Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
When Tex regained consciousness, he realized a few things simultaneously.
One, he was naked. He’d been stripped of all his clothes, even his underwear.
Two, the bastards had taken his prosthetic, as well. The only way he was getting out of wherever he was being held was by hopping—which pissed him off.
Three, it was fucking dark as hell.
And four, there was heavy metal music playing so loudly, there was no way he could hear anyone talking even if they were standing right in front of him.
Putting his hands out, Tex tried to understand where he was. He crawled as best he could, attempting to get to a wall, or window, or something. But there was no window. No furniture. Nothing. He quickly realized he was in a box of some sort. Based on his height and that his head and feet didn’t touch the ends of the box it was in when he was lying on his back, but if he put his arms over his head he could feel the wall above him, he figured the space he was in was about seven feet long by three feet wide. He couldn’t stand up, but at least it wasn’t a fucking coffin. He could get on his knee and stretch. He estimated it was about five feet tall.
That was it. All the intel he had about his current situation. No idea about who had taken him, what they wanted, or where Melody was. It was that last one that ate at Tex. Had she gotten hurt when they’d pushed her out of the van?
He scoffed. What a dumb question. Of course she’d been hurt. She’d been pushed out of a moving fucking vehicle!
Tex had been held captive before while a SEAL. He dealt with people who’d been kidnapped on a daily basis. But this felt different…and not because it was him in this fucking box. Unease swam through his veins. He had no information. Nothing to go on to try to figure out who’d taken him and why. No one had said much of anything when they’d been beating him. It was his experience that human nature led kidnappers to spout off, to air their grievances when they took someone, or at least after they had them under control. The fact that whoever had taken him hadn’t was…worrisome.
“Hey!” he yelled, hoping to get someone’s attention. It was a risk, because if they knew he was awake, they could decide to hurt him some more. But the more they interacted with him, the more information he’d hopefully have to use against them.
He barely heard himself over the sound of the music. He tried again.
“Is anyone there?” he yelled.
Nothing. He got no response. No one came to see what he was hollering about.
Using his hands to feel his way around the box, he found what he thought was a door of sorts, but there was no knob on his side. No lock to pick. He was well and truly stuck.
Sighing, Tex leaned against the back of the box and racked his mind to try to figure out who’d have the balls to kidnap him and his wife in the middle of the day. On their own residential street, at that. No one came to mind.
Yes, Tex dealt with a lot of assholes in his line of work. People he had to have pissed off because he’d foiled whatever nefarious plan they’d had. He snooped into personal financial records and exposed secrets bad guys would rather never see the light of day. But he wasn’t an idiot. He knew how to cover his tracks. He left no trace of his presence when he ferreted out information online. Besides, there weren’t many people who’d know what to look for anyway.
He’d never charged anyone for finding people. That was simply the decent fucking thing to do. But he did charge for his trackers—and as a result, Tex had made a fortune over the years. They became more and more popular over the years, and were now standard in the special forces communities he served. The government paid a pretty penny for exclusive rights to the technology he’d created.
Of course, right about now, he could’ve used one of his newest subcutaneous trackers, himself. But even though he busted bad guys all the time, foiled their plans by finding people they kidnapped, he honestly didn’t think he’d be a target for kidnapping himself. Which was incredibly stupid on his part. His life these days was boring as hell…and he loved every second. He spent the days in his basement, tinkering with the trackers and searching for the missing, and his evenings with his wife and daughter. The past several years had been idyllic. Watching Akilah grow up and become more and more comfortable in her own skin. Seeing Melody blossom as a mother. And of course, doting on his baby, Hope.
Hell, the toughest time he’d had in recent memory was when their coonhound, Baby, had died. She’d lived a long life, being spoiled shamelessly. He and Melody had talked about getting another dog, but decided against it. No other dog could live up to Baby, and it wouldn’t be fair to another animal to constantly be compared to the best dog that had ever lived.
Tex rubbed his head. It fucking hurt. The bastards who’d taken him hadn’t pulled any punches—literally—when they were beating him. His nose felt broken and every inch of his face was swollen and sore. His ribs were bruised at best, cracked or broken at worst. He probably had bruises all over his body…but he was alive. And as he always told people, being alive meant a chance to escape and be rescued. He just had to be patient. His captors would mess up; they always did.
But the niggling worry in the back of his mind was…who would be able to ferret out the mistakes they made. Usually that person was him . He could find a specific needle in a stack of needles. He wasn’t as confident in the detectives on the local police force. Oh, they were good. But Tex was the best. And he had a feeling the men who’d taken him were being paid very well to not make any mistakes. Which didn’t bode well for him.
“Fuck me,” Tex said, not able to hear his own words because of the music thumping all around him.
There were people who were almost as good as him. One, he could think of who had skills better than his. If they all worked together, they were definitely better than he’d ever be. But would they be contacted? If Melody was hurt too badly, she’d probably be in the hospital and in no condition to seek out anyone. It could be days before his closest friends realized he was missing. Days he might not have to spare.
