54. The Three Stooges
The Three Stooges
CARTER
The smell of something musty was in my nose as I blinked to consciousness and pushed up to sit.
I stared down at the stained cot, and then out the metal bars, into the concrete prison cell I was in.
Everything came rushing back in a flood of horror as I registered the trail of crusted blood dried down my chest, the bullet wounds festering in my shoulder—I’d been stripped down to my underwear—bulletproof vest, clothes, the love of my life, all gone.
My eyes shuttered as the sound of her helpless cries filled my memories—the image of her so small and defenseless while Taggart threatened her at gunpoint—as he struck her soft precious body and then dragged her away unconscious, promising to do things that terrified me.
I had to get out of here, had to find her. There wasn’t a second to waste. Every minute she was with him—no, I couldn’t let my mind wander. My sweet, sweet girl, she was strong and clever, and she would fight to stay alive—I had to believe that.
Pain barked through my bruised and beaten body as I stumbled barefoot to the prison bars, feet stinging against the cold concrete floor while panic threatened to take me out at the knees—but that was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
I frantically and systematically started checking every seam of my prison cell, every nook and cranny, wondering how long I’d even been out. Hours? Days?
A buzzer rang as a heavy metal lock snapped open—the woman Richard had called Seven sauntered into the room, and I swallowed hard, realizing she was in different clothes. Not good. She carried a plastic lunch tray, looking mildly disgusted as she slid it through the food slot.
“Where is she?” I croaked, finding my throat dry, the taste of metal still coating my tongue.
“I wouldn’t touch the food if I were you, but I’d drink the water.” She nodded at the cup. “It’ll help with the headache—flush the sedatives out of your system.”
“Where?” I demanded hoarsely, hanging on the bars. “Is she?”
“Drink the water and then we’ll talk.” Seven droned, and I reluctantly stared into the clear liquid, wondering if it was poisoned. She raised a brow as I studied the thin plastic cup, wondering how far I could get with a shiv and no shoes.
Seven paced lazily across the long room while I took the first tentative sip—I knocked back the entire cup a moment later, realizing I was parched. Days. I’d been out for days. No.
“Your father took something that belongs to us. Bring it back and we’ll discuss Sarafina’s contract.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, knowing I had no other choice but to play these stupid, nonsensical games with them. “What is it?”
“Sensitive information.” She fussed over her nails.
“How very cryptic of you.” I countered, flexing the plastic cup in my palm, testing its give.
“Bring the information to me , and my employer will consider releasing Sarafina.” She shrugged. “Simple really.”
I narrowed my eyes. “The Director?” I cracked the cup.
“ My employer. ” She corrected, eyes dropping to my hands. Interesting.
“Great.” I stuck my hands through the food slot and presented her with my handcuffs, shoulder barking with pain. “Let me out of here, and I’ll gladly bring you anything you want—which toy do you want with your Happy Meal?”
She laughed melodically. “Don’t try to play checkers with me while I’m busy clearing the chessboard.” She winced as she turned.
“You’re injured?” I could definitely work with that.
She straightened, all signs of pain vanishing. “Just a scratch.” Who the hell was she? Who was her employe r—was she helping me or playing me to help herself?
It honestly didn’t matter; I’d do whatever it took to get Sara back, and that started with cooperating so I could get the hell out of here. “Just tell me exactly what you need and I’ll get it.”
“We believe your father hid the information at the estate.” She looked at her nails as they shimmered in the light, and I tensed in realization—they were painted a glittering gold to match her dress.
She hadn’t just changed her clothes; she’d had time to do her nails since the last time I’d seen her.
Oh fuck. Is that why my head hurt so bad? Had they kept me sedated?
“How long have I been out? How many days?” I swallowed hard, terrified of the answer.
“Long enough that I’d stop interrupting me, if I were you.” She snapped.
“Before your father died, he said?—”
My eyes flared. “What the hell do you know about my parents’ deaths?”
She paused contemplatively. “You know, you and I are more alike than you realize.” She mused, “Orphaned far too young?—”
“What exactly is it that you do here, Seven ?” I emphasized her not-name with a bite that she rolled her eyes at.
“Whatever is necessary.” She shrugged.
“What do you know about my parents—about my mother?” I demanded, eyes shuttering as a new, unfamiliar sort of hatred built within me.
My father had made his choices, whatever they were, and my mother?
Collateral damage? Murdered because of his selfish choices?
Had there been no one there to save my mother when she needed that help?
Charlotte and our shared secret flooded my mind— her arranged marriage —maybe it hadn’t been an arrangement at all.
Maybe Brad had bought her, in this very building, turned around and sold his daughter to the same fate—had my father done the same?
The question made me nauseous—I couldn’t let Sara end up like her mother had, tied to someone dangerous who thought she was their property—or worse, like my mother, her life sacrificed because of someone even more dangerous.
I would burn the earth to ash before I let my darling Sarafina suffer either of those fates.
Sarafina was mine to protect, and mine to cherish.
I’d been a fool to pretend otherwise. “Did she suffer?” I loosed a defeated breath, not knowing if I could even handle the answer.
“Bring me what I need, and someday I’ll tell you all about it.” Seven said sweetly.
I scowled, knowing that wasn’t even remotely true. “Tell me where to look and I’ll?—”
“Did your father keep any of his paintings in storage?” She asked rather suddenly.
I nodded, shocked as she began listing places she definitely should not know about.
But apparently she did. “Anywhere else, I might check?” She asked, one arm banded across her stomach, while she propped the other arm up, snapping her nails in the air with irritation.
