Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Willow
I wake up groggy. Holy shit. Where am I?
I got into the car with Clare — we were talking for a bit, then she pulled a fucking gun on me.
The details after that are hazy… the back of my head stings like a motherfucker.
My hands and feet are bound. I can’t see anything, and the little light coming in from a high window tells me it’s still daytime.
I try to move around — but there’s only a concrete floor, bars, and a wall behind me.
I’m in a fucking cell? Okay, I’ve been in plenty of cells when arresting people, but that isn’t the point. At no time was I somebody’s prisoner.
Of course, I’m not armed, and I have no belongings. My phone, which was tucked into the front of my yoga pants, is gone. Fucking bitch!
What the hell is Clare doing? This can’t be happening… Think. Well, it’s a little hard to do that when the back of my head is pounding, I’m bound with rope, and I’ve no clue where I am or what Clare wants with me.
Suddenly, I hear movement and I slump back down, pretending to still be out cold.
There are two sets of footsteps, then I hear Clare’s voice. “I said not to hurt her, and she’s still out cold.”
“Why do you care? You’re the one who wanted her dead.”
“Wanted being the operative word. Let’s just say my interests have changed.”
A man laughs. “Uh, huh. Money talks, right?”
“Trust me, cutting her into pieces would’ve been my pleasure after what she did to Aaron. I guess I can always take her husband out. That would soften the blow, then the Directors can have her.”
Aaron? What in the actual fuck? The Directors? Who are they?
Someone unlocks the cell. “Maybe we should check if she really is still sleeping.” I get a boot to the stomach and it takes all my might not to scream.
“You really are a sick man,” Clare sighs.
“Me? What about you? You’re the one who’s been stalking this chick forever.”
“To be honest, it wasn’t even hard to get her to trust me,” Clare goes on. “Easy, actually. I got in with one of her best friends. Pathetic how people just trust any old body these days. She never saw it coming, none of them did. I’ll be sad to see the back end of New Orleans. Bolt loved it here.”
Okay, so she knew Bolt. Or she’s Bolt’s girlfriend or some shit.
“So you think they’ll let you go after this?” the man asks, sounding a little too jovial for my liking.
“Why wouldn’t they? I did my part and then some.
It’s about time I got my pay dirt and split.
It’s a pity though, Willow has enemies. I can’t say they’ll be nice about where she ends up.
But she brought down most of the trafficking rings in New Orleans,” Clare sighs again. “And that cost them money.”
“With a face like that, she’ll get a pretty penny.”
“That’s why I said not to damage her, idiot.”
The man snickers. “They probably won’t mind if I have first dibs on her.”
“Do that and we’re both dead,” Clare says. “The Directors want her unharmed, and you’ve already given her a blow to the head and a kick to the guts, nice going, asswipe. I want no part of this.”
“Like I said, you have no fucking soul, Clare. I swear to god.”
“Thanks to you we’ll have to wait until she wakes up to get her prepped. The pickup is in a few hours. She better be conscious by then or it’ll come out of your commission.”
“Or what?” I can just imagine him sneering. I hope to god that she doesn’t leave me in here with this asshole. I’m a good fighter, but when I can’t size up my opposition, that puts me at a disadvantage. If it comes down to a fight, I can fight dirty.
“You think you scare me, hotshot? Without me, there is no money, so I’d shut the fuck up if I were you.”
“I know what might wake her up, a bucket and some cold water.”
Clare laughs. “You really are a demon.”
A cell chimes. “Shit, I gotta take this,” the man says, his boots heavy on the floor as he leaves.
Clare is still in the cell. I don’t need to adjust my eyes to know she hasn’t left.
She circles me, but my head starts to spin again.
She drugged me, that’s why I feel so groggy. The added blow didn’t help.
“Sleep well, princess,” she whispers. “You’re gonna need all the rest you can get where you’re going.”
Haze
“Bolt had a girlfriend,” Star says. “Her name is Jane Levich, and she’s a piece of work.
Has more priors than I’ve had hot dinners.
She’s wanted for fraud, aggravated assault and battery.
Seems Jane likes to tie up her victims and torture them.
She’s a loose cannon, and she has a particular interest in anyone who helped Bolt into his early grave. ”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Send her mugshot through, I’ll pull it up with the footage of Clare Jones, I have a feelin’ this is the same chick.”
“Roger that, and I’m sorry, Haze, I wish I’d known sooner. It took some digging.”
