Finding Faye:

by A. J. Andersen

  When our team pulls up we are ready to roll. We stow the bags, Blake’s computer, and a small arsenal in the back of the shiny, black company SUV. Before letting us in the vehicle, our medic, John insists on checking us over before hitting the road. We are a little worse for the wear. Overall we are going to be fine, even though we will both have headaches for a while.

  Blake definitely has a concussion. I do as well, thanks to the blow I took to the head. It takes several sutures to close it once it’s been cleaned, but the lidocaine John used to numb the area is still working.

  It was unnecessary, but you won’t hear me complaining about it. Fortunately, neither of us is injured so bad that we can't do what needs to be done.

  As much as I would like to drive and get to my girl, I know that the best thing I can do right now is get some rest and let John and his partner Mike do the driving while I let the mild pain relievers I took do their job. Having two more men on board that we can count on, especially these two salty assholes, is not a bad thing.

  I just wish I could figure out who took the girls. And why.

  It takes him longer than he wanted, but Blake finally gets a lock on satellite imaging that is as close to real time as we are going to get. The delay is less than half an hour, and we can work with that. The armored truck the girls are being held in has a little over an hour head start on us now, but now we know their general destination.

  They are still headed right into Vegas.

  By the time we get there we should know where they are. Within a block or so, anyway, and that is close enough to work with.

  We are about an hour out of the city when my phone rings and Xavier Cerelli's number comes up.

  I have been holding off on calling him, wanting to figure out who is responsible for the kidnapping first. So far we still haven’t been able to come up with any real motive. Other than it being someone wanting to know what Faye saw that night, nothing makes sense. Unless it wasn’t about Faye at all, and somehow she got pulled into something that was meant to target Analise… or her husband.

  “Keller,” I snap, answering my phone.

  “Where the fuck is my wife?” he thunders.

  If I was a lesser man I would be intimidated by the power behind his words. Good thing I'm not. I still want to know how he knew to call me and ask that specific question. Summarizing the situation as succinctly as possible, I fill him in on the events of the last twenty-four hours, starting with how Faye recognized Ana and wrapping up by letting him know about the video feed we have been following.

  “We aren’t too far out from Vegas,” I tell him. “Blake just needs a place to set up his equipment so we can pinpoint where they were taken.”

  The growl that comes through the line echoes the boiling rage in my own gut. I know that it’s in the best interest of K&S, and myself personally, to resolve this situation as quickly as possible. This man will be a fierce enemy if this doesn’t pan out well.

  “I have room for you to set up here. I have men who can help as well. You should have let me know as soon as Analise was identified,” he grumbles. He’s calmer now that we have a plan, and I don’t entirely disagree. I would feel the same if I was in his position, even though I chose to do differently.

  There will be time to explain everything later. In person.

  Not having any other plan at the moment I accept his offer and agree that we will meet him at his penthouse apartment as soon as possible. Blake will set up a command center and together we will review the data and narrow down where our girls may have been taken. Xavier, having the advantage of already being in Vegas, is already sending out all of his available men to watch the main roads for the armored truck. With enough eyes watching, we feel confident that we will be able to locate them.

  I have to find them. I have to find Faye. I will not accept less from myself. They should never have been taken while under my protection, and without Faye, I know that I don’t have a life. Nothing matters but bringing her home, unharmed if possible.

  Acid burns my stomach and throat. I don’t even want to go down that road. If I start thinking about all the ways she could be harmed I will lose my mind. I have to keep it together.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Faye

  Time in the back of the stuffy truck feels endless. Ana and I both need to pee so bad that I don’t think I can stand another minute. Climbing to my feet, I bang on the wall, yelling until my throat is sore. Ana and I are both sweating and miserable, voices raspy, by the time the driver stops.

  My heart in my throat, I wait to see what will happen when the doors open. I can’t decide if I should try to make a run for it or not.

  I’m desperately praying that there are people around, that they are stupid enough to take us somewhere public so we can call for help or attempt to escape.

  My disappointment is gut-wrenching when the door opens a crack. It’s dark outside and I can’t see any light at all other than the stars. One at a time they let us out into a small dusty parking lot. Standing next to Ana, I know that there is nowhere to run. Nowhere at all. Maybe if I was alone I could try, but with her being pregnant there is just no way.

  I’m not going to abandon her. It’s my fault that she is caught up in this mess anyway.

  One of the men grasps my bicep in a bruising grip, propelling me forward toward an abandoned-looking vault toilet on the far side of the empty lot. There are no lights other than the headlights to illuminate the way. The building is filthy and smells like a sewer.

  Ana and I gratefully hurry inside with a flashlight one of our kidnappers pressed into her hand, to take care of our business.

  “What are we going to do?” she whispers in my ear, her voice trembling with fear.

  I wish I knew, but I want to be strong for her. I have to be strong for myself too.

  “There is no way we can escape right now. We are going to have to get back in the truck and take any opportunity we can once we get where they are taking us,” I murmur back. It sounds good to me. Like I have a plan. I don’t, but Ana doesn’t have to know that.

