela, and all Jake could think about was how to get her lovely body pressed against his front.

  Another loud commotion and raised voices. This time the sound was just outside the door. He stiffened, readying for action. Even though agents were posted in the hall, he couldn’t be too careful. Last night taught him that. He leveled his gun shoulder height.

  The door opened slowly.

  Jake’s trigger finger itched. If a Black Scorpion revealed his face, he’d pull the trigger and ask questions later. Consequences be damned. Pamela wouldn’t be a sitting duck again.

  Instead of a menacing face, a beady-eyed woman with hair similar to Pamela’s stared into the barrel of Jake’s gun, her mouth falling open.

  From the case folder he had received, he now had an image of all possible suspects and known allies of Pamela’s. This woman was Vivian Lynx, Pamela’s mother. Even if he hadn’t seen a picture of her, he would have known she was her mother. They looked a great deal alike.

  Jake motioned with the gun for Vivian to step aside. The voice he heard in the hall was an unidentifiable male. Vivian could be a decoy. Pamela started to move away. His hand on her thigh held her against him.

  The door opened wider, and a pudgy man, standing the same height as him, glared at the gun.

  “Sorry, Sir, the couple came out of the elevator, appearing suspicious. They ignored my order to freeze. My partner and I tackled the male to the floor and searched him. The female showed us ID, and we quickly helped the man to his feet. The package is clean.”

  “Thanks, agent.”

  The agent gave a brusque nod, then closed the door behind him.

  Jake inspected Pamela’s stepfather, Nicholas Wine, from top to bottom. Wine’s suit was impeccable, but his gelled hair, gold pinky ring, and sparkling teeth shouted scumbag. A package shaped like a book stuck in his right hand, most of the paper missing. “What’s in the package?” Jake demanded.

  As if Wine hadn’t been knocked to the ground and a gun wasn’t aimed at him, he lifted the gift a few inches, then dropped it back to his side, calmly saying, “It’s a gift for Pamela.”

  “Pamela, why is this man asking us questions? And why is he pointing a gun at Nicholas?”

  Pamela winced.

  The hospital door snapped closed. Jake lowered his gun and released Pamela’s leg. Without saying a word, she climbed into bed.

  “Pamela, what’s going on here? Who is this man?” And before Vivian took a breath, she ordered, “Answer me.”

  Pamela pulled the covers over her thin gown and thought for a second. “Hmm, no.”

  Jake stuck his gun in the waistband of his pants, letting his shirttail hide it. “Pamela, push the button to call the nurse. She needs to reattach your IV.”

  She did.

  Vivian marched to the side of the bed, her emotions wound tight making her petite body shake. Vivian Lynx stood at five-two. Her heels she wore were four to five inches high, making her a tad shorter than Pamela bare foot.

  “Pamela, answer me,” Vivian demanded again.

  “Vivian, my head hurts. I don’t want to deal with you today.”

  Vivian touched Pamela’s hand. “Sweetheart,” her bitter voice now mellowed, “I left a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time for you to let go of the anger? It’s not good for you.”

  “This is the nurse,” a woman’s voice announced over the intercom.

  “Ms. Young’s IV came out,” Jake informed her.

  “I’ll be there in just a moment,” the nurse advised.

  “Maybe I should, but I can’t. Vivian, you left dad and me to become a model. Our role in your life was nonexistent.” Pamela touched her forehead, causing her mother’s hand to drop to the mattress. “It was more important for you to become a Victoria’s Secret model than to stay in Fredericksburg and be my mother.”

  Jake’s eyebrows arched. He knew this about Vivian Lynx, knew the woman had no family values, but to hear Pamela state it matter-of-factly made him feel a twinge of compassion for the young teen whose mother abandoned her. An emotion he shouldn’t have, not in this line of work.

  “Pamela, I had to do it for me. At the time, I was so consumed with making something more out of myself than just being a mother and a wife.”

  A nurse arrived with supplies and examined Pamela’s arm. “What happened?”

  “I took it out,” Jake said.

  The nurse didn’t comment. She moved to the other side of the bed, reattached the IV, and headed toward the door. “Don’t do it again,” she told Jake as she exited the room.

  He nodded.

  Pamela’s eyes were closed, and when they opened, a play of emotions crossed her face, pain, anger, and something he knew all too well, disgust. This last sentiment had only been directed at himself. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth flattened, and her face turned a deep red.

  Moving to the safety of the opposite side of the room, he waited for steam to come out of her ears.

  “Vivian, you have no right demanding answers from me.”

  “Pamela, you may be mad, but you will respect me,” Vivian said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have never respected me.”

  Jake stretched his legs in front of him and leaned his back against the wall. “This should be good.”

  Wine cut his eye at him, then looked back at his wife and stepdaughter.

  “You lost all rights as a mother the day you left.”

