Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Sebastian
It’s a little after midnight when I finally emerge from the studio. I never did conquer those lyrics. The rhythm’s off, and nothing about that song feels right.
I feel like an ass for being a grump earlier, and even though I fucked it out of my system with Ella and Kingston a few hours ago, I feel the need to apologize to them both.
I just wish this uneasy, unhappy feeling would go away.
I come into the bedroom, but it’s only Kingston in there, sitting up in bed and reading on his phone. Maybe Ella’s brushing her teeth. The bathroom door is open, but no sound comes from that direction.
“Where’s Ella?” I ask.
“Sleepover with Gianna,” he says.
Something uneasy wakes up in my gut, lifting its head, sniffing the air. “With Gianna?”
“Yeah.”
Ironwood did their homework on Gianna, and she seems perfectly harmless. But something about this news puts a sour taste in my mouth.
“She told me to tell you goodbye, and that she’ll call you before she goes to sleep tonight,” King says. “Don’t be butthurt that she didn’t say goodbye—other than fucking her after dinner, you were kind of a dick tonight.”
“Sorry. And I’ll apologize to her, too. I’m really wrestling with that song, but it’s no reason to take it out on you guys.”
“No worries. She wasn’t upset. We fucked around some more after you went back to work.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Rude of you not to invite me.”
“Nah. There was a good opportunity. Didn’t want to miss it.”
“Well, see you in the morning, I guess,” I say. I love my friend, but if Ella’s not in bed, I’m not sharing it with him.
“Yeah, goodnight.”
I stop in the doorway, rubbing my gut. “I don’t like this. It doesn’t feel right.”
Kingston swings his legs out of the bed. “I don’t feel good about it, either, but it’s not like we can go to Gianna’s and drag her home.”
Sighing, I say, “I’ll call her, I guess.” At the disbelieving look on Kingston’s face, I add, “Not to drag her home or spoil her fun. I just need some reassurance she’s okay, because fuck, things feel off right now. Maybe because I was such a dick at dinner.”
I go off in search of my phone, which I think is in the living room, when I hear both mine and Kingston’s phones ring at the same time. Mine’s only set to ring for certain numbers. One is Ella, another is Kingston, and the last one is Ironwood.
“It’s Ironwood,” Kingston says, and puts it on speaker. “Kingston here. Sebastian’s with me.”
“This is Hunter Ashby. There’s been an incident,” a cool, male voice says over the speaker.
“What the hell do you mean, an incident?” Kingston asks.
“Mr. Marsel and Mr. Callihan are already troubleshooting. They would like your assistance. Miss Marchand has gone missing, and we believe she was taken.”
The world drops away from my feet. Where is the room right now, anyway? Everything is both starker and less substantial at the same time. It’s impossible to breathe. Ella. An incident. She’s gone missing.
“Who took her?” I ask.
“Please, come to the offices,” Ashby says.
“Where the fuck would they have taken her?” Kingston demands.
“We’re not sure. We’d like you to come in.”
“We’re on our way,” I say, giving Kingston a quelling look. Arguing with one of Ryder and Jaxon’s grunts isn’t going to accomplish anything right now.
King ends the call and puts on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I’m already dressed and marching toward the elevator to jab the button. One minute later, we’re in the parking garage and climbing into King’s car.
We’re out of the parking garage and speeding toward the Ironwood offices.
My heart feels like it’s being torn in half.
I fucking knew something was wrong. I knew it and I was ignoring my gut.
If Ella had come to say goodbye to me, maybe I would’ve stopped her from going.
Maybe all of this would’ve been avoided.
My baby girl is probably so fucking scared right now. I know I am.
“Fuck!” I scream it again and again. King just watches, looking miserable. We’re a couple of miserable fucks who couldn’t keep our girl safe.
* * *
Ella
Two men sit in the back with Gianna and me.
The two in front—a driver, and Keith—talk shit back and forth.
It sounds like they’re arguing over some sports scores or something.
Like driving around two kidnapped women is just another day and they have nothing more important to worry about than whether one sportsball team beat another sportsball team at sportsball.
Assholes.
Gianna plucks nervously at her wet leggings.
“That’s not pee, is it?” I say quietly. It hurts to move my mouth because of my split lip. My eye throbs.
She shakes her head, looking miserable and scared. “I think my water broke.”
“Excuse me,” I say, “this woman needs a hospital. She’s going into labor.”
