Chapter 25
Evie's heart bumped like a runaway marching band as she dialed the number on the business card the driver had handed her.
"Ready, miss?" the driver asked, sounding as though he'd just woken from a nap.
"Listen closely," she said in a hushed voice, still staring through the rain-soaked glass doors of the hotel lobby at the men lurking, waiting for her. "The two men standing behind your car are criminals. They are here to abduct me."
"Go to your room," he ordered more dominantly than she thought him capable. "I will call the police."
"No," she protested loudly and then hushed her voice as heads in the lobby spun her way. "We need to follow them. They've taken Emmitt's sister and nieces hostage for ransom. They're leaving any minute, and we need to follow them."
"This isn't the movies, sweetie." The driver laughed nervously. "I'm not getting mixed up with this."
"Then get out of the car," she demanded. "I'm coming out in ten seconds. If you don't plan on driving, get out of the car."
"I have to advise against this. I'm sure if Mr. Kalling knew your plan he'd want me to stop you. It doesn't sound safe."
"Emmitt isn't picking up his phone. The one chance to follow these guys back to where his sister is leaving any minute. If you know him at all, do you really want to have to explain to him that you let them slip away? What do you think he'd do about that? Especially if something happens to his family?"
"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Take the car."
"Once I leave, I need you to make your way back to the house and tell Emmitt what's going on. His phone isn't working."
"Without a car?"
She didn't bother answering. He was a grown man; he’d figure something out. Disconnecting the call, she tugged the hood back over her head and drew in a deep breath. Pulling open the door she moved quickly toward the car, the rain soaking her as it pounded down. A few stray words from the men let her know their patience was thin, and they were ready to leave.
Her driver was out of the car, his collar pulled up to try to block as much rain as possible. "You’re crazy," he said in a warning tone.
"Just get back to the house and tell Emmitt what's going on. He can track my phone and find me."
"They're going," he said, gesturing with a nod to the men hopping into their car. "Don't do anything stupid."
"It feels too late for that." She sighed as she closed the door and turned the engine on. The large black sedan pulled ahead of her, and she had one last chance to back out. Surely the police would be able to find Harlan. Did she really need to do this?
"Come on," she demanded of herself. "You have to."
She pulled the car out and tightened her shaking hand on the steering wheel. This was the best bad idea she'd ever had.
Chapter 26
Emmitt had raced back and forth between Harlan's house, the recital hall, and anywhere else he could think of looking for them. Though it pained him to do it, he called the local hospitals to see if anyone matching her description had been in an accident. He was relieved to hear that wasn't the case, but he still couldn't find any sign of them.
Pulling back into his mom’s driveway, he saw an unfamiliar car and his instincts were buzzing in alarm. He hopped from the car as he put it in gear and made his way quickly toward the unfamiliar car. “Pete?” Emmitt asked, wondering why the driver he sent Evie off with was back.
"What are you doing here?"
"Mr. Kalling, we have a situation." The nervousness in his voice made the hair on the back of Emmitt’s neck stand up. He pulled Pete into the house and out of the rain. When he began to recount the situation, Emmitt felt his blood start to boil.
"Get me a computer," Emmitt ordered as he plowed into the sitting room and closed in on his father. Before anyone could stop him his hand was closing around his father's throat.
"Emmitt!" his mother shrieked.
"They have Harlan and the girls. How much do you owe them?" His father gasped for air as he clawed at Emmitt’s hand. "How much?"
His father raised two fingers and attempted to speak, but nothing came out. Emmitt loosened his grip slightly. "Twenty thousand?" he asked furiously.
"Two hundred thousand," his father sputtered out.
"What?" Emmitt’s mother breathed out as she lost her balance slightly. "You said . . ." Her words trailed off. "Harlan?"
"Get me a damn computer so I can track Evie’s phone. She's following some guys back to where Harlan is."
"We need to call the police," his mother said as she scurried to grab a laptop. "They'll help."
"They won't. The only thing that will keep the girls from getting hurt is the money and him." Emmitt pointed at his father as he stepped back. He ground his fist into his palm and wished it was his father’s face. “You knew. This was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“No,” he croaked out, one hand rubbing his throat. “I didn’t know. I was going to ask for the money. I was going to get it from your mother. I didn’t plan this.”
“You were?” she asked, a note of sheer betrayal in her voice. “You were going to ask me for two hundred thousand dollars. You think I’d have given you that much money?”
“Of course he knows you wouldn’t,” Emmitt barked as he flipped open the laptop and pulled up the tracking program. “You wouldn’t give him that kind of money unless you had a reason. Like the fact that Harlan and the girls were in danger. Then there would be no amount of money you wouldn’t give.” He typed frantically. “Give me your phone, Mom.”
She handed it over, and the shake in her arm made his scorching rage begin to boil over. “You son of a bitch. Get up,” he demanded, pointing again at his father. “You’re coming with me.” After a few rings his brother picked up. “Mathew, we have a problem. I need two hundred thousand dollars in cash now. What can you do?”
