Bound to Me (The Harbour Series Book 1)

by Christy Pastore

I straightened my shoulders. “It is. And we’re not just messing around. I love Ella and she loves me.”

  Ronan ran a hand over his jaw. He looked back and forth between Dean and me. It was hard to get a read on him, but his body language discerned he was a little ticked off.

  Liam cleared his throat. “Guys, the clock’s ticking to find Ella. Why don’t you table this for now and hold your tribal council later.”

  I knew I liked the Welshman. He was right, we were wasting precious time, and we still had no clues as to Ella’s whereabouts. We harnessed our emotions and opted to focus on the task at hand—finding Ella. I rolled up my sleeves and looked over all the data in front of me.

  Lucan swiped his phone, I heard him instructing someone to order catering from Kitchen Provance. Two women wearing brightly colored dresses breezed through the doors carrying multiple coffees, making a beeline for Charlotte.

  “What’s everyone working on?” I asked, powering up my laptop.

  Celia appeared at the table. “Your room keys, Mr. Robertsen.”

  “Thanks.”

  “At this point, we’re searching social media and the news blogs for any information that could pertain to Ella,” Dean replied, handing me a coffee. “Mostly, I think the family is grateful to be together.”

  “What about Ella’s parents? Are they being told anything?”

  “The Connollys are in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa on some private game reserve. They are relatively unreachable, but Ronan and Molly don’t want to reach out unless they absolutely need too.”

  “I would have advised the same thing.” I scrubbed my hands down my face. “And the cops. Why don’t they have anything for us?”

  “The cops are doing all they can. I have personal contacts at the NYPD and the Bureau. My buddy, Rhodes, is keeping me fully in the loop. We’ll be notified the second they hear any chatter.”

  My gut twisted with overwhelming worry. “We should be out there doing more.” I pointed towards the windows.

  “I know you’re frustrated, but we don’t have anything solid to go on, yet.”

  “I don’t think I can sit here and drink coffee, knowing that Ella is out there somewhere possibly hurt and scared.” My fingers laced together. I could count on one hand the number of times in my life where I’d felt completely helpless, this was one of those times. I scoured through my emails, hoping Patrick had sent me something I could work with regarding Ella. Nothing from Patrick. This was agonizing. My fingers flew across my phone as I typed a message to Patrick.

  Me: I need any information on Charlie McNeil’s whereabouts in the last twenty-four hours.

  Patrick: You got it.

  The list of potential suspects was growing longer by the hour. Everyone was guilty until proven innocent. My mind opened files on everyone Ella had come in contact with since her arrival. I’d ruled out the creep who suggested Ella pay her rent in sexual favors. I also omitted Mark Daniels. He was safe only because the team was on their way to the World Series. I even scratched my contractor, Gary, off the list. That may have been a stretch adding him, but when I brought Ella to my home, his longer than necessary stare was aptly noted.

  There was only one person who stood out and he was at the top of the list. It couldn’t be McNeil. I didn’t want to think it was him. If only for Ella’s sake, I didn’t want to pull at that thread and open those old wounds again. The media would have a field day drudging up all that shit from her past and splashing it all over the tabloids. I refused to let her be put through that again.

  Two cups of coffee and twenty eliminated suspects later, the food arrived. No one seemed to want to eat and I was climbing the walls. I stared out the window, admiring the city skyline, going over all my moments with Ella. Did she know I was going out of my mind with worry? No, there was a good chance I was the last person she figured gave a shit about her. Just like Ronan said.

  Dean joined me at the window. “There’s plenty of food.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I lied.

  “They say never give advice during a crisis, only assistance. So, I’m not going to tell you to eat. I’m sure that you’re going nuts right now, but I assure you that the police are doing everything they can to find Ella.”

  “They need to do more. We need to do more.”

  “And you need to trust in the Intelligence Unit.” He took a bite of his pastrami sandwich.

  I cocked a brow. “Is that what you were doing where Derek Saunders was concerned? Trusting in the law?”

