As she stood in the black and gray lift across from Mike, zooming toward the lobby, another onslaught of tears flooded her face. “Have you ever loved someone and lost them?” she blubbered.
Still holding her wine bottle, Mike eyed her skeptically. “Of course.”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose,” he said noncommittally.
“You suppose? You suppose? You weren’t really in love if you only suppose.”
Mike’s lips pressed together even harder.
Once the doors opened, Mike grabbed her elbow and guided her across the lobby and out onto the well-lit street. “I strongly advise against this outing, Miss Song. You can still head back to your apartment.”
She shook her head. “Just nab me a taxi, and I’ll be on my way. My heart is breaking. I need to be with someone who gives a shit and doesn’t suppose that it hurts to lose your lover.” Her conscience yelled and waved her arms in the back of Mia’s mind, urging her to find her way back to civil manners. Screw civil manners. I’m done being nice, her alcohol-soaked brain advised.
Still gripping her arm, Mike lifted his arm and hailed a cab with the hand that held the wine.
A yellow taxi parked across the street hooked a U-turn. The cab screeched to a stop next to the sidewalk.
“I’ll be fine,” Mia said, once more patting his cheek.
“Please call me when you’re ready to come home. I’ll remain on duty until your return,” Mike said, with all the warmth of a snowbank.
She pinched his cheek.
He winced and pulled away, reaching for the door handle.
She poured herself into the back seat and gave the taxi driver the address.
He nodded, touching the brim of his ball cap.
The driver seemed slightly familiar, but the alcohol flooding her system made access to her logical brain difficult. The absence of the bulletproof partition served as another clue.
Mike gently closed the door to the taxi, sealing her in.
The car sped away from the sidewalk.
Mia tried to recall why the driver looked familiar. Finally, her brain found the answer. Ugh. He’s the same creep who grunted at us and stared at me when Gia and I went out.
A few blocks later, Mia peered out the window and frowned. “You’re going the wrong way. My friend’s home is back the other way.” She pointed out the rear window.
“We’re taking a different route,” the driver said, in a chillingly familiar voice. He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned around to leer at her.
Oh, God, no. Mia’s heart began to stutter and lurch. He’s the cab driver who sped away from the curb across from my apartment when I left for Cancun, and, the same driver who picked up Gia and me the other night.
Her skin grew cold and clammy as realization wormed its way into her mind.
Her driver was none other than her horrible ex, Darion.
She scrambled for her door handle and yanked on it. It didn’t budge. She tried to lower the window. Nothing. Fisting her hand, she beat against the window and screamed. Not one person even glanced in her direction.
Darion laughed. “You can’t get out, sweetheart. I made sure of it.” He picked up a gun with his left hand and propped it on his right shoulder, facing her. Then, with his eyes glued to the rearview mirror, he proceeded to pin her to the seat. His other hand gripped the steering wheel. “Now, be a good girl and shut up and be quiet.”
“Where are you taking me?” she breathed. Her heart pounded so fast it was going to eject from her chest at any moment.
“To a special place. At last, we’re going to be together forever.” An insane sounding laugh left his lips. The car weaved to the side.
Horns blasted from nearby vehicles, not wanting to be t-boned by a taxi.
Darion yanked on the steering wheel to correct the vehicle’s trajectory, sending her slamming into the side door.
Mia squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her aching arm. She knew exactly what Darion meant to do. He’d threatened her each time he managed to find her, texting sick threats before she had a chance to get a new number.
He was going to kill them both.
Keys
Keys sprawled on his red sofa, a bottle of Jameson in hand, drinking away his heartbreak. He’d barely caught a buzz when his door burst open. Startled, his body instinctively jerked, and the Jameson flew from his hand, cracking the glass top of his coffee table and spraying the glass and the carpet with whiskey. “Fuck, and more fuck,” he grumbled, looking up to see Trevor standing in his doorway. He scrambled to save the remaining whiskey, barely affording a glance at his former best friend.