  Shining the light around, I look for anything we could use as a weapon, but there is nothing. Not even toilet paper. Isn’t that just dandy? Ana nods and scrubs the back of her hand over her watering eyes.

  It’s not just the fear, I wish it was. It really stinks in here. My eyes are watering too.

  Screwing up my courage, I push the door open and take Ana by the hand. Together we ignore the waiting goons and trudge back to the waiting vehicle.

  Our asshole captors follow closely behind. They must know we realize there is nowhere to run, but that doesn’t stop one from wrenching the light from my hand and manhandling me into the back of the truck. I fall to my knees, my palms scraping against the rough floor, and I bite my tongue at the impact. The rusty flavor of blood floods my mouth, making me feel a little sick.

  The other man seems to be handling Ana more gently. Maybe it’s because she is clearly with child. Before they can lock us back in I take a chance, calling out.

  “You know who she is, don't you?” I ask, hoping they may not want to risk crossing her husband.

  The meaner man opens the door again, his gun held ready at his side, a smug smirk on his ugly face.

  “Yeah. She's Analise Cerelli. You're the one we haven't figured out yet.”

  My stomach falls. His response takes the wind out of my sails. I was counting on me being their target. They were after Ana all along, not me. I was not expecting that. At all.

  The rapid intake of breath behind me means that Ana didn’t suspect that she was the target, either.

  “Mrs. Cerelli is pregnant, in case you failed to notice.” I force my voice to be snarky. I’m going for bravado here. What do I have to lose? Other than my life? Hysteria bubbles up inside me but I shove it down ruthlessly and continue in the same snotty voice. “I'm sure that her husband will not be happy to have her returned to him damaged.”

  “Probably not.” The man c
huckles in the darkness. It’s a sinister sound that prickles my skin. “We’re not returning her to Xavier,” he states as he starts to close the door in my face.

  “Wait, please,” I call out, reduced to begging. “At least give her something to drink. For the baby.” It can't hurt to appeal to whatever conscience he has.

  If he has one.

  The door slams in my face, cutting off the sound of hateful laughter. Tears of frustration and fear slip down my face. I sit down beside Ana, my hope bleeding away. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. The only comfort I can find in this situation is that it is the middle of the night and they have to stop soon. Right? There are two of them though, so maybe they just plan to take turns driving until we get to whatever their destination is.

  It doesn’t really matter where they are taking us; if we can’t find a way to escape once we get there, we are screwed.

  The door opens up suddenly and Ana and I both jump, startled. It’s the second man, the quiet one that handled Ana carefully. Without a word he tosses a couple water bottles in, rolling them toward us before nodding his head and locking us back in.

  I scramble in the dark for the bottles before they roll away when the truck starts moving again. I hear the muffled sound of two doors slamming and know it’s time. Settling back down beside Ana, I hand her a water and we open them, taking a drink before capping them and setting them in our laps. There's no telling when we might be given more. Probably best to save some for later. Just in case.

  I doze fitfully in the back of the truck. You know that kind of sleeping where your body rests but you mind is still awake? That kind of awful rest that you actually feel worse after? Yeah, I do that.

  A sudden slowing of the vehicle and a hollow echo of engine rumble precedes the inevitable sound of breaks, then voices approaching.

  I sit up rapidly. Ana is already awake. We both hurry to stand, our hands clasped together, ready to run if the opportunity presents itself. Neither of us says anything, but we both know our chances are slim. They were cautious about letting us out at the rest area, so I don't expect anything less now. If anything, I anticipate even more vigilance. I doubt Ana thinks anything different.

  We are just going to have to wait and see how things play out… and hope that Travis is on his way.

  This must be our destination. I can hear the sound of additional voices joining the other two. They aren't being quiet, so that must mean that they aren't concerned about being seen with us. That can't be good. One thing I know is that when people are doing something wrong and don’t feel the need to hide it, it’s because they have gotten away with it before. That makes me nervous—have they kidnapped other women and brought them to… wherever this is?

  A quick glance at Ana in the murky light reveals the same look of trepidation on her face that I feel. I squeeze her hand, as much to bolster myself as her, and we cling to each other as we wait for the door to open.

  The time it takes feels like forever, but it’s maybe only five minutes before the door is thrown open and flickering fluorescent light floods inside, blinding me. I’m still blinking, trying to clear my vision enough to see, when I feel a hard hand grab me. Before I can even cry out from the sharp pain lancing through my shoulder someone is dragging me out of the truck and pushing me down to the gritty concrete.

  A quick look around confirms that we are in an underground parking garage. One that appears to be totally empty… except for the two armored trucks and a couple of nondescript, piece of shit cars.

  Fuck! We were in trouble before, but this is even worse than I thought. There is no way we can escape from here, not without help or guns… or something.

  Looking up from where I’m sprawled on the dirty concrete, I see Ana being dragged toward an elevator by a large man in a cheap black suit. She is struggling against his hold on her arm but he’s much too big for her to be effective against him. The man standing over me is dressed the same—all of them are.