“It’s not your fault.” I hang up, staring at the AirTag on the side of the highway.
We don’t have her.
We don’t have her whereabouts.
We don’t even have her fucking cell. It’s in my hand, smashed to pieces when Clare/Jane probably threw it out the window.
I glance up at the sound of straight pipes: Max and my brothers arrive.
“Shit,” I hear Hally mutter, but I can’t worry about her feelings at the moment. I’ve got bigger problems to deal with.
“Fuck,” Logan and Brew say together when I stand — Willow’s cell and the tracker in my hand.
“She’s gone,” I say.
“No.” Max is already in panic mode. “She can’t be gone.”
“We’ll find her,” Hally says. “We’re hot on the trail.”
Brew looks over at her at the same time I side eye her. “Who’s this?”
“Hally Baltmore,” Max says, a little sarcasm in his tone. “Long time no see, Cupcake.”
“You two know each other?” Logan asks.
“She arrested me,” Max sighs. “Couple of years ago. Didn’t you, Baltmore? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
“No,” she says, straightening her spine. “But right now we’re here to find your sister, and this is crucial we do that in the next few hours. If Clare texted Payden at any time, we will be able to get a ping off of her phone and maybe get a location that way.”
It’s as though she has no clue we’re in the business of security and hacking.
We all stare at her, then Logan says. “I’ll call Sawyer.”
“Call Rock and Jett while you’re at it,” I bark. “Everyone needs to be on this.”
Brew places a hand on my shoulder. “Cash and the boys are en route. You wanna let five-o know?”
“Carl and Luke we can trust.” I glance up at Max. “Up to you if you wanna let your dad know. I doubt he can help, but he and Willow had this huge fight—”
“I already called him. He’s callin’ in some favors,” Max says. “Pretty cut up about it after everythin’ that went down. I’ve never heard him sound like that before. Doesn’t ever excuse what he did. Or what you did.”
Here we go.
“What I did?” I thumb toward my chest. “You knew too, or did you have a memory lapse?”
I can’t put this on him, but still. He’s a fucking wiseass.
“Just sayin’. I’m all for protectin’ her, but she was always gonna find out in the end.”
“Helpful,” I mutter.
If that was meant to make me feel better, it has the opposite effect, but it’s not Sinclair who can be blamed for this. It’s me. Max is right. I had the opportunity to tell Willow, I’m her fucking husband — the man who is supposed to keep her out of harm’s way.
“What do we do now?” Hally asks. “Just wait for the call? I can call it in, do something—”
I know she cares, but it just grates on my nerves because I’m a gutless piece of shit who should’ve protected my wife better. I should have been the one following her. Had I known the Rooftop Killer could’ve been involved, obviously I fucking would have.
I want to scream, knowing it won’t do any good.
The entire station will be looking for her by now, and that’s a good thing. The more people looking, the more chance we’ll have of finding her. I just hope this Clare/Jane bitch still has her phone on her. Otherwise, where the hell do we start looking?
I begin to pace. “I need to think!”
Logan steps up to me. “Pull it together. This is Willow we’re talkin’ about, she’s one tough little cookie. She’ll figure a way out of this.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” I challenge. “Huh? What if she’s in real trouble, brother? What then? We don’t know where she is.”
He grips both my shoulders. “And actin’ hysterical won’t get us anywhere. Pull it together. Sawyer will have a match any minute now and then we’ll find where this chick lives and take over her entire fucking life, got me?”
“I can’t lose her,” I say quietly. “Not like this. We were fightin’. We both said some things—”
“Things you can be sorry for when she’s back in your arms,” Logan says. “But not now.”
I never really picked my oldest brother as the pep-talk king, but he’s become better at it as the years have gone on.
Growing up he was always good at giving me and Brew a slap around the earholes when we were misbehaving.
He worked hard to help Mom when Dad just couldn’t step up.
And in times of crisis, he’s level-headed, something I thought I was until this very moment.
“We only just got back together,” I ramble. “And she was so fuckin’ mad at me.”
“Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself,” Logan says with a little more force in his voice. “This kinda shit won’t get us anywhere. We need to focus.”
“Sawyer,” Brew says as he picks up the phone, has a ten second conversation then hangs up. “Confirmation Clare Jones is Jane Levich. Got her address, let’s move.”
“You good?” Logan says, looking like he’s ready to throw down, or at least bitch slap me.
I nod. “I’m good.”
“Great. Let’s roll.”