14. Nova
Chapter fourteen
Nova
H arper hangs up before I can say anything else.
I hop in the truck and haul ass back to my aunt and uncle’s house. When I walk in the front door, the house is still dark and my uncle's car isn’t in the drive. They must still be at the bar.
Opening the front door, I run into the room I’ve been staying in, grab a duffel bag from the closet, and begin throwing clothes from the hangers and the drawers in the bag. I kneel to the floor in front of the bed and pull out the bag of jewels and cash. It crosses my mind to take the entire bag with me, but I plan on hauling ass to New Orleans. If I get pulled over and they were to search the truck…yeah, I'd never make it to New Orleans. I shove the cash I have in my duffel and zip it closed. It'll be enough to get us away from New Orleans when I find Harper. I have no idea what I’m going to do about her piece-of-shit boyfriend, but a few ideas are running through my mind. I’m not ready to face any of them, but I don’t give a shit. I’ll knock on the door of the devil himself if it’ll save my best friend.
After shoving the bag back in its spot, I stand and throw the duffel over my shoulder. I walk into the kitchen and find a pen and paper, scribbling a quick note to my aunt and uncle to tell them I have a friend who needs me and I’ll be back. I hate leaving them like this, but I don’t have time to wait for them to explain the situation, and I also don’t want to worry them.
It takes me all of four minutes inside the house before I’m flying down the I-10 back to New Orleans and whatever I find there. I’m a nervous wreck. My mind keeps replaying what Harper said. Is there something I could be misconstruing? It’s not as though I ever got a bad feeling from him before, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an expert in hiding his true nature.
It’s not as though I haven’t been fooled before.
I end up making the five-hour drive in four and still haven’t heard anything from Harper. When I pull up to Geraldine’s, I park across the street and hop out. Heading into the bar, I scan the inside for any sign of Harper or her boyfriend if he did indeed follow her here. When I come up empty, I make my way over to the bar, where Damon is talking to a few customers. He looks my way then does a double take before walking over to me.
“I thought you skipped town.”
“Took a vacation. Have you seen Harper or Tony?”
At the mention of Harper’s boyfriend, a scowl forms on Damon’s mouth. “Nope.”
Fuck.
I turn to leave before Damon calls after me. “Everything okay?”
My answer is a wave as I head out the door and walk to my car. Okay, so they’re not here. I start the truck and do a U-turn to head to the house. I try calling her again, but her phone goes directly to voicemail. When I pull up to the house, there’s no sign that anyone’s home. Harper’s car sits in the driveway, but not Tony’s. Maybe he left, but why wouldn’t Harper have left like I told her?
I park my aunt’s truck behind Harper’s and head around to the back before grabbing my house keys from my pocket. When I slide the key into the back door, I notice though the key fits, the door is brand new. It even still has the manufacturer’s sticker on it. Well, at least she didn’t change the lock.
The house is still as I quietly shut the door behind me. There’s a block of kitchen knives to the right of me on the counter. Slowly and silently, I pull one of the biggest knives from the block and head through the kitchen and into the living room, choosing to forgo turning on the lights.
The moon shines through the front window, illuminating the empty living room. I turn left down the hallway and find Harper’s bedroom door open. Again, empty. Then I head to my room, silently open the door, and my eyes sweep over the space. Empty.
No one is home.
Heading back to Harper’s room, I kneel at the head of her bed and reach under the frame, pulling out a lockbox. Harper insisted on having a form of home protection, so last year, she started taking lessons at the shooting range and bought a gun she keeps under her bed. When I enter the combination, the gun is still there. I pull it from the box—along with a couple magazines—and head out of her room. Having spent summers in Texas with my aunt and uncle, I’m not new to handling a firearm, but I’ve never owned one myself.
I slide into my truck and rack my brain, trying to figure out where Harper could be. Admittedly, I don’t know much about her boyfriend, only that he came to town a couple times a month and would stay at various hotels, but I couldn’t tell you which ones. They would often go have drinks with his friends when Harper wasn't working, and I’d occasionally tag along. I point the truck in that direction and take off, careful to obey the speed limit, considering I have a 9mm and two extra magazines shoved under my seat.
