Chapter Sixteen
When we open the trunk, Ryan looks pissed .
His bun is messy, the loose strands are stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his eyes are wide but in an “I’m going to murder you” sort of way.
Not the terrified way I would be looking at someone who just shoved me in a trunk and drove me around for forty minutes.
And when he sees me, his look turns even more sour, like if anyone else abducted him, it wouldn’t be as bad, but I automatically made it ten times worse.
“Ready?” Lane asks. “Reed showed you the pin for the door lock, right?”
I nod and watch as Lane picks Ryan up. Since he pulls him straight up instead of back, Ryan’s head smashes into the trunk lid rather hard. Ryan slumps down like a dead weight in Lane’s hands which makes Lane stop moving.
“Is he alright?” Lane asks.
“I think you just knocked him out,” I say like it is completely fine. Hopefully, it is. “Come on, we’re going to get caught.”
“Just carrying a drunk friend home,” Lane says as he carries the bound and gagged man.
“Remind me to never go drinking with you,” I say and Lane laughs.
We’d parked right next to the house since García had told Lane that the front door would be watched.
“What does García think we’re doing?” I ask as I rush for the back door.
“I told him that I forgot something inside and needed it,” Lane says as he hoists Ryan up a bit higher in his arms.
“Is he really dumb or does he kind of just not give a shit?” I ask.
“I think he just hates Walsh and thinks it’s ridiculous he won’t let me help,” Lane says as we head to the back door.
It’s quite dark back here, and I’m scared to turn any lights on to see by.
Thankfully, I can see the pin pad well enough that I am able to punch in the correct code to unlock the door.
“What if Mick is already in here and ready to kill us?” I ask.
“He’s not that dumb,” Lane says as he turns sideways to get through the door. “We’re going to head down into the basement. Can you help me?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say as I move through the dark house.
I feel my way through the room using the streetlights to aid me. When I reach the basement door, I pull it open then reach out to Lane. I take his wrist and carefully pull him after me, so he doesn’t fall down the stairs.
“Inch forward just a bit,” I say as I watch his feet. He does until just his toes are hanging over the step. “Now down.”
He slowly steps down, careful to feel the step under his foot before putting his weight down. Thankfully, Ryan is still a little out of it or both of them probably would have plummeted down the stairs, especially if Ryan started struggling.
Once he’s on the lowest level, I run back up the stairs and close the door. Then I turn the lights on, illuminating the room we are in.
“Can you find a chair?” he asks as I head down the stairs.
The basement is unfinished, but it looks like it was mostly used for storage.
The first room is filled with boxes and old furniture.
In the second room, I find a couple of dining room chairs, so I grab one and set it next to a table in the main room.
Lane has the tape that attached Ryan’s wrists to his ankles pulled off, so I head over to help him put the man in the chair.
“He still unconscious?” Lane asks.
Ryan’s head is tipped forward, his mouth open as drool drips out.
“Oh…yeah,” I say. “You knocked his head on the trunk pretty damn good.”
“Huh…Get some water. A bucket would be fantastic, but if you can’t find one, a big head-sized Tupperware or something will work.”
“Okay,” I say as I turn from him.
I head back upstairs and go into the kitchen. I look under the sink, but I only find cleaning supplies. I don’t know where else to look, so I start pulling cupboards open until I find a party-size serving bowl. I quickly stick it in the sink and turn the water on.
I’m nervous I’ll get noticed through the window, so I crouch as I move back to the basement.
Admittedly, I have never been very skillful at carrying anything filled with liquid, and as I walk, the water starts sloshing around.
I slow as I watch it, but by the time I’ve made it down the stairs, I’ve lost a quarter of the water.
And gained a quarter of the water on my pants.
The first thing I notice is that Ryan has his eyes open. He’s back to looking at us with murder in his eyes.
Because I had been focused on Ryan and not my footing, my foot catches on something as I step off the last step, making me stumble forward.
Miraculously, I don’t fall, but I do manage to spill all the water.
I look back at what had tripped me and see that it is a bucket that I somehow didn’t notice going up the stairs.
“You alright?” Lane asks.
“Lane! I found a bucket!” I announce.
“Great. Please try not to break your leg on it.”
“You want it full?” I ask.
“Yeah, fill it all the way up.”
I carry the bucket and empty bowl upstairs, so I can fill them full.