“Too damn bad,” Keith says from the passenger seat up front.
“Not taking her to a hospital could kill her or her baby,” I say. “It puts them both at risk. Please, I’m not even asking to get out—take me wherever. But let her go to a hospital. Please .”
As if on cue, Gianna moans and curls into herself.
“Nice show,” Keith says. “But it still ain’t happening.”
“It’s okay, Gianna,” I whisper. “Just breathe. Keep breathing, you can get through this.”
Fuck Keith, and fuck these other guys. The two in the back with us look a little less certain about this state of affairs. I’m pretty sure neither of them wants to deliver a baby. Hell, I don’t want to deliver a baby. I don’t know the first thing about it.
The SUV makes its way out of Gianna’s neighborhood, Old Thirty-Three, and into the Bellefleur District.
But not the busy part of the Bellefleur, like where we’d find Bartleby’s and Kitty Cat Karaoke.
Nope, we’re going straight past that and out to the old warehouses and factories.
Many of these places look like they’ve been abandoned for years.
We pull up to a metal fence with a rusted gate.
Keith hops out of the SUV and unlocks the gate.
We drive through and pause for Keith to get back in the car.
The lot is surrounded on three sides by three large, metal-sided buildings. Warehouses or factories, I can’t tell, although from the large, irregular chimney-looking things on the sides of the buildings, I’m guessing factories of some kind.
I watch carefully, trying to see if there are guards, or what.
Because wherever these assholes are taking us? I am hoping we can get back out again.
I don’t see guards, but I do see a few dark boxes on the buildings’ eaves that could be video surveillance. Whether it’s working or not, there’s no way to know.
The driver brings us right up to the middle building.
A garage-style door rolls open, revealing a large open space inside.
It’s lit with only a couple of lightbulbs dangling from the high ceiling.
The driver pulls inside and shuts off the car.
When the headlights go off, we’re left with only those two small bulbs to light the space.
It isn’t enough, and I struggle to make out the shapes and everything else in the large room.
“This way,” one of the guys says, grabbing my shoulder while the other guy not-so-gently helps Gianna from the car on the other side.
I go with him, because at this point, I’m not leaving Gianna behind. I shouldn’t have resisted earlier, either. I need to think of both her and the baby, not just myself.
Gianna’s in front of us, her gait unsteady and slow despite her captor trying to hurry her along.
They lead us to a metal door, which is locked with a padlock on the outside.
After opening the lock and door, they shove us inside and close the door behind us.
I hear the click of the padlock closing once again.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark room.
The only light comes from two windows that must be eight or ten feet up along the wall.
On the opposite side is a large desk. Slumped onto the ground next to it—a human form.
The guy’s head is down like he’s sleeping, but the curly brown hair and the lanky body type are unmistakable—it’s Tommy.
“Tom!” Gianna shouts, holding a hand toward him.
He lifts his head and opens his eyes, staring in horror. “No—no, they said they’d leave you alone. Gianna, I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”
He crawls over to where we stand, his leg dragging behind him. His jeans are dark with blood—old blood, by the looks of it, because it’s black, and dried in places.
“Tom, what happened to you?” Gianna asks.
“This is all my fucking fault,” he says. “I was trying to get out, trying to get enough money to get them to leave me alone. Ella. Shit. I’m so sorry you got brought into this, too.”
Gianna curls in on herself, moaning. “Tom, the baby’s coming.”
“What?” Tommy asks, looking bewildered and frightened.
“Look, we have to get out of here,” I say to Tommy. “Gianna’s in labor—her water broke and everything.”
“I can still walk around, I can get out of here, if there’s a way,” Gianna says.
I am not sure about that, but what do I know about what she’s going through? If she says she can walk, then…maybe she can walk.
“I’ve already checked this room, a thousand times,” Tommy says.
“There’s no way out. The desk isn’t high enough to reach the windows.
And even if it was, I don’t know what’s on the other side.
The drop might break a leg, which would be fine if it was just me, but no way are you jumping from them, Gianna.
Not with the baby. Fuck, I’m so sorry?—”
“Enough with the apologies,” I say. “We don’t have time for those right now. We have to figure out how to escape.”
Tommy shakes his head. “It’s pointless, is what I’m saying. I’ve been here for I don’t even know how many days now, and they have me pissing in a bucket while I can’t remember a password I never had.”
“They’re keeping you for a password?” I ask.