“Make yourself useful and go get a damp towel from the kitchen,” he ordered, picking up the now sopping copy of Rolling Stone he’d been scanning while he headed for drunk oblivion.
Trevor disappeared down the hall.
When Trevor returned, towel in hand, Keys said, “How the hell did you get in here?”
Trevor shrugged, crouching to dab at the carpet. “You know…the doorman knows me, and your door was ajar. I thought maybe something had happened to you.” He rose slightly and began wiping the coffee table.
“Ha!” Keys barked out a bitter laugh. “Something did happen. I got kicked out of my band, my song got released without my permission, and my girlfriend broke up with me. Are you happy now?” He pitched the ruined magazine on the glass top near Trevor’s hand, where it made a small, wet-sounding splat.
“No.”
The way Trevor said that simple word gave Keys pause. He lifted his gaze to study Trevor.
Trevor’s complexion held a mottled appearance like clouds drifted under his skin. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at Keys as if Trevor had just bawled his eyes out the same way Keys had done in Mia’s apartment. His posture had melted into some strange version of Trevor, not the fun, eager for action dude Keys knew, nor even the whiny, clingy little bitch he’d become.
“What’s going on?” Keys said, suddenly forgetting the past few months.
“What’s going on? Everything you just said. But add to that shit heap of stuff the fact that I lost my best friend for good, I’m gay and don’t want to be gay, and I’ve been a shithead to my former best friend, and well…” He lifted his shoulder and cocked his head.
Keys’ head drew back, and his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t want to be gay,” Trevor said again.
“Yeah? I don’t want to be kicked out of the band and no longer have the most amazing girlfriend in the world,” Keys said, as a chunk of ice lodged in his belly. “But, shit happens.”
“Yeah,” Trevor said, leaving the wet towel on the glass, picking up the Rolling Stone and rolling it into a tight ball. “My dad will kill me when he finds out.”
Keys brows drew together. “He lives in the U.K. I think you’re safe.”
“You don’t know my dad. He’s the dean of a military school, ‘offering youth and young adults the opportunity to develop individual skills through a scope of arduous personal development activities in a well structured and methodical classroom and controlled outdoor environment.’” He scoffed. “I had to memorize the propaganda when I went there.” He slumped onto the sofa and whacked the edge of the cracked table with the rolled-up magazine.
Keys’ frown deepened as he settled next to Trevor. “You went to military school? You’ve been telling me he’s the headmaster of a private school in the U.K. which you attended. You never mentioned the military aspect.”
“That’s the school,” Trevor said, his shoulders sagging even more. “Look, man, I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. I didn’t want to face my ‘gayness.’” He made air quotes, and his mouth turned down. “I still don’t. I can barely say the word ‘gay’ and attach it to me. It’s like a bomb hovering outside of my body, ready to detonate at any second.”
“That’s harsh, dude. Gayness is gayness. That’s like me saying I don’t want to like chicks. We are what we are.” Keys patted Trevor on the back as the
iceberg in his chest began to melt.
“Yes, except that you liking chicks won’t end up with your dad chopping your head off next time you see him,” Trevor said, resting his forearms on his thighs. “And maybe forcing you to go back to the U.K. for some ‘strict disciplinary measures,’” he said, adding more air quotes.
“Fuck that,” Keys said. “You’re twenty-one, not two-years-old.”
Trevor flashed him a wan smile and a sad side-eyed gaze. “Thanks. It won’t matter to my dad. Anyway…back to you. I’m truly sorry I’ve been such a dick. I want to thank you for forcing me to see myself. I also want…I want…” His gaze floated to the carpet. “Can we go back to being friends again?”
“You want to be friends with the ex-keyboardist of Marked Love?” Keys asked, his shoulders inching up toward his ears. “I’m The Great Betrayer.”
Trevor’s gaze lifted to the ceiling, and he shook his head. “Talk about a bomb detonating. Marked Love will never be the same without you.”