By the time I return, Ryan is alert. He’s struggling against the binds and yelling something that is muffled under the tape.
Lane walks over to him and reaches for him until he finds his head.
He sinks his fingers into Ryan’s hair and yanks his head back as his other hand searches for the tape.
He pulls it off and Ryan immediately spits at him.
“What the fuck is this?” Ryan asks as his eyes shift onto me. He sounds a little hoarse, probably from the rope that had been around his neck.
“Hey, Ryan…do you mind if I call you Ryan?” Lane asks like we are holding a meeting of some kind.
“Fuck you,” Ryan says.
“Alright, so Ryan, I’m looking for a friend, and I hope you could give me a bit of information.”
Ryan’s eyes narrow as he struggles to break his arms free. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“You probably know me. At the time I was going by the name of Chris Owen.”
Ryan’s expression changes, and for a moment, I think I see a look of fear cross his face.
He licks his lips as his eyes flicker from me back to Lane.
“I also heard about what happened to you,” he says as he composes himself.
“I ain’t afraid of some blind asshole.” The way he is acting shows that he is very afraid of the blind asshole.
Lane nods. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid of me. You just have to answer my questions. A friend of mine is missing.”
“Was he an undercover agent too?” Ryan asks curiously.
“No, he’s a detective,” Lane says. “He went missing five days ago.”
“And why do you think I know anything about it?” Ryan growls.
“I know who you are. I know that you have your nose in every goddamn inch of that shithole business Red is running.”
He snorts. “The thing is…I don’t quite understand why you think I’m going to tell you shit. You’re a cop, you can’t do anything to me.”
“Actually, right now my license is in review, you know, because I can’t see. I’m not very concerned about any of it,” he admits. The growl of his voice makes it sound that he really doesn’t care.
“Fuck you,” Ryan says as he struggles against the tape.
“Alright, so tell me something,” Lane says.
Ryan’s eyes narrow as he stares at Lane. “I don’t know shit about the missing person. Now fuck off and let me go.”
“Great,” Lane says. “Let’s see if I can jog your memory.”
I watch as Lane picks up the bucket of water I’d filled and carries it over to Ryan.
Then he reaches out until he has Ryan’s neck in his hand and yanks him forward.
With one hand, he holds the bucket still as he pushes Ryan’s head into the bucket.
Ryan fights hard against him as he kicks the chair back, but Lane easily holds his head down into the water.
Water splashes up, out of the bucket, as Ryan’s legs kick and his body thrashes.
Lane grabs his messy bun and pulls his head out of the water before letting Ryan drop to the ground.
Ryan is heaving and coughing as he looks up at Lane. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” he says between gasps of breath. He tries to roll onto his knees, but he can’t get his feet under him.
“Just give me something I can use, and we can stop,” Lane says.
Ryan spits at Lane’s feet, but Lane just grabs his head and drags him toward the bucket. Ryan starts thrashing and fighting hard before they even reach the bucket.
“Hold the bucket for me,” Lane says to me.
I stare at him with wide eyes before slowly walking over to them.
I grab onto the wet bucket and hold it tightly as Lane shoves the man’s head into it.
Water splashes up around the sides while he kicks as hard as he can.
I’m slightly concerned that Lane is going to drown the man, but he pulls him out and tosses him back to the ground.
Ryan starts throwing up the water he had consumed as he remains hunched on the ground. Slowly, he looks up at Lane, but he doesn’t look as confident as he had before.
“This is sad, Ryan. I’ve seen you torture men before, and they didn’t roll around or panic like you,” Lane says as calmly as a man can sound.
“Fuck you!” Ryan says as he swings his legs around and kicks the bucket. I’m still holding it, but it makes the water slosh up and out.
“Can you think of anything this time?” Lane asks and when Ryan doesn’t immediately answer, he grabs him.
Ryan lunges forward, pushing off with his bound feet as he slams his shoulder into me. The bucket tips over and water spills out all over the floor, drenching my already wet pants.
Lane hauls Ryan toward him and throws him onto his back. “Are you alright?” he asks me.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Well, since we are out of water, I suppose we have to move onto something else, which is fine with me,” he says before turning his attention back to me. “Can you find Reed’s toolbox?”
I slowly stand up and glance around the basement for a toolbox.
“Go to the garage,” Lane says. “Grab me a hammer and some nails. Or a box cutter would work as well. Any of that is fine.”
Oh God. What is Lane planning on doing?