Ten minutes later, they were in their seats. Luckily the flight was not full. Jake told Hatch everything he knew while the plane took off.
“Lord. That’s not a lot to go on. Needle in a haystack.”
“Let’s hope they got something on the security cameras.”
Hatch nodded. “For all the good that will do. Even if they have ten angles, all it will prove is what we already know. We can’t know where Richman took her after he left the hotel.”
Hatch was right, but Jake had to hope there would be some kind of tip to go on. Otherwise, he was going to lose his mind in a matter of hours. He glanced at Jake again. “Maybe he didn’t leave the hotel at all. Maybe he’s holding her in another room.”
Hatch nodded. “Possibly. That would be tidy.”
Jake sighed and ran a hand down his face. Too tidy. Incredibly unlikely.
Chapter 21
Shayla’s head was pounding. She groaned at the piercing pain as she tried to roll over to smash her temple into the pillow.
Except there was no pillow, and the mattress she was on smelled wrong. It was too thin and sunk in the middle.
Her eyes flew open as the breath left her lungs. She jerked her head all around, but it was almost pitch black wherever she was. She winced as she pushed to sitting, squinting into the darkness.
Memories of her last few lucid moments flooded into place. Hawke had shoved into her hotel room and drugged her. Where the hell was she now?
It was eerily quiet. And damp. There was a window, but it was fucking dark.
She wrapped her arms around her as another fact registered. It was cold. And whatever he’d drugged her with had left her with this splitting headache. She rubbed her temples with her fingers and held her breath, listening for any sound. Nothing.
Finally, she rose and headed toward the outline across the room, fairly confident it was a door. As soon as her hands landed on it, she found the handle and carefully tried to turn it.
Shit. Locked. Of course.
She took several deep breaths and leaned her ear against the door. Not a single sound. “Where the fuck am I, and where is Hawke?” she muttered under her breath.
She shuffled toward the window next, peering out into the night. Either there was no moon or the sky was overcast or both. The only thing she could make out was trees.
She felt along the wall next and then bent down to touch the floor. Rustic. Unfinished. This was undoubtedly a cabin.
“Fuck.” She had no way of knowing how long she’d been here. Hours probably. Assuming it was the middle of the night.
After dropping back down on the thin mattress on the decades-old cot, she rubbed her temples again. The pain was easing but not fast enough.
Think, Shayla. She had nothing on her. Not even in her pockets. No phone. No purse. Nothing. Thank God she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and sturdy shoes, otherwise, she would be freezing to death right now. Apparently, there was no heat in the cabin. She was pretty sure she’d be able to see her breath if there were enough light.
The sound of tires on gravel made her sit upright again. Headlights came through the window, giving her a better look at the room. Nothing much to see. There was an old dresser and a small table in addition to the ancient twin bed.
A door opened somewhere else in the cabin, and she made the split-second decision to lie back down and pretend she was still out cold.
Seconds later, the door opened.
She forced herself not to move a muscle.
The sound of Hawke’s voice chilled her to the bone much more than the cold weather. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered. “How the fuck long is she going to sleep?” He shut the door.
She listened as his footsteps receded, and then she blew out a breath. She was only going to be able to keep up this charade for so long. He wouldn’t buy it forever.
He must have picked up supplies somewhere because there was a lot of banging around. A faint light shone in under the door too, but not from electricity. It flickered in and out. Flashlight?
He was also muttering to himself. A constant running litany she couldn’t understand and probably didn’t need to. What she needed was to figure out how the hell to get out of this mess.
She slid off the bed and hurried over to the window, hoping it would open. It wasn’t meant to open though. It consisted of four small panes with a cross of wood in the middle. Even if she could somehow manage to slam something into it and break the glass, each hole would be too small for her to fit through. It seemed too sturdy to assume she would be able to shatter the wood. Maybe if she had a lot of time, but right now she didn’t have time or anything that would help her escape.
Besides, what the hell would she do next? She had no idea where she was and no coat. She could be miles from civilization.
Frustrated and scared out of her mind, she sat back down on the cot and tried not to panic.
Chapter 22
The moment Jake turned on his phone as the plane hit the ground, he saw there was a message from Raeann.
Finally spoke to Marilyn. Hawke has a hunting cabin in Washington. Forwarding you the address.
Jake took a deep breath as he showed the message to Hatch.
“Thank God,” Hatch muttered. “At least we have something to go on.”
Jake couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing as he waited for the plane to taxi to the terminal. His impatience grew as passengers deboarded like snails. As soon as he and Hatch were free of the jetway, they started running toward baggage claim.
“I’ll get a car. You grab the luggage,” Hatch stated as they rounded a corner to the conveyor belts.
It seemed to take forever for the luggage to arrive. If they hadn’t needed weapons so badly, he wouldn’t have brought luggage at all, let alone checked it. Finally, it came down the chute and he grabbed both bags just as Hatch showed up with the car keys.
It was the middle of the damn night when they started driving toward the remote cabin in the woods. It would take them an hour to get there, and they had no guarantee that was where Hawke had taken her.
Hatch drove. Jake decided to call Heather before anyone else.