  He swallowed. “That’s a fair point. Do what you need to and I’ll do all I can to help you.”

  We walked to the door. “I want to go back to Lorenzo’s and the parking garage. I’m going to see if I can’t get a look at that security camera or talk to the guard.”

  “Bring her back home to her family.”

  I nodded. “I will. Count on that.”

  THE PARKING GARAGE ATTENDANT was useless. The white van hit the black Range Rover he said over and over, along with the fact that he was the one who called 911. As far as I knew, the police had turned up zip. I hadn’t heard from Patrick in over an hour. When I last spoke to him, he still had no information on McNeil.

  I walked along the sidewalk near the side entrance of Lorenzo’s. Leaves tumbled across the concrete in my path. The urge to crush them under my boots was strong. I studied every point of direction as I stood at the curb where the town car was spotted.

  “Give me a sign, come on,” I murmured.

  A couple stood staring up at a building across the street as I approached the side door. They were talking about the architecture of the structure. Once they left, my fingertips trailed along the warm steel, and then curled around the handle.

  She stood in this very spot. My fists slammed against the glass.

  “Ella,” I breathed.

  Expelling a harsh breath, I kicked a rock across the pavement. A man with a camera stood across the street. When his gaze met mine, he bolted.

  I darted across the street. “Hey man, stop!”

  Anger and frustration coursed through my veins. We rounded a corner down an alleyway and rage spurred me forward. The smell of garbage and stale beer was enough to make me gag. He tripped and crashed into a row of beer kegs. I grabbed his hoodie and then slammed him against the brick wall.

  I studied his face, as he struggled against my hold. This guy was at the polo match with McNeil. “Where the fuck is Ella Connolly?”

  “Hey, man, watch my camera. This is an expensive piece of equipment.”

  “Man, I don’t give a fuck about your camera,” I snarled. “Where’s my girlfriend?”

  “She . . . she’s . . . if I tell you, will you leave me out of it?” His voice shook with every word he uttered.

  “Tell me where she is, motherfucker, and I’ll think about it,” I growled, and struck a swift blow to his stomach.

  On a long groan, he doubled over in pain. “That fucking hurt.” He gasped for a breath. “If I tell you, you’ve got to promise me that you won’t turn me in to the cops.”

  I gripped his collar tight, hauling him upright against the bricks. “I make no promises and just so you know, I can do this all afternoon. I suggest you start talking or the next hit will be to your face.”

  “Okay, okay!” He held up his shaking hands. “She’s upstate in Canandaigua. Charlie rented a boat house up there on the lake a few weeks back.”

  “You got an address?”

  “Yeah, it’s in my phone. Charlie, he . . . uh, plans to call you and her brother, the movie star. He’s going to ask the two of you for money.”

  My fingers uncoiled and I let go of the hold I had on him. As he sagged against the wall, he pulled his phone out of his jacket. He tapped the device to life and handed it to me. “Here, that’s the address.”

  I snatched the phone from his hands and typed the address into the notes app on my phone.

  “Man, are you going to tell the cops about me?”

  I squared up to h
im, and my fist collided with his jaw. His head bobbed back against the bricks. “If anything happens to Ella, you won’t need to worry about the police, asshole.” Blood from his lip dripped onto his hoodie. I grabbed his face, angling it towards me. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

  He dropped to the ground like bag of cement, crushing his camera in the process. Before I left, I snapped a photo of his ID then flung it at his chest and walked away.

  “John Kemp, I’d start praying,” I mumbled under my breath.

  I flagged down a cab a few blocks up from Lorenzo’s, and then instructed the driver to drop me at The Addison. As I crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators, I pulled out my phone and called the private line to Everett Sterling Aviation.

  “Connie, I need a plane today, the sooner the better. It’s a very urgent need.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Robertsen, it looks as if Mr. Everett and Mr. Sterling have chartered both of the company jets. Let me check the other flights, hold please.”

  While I waited for Connie to come back on the line, I sent Dean a text message.

  Me: I got a tip on Ella’s whereabouts. We need to talk privately. Where should we meet?