“What the fuck?” Mathew asked, groggy and annoyed. “Why do you—?”
“That’s what your father owes the mafia, who is holding your sister and nieces for ransom. I need the cash.”
“The bastard,” Mathew growled. “I’ve got a guy who can get you the cash. I have a contact at the FBI. I’ll get him to Mom’s house.”
“I’m not waiting,” Emmitt asserted. “Send your guy. He can do what he wants, but I’ll have them back by then. Just get me the money.”
“What about Dad?” Mathew asked. “Are you going to—?”
“Yes,” Emmitt cut in, sparing his brother from having to say what he was thinking. This was where Emmitt always fit into the equation. The dirty work. The unpleasant dirty jobs no one wanted to discuss always fell on his shoulders and somehow he found a way to carry them. “This was his plan, to put our sister and the girls in danger. He made his bed, let them bury him in it. He’s coming with me, and I’ll gladly trade him and the money for Harlan.”
“Is there another way?” Mathew asked halfheartedly. “If you wait for my contact from the FBI—”
“If I wait for your contact, they’ll blow this up. They’ll have SWAT rolling up to Azeela’s place, and our family will get caught in the crossfire. I can handle this, quietly and quickly. If the cost for that is your money and our father, I’m willing to pay. Are you?”
“Do what you have to do,” Mathew agreed. “I’ll email you everything you need for the money pickup. Just get them back. Stay in contact with me. I want to know what’s going on. Jessica and I will get there as soon as we can.”
“I’ve got this,” Emmitt assured his brother. There were many things he’d screwed up over the years. But when it came to situations like this, protecting the people he loved, his aim was steady and his track record was solid.
“I know,” Mathew breathed out heavily. “I’m glad you’re there.”
Chapter 27
Evie’s hands were soaked with sweat as she tried to grip the steering wheel. She’d never had to tail a car before, but she was sure she was screwing it up, driving too close then so far behind she almost lost them. The co
ver of a torrential downpour had probably been the only thing that saved her from being noticed. When the large town car finally came to a stop in front of a large warehouse Evie pulled past and looped around to get a better look.
She’d finally given up trying to call Emmitt. By now the driver would have made it back to the house and relayed the situation to him. Emmitt would not waste a second getting to her. He’d be there with a plan and some help and all of this would work out.
The warehouse looked harmless from the outside. She squinted to see any windows, but the dim lights by the multiple bay doors barely cut through the sheets of falling rain. The two men from the hotel quickly jogged from their car to a side door of the warehouse and disappeared inside. She’d give Emmitt thirty minutes. If there was no sign of him, she’d call the police. Surely they’d be able to help. If they believed her.
Her windshield wipers were working frantically and the rhythmic squeaking seemed to keep time as she checked her watch every two minutes. She’d already entered the nine and the one on her phone, just waiting to push the final number.
When a car rolled slowly behind her and the lights flipped off she considered forcing the car into gear and speeding off. In over her head would be an understatement. Evie’s hand flew quickly to the gear shift as she stared in the side mirror waiting to see who might step out.
Holding her breath, Evie strained to see the large figure that was now out of the car and moving toward her. As he moved below the street lamp she gasped out a frantic cry of relief. “Emmitt,” she whispered to herself as she clicked the lock open and slid quickly into the passenger seat.
He was soaked through as he tossed a bag into the back and fell hard into the driver’s seat. “Evie,” he murmured urgently, “you didn’t have to do this.”
“I tried to call you,” she rushed out. “I was going to try to get you to come to the hotel and then follow them, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“I smashed my phone,” he admitted, looking sheepish for a fleeting moment. “You did good. You did so good, Evie. Thank you.” He leaned across the center console and kissed her, grasping a handful of her damp hair.
“I almost called the police. I wasn’t sure you would be able to find me.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. We don’t need the extra commotion. I’m going to get them now. I’ve got the money he owes.”
“It’s two hundred thousand dollars,” Evie breathed out, certain Emmitt couldn’t possibly be aware it was that much.
“I know,” he replied. “It’s in the bag.”
“And you’ll trade the money for the girls and this will all be over?” she asked hopefully, a tremble in her hands showing the fear that coursed through her.
“My father,” he said through gritted teeth. “They’ll want him too. He’s in the car. I’ve got him cuffed. He’s not going anywhere until I take him in there.”
“Oh Emmitt,” she croaked, finally crumbling under the weight and adrenaline of this high-stakes situation. “There has to be another way.”
“Maybe there is,” he shrugged, “but I’m not willing to risk my sister and nieces’ lives on it. He’s not worth even one hair on their heads being touched. If I do things this way, they get what they want, and I get them back. Any other way and I risk their safety.”
“What about Mathew?” she asked, nibbling frantically on her lips.
“He agrees. It’s the only way. My father crossed them, basically stole from them, and now he’s a liability. They need to make an example out of him. I’m going to walk him and the money in now. You should head back to my mother’s house. It’s safer that way.”
“I’ll wait. I’m not leaving now.”
“You won’t want to be here,” he said, his hand already on the door handle ready to leave.