I head to the first bar. It’s a little dive frequented mostly by locals since it’s off the beaten path of Bourbon Street. When I walk in, three people are sitting at the bar, and a couple people are playing pool off to the left. No Tony or Harper in sight.
The second bar I head to is within walking distance from Geraldine’s, which makes it a great spot to have a drink after work without having to sit with the people you just spent the last several hours serving. I walk in and notice a group of three guys sitting off to the right in the corner with several bottles and shot glasses in front of them. Tony raises his for a toast, and the three men clink glasses before tipping them back.
Deep breaths, Nova.
“Hey, guys,” I say, walking up to them with a wide smile on my face. “Long time.”
One of the men to Tony’s left shoots me a lecherous smile. I pretend that the look on his face doesn’t make my skin crawl and return the smile.
“Nova. I thought you went to visit your sick aunt or something,” Tony says, looking me up and down.
“She’s doing much better, thanks for asking.” Even though he didn’t. “Have you seen Harper?”
Tony shakes his head and shrugs. “She said she was going out with a few friends and she'd call me later. Did you try calling her?”
“Yeah, it went to voicemail,” I say as though it’s no big deal. “It probably died. She’s notorious for never charging it.”
“Well, how about I buy you a drink and when she calls Tony, she can meet up with us. Make a party out of it,” one of the guys says.
“Sure.” I sit at the table. “What are you guys drinking?”
“Whiskey.”
Of course.
“Sounds good to me,” I reply.
The guy who invited me to stay, Emile, signals to the bartender for another round.
“Anyone want to play a game of pool?” I suggest. The last thing I want is to hang out with any of these assholes, but I need them distracted.
“Sure. Just let me hit the head first.” Tony stands and slides his phone into his pocket before heading to the bathrooms while the rest of us walk over to the pool tables.
“I’m actually going to use the restroom as well,” I say while Emile and Aldo, the other guy he’s with, select their pool cues hanging from the wall.
“Hurry back,” Emile says with that disgusting grin on his face.
I smile and head to the back of the bar, where the hallway leading to the restrooms is located. I stop at the end of the hallway for a moment before the door to the men’s room opens. Quickly, I look down at my phone and begin walking toward Tony, who just stepped out.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” I say, colliding with him. I drop my phone, and as we both bend down to pick it up, I slip his wallet from his back pocket and quickly slide it into mine before either of us stands back up. Tony hands me my phone with a smile on his face.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he says and I offer him an appreciative smile.
“Sorry, I should watch where I’m going.”
I step around him and lock myself inside the women’s bathroom before pulling his wallet from my own pocket.
“Let’s see what you’ve been up to, asshole.”
There’s so much you can glean about a person from the contents of their wallet. Take Tony’s for instance. His driver’s license was issued in Massachusetts. That’s where Cillian is from…Oh, my God. Do they know each other? Are they working together? Again, Cillian never told me why he was in New Orleans, just that he was here on business. What if they work together to traffic women? Cillian works for the Irish mob. Is Massimo an Irish name?
I sift through every memory of my time spent with Cillian and try to remember if he ever mentioned a Massimo or Tony, but come up blank. Fuck, but that’s a pretty fucking big coincidence that they’re both from Massachusetts.
Focus, Nova . If Cillian is involved in what Tony is doing, then fuck him. It doesn’t change the fact that I need to find Harper and get the hell out of New Orleans.
He has a few hundred dollar bills and some smaller ones as well, a couple credit cards, and a key card for the St. Augustine, a mid-range hotel not too far from here. At least now I know where he’ll probably be spending the night, though I don’t know if Harper is there or not.
I put everything back in the wallet and walk out, ignoring the knot of fear that Cillian is involved and head back to the pool tables.
“Hey, this was on the floor in the hallway,” I say and hand Tony back his wallet. “Guess I’m not the only clumsy one.”