“Shit,” he said out loud. He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been yanked off the street, but it wasn’t good that he was already getting depressed and maudlin. “Snap out of it, Tex,” he told himself. “Melody is smart. And strong as hell. She’s got this.”
He had so many questions swirling around in his head, but Melody’s capability wasn’t one of them. He trusted his wife implicitly.
A small grin formed on his lips. If he knew Mel, she was raising hell and telling the cops how to do their job. She’d been Tex’s wife a long time. Some of what he did had to have rubbed off on her. She’d get the ball rolling on the investigation, of that he had no doubt. His Mel would move heaven and earth to find him. If she couldn’t do it herself, she’d contact those who could.
Thinking about his wife was both painful and a balm to his wounded soul. He prayed she was all right physically and wasn’t even now in the hands of the same people who’d locked him away. He’d heard her get pushed out of that van, but that didn’t mean someone else hadn’t picked her up and taken her to a different location.
That thought made Tex want to puke. He knew all too well what usually happened to women in captivity. But he doubted the men who’d taken him had passed her on to another group of kidnappers by pushing her out of a car. No, they would’ve brought her to a warehouse somewhere and made a much less dramatic—and public—handoff.
The men who ambushed them on their way home from the store wanted only him. For what end, he’d yet to figure out. But he would. And they’d pay. One way or another, they’d fucking pay.
Melody hurt.
All over.
But the pain was secondary to the anxiety coursing through her veins. The police kept asking the same questions over and over again. She wasn’t sure they even believed her outlandish story about what had happened.
She begged them to go to her neighbors and ask about security cameras. Surely there was someone who’d caught some of their kidnapping on tape.
Was that what it was even called these days? “On tape?” No, there was no more tape. On film? There wasn’t film either.
Fuck, her mind kept wandering off into random topics. She needed to focus. And she needed a phone. She had no idea where her own cell was. Still in their car, probably.
“Did you find our car?” she asked.
“Of course. It was in your driveway,” the detective who was sitting next to her hospital bed said calmly.
Melody blinked. “What?”
“Your driveway. That’s where we found your car.”
“Did you fingerprint it?”
The detective stared at her without saying a word for the longest time.
“I told you, we were yanked out of our car in the middle of the road. If our car was in our driveway, someone drove it there. Someone who wasn’t me or John. They might’ve left fingerprints. I realize it’s a long shot because they seemed really organized and like they had their shit together, but maybe.”
“We’re having the car towed. Forensics will go over it with a fine-tooth comb.”
Melody nodded, relieved.
“We’re doing our best to be on the lookout for your husband, and the van, but without a better description than ‘a white van,’ I’m not sure how successful we’ll be.”
Melody hated to hear that, but she wasn’t surprised. “They put that hood over my head before I could see the license plate. Did you find it? The hood, I mean?”
The detective nodded.
“Good. And the yellow brick? That too?”
“Yes.”
“What’d the note say?”
“I’m not sure. It will be reviewed by forensics as well. Good job on not touching it. Now, what can you tell me about your relationship with your husband?”
Melody blinked. “My relationship?”
She hated that she was repeating his questions, but that one was so out of left field, she wasn’t sure she understood why he was asking. But then again, she did have a concussion where she’d hit her head on the pavement while she was rolling over and over after being pushed out of a fucking moving vehicle, so she couldn’t be too hard on herself.
“Yeah. Are you getting along? Do you have money issues? Are either one of you having an affair?”
Melody was so surprised, she could only stare at the detective in confusion. “What would any of that have to do with us getting kidnapped? Shouldn’t you be asking me if John has any enemies? If I know of anyone who might want to abduct him? Hurt him?”
“Do you?”
The suspicious tone of the man’s voice clued Melody in for the first time that he thought she had something to do with what happened.
Leaning forward in the hospital bed, she winced, but met the detective’s gaze. “I will say this once, and then I expect you to do your damn job and find my husband before the men who took him can hurt him—or worse. I. Had. Nothing. To. Do. With. This. Absolutely nothing . The only thing I want is my husband back.”
“I want that too. But I need information in order to find him.”
Melody sat back, annoyed beyond belief. “I need my phone,” she blurted. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. She understood that now. So she needed help.
“It’s at the station. You’ll get it back after we get a warrant and can look through it.”
That was the last straw. Her head hurt. Her arm was in agony, and she wasn’t looking forward to a cast being put on it—she’d been waiting for the doctor to do just that when the detective asked to speak with her. Her hip was screaming. Not to mention the road rash she had on the entire left side of her body felt as if she’d had her skin peeled off slowly and painfully…because she had.
“John and I are more in love today than we were when we got married, if that’s possible. No, we have no money issues, and neither of us is having an affair. I need the numbers in my phone so I can make some calls.”
“Does John have life insurance?”
That was it. Melody was definitely done now.