  “Pamela,” Nicholas began, “we just want to get along. I’ve brought you a gift.”

  “And you, how could you be okay with her not taking your last name?” The outburst was followed by Pamela making a strange noise and clasping the sides of her face. “You haven’t tried to visit me in years. Why now?”

  Her headache must be getting worse. Jake straightened and crossed his arms. “I think it’s time you two left.”

  Vivian’s suspicious eyes inspected Jake before drooping.

  He felt a tinge of sympathy. Whatever had transpired over the years, Pamela had no plans of letting her mother off the hook. He’d give anything to have his biological mom back, even if her body did shake when she talked.

  “I know you.”

  Jake went rigid as he braced himself for Vivian’s verbal attack. He didn’t need to be reminded of the person he used to be. “We’ve met.”

  She lifted her finger and pointed at his face. “You’re that … that boy.” Her disgust was tangible.

  “Not anymore.”

  An objection from the bed, and a second later Pamela stood in front of her mother, holding her IV pole, and her heart-shaped butt staring at him. “Don’t.”
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  “I can handle this,” Jake informed.

  Pamela squinted over her shoulder at him, released the pole, and gathered her gown. Her free hand held her head. “She is my mother. If anyone’s going to handle her, it’ll be me.” Jake respected that.

  Before he had a chance to utter a word, Pamela faced her mother. “I want you Nicholas and you to leave.”

  Vivian took in a deep breath, twisted her hands, then exhaled. “I told you when you were an impressionable teenager that a man like him was dangerous. He may have cut his hair, but he is still the same. A man like him will never amount to anything.”

  Pamela leaned forward. “This man has been there for me, which is more than I can say for you.”

  She was protective of him too, and that took Jake by surprise. Pamela wobbled. When her hand released the gown to seize her head, he knew she was going down.

  “Easy.” Jake slid his arms around her waist the moment her knees buckled and gathered her into his arms.

  “My head really hurts,” Pamela said into his chest as she pulled the IV pole behind them.

  Jake laid her on the bed, crossed the room to the door, and opened it. “Get out.”

  Vivian blinked at him several times. “Young man.”

  Nicholas grabbed her arm and tugged. “Let’s go.”

  The door closed behind them. Still Nicholas’ loud voice penetrated the walls. “I told you, it was fruitless to come see that ungrateful girl.”

  “You’re the one who insisted on coming to the hospital, so you could give her another one of your silly books.”

  Jake entered the hall in time to see Vivian’s body shaking again.

  “For the life of me, I don’t know why you think those books will serve as a peacemaker. I’ve never heard such rubbish,” Vivian snapped.

  The arguing continued until they disappeared behind the elevator doors. Jake ducked into the room. “Where is the package Wine gave you?”

  Pamela pointed to the chair.

  “You care if I open it?”

  “Help yourself. I don’t want it.”

  The thin wrapping paper tore easily, and Jake held a Now and Then history book. “Do you want to go to Watertown, Wisconsin?”

  “No, I don’t. For the last month, Nicholas has given me books on different cities. They aren’t even places I want to visit.”

  Jake jostled the book around in his hands, examining it. Something wasn’t right. The leather jacket seemed intact, and as he thumbed through the pages, nothing fell out. “Wine has given you a Now and Then book every time?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of them covered in leather?”

  “Yes.”

  He set the book on her bedside table. “As I said last night, your residence and business have to be searched. They’re being searched now.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “It may be best if you stay another night.”

  “The way I feel, I don’t want to leave.” Her fingers were massaging her temples. Jake wanted to take over the job, but once skin touched skin, he wouldn’t be able to trust his fingers not to wander.

  “I’m sorry about Vivian.” Pamela snuggled into the pillow. One eye peeked at him.

  Jake rested in the seat beside her bed. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “She is a hateful woman.”

  Sitting there, beside her bed, listening to her attempt to comfort him, did an odd thing to him. The armor he’d erected around his heart after Jennifer’s betrayal shifted. He resisted the urge to take her in his arms and console her. Having a cold and callous mother couldn’t be easy, and yet he was so quick to judge her motives earlier. “I’m sorry, too.”

  Her eyes blinked and locked with his. “We all have crap that we have to let go. Right now, I’m concentrating on being safe.”

  She closed her eyes, and her breathing became steady.

  Jake extended his legs and folded his arms over his chest. He might as well get a few winks while she did. A tough evening lay ahead of him. Later, he would see his foster parents for the first time since he returned to the states.

  ****

  “Baby girl,” a deep voice yelled.

  Jake jolted awake and jumped to his feet, his gun in the ready position.

  Droopy, Pamela forced a smile. “Dad.”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Jake lowered his weapon. “Sorry, sir, I’ll leave you two to visit.”

  “Just a second, son, I want to thank you for what you did for my Pamela.”