“Password or ransom, whichever comes first.” He laughs bitterly. “And nobody wanted to pay the ransom, it seems. Well, they lost their patience, I guess.”
And so he’s just sat here, waiting for rescue or…or death, it seems. I look at the door we just came through. The hinges are on the other side, I guess—there’s no way to get at them from in here.
“Then they found out who you are,” Tommy continues. “I just wanted to give them the fucking safety deposit box, whatever was in it. Get them off my fucking back. Then they realized who you are, who your boyfriends are.”
Unbelievable…this whole nightmare is unbelievable.
“Now they want more money.” Tommy’s blue eyes are full of apologies. “I don’t know if we’ll get out of here if your boyfriends don’t pay up. I’m so fucking sorry, for all of this. I was the biggest dumbass.”
I don’t know how to respond. Can I even forgive him for this? Do I want to? Not really. But I’m too frightened to be angry right now.
Gianna moans and cries out.
“Babe,” Tommy says, holding her hand. “Would it be better to sit down?”
Tears leak from her eyes and she takes great, heaving breaths. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest—I hate that she’s in pain and I wish I could do something for her. After a long moment, she nods at Tommy. “Yeah, I think I’ll sit.”
He helps her to the floor, ignoring his damaged leg while he moves around, getting her situated.
“I think I’m going to have this baby in here,” she says. “I’m scared, Tom.”
“I know, baby,” he says, “but you’re so strong, okay? You can do this.”
She shakes her head. “No, no, no. I can’t do this. I’m so tired.”
“Rest between your contractions,” I tell her. I don’t know where the idea comes from, maybe I saw it in a show or something. Maybe it’s common sense, or maybe it’s the exact wrong thing to do, I don’t know.
Gianna nods. Tommy takes off his sweatshirt and bunches it into a makeshift pillow.
“Thank you,” Gianna says. “Thank you both. If…if something happens to me, take care of the baby.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen to you, but yes, of course we’ll take care of the baby,” I say.
As Gianna’s eyes close, Tommy looks over at me and widens his eyes in a what the fuck do we do? expression. I can only shrug. I have no idea.
I reach up to my collar and touch the necklace Kingston and Sebastian gave me. I wish they were here, but I believe, with my whole heart, they’re doing everything in their power to find me. I’m sure by now they know that I’m missing.
“Those thugs who brought you here, they hit you,” Tommy says quietly.
“I fought them over getting in the car, until they threatened Gianna.”
“I can’t believe you two met,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I can’t believe a lot of shit that’s happened in the past few weeks.” I move to the door and jiggle the handle. Unsurprisingly, it’s locked. Even if it weren’t, there’s the padlock on the other side to contend with.
“You probably have a lot of questions for me,” Tommy says.
I laugh quietly. “Not really. I’ve pieced most of it together, I think.
Huge debts from underground gambling, you got your girl pregnant.
You faked your kidnapping to get money out of my boyfriends, then the kidnapping actually happened.
Bartering away our secret inheritance—thanks for hiding that from me, too, by the way—didn’t work because you couldn’t access it, and so more ransom demands. ”
“I said I’m sorry,” he says. “What more do you want?”
“I don’t know…how about some actual fucking remorse, and proof that you’re actually changing your life around?”
He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I guess you’ll see the proof over time. I can’t do shit right now, except get you and Gianna and the baby out of this mess.”
Yeah, that would be a start. He does seem remorseful, but I’ve seen Tommy remorseful time and time again, and nothing ever changes.
“I can’t believe we had an inheritance all that time, when I was struggling just to afford food,” I say.
“Dad didn’t tell you about the box, because he didn’t think you’d be able to hide it,” Tommy says. “He didn’t want the hospital or any creditors to take the contents.”
“And you didn’t tell me about it because you wanted the contents for yourself.”
“I just wanted to get on my feet again,” he says.
Sure he did. I don’t even dignify it with a response.
We hold Gianna’s hands through more contractions. I bang on the door, begging someone to let her out and take her to the hospital, but nobody answers.
“I know the password to the safe deposit box!” I scream.
Still no response.
“You know it?” Tommy asks.
“Yep. At least, I think I do.”
“Next time they come, just give it to them,” he says. “Do whatever it takes to get Gianna free, please.”
At least, for once, he isn’t focused on himself.
“I imagine they want more money than whatever Dad had hidden away in the safe deposit box,” I say. “They know who my boyfriends are…they’re going to want millions.”