  Dean: Good work. Meet you at your Addison apartment. We can formulate a plan of action.

  “Mr. Robertsen, the closest plane I have to you is going to arrive in Boston tonight at seven thirty-four. Will that work for you?”

  I shook my head, scratching my scalp. “No, no it won’t. Is there nothing else?”

  “Let me check again, sir.”

  I hung on the line and waited. Two elevators had come and gone. I hoofed up the stairs and crossed the mezzanine level just as Connie came back on the line and told me none of the E&S planes were coming to Manhattan, the elevator dinged.

  I thanked her for her help and stepped into the empty car. Fuck, looks like I’m driving.

  An hour later, I was sailing down the highway on my way upstate. In between briefing Dean and mapping a route to Canandaigua, Celia had arranged for a car. At the sight of a police car in the median, I pumped the brakes. I hadn’t realized I was speeding, but I needed to get to my girl. My Ella.

  My cell rang and I swiped the screen. “Talk to me, Dean.”

  “We just received the ransom request from McNeil. He’s asking for five million.”

  Drawing in a breath, my hand slapped against the steering wheel. “Greedy little fucker isn’t he?”

  “Alex, there’s more.”

  My chest shook, and I feared the worst. Charlie was stupid, he was really fucking stupid, but he needed the money.

  “Ronan was able to talk to Ella, she said she was fine, but he sent photos and it was visible he has beaten her up pretty good.”

  “I’ll kill him!” I roared. “I will fucking kill him.”

  “Alex, you’ve got to calm down. What’s your ETA?”

  “I’m still four hours away. Fuck!” My hands gripped the wheel until my knuckles were white. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Silence passed between us, and all I heard was the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Taking deep breaths, I managed to calm down.

  “Call the authorities. We can’t wait, tell them to go in.”

  “I’ll call you when they have Ella and McNeil is in custody.”

  Saying nothing, I killed the call. My foot pressed the gas and I wanted to break every speed limit to get to her, but all I could do was wait.

  Wait to see Ella. I would have to wait to hold her. Wait to wrap my arms around her and tell her that I loved her.

  Wait to get my hands on Charlie for putting his on her.

  Charlie McNeil had made a very grave mistake.

  TEARS DRIPPED ONTO THE white cotton tee that Charlie so nicely bought for me, along with a pair of black leggings. My beautiful gold dress lay rumpled on the floor, stained in blood and vomit. I’d eaten a slice of bread, only because I was starving, and it didn’t end well.

  I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but Charlie had left and I allowed myself a few tears. They weren’t for me. Instead, they were for my brother and sister. It was a relief to hear their voices, but my gut twisted with ache that I’d put them through such worry.

  During the short phone call earlier, Molly had told me not to worry. I heard the pain in her voice. I told her I was fine, though I doubt she believed me after seeing the photos Charlie sent. Ronan said only four words, I love you, Lolly. Charlie ended the call before I could respond.

  Before the call, I’d been allowed to brush my teeth, shower, and wash my hair under supervision, which was both frightening and humiliating. He angled the camera so that the sunlight washed over me and I was sure he was doing it to purposely disguise the bruises he’d decorated my skin with over the last few days.

  Days, hours—I couldn’t recall how long I’d been here.

  The only time stamp I had was that I’d washed my hair on Saturday afternoon, before the party. Two days, that was the most I could let it go before I need to wash it again. So according to my earlier limp and greasy hair, I thought that today might be Monday. It was so stupid. I didn’t know what I was supposed to think about being locked in this place.

  My head was spinning and I was so tired. Charlie had asked for five million dollars. He expected that payment for my safe return. Jesus.

  My fingers twisted the ends of my hair. How would Ronan know where to find me? Charlie had five burner phones. He ditched the one from earlier, busting it to pieces and then scattering them into the water. He joked about how he’d be feeding me to the fishes if the money didn’t come through.

  The blare of a steam engine startled me, sending my pulse thumping.

  I’m entirely too jumpy.