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”
“There must be.” She mused to herself, deep in thought as she paced. “Because it’s not in any of the paintings I checked, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“It’s been you.” I said, realization washing over me. “Breaking into the house, leaving the letters—how’d you get in and out without the security system catching you?”
She smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Then she turned more thoughtful. “I know for a fact it’s not in any of the paintings in the house.” She turned up her nose with disdain. “Because I’ve checked them all— thrice . ”
Most of the paintings around the house were just investment commodities, many of them I just hung up to enjoy purely for the hell of it until I sold them again—I couldn’t count how many pieces had filtered through the house the last ten years, not to mention the portfolio—if what she wanted was hidden in a painting—it was most likely long gone by now.
If the information was that important, a painting would be the last place my father would hide it.
“Why do you think the information is behind a painting?” I mused. “Why not tucked away in a safe, or a deposit box?” I continued sharpening my plastic shiv.
“Because I checked those too.” She scoffed.
“What did he say?” I asked. “Specifically.” Plastic dust rained down on my feet.
I found her eyes cold and calculating when she met my gaze again.
“When I took little bits of flesh from his body, he said I’d never find it, because it was behind your mother’s favorite painting.
” Seven said, and I started sharpening faster.
Had she been the one to actually do it then?
Had she drawn the last breath from my helpless mother?
Maybe I’d give her seven perfect breaths before I?—
The buzzer sounded again, and a towering figure filled the glass window in the door—Seven groaned, but I was grinning.
“Oh goody, the Three Stooges and their lapdog,” Seven spat, slipping out the back just as Theo kicked the door open, looking pissed off at the door itself. “Damn door locks.”
Theo, Liam, and Cade filled the room, and Cade wasted no time attaching a small device to the prison bars. “Step back.” He instructed. “Explosion in three, two.” The device detonated, and a small wisp of smoke curled in the air.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” I said to Liam.
“Daddy’s here to save the day.” Liam grimaced with a small smile, pulling the cell door open. “I heard what you did for her—saw it too.” He shook his head. “It’s a goddamn massacre out there. ”
“I did what I had to.” I grimaced, would do it again is what I didn’t add as I quickly pulled on the clothes he handed me, wondering what the body count was up to now. “Temporary truce?” I asked.
“For now. Let’s just get her back safe and sound and then I’ll decide if I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a stressed almost-smile. “Though it looks like someone already got a head start, you look like shit.”
I turned to Theo. “Taggart Caldwell has her. Said they were getting on a plane, we’re going to need to hack into?—”
Theo shook his head. “We’ve been poring over the flight logs for days, but they never arrived at their destination.” He hesitated, and my chest tightened as I searched his face. “We traced them back to the Caldwell Estate, and then they just disappeared .”
I stared at him, panicking because if Theo couldn’t find them— this was not good . Not good at all .
“We’re going to find her; it’s only a matter of time.” He assured me. “There’s a solid chance they’re hiding out somewhere in Briar Rose. They have to be close by. We would have found them already if they had left—which means they probably didn’t.”
“Probably?” I snapped. “We’re wasting time.” I stormed out the door, wondering how much time they’d wasted rescuing me, when they should have been looking for her.
As we headed through the compound, I didn’t bother looking at the mess I’d made.
Only one thing mattered now, getting her back , and I’d gladly leave another pile of bodies, if that’s what it took.
Taggart had threatened Sara at gunpoint, and now they’d just disappeared?
If anything happened to her, I’d never be able to forgive myself.
Bouncing around in the back of the tactical van, I bit back a scream while Liam and Cade pinned me down—the medic was busy digging bullets out of my shoulder like I was a fucking sandbox to play in.
“Hold the damn flashlight still. I can’t get the right angle if I can’t even see.” They muttered to someone else on the tactical team while I chuffed heavy breaths out through the nose, really wishing I wasn’t playing Cavity Sam in this shitty game of Operation.
My scream finally ripped free as we hit a bump, and the medic just went for it, making me thrash—they pulled the last bullet out a moment later.
“Got it.” They announced proudly, and I collapsed back in a sweaty heap, trembling as they added insult to injury, wiping my shoulder down with a disinfectant that stung.
“Alright, this is the one you’re gonna wanna brace for.
” They warned, grabbing another bottle. “This is just a temporary patch, and it’s gonna burn, like hell. ”
I was still gasping for breath, eyes fluttering as Cade loomed over me, giving me a shit-eating grin.
“Hey princess, don’t focus on that—focus on how this feels.
” He purred like I was one of his sexual conquests and then proceeded to slap my face—right as something that burned like the devil’s asshole hit my open wound.
“ Fuuuck. ” I cried, tipping my head back with a whimper while black spots laced my vision.
“Aww, look at him, taking it like such a good boy,” Cade teased, as the medic started bandaging me up.
“ You’re an asshole. ” I panted, body shaking, dripping with sweat.
“You’re welcome.” Cade chuckled, patting me as he and Liam finally let go when they were sure I wasn’t about to punch the medic in the face.
“That should do it for now.” The medic announced.
My eyes were closed as I lifted my good arm with a sarcastic thumbs up for the sandcastle builder before throwing a middle finger in Cade and Liam’s direction.
“Look alive.” Liam chuckled, and I groaned when a sandwich bag hit me in the face a moment later.
I held the plastic baggie up. “Is this shitty little sandwich your way of telling me you’re still pissed at me?” I sighed, realizing it was PB&J.
“I hope it’s the worst damn sandwich you’ve ever eaten.” Liam grinned, looking all too pleased at my misery. “I used grape jelly.”
I hated grape jelly.