  Stooping, he lifts me by my arm. The same one that he already yanked so hard. I whimper in pain, muscle tearing. It feels like he’s pulling my shoulder out of its socket as he pulls it up behind me. With a rude noise he pushes me in the same direction that Ana just went.

  The way my arm is twisted behind my back ensures that I don't struggle. I go along with him without a fight, even though every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run, but I don't want to be separated from Ana.

  If…when Travis comes for us, it will be best if we are together. If he doesn’t come...well at least we won’t be facing whatever they have planned for us alone.

  The man pushes me into the sketchy elevator beside Ana. She glances at my, sympathy shining in her eyes at the way I’m cradling my injured arm.

  It feels like there is barely enough power to keep the elevator in motion. It jerks and shudders on its way up. Our escorts take us to the twentieth floor and my heart sinks even more. Twenty floors up reduces our chances of escape even further. Not that they were good to start with.

  When the doors slide open, revealing an empty hallway, Ana meets my eyes before we are pushed out and into motion again. We stop in front of a door while one of the men unlocks it, revealing a sparsely furnished apartment. I barely have time to take in the tv and threadbare sofa before I am shoved into a mostly empty bedroom. Ana is pushed in behind me and the door closes with an echoing click.

  Left alone with only the light from the windows illuminating our surroundings, we search the room. There is, of course, nothing that would aid an escape attempt, not that either of us expected anything different.

  After a few futile minutes a heavy sensation of exhaustion settles over me. I’m so tired. My shoulder is still throbbing in agony. It seems pointless not to try to get some rest, so I warily approach the mattress on the floor. It doesn’t appear to be too dirty, so I drop down on my butt and pat the spot beside me. I can worry about bedbugs and the like, if I survive, tomorrow.

  Her hand resting on her belly, Ana lowers herself gingerly beside me and leans her head against my shoulder with a sigh. “Why do they want me?” she mumbles, before bursting into tears. “I just want Xavier…”

  “I know you do, Ana. I really wish Travis was here too,” I whisper back.

  There is nothing more to say. We are trapped and no one who cares has any idea where we are.

  She rolls away from me, the sounds of her tears tugging at my heart until, with a sob I can no longer contain, I dampen the mattress with my own before I fall into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Travis

  As we pull into the parking garage of Xavier’s casino, a couple of his employees come out to meet us and usher us into a private elevator. They don’t say anything, which I think is kind of weird. We aren’t in some mafia movie.

  But I’m just the fuck-up who lost the love of my life fucking days after I found her, and her friend with her. So who am I to judge?

  It's close to one in the morning, but there is still work to be done, so when our escort presses a button and announces our arrival over the intercom. We are buzzed in immediately. Xavier is waiting just inside, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, as if he just came out of a meeting except for his loose tie and the two undone buttons at the top of his shirt.

  His hair is wild. Before anyone says a word he rakes his hands through it, advertising his agitation and stress.

  He strides toward me, his hand outstretched, the look on his face guarded and tight. I don’t blame him. I’m reserving judgment myself until I see how this meeting goes.

  I step forward, clasping his hand with mine. We both squeeze harder than necessary, sizing each other up. He is larger than I thought he would be. Nearly as l big as I am, and I’m definitely not a small guy. His hand is hard and calloused, the knuckles raw as if he has been punching something or someone. His eyes are equally hard and calculating as he stares me down.

  I don’t look away.

  He looks hard as nails and that is jus
t what this situation is going to need. Hard men who aren’t afraid to get shit done, no matter the cost. I’m that kind of man, and I recognize it in Xavier Cerelli immediately. For the first time since the girls were taken I can feel my nerves settle. For the first time since they were taken, I believe that if we work together we will find the girls and get to the bottom of why they were taken… and how we were found.

  I usually only get this feeling of calm when I’m working tough situations with Blake. I trust it. I have bet my life on it more than once and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet. I’m taking it as a good sign.

  “You two look like shit,” Cerelli finally says in greeting, looking between Blake and I. Blake steps forward, shaking hands and introducing him to John and Mike.

  “Come in,” he says, after introductions are made, motioning us further into the luxurious apartment. “Let’s get to work. Pretty sure I know who has them. I just don’t know why, or where he’s taking them.”

  Blake responds first, voicing my own thoughts. “I want to know how they were able to find us. This whole op has been silent. No one but Travis and I even knew we were going to look for Mrs. Cerelli, so there is no way that anyone should have known that we were bringing her back here.”

  Xavier shrugs a wide shoulder, shaking his head. He obviously doesn’t know the answer to that any more than we do.

  We follow him down a dimly lit hall to his home office. The whole place feels cold and unlived in. The walls are bare. There is no art, no photographs, nothing personal anywhere. I can’t help but think about what Faye told me, that Ana loves this man, and I can’t help but wonder if he was as cold to her as this house is.

  The office is the same as the hall. Empty walls, uncovered windows, all glass and uncomfortable-looking furniture. He motions for all of us to take a seat. “Whiskey?” he asks, turning toward a small cabinet in the corner. I nod an affirmative. I could use something to take the edge off after the day I’ve had.