“Get out,” she hissed. “I’m ending this interrogation. I’m assuming I’m not under arrest, so I’m done talking to you. If you get your head out of your ass, let me know and I’ll be happy to talk to you again. Treating me like a suspect instead of someone who was fucking kidnapped and pushed out of a goddamn car is asinine, and it isn’t getting you anywhere near finding my husband.”
“Mel!”
The shout from Melody’s best friend, Amy, at the doorway was the sweetest sound Melody had heard in hours. “Ames!”
The devastated look on her friend’s face told Melody all she needed to know about what she looked like. Amy pushed past the detective—who’d stood up to back away—and leaned over the hospital bed. She very carefully hugged Melody, and even though it hurt, nothing had also felt so good.
“If you remember anything else, please give me a call,” the detective said. “I’ll leave my card here on the table.”
“How can I call you? You have my phone, remember?” Melody said snarkily.
The detective simply nodded at her and Amy, then left the room.
“Wait, he’s leaving? What about security? Bodyguards? The assholes who did this could come back and take you again!” Amy exclaimed.
“They pushed me out of a moving van, Ames. I don’t think they want me.”
“But what if they do?” she countered. “What if they were just torturing you or something?”
Melody didn’t even want to think about that. “Did you see Hope?” She’d asked the hospital personnel to contact Amy and request she check on her daughter. The last thing she needed was Hope to have been abducted as well.
“I did. She’s good. She’s at the school for volleyball practice. I told her that you’d been in an accident but were okay. That you told me to tell her to stay at school. I also talked to her coach briefly and explained what happened. She said she’d watch Hope like a hawk to make sure nothing happened to her. I’ll go to the school after her practice is over and I’ll bring her here, so you can explain what happened. Then she can go home with you.”
“Thanks,” Melody said, relieved beyond measure that she had such an amazing friend to rely on. She didn’t want to even think about Hope being in the hands of the same people who’d taken her and John, and she felt much better that someone was keeping an eye on her.
“Now, what’s going on with finding John?”
“The detective wanted to know if either of us was having an affair and if John had life insurance…insinuating that I had something to do with this. I need my phone, Amy. At least the numbers in it. I need to call some of John’s friends. He needs them.”
Amy looked pissed beyond belief. “That fucking asshole! You and John are as solid as anyone I’ve ever met. Where’s your phone?”
“At the police station.”
Amy winced. “Shit. I don’t suppose that detective was leaving to go get it and bring it to you.”
Melody shook her head, ignoring the pain it caused.
“Right. So…you got a new phone last year, right? What’d you do with your old one?”
“I think it’s in the junk drawer in our kitchen. I told John we should erase all the data and sell it, but he said that wiping it never really works and the data can still be downloaded if someone knows how to do it.” She didn’t really mind talking about John. It was painful, but also a comfort right about now. He was probably more worried about her than whatever was happening to himself.
“Perfect. I’ll go get it. It’s probably dead, but I’ll charge it on my way back here. It’s probably still got your contacts and stuff on there, right?”
Melody perked up. “Yeah. You’re a genius!”
To her shock, tears filled Amy’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so scared when you called and told me what happened. I know it sucks that you were hurt, but I’m so glad they didn’t take you too.”
“They only took me to keep John compliant,” Melody whispered, more sure of that than anything else. “He was fighting them hard, but as soon as he saw that they had me, he gave up. Went with them without further hassle.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have any idea who took him?”
“None.”
“Right. You need your phone. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, Amy.”
“No need to thank me.”
“Now you sound like John.”
Amy’s lips twitched. “That’s because I’ve been around him almost as much as I’ve been around you. Hashtag best friends for life,” she said, using the silly words they’d said since meeting each other as schoolgirls. It was actually one of the things that had pissed off Melody’s stalker all those years ago, but both women had refused to stop using the phrase.
“Hashtag love you,” Melody whispered, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.
“Tell the doc that he better be gentle with you, or he’ll have me to answer to,” Amy said fiercely. Then she squeezed Melody’s good hand briefly and hurried out of the room.
Melody closed her eyes. She wasn’t strong enough for this. John always praised her as being one of the strongest women he knew, but she wasn’t. Not really. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep, block out everything that had happened. But she couldn’t do that. Neither she nor John could rely on the local cops. They’d do their best, of that she had no doubt, but if they were thinking she had anything to do with his disappearance, they were so off base it wasn’t funny. And it would take too much time for them to figure out that she was completely innocent and get back on the trail of the real kidnappers. Time John didn’t have.
He was in trouble. How she knew that, Melody wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because of how professional their kidnappers seemed. How smooth the abduction had been. If John was going to be found, alive, he needed the best of the best looking for him. And while she didn’t know who those people were, Wolf would. John’s best friend had insider information Melody didn’t have on the people John had worked with in the past. The former Navy SEAL would know who to call, how to get the ball rolling to find his friend.
She was counting on it.