“Oh, everyone will live,” Keys said, the glacier in his belly starting to re-freeze. His mobile phone rang with Gia’s number. Cold dread froze his spine as if he knew what the call was about. His hand shot out to retrieve it from the side table. He slid the connect button to the side and tapped the speaker button. “Hey,” he said into the phone.
“Keys! Please tell me Mia’s at your house,” came Gia’s frantic sounding voice.
Keys sat up straight. “What? No. Why?”
“I ordered her to come over an hour ago. She’s not here, and she’s not answering her phone. It only takes ten minutes to get to my apartment. I’m freaked out right now. Freaked out. Even Brutus can’t calm me down. What if her evil ex found her again? What if the assault only whetted his appetite for her?”
Keys bolted to his feet. “Call Dante. Even though everyone hates Mia and me, maybe we can put our differences aside for a hot second. Trevor’s here. I’ll call Zander. Let’s all meet up at Mia’s apartment.”
“Got it,” Gia said. “Go, go, go!” She disconnected the call.
“Let’s go,” Keys said, pocketing his phone. He grabbed his coat off the other sofa and raced for the front door with Trevor hot on his heels. “How’d you get here? Did you bring your Mustang?”
“Nah. I walked.”
Keys sped toward the elevator. “We’ll take my motorcycle.”
“Cool,” Trevor said. “We need speed.”
Ten minutes later, Keys powered his motorcycle onto the sidewalk outside of Mia’s apartment complex.
Trevor leaped from the back of the bike, with Keys quickly following. Keys peeled his helmet from his head and raced up the steps next to Trevor. Spying Mike through the glass door, he pounded his fist on the locked door.
Mike hurried over and wedged the glass door open a crack. “What’s going on?”
“Mia. She’s missing.” He waited for Mike to step aside so he and Trevor could enter.
Instead, Mike’s grip on the handle tightened until his knuckles were white.
“What? I handed her off to a taxi driver about seventy-five minutes ago,” Mike said, glancing at his watch.
“Did you check the driver’s face?” Keys said, trying hard not to explode at the security guy.
“What? No.” Mike’s face reddened.
“What if Darion was behind the wheel?” Keys growled, his heart attempting to burst from his chest. “He could have planned this for months, getting his cab license and biding his time before making his move.” He turned his head at the sound of pounding footsteps.
“I don’t know. There’s got to be another explanation,” Mike said.
Dante and Zander sprinted up the steps behind them.
“What do you know?” Zander demanded.
“Mike, here, handed Mia into the clutches of a taxi driver without checking the dude’s face,” Keys said in a tight voice.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Zander said. “Maybe she’s hurt somewhere. Or, she took off on her own. She’s not been acting like her usual self lately.”
“Let’s check the security footage,” Dante said. “Where’s the manager’s office?”
Mike finally snapped out of his door-holding freeze and stepped aside for everyone to enter. “This floor, apartment one-oh-one.”
“Wait for us!” Gia called. She and Marcos darted up the stairs.
They all hurried across the lobby and down the hall.
“Allow me,” Mike said, shoving his way to stand before the door. He hammered the door with his fist.
A few minutes later, a youngish, messy-haired blond dressed in pajamas covered in red hearts stood before them, framed by her apartment front room. She yawned as the door swung open, and then gawked at the crowd standing before her. “This is a strange mix of people to wake up to. I feel like I’ve got a society page entertainment section standing in the hallway.” A sleepy smile formed on her face.
“Miss Melbourne,” Mike began, but Keys interrupted.
“We need to see your security footage, stat.” He shifted from side to side on his boot-clad feet.
Miss Melbourne’s thick eyebrows stitched together. “Why? Has there been a crime here?”
“My girlfriend—Mia Song—we think a criminal kidnapped her,” Keys said, shoving next to Mike.
“Oh! That’s terrible. Let me get my keys to the security room.” The door closed.
Keys and the others stood in rigid silence in the hallway.
A minute later, a slipper and robe-clad Miss Melbourne shuffled out into the hall. “This way,” she gestured.