“I’m waiting,” she insisted.
“When I walk out of there without my father what are you going to do? I’ll have my hands full convincing my sister it’s the only way.”
“If you have to do that much convincing maybe you’re wrong.”
“I can be wrong, Evie. I can be the one to blame. I can be a lot of things. But I can’t be the guy who watched my sister or my nieces get hurt just to try to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
“Isn’t there anything I can say to change your mind?” Evie pleaded once more.
“There isn’t. But you should know that the fact that you are trying is the reason I think I love you.” Without another word he was gone.
Chapter 28
Emmitt grabbed his father by the collar and yanked him out of the car. If his thoughts could take on the form of men, there would be a full-out war in his mind right now. He’d always led his life by the philosophy, “you make your bed, you can lie in it.” His father had set fire to his bed; it wasn’t Emmitt’s job to save him from that now. What good would it do anyway? Surely more trouble would be in store for all of them if he found a way to keep his father alive right now.
But it didn’t matter. There was no way. Emmitt had been mixed up with enough men like Marc Azeela to realize once the hole was dug, a body was going in. And Emmitt was going to make sure that, of everyone present, it would be his father and no one else in his family.
“Son,” Charles gasped out, wincing under Emmitt’s tight grip. “Son, please let me explain. I didn’t know they would do this. I had no idea.”
“Save it,” Emmitt whispered as he tugged him along toward the warehouse. There were six large bay doors and one metal door off to the side. Surely there would be lookouts, guards of some kind. But the way the rain was pelting like a waterfall over their heads, he was sure their view would be obscured. A win for Emmitt but still an uphill battle. Marc hadn’t called in a ransom yet. The plan hadn’t been put in motion, and Emmitt would be kicking in the door and disrupting it. That could swing things in his favor, the element of surprise, or it could shock the men into doing something stupid.
“If you do anything to jeopardize Harlan or the girls, I’ll put a bullet in you myself.” He gestured down to the weapon holstered on his hip. He had another on his ankle and a knife in his belt if he got desperate. It was still risky, even being well-armed. He had no idea how many men were behind those doors, whether the money in the duffle bag over his shoulder would truly buy his sister’s freedom, and if any of them would walk out of there tonight.
“Who the fuck are—?” a short dark-haired man was asking as Emmitt burst through the door, shoving his father first like a human shield. If they were going down in a hail of bullets, he’d be damn sure the asshole who’d gotten them into this paid the price first.
“Marc is looking for him. And I’m here for my sister and nieces.” Emmitt, kept one hand by his hip and the other on his father’s shirt.
“Y . . . you,” he stuttered, running a hand over his slicked-back hair. “I mean what are you doing here already? He hasn’t even made the call.”
“I want to see my sister and the kids now.”
“Fuck,” the guy said, looking over his shoulder, clearly more accustomed to being ordered around rather than using his own judgement. “Wait here,” he finally bumbled as he hustled in the other direction. They were caught off-guard. A good sign.
Emmitt took a quick inventory of the warehouse and put his skills in action. He counted the exits, the security cameras, and the options they’d have if things went sideways fast. There weren’t many. So this needed to go well. There were just a few dusty old crates in each corner and a floor loaded with sawdust and debris. The windows had painted panels covering them, and the lights hummed overhead, casting down only dim light.
He adjusted the bag of money on his shoulder and waited. When a door swung open at the other end of the mostly empty warehouse, he straightened his back and readied a hand over his holstered weapon.
“That was fast.” Marc Azeela chuckled as he strode toward them confidently. It was easy to have confidence when two men with guns were at your side. His jet black hair
was gelled to the side and his pock-marked face glowed sickly under the dim lights. “I hadn’t even called to tell you what to do, and here you are.”
“My sister,” Emmitt barked out, knowing the more words that passed between them the more likelihood there would be trouble.
“She and the girls are in the office, watching a movie and eating popcorn. The kids think this is a game; they’re having a ball.” Marc tucked his hands into his pockets casually. He didn’t need to be on edge, he didn’t need a hand hovering over a gun. All he needed to do was order the two dog-faced men to his left and right to do the dirty work.
“Marc,” Charles said anxiously, “please don’t hurt my daughter. My granddaughters. They have nothing to do with this. Just let them go.” The cuffs on his wrists clanked together as he clasped his hands and pleaded.
“You told the same damn story to the last three guys you burned. They all came to me and passed your debt on for me to collect. You promised them that your rich ex-wife or one of your kids would give you the money. Then you skipped out on them. I’m here to collect for all of them with interest, and a nice cut for me. I’m not stupid enough to think a wife you left and a kid you haven’t seen in ten years is going to hand you two hundred thousand dollars. That wouldn’t work.” Marc let out a small snort-like laugh, and the two men at his sides followed suit. “So I took it upon myself to grease the wheels. I figured there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned ransom to get a rich old lady paying.”
Emmitt’s blood boiled at the insults. But his whole body went suddenly cold when he realized something profound. “You didn’t know,” he whispered to his father as he tugged his collar.
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