“Shit. Thanks,” he replies and hands me a pool cue. “Ladies first.”
We play a couple rounds of pool, and I buy us all another round of drinks. No way do I trust any of these guys with my drink. After about an hour, I’m sick to death of these guys, their stupid jokes, and all-around machismo attitudes.
“Sorry guys, but I have to call it a night. I’m going to head home.” I turn to Tony. “When you hear from Harper, let her know where I am, yeah?”
“Of course. See you later, Nova.”
I smile and wave as I walk out the door and get into my truck. I pull down a side street and park so I’m facing the bar and keep an eye on the front door. After about thirty minutes, the three douchebags exit the bar and get into a black sedan with tinted windows. When they pull away, I start the truck and follow them, making sure to keep several cars between us. Five minutes later, they pull into the parking garage for St. Augustine. I drive past the garage then loop back around, find the exit and park once again. I seriously doubt they have Harper—or any girls—stashed in a hotel in the middle of the city. Way too many things could go wrong with that, but until they leave to wherever they’re keeping them, I have nothing to go on or to even tell the cops. As a criminal, I have a strong aversion to law enforcement, but what choice do I really have? I can’t exactly walk into a precinct and say, Hey, my best friend thinks she overheard some shady shit, and now I can’t find her . They’d laugh at me on my way out. Now, if I can figure out where they’re holding her or catch them with her or the other girls, I can report a kidnapping and give them a location.
So, wait it out it is.
Sitting in silence with nothing to entertain me but my racing thoughts is nothing if not the most anxiety-inducing way to spend two hours of my life. Where’s Harper? Is Cillian involved? What can I do instead of sitting here and waiting? Absolutely nothing is the answer to the last question. The first two? I still don’t know. But I’m certainly going to find out.
The gates to the parking garage open and out drives Tony in the same car he drove in. It looks like he’s alone. Considering it’s about three in the morning, I have no idea where he could be heading, but it might offer me some insight as to where Harper is. I turn the truck on and follow him at a fairly far distance. Seeing as we’re in New Orleans, it's not as though the streets are empty, but they aren’t as crowded as usual. Tony drives out of the city, and I can only pray that he doesn’t notice someone is tailing him. When he turns down what looks like a deserted road, I drive past, turn off my headlights, and make a quick U-turn before backtracking and taking the same road he did. I barely make out the taillights of his car, but that means he won’t notice the truck following him either. There are no other houses down this stretch of road—and no street lights either. When his lights illuminate a house to the right, I pull over behind a thicket of trees and kill the engine before he steps out of the car. It’s pitch black outside, which makes the light coming from inside the house look bright as day.
Tony walks up the stairs and opens the front door, stepping inside without ever looking around. Good. That means he doesn’t suspect anyone was following him.
I get out of the truck and cross the street, keeping myself hidden within the trees lining the road on the other side. An owl hoots in the distance, and the sound of bullfrogs echo around me. It's a stark reminder that many creatures go bump in the night this far out of the city. It’s not that I’m a city girl by any stretch of the imagination, but when there’s no light and no one around…? No thanks. Who knows what kind of animals I’m sharing the ground with?
Stop it, Nova. Your mind is working overtime.
Making my way to the edge of the trees before it clears around where the house sits, I turn right and walk to the back of the house. There’s light coming from one of the rooms inside, but the window is covered with curtains or something because I can’t see inside. I stand still for a few minutes to make sure no one is outside, then jog over to the window, stop again, duck low, and wait. No sounds aside from the bullfrogs meet my ears.
There’s a small gap between the brown paper window covering and the corner of the frame. I peer inside, and what I see stalls the breath in my chest.
Girls handcuffed to a metal pipe line one of the walls.
I can’t see Harper, but there’s no doubt this is where Tony is keeping her. She might be in another room or something, but having a room full of girls who are obviously being held against their will is enough to go to the police with. I duck back down and turn to run back to the tree line. But when I turn, I’m met with the barrel of a gun aimed at my forehead.
“Well, look who came to join the party.”