  “Mr. Young—”

  Donald raised his hand, stopping Jake. “Your job was to protect Pamela, no one else. Also, I want you to hear the update on Marge.” Facing his daughter, Donald continued, “Marge is going to be okay. The glass hit a main vein, but the doctors were able to get the bleeding under control. Her high blood pressure and heart arrhythmia gave the doctors some trouble.” He cleared his throat. “Marge is stable. They’re moving her to a regular room.”

  Pamela blinked, fighting tears.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Donald nodded, and Jake walked out the door. He shoved his hands through his hair and let lose a breath himself. If something had happened to Marge, especially on his lookout, he would have hated to contact her sons, Lincoln and Jackson.

  “Mr. Gibson,” Agent Lever called, straightening the bow tie of his three-piece suit as he approached.

  Jake scratched the back of his neck. “Kind of hard to stay inconspicuous when you stand out like a sore thumb.”

  “It works for me.”

  Another person Jake added to his mental list of people who didn’t appear to be on the up and up. He put Agent Lever right below Peter Jameson. Sanjar had the honor of being number one.

  In silence, they walked to the opposite corner of the hallway, out of earshot from the other agents standing guard.

  “Did you find anything?” Jake asked.

  “No, her residence and business were clean.”

  Jake shoved his hands into his pockets. “Not surprising.”

  Agent Lever flipped open his notepad. “A Mark McDowell arrived after the search had taken place to do the repairs. He said Donald Young called him.”

  “The party is here,” Agent Dennis announced, emerging from the elevator and joining the group. He wore jeans and a dress shirt, his shirttail covering his belt.

  Jake titled his head toward Agent Dennis. “Agent Lever, this is the proper clothing protocol for agents in the field.”

  “Noted,” responded Agent Lever without expression.

  “Any word from Intel?” Jake asked Agent Dennis.

  “Sanjar is not taking responsibility for the shooting.” Agent Dennis reared back on his heels. “It isn’t his normal MO anyway.”

  “I have to agree,” Jake declared. “He doesn’t go after small business owners.”

  “What about the bearer bonds? Doesn’t Sanjar raise funds to support his cause?”

  Jake and Agent Dennis cocked their heads, studying Lever. Finally, Agent Dennis said, “It’s unlikely. Other organizations fund Sanjar’s warfare. He doesn’t like the mundane task.”

  Jake’s eyebrows shot up. Too bad he hadn’t heard that information when his informant lied to him.

  He would call Larry later to see if he knew the location of his snitch. First, he needed the threatening notes analyzed. “Lever, would you take these two notes to the lab?”

  Lever pulled out a plastic bag and held it open. Jake dropped the notes inside.

  “Sorry to break up this love fest,” Agent Dennis broke in, “but, Jake, I heard you were supposed to be off the clock right about now, something about family business.”

  “Is the Director putting his nose in my family business?”

  “That would be an affirmative. Ms. Young has to stay another night due to her headaches. I’ll stay until you come back on duty.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  ****

  After a quick call
to Larry requesting the whereabouts of his informant, Jake drove over to his parents’ house to meet his brother and to see his parents for the first time since returning to the states. Now, on the front porch, Jake leaned his shoulder against the wall while Paul rang the doorbell. “Where did you and Celine disappear to today?”

  “Are you kidding me? We saw Vivian and Nicholas heading toward the room, and we took off. No way did we want to get stuck in one of their arguments.”

  “Thanks for leaving me to hang out to dry.”

  “No problem, consider it a down payment on the payback I owe you.”

  Paul pushed the button again.

  Elizabeth and Howard England expected Paul and a friend for dinner. They didn’t know the friend was their adoptive son. Jake swallowed and readied himself for an ambush of emotions. He imagined his foster parents would be elated to see him, but then there would be the dreaded conversation as to why Jake had abandoned them for the last few years. Worse, they would realize that the Director of the FBI, Elizabeth England’s good friend, decided it was best for them to think Jake was dead.

  The door opened, and Elizabeth’s bright, shiny face smiled up at her son. “Paul, how are you? Didn’t you have a bike race while we’re gone?” She tugged his arm and pulled him inside.

  “Missed you, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “Let’s talk about the race later. There’s someone—”

  She clasped her hands together and rambled on. “Your father and I had a wonderful time on the cruise. Howard didn’t think he’d like a cruise, but we had a fabulous time. The margaritas helped.” She smiled. “Let’s go in the kitchen.” Elizabeth picked up the glass iced tea pitcher she deposited on the table before opening the door. “I’m sorry, please excuse me. You brought a friend. Where is she?”

  Jake appeared.

  The pitcher in Elizabeth’s hand slipped, crashing to the floor. Pieces of glass scattered and liquid splashed in every direction.

  “Elizabeth, are you okay?” Howard England shouted as he ran out of the kitchen, his grilling apron waving around his waist.

  Elizabeth stayed silent, her hand clutching her chest.