She picked up quickly. “Jake?”
“I’m here. My friend Mack Carter is with me. Tell me what else you know.” Jake wasn’t interested in small talk, and he knew Heather would understand. He put the phone on speaker so Hatch could listen.
“It was definitely Hawke. Several surveillance cameras caught him carrying Shayla down the stairwell and into the parking garage. She was drugged.” Her voice hitched on a sob as if repeating this again tonight brought it all back to her.
“Shit,” Jake muttered, glancing at Hatch. They both knew that if Hawke had gotten that sloppy, he didn’t care who saw him. Plus, now they knew Hawke had definitely removed Shayla from the hotel. It was a bad sign.
“The cops don’t have any idea where he went next. He had a rental car. They have the plate and the information. It’s on all the highway signs. But it’s the middle of the night. Who’s going to see the signs? Whoever looks at them anyway?” Her voice was rising with every sentence. He couldn’t blame her, and she wasn’t wrong. It was a fucking longshot.
“Heather, listen to me.” He waited a moment for her to suck in a breath. “I have a lead. It’s a good lead. We’re headed there now. I want you to try and relax.”
“Oh, thank God. How did you get a lead?”
“His wife left a message. Hawke has a hunting cabin about an hour outside of the city.”
He could hear Heather’s breath whoosh out. “That has to be where he took her then. Please. God.”
“That’s my hope.”
“Are you going to call the police?”
“No. Not yet. I’ll call Jarvis when we get closer. I don’t want the cops beating us there and fucking things up.”
Heather’s breath hitched. “Right. You’re like a former GI Joe. I forgot. Good. Okay. Find her, Jake. Okay?”
“Doing my best. Sit tig
ht. I’ll call you back when I know more.”
“’K. Thanks.” She ended the call.
Jake rubbed his temples. “We both know this could end badly,” he murmured.
“Don’t think like that. Yes, we know Hawke is totally unhinged. He has thrown in all his chips. It’s bad. I’m not going to lie, but there’s a good chance he’s still toying with her. He wouldn’t take her to his cabin and then immediately harm her. If he simply wanted her dead, he could have killed her in the hotel room.”
Jake closed his eyes and took deep breaths. “When you say ‘toying’ you mean raping. When you say ‘harm’ you mean mutilating. These are not good euphemisms. But you’re right. Hopefully, he didn’t intend to kill her the moment they arrived.”
“Guarantee it. We’re going to find her. She’s going to be okay. I can feel it. In my gut.”
Jake glanced at Hatch. The man’s gut was usually right. No denying that fact. And since Jake had little else on which to place his hope, he’d take it.
It took forty-five minutes before they came to a right turn on a gravel road. The last several miles would be rough according to the GPS. On top of that, they would want to abandon the car well before they arrived so they could take Hawke unaware.
Thinking they might lose cell reception, Jake finally made the call to Jarvis. He wasn’t surprised to get the man’s voicemail, and in fact, he’d been hoping so. The last thing he wanted was for the damn cops to come swooping in with lights and sirens and cause an unhinged man to tip over the edge and get reckless.
After leaving a message, he put his phone on silent and slid it into his pocket. He grabbed the two gun cases from the back seat next and handed Hatch his.
Jake swallowed back emotions he rarely experienced and faced his friend. “I’m going to go ahead and thank you right now. Not everyone has a friend who would drop everything and run for the airport. You give new meaning to the phrase, ‘bringing the shovel to help bury the bodies.’”
Hatch chuckled and shot Jake a glance. “Stop. You’d do the same for me, and you know it. In fact, you have.”
Jake didn’t say anything else. He needed a few moments of silence.
Finally, Hatch pulled the car over to the side of the gravel road and shut off the engine. “Let’s do the rest on foot.”
Jake nodded. “Agreed.”
Thank God he’d stuffed a jacket in his bag. It was fucking cold outside. He figured he wouldn’t notice it much as soon as they started moving between the physical activity and the adrenaline rush though.
“Should be about a quarter-mile up. I didn’t see any other structures on this section of road, so hopefully, we won’t pick up company,” Jake informed Hatch as he removed his gun from the case and palmed it. He watched as Hatch opened his case and grabbed several items. The man was more prepared for every eventuality. Thank God.
Time to get on the move.
Chapter 23
Shayla stared at the locked door. How long before Hawke stormed back in to see if she was awake? She was seriously concerned about what he had planned. He must have carried her out of the hotel, limp and drugged. When would someone figure out she was missing? Tomorrow when she didn’t show up at work?
Suddenly she bolted upright. No. That wasn’t true. Heather was coming to her room to watch movies. She would have realized Shayla was missing within minutes of her disappearance. Thank God. Then what?
She could only imagine how freaked out Heather would’ve been when she couldn’t find Shayla. Would the hotel staff open the door for her? Please, God. She had to pray that someone had already called the police hours ago.
That was good. Heather would’ve called Jake too. Immediately. Maybe he was on his way to Seattle. He would do that. She knew it. No way would he sit at home and wait for someone to find her. Not a chance.
Again, she wondered how long she’d been here. She had no clue. Only that it was night. She had to assume she was still in the Seattle area, or at least Washington. Surely it was still the same day.