  Charlie had been so nice to give me a lesson on the Canandaigua Lady, the Mississippi style paddle wheel boat that served as a reminder of the old steamboats. Steamboats were the primary mode of transportation here until roads were built.

  All that stupid information told me that I was nowhere near The Harbour. I was nowhere close to Manhattan either, and I was even farther away from Alex.

  Alex.

  I wondered if he’d been in the room with Molly and Ronan at the time of the call. Had Alex heard my voice? Swiping away the tears, I dreamed about indoor picnics with ice cream, baseball games and dancing on the beach under the stars.

  With a heavy sigh, I slammed my fists to the comforter. I jerked at the zip-tie wrapped around my ankle. The plastic dug into my skin, but thankfully not enough to cut. It was unnecessary, and I hadn’t given Charlie any reason to think I would run. I mean honestly, there was no way to get out of here that I could find.

  “Help me! Can anyone hear me?” I bellowed at the top of my lungs.

  Why did I even bother? No one was around to hear my cries and pleas for help. I peeled another strip of green paint off the wall. Why couldn’t Charlie have left me a magazine or even a book to read whilst he was out. There wasn’t even a television or radio in this place. Modern amenities, I was expecting too much. This was not The York Hotel.

  To entertain myself, I began re-playing scenes from Friends in my mind. Nabila and I started binge watching the sitcom as soon as it became available on Netflix. We’d spent an entire weekend in our pajamas watching seasons five and six and debating which season had the funnier moments. I lobbied for five because of the episode where everyone found out about Monica and Chandler. The sexual showdown between Chandler and Phoebe, seriously hands down was the fucking funniest thing I’d ever seen. Not to mention all the great one-liners.

  “Maybe, I’ll dance for you.”

  “You look good.”

  And my favorite quote of all time from Phoebe, “They don’t know that we know they know we know.”

  At this point, I was crying and laughing, I pressed a fist to my mouth to calm down. Silence surrounded me and then I swore I’d heard a clicking noise.

  The door cracked open and snapped on its hinges. Light spread into every corner of the space, casting glittering rays of
dust beams through the air.

  “Holy fuck!” I screamed, while an army of men trampled across the floor shouting commands. My screams intertwined with a litany of broken curses as I watched the scene unfolding before me.

  “Entry clear.” A booming voice called out.

  “Hallway clear.”

  My mouth hung open and my fingers gripped at the bedding beneath me. The bed shook and rattled against the wall. Darkness swirled with lightness and my stomach flipped.

  “Go, go, go.”

  It was hard to tell who was speaking to whom in the flurry of activity. At the sound of glass shattering, I instinctively buried my face into the pillows. My chest shook as my heart pounded fiercely.

  “All clear here, boss.”

  My leg jerked and this time the zip tie cut into my skin. The rush of blood slid down my ankle dripping onto the ugly brown colored comforter.

  “Ouch, dammit,” I groaned into the pillow.

  “Miss,” a deep voice called to me. “Ella Connolly?” the voice asked over the stomping of boots against the hardwood.

  I looked up to see a man with dark hair and bright blue eyes staring back at me. “Miss Connolly, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  Nodding, I swallowed and gasp, “Yeah, well, no actually, my ankle hurts.” I pointed to the zip tie that bound me to the bed’s iron frame.

  He smiled. “Ah, let me fix that for you.” He pulled out a knife and with one swift movement I was freed from the bed.

  “Thanks, uhhh, Sir?” I stumbled over the words, feeling my cheeks heating.

  “Agent Rhodes,” he replied with a wide smile.

  “Thank you, Agent Rhodes.” I swung my legs off the bed and then massaged my thigh and down my leg trying to circulate some blood flow.

  “Let’s get you out of here and get that piece of plastic removed properly. Do you think you can walk?”

  “I think so.” I hobbled and Agent Rhodes offered his arm to help me. Once outside, the chill of the air wrapped around me and I inhaled a deep breath. The paramedics rushed towards us.

  “She has a zip tie on her ankle,” he informed. “It needs to be cut off immediately.”