They all followed her down the blue pin-striped wallpaper-covered hallway. A few seconds later, she sat at a roomy desk in front of a wall full of monitors, each displaying parts of the building.
Keys and the others huddled around her, staring over her shoulder.
“Do you have any that are trained in front of the building?” Zander said.
“Let’s see. I’m not familiar with this system,” Miss Melbourne said, tapping a few keys on a keyboard console.
The views changed to various hallways.
“Let me have a go. I know these systems pretty well,” Mike said.
Keys scoffed. He’s probably trying to redeem himself by appearing to know something.
Mike gave him a side-eye as he shoved past. He settled his bulk at the console and began typing. “There,” he said when a decent shot of the sidewalk out front came into view.
“Scan backward to the time when you left her with the taxi driver,” Zander said, pointing at the monitor.
Mike gave a crisp nod and twirled a dial counter-clockwise.
The monitor showed people backing into and away from the apartment building and along the sidewalk. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles backed down the street.
“There,” Keys said, pointing. “There’s a taxi across the street. It looks like a City Cargo cab. It’s making a U-Turn to pull in front of this building.”
“The time is right,” Mike said, eying the time stamp on the video.
“And, Mia is being escorted by you, Mike,” Zander said, lifting his hand toward the screen. “What’s in your hand?”
“It’s a wine bottle. She’d been drinking,” Mike said. “I took it from her.” Tinges of red heat colored his cheeks and thick neck.
“And you let her go?” Zander said, as his eyes widened.
“I tried to talk her out of it. She insisted,” Mike said, not meeting Zander’s gaze. “I really tried. She insisted,” he repeated.
Zander frowned.
Keys peered at the screen. His armpits, neck, and back felt sweaty and damp. “Can we zoom in at all? The driver has a ball-cap pulled low.”
Mike fiddled with the console, and the image enlarged, looking all grainy and pixelated.
“Any recognition? You’re the guy who got a good look at him,” Zander said, barely glancing at him.
“I’m trying.” Keys wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Can you make this go fram
e by frame?”
Mike nodded, pressed a couple of keys, and the video herky-jerkied along.
One frame showed the taxi driver turning his head to look out the passenger window. He grinned.
“There!” Keys exclaimed. “Stop there! See those gaps in his teeth? That’s Darion.” His stomach spasmed like a superhero had slammed his giant fist straight through to the other side. For a second, the room spun, like he might pass out. I can’t lose Mia. Not another death. No, no, no, no, no.
“Are you sure?” Mike said.
“Of course, I’m sure. How many people have gaps in their teeth like that?” Keys snapped.
The room exploded with voices shouting over one another.
“You’re fired,” Zander roared at Mike.
“I’ll alert the police,” Dante said, already tapping numbers onto his phone screen.
“What can I do?” Trevor said.
“How can we help?” Gia said.
All their voices pressed in on Keys’ brain, like colliding trains. He backed out of the room to gather his thoughts. What can I do, what can I do? His thoughts swirled in a jumbled mass like shredded metal.
Gia hurried out of the office toward him, followed by Marcos. Worry lines etched her face. “You okay?”
All he could manage was a shake of his head.
“Call the City Cargo taxi service. Find out if they have GPS trackers on their cars,” she said. “That’s what Brutus just told me.”
Keys snapped out of his stupor, grabbed her face, and kissed her on the cheek. Then, he turned to Marcos. “You’re a genius. Of course, they track their vehicles. We’re going to find her.” With sudden, laser-pointed focus, he pressed the info button on his phone and said, “Call the City Cargo taxi service.”
“Calling the City Cargo taxi service,” his phone said.
He had to find Mia. He only hoped that he’d find her alive.
Mia
Scrunched in the back of the yellow cab with Darion behind the wheel, Mia’s breath wheezed from her lungs in short, shallow bursts. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t catch her breath. Tiny lights surrounded by dark splotches shimmered in her vision. I’m so going to faint… I’ve got to get it together.
The Key to Love: A Rock Star Romance (Adrenaline Book 4) Page 24