Suddenly, the door busted open again, this time slamming into the wall. “Good. You’re up.” Hawke strolled into the small room, hands on his hips. He was a bit wobbly. Drunk. His words were slurred too.
Shayla jumped up and flattened herself to the wall. She needed to at least be standing. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He was much larger and stronger than her, but her adrenaline was pumping so hard she felt mighty. Or perhaps just fucking pissed.
“Where are we, Hawke?” She decided to ask questions.
“Hunting cabin. Cozy isn’t it?”
She swallowed. “Why are we here?”
He chuckled manically as he continued to approach. “You fucking met with my wife. I couldn’t let that go, Shayla.”
Shit. “I didn’t meet with your wife. She met with me. I didn’t even know you were married. She found me.” What the hell did he think happened?
“Semantics.” He suddenly reached out, grabbed the front of Shayla’s sweater, and slammed her against the wall. She didn’t see it coming, so she didn’t brace herself on time. Her head hit the rough wood hard, adding to her headache. “You shouldn’t have agreed to meet with my fucking wife. You messed with my family, Shayla. I can’t let that go unaddressed.”
She didn’t respond. Nothing was going to appease him anyway. The chances of this encounter going any direction but south were nil.
He yanked on her sweater and tugged her away from the wall as he turned and headed out of the room, nearly dragging her.
The main room was at least warmer. He’d started a fire. It wasn’t less rustic than the bedroom, but it was a larger space. Old couch with tears in the upholstery. Small table with two unmatched chairs. There was no actual kitchen, but there was a counter of sorts along one wall. No electricity. No running water. A very rustic mountain cabin.
She wondered if he owned it. If there were records, maybe someone would think to look for her here.
He gave her a shove, making her fall onto the sofa. Dust flew up in the air and she squinted to keep it out of her eyes. A loose spring dug into her back.
As he strolled to the corner of the room, she twisted her head around to find the exit. There were only two doors, the one she’d just come through and the one that must lead outside. No bathroom.
She considered running for the door but wasn’t sure it was her wisest move.
Hawke bent down and opened a cooler in the corner of the room. He grabbed a beer and popped the top. As he tipped it back and let half of it slide down his throat, she wondered how many he’d had.
He set the beer on the counter and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Don’t even think about running, baby. It’s fucking cold out there and we’re ten miles from the next house. You’d die of hypothermia before morning.”
She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but for now, she would err on the side of caution and take his word for it.
“I won’t lose my family over this, Shayla. My kids need their dad.”
“Okay. Maybe you should talk to Marilyn. Try to work things out.”
He tipped his head back and laughed hard. “Maybe you should talk to Marilyn. Seems you two are chummy.”
“Look. Your wife called me. Not the other way around. I know nothing about her. But if she’s important to you, tell her. What are you doing here with me? Go talk to her.”
He slammed his hand on the table. “You think I haven’t tried that, bitch?” he shouted.
Shayla stood slowly and took a step back. She wanted to be as close to the door as possible in case running became the better option.
“What do you want me to do, Hawke?” She asked calmly. “I can talk to her for you if you want. How about if I call her?”
His grin was smarmy. “No cell service up here, baby. Just me and nature. Isn’t it nice?”
“Look. Tell me what you want, Hawke.”
He slammed his hand on the table again and took a long swig of
his beer. “I want you to fucking apologize for being a cock tease and a homewrecker,” he shouted.
She took another step back. Antagonizing him was not going to help. “I’m sorry for whatever you think I did.”
“Not good enough, baby. Not good enough.” He shook his head. “You can’t just fuck around with me a few times and then decide you aren’t interested. That’s messed up, baby.”
He thought she was messed up?
“You need to take me back to the hotel, Hawke, before you get in trouble. You’ll lose your job if you do anything stupid.”
Another cackling laugh. “Already resigned. Too late.”
She flinched. He’d resigned? That was bad. Very bad.
“Let’s go back into Seattle, Hawke. We can talk in my hotel. Maybe we can work something out.”
“Little late for that, don’t you think? Should’ve thought of that before you stopped taking my calls and then fucked with my wife.” He slammed back the rest of his beer and sauntered toward her.
She backed up, but when he reached her, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the room.
Pain shot down her body from her scalp to her toes. She nearly tripped several times before he shoved her against the back of the couch stomach first. He flattened his chest to her back and yanked her head harder. “How about a fuck for old time’s sake?”
Her blood ran cold. The last thing she wanted to do was get anywhere near this asshole’s cock. She would never be able to stop him from raping her. Even inebriated, he was stronger.
When his hand came to the front of her jeans, she batted at it, trying to get away. She kicked at his shins and screamed.
He jumped out of the way of her feet and laughed. “Scream all you want. No one will hear you out here. I love a woman who screams when I fuck her. It makes me hard.” He emphasized his words by pressing his cock into her ass.
She was surprised he could get hard as drunk as he was. Giving up on her jeans, he slid his hand up to cup her breast, squeezing hard. “You have amazing tits, Shayla. They’re my favorite part about you.”
Standby (Open Skies Book 4) Page 12
