13
JAY
“You should totally come with us,” Stu said again. “They barely show old slashers at that drive-in anymore.”
Jay stepped out of the bathroom at the back of the garage, fresh after a shower and wearing his regular clothes. “That slasher sucks.”
“Yeah, all slashers suck, so what? I barely get to hang out with you anymore.”
“Are you for real? We work together.”
“That’s different.”
“Listen, we’ll watch whatever you want next week, okay? I told you I’m meeting Chris.”
Stu crossed his arms and shook his head. “For the life of me, I don’t get how you agreed to forgive him.”
Jay sighed and arranged the tools he’d used earlier on the wall. Both he and his brother were messy by nature, but they kept it tidy at work. “We’re not getting into this again. I told you there are things you wouldn’t get.”
“Oh, I get it just fine. Mister Success bats his eyelashes with his pretty blue eyes, and you forget that he landed you in prison.”
“Sure, Stu. It’s because of his eyelashes and pretty blue eyes.”
“You’re gonna get hurt again because of him. Rotten people like that—”
“Hey, zip it!” Jay took a breath to calm himself down. Stu was only being a protective big brother, albeit an annoying version of one. “Listen, Chris and I are cool now, and he needs my help.”
“Of course he needs your help! He’s a blood-sucking vampire who—”
“Stop!” Jay stomped into the customer area. “Keep being a know-it-all, and I won’t tell you anything.”
Stu followed him. “You always tell me everything, so pick a better threat.”
Not everything, he thought, remembering Nasty Ben’s visit.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He picked up his keys and black helmet.
Stu leaned against the entrance door as Jay climbed his bike. “I’m not trying to be a dick.”
“I know, but you need to give me some slack. I’m not a kid. Enjoy your shitty movie.” He drove away, the engine roaring in his ears.
*
Chris was running late. They were to meet at the entrance of his building to go see Oscar. Pre-prison Jay would have tried to steer Chris away from taking such drastic actions, but post-prison Jay knew you didn’t beat evil by playing nice.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. Very unlike him. He didn’t know where Chris’s office was, and he wasn’t about to search between floors. He picked up his phone and called him, but it rang a few times before reaching voicemail.
He was likely stuck in a boring lawyers’ meeting. Jay looked around and spotted a hot dog stand. He wasn’t a fan of those, but his stomach demanded something quick. Chris had promised steaks, but that would be hours from now. As he made his way toward the stand, he opened the tracking app on his phone to check on Chris’s location, something he had been doing at least once a day since this whole mess started.
When the app loaded, Jay almost tripped. What the hell? He logged out of the app and logged in again, but the location remained the same. “Pennsylvania?” This didn’t make sense. An alert notification read, “Weak connection may result in an inaccurate location.” Yeah, but how inaccurate? He guessed that it would take around three hours to drive to where the app claimed Chris was. It wasn’t unreasonable, but it was out of the fucking question that he would do so without updating Jay.
He took hold of his growing panic since panic never made anything better. Chris’s phone must have been stolen. Phones got stolen all the time. Jay turned around and hurried back, bumping into people and ignoring their curses. He’d find Chris on whichever floor he was working on, then kick his ass for being so careless.
He didn’t get to enter the building before his phone rang with a call from Oscar. Jay let out a breath of relief and slowed down. Chris must have already been at the club, although he was still getting some ass-whooping.
“Hi,” Jay answered. “Is Chris with you?”
“I’m afraid we have a problem,” Oscar said solemnly. “Dima is with me in the club.”
“And Chris?”
“Chris... has been taken.”
Taken.
“I’m on my way. Dima better not go anywhere!”
*
He reached the club and charged down the long hallway. The man at the entrance quickly moved out of his way, blurting, “Room three.”
He reached the second floor and knocked on the door, catching his breath and wiping sweat from his brow. With the sliding of the door, he walked inside. “Start talki—”
Well, shit.
What Jay had failed to do on Fire Island, someone else had achieved with great success. Dima’s face was busted, his right eye shut tight and his nose swollen. He sat next to Oscar, slightly hunched over.
“Sit down,” Oscar said gravely.
Jay did, still panting. “What happened?”
“Dima and Chris were—”
“Let him speak.”
Dima straightened on the couch, then grimaced in pain. “We went to practice shooting.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Jersey.”
“Why there?”
“I like going there to shoot, and Chris said he wanted to practice and breathe air.”
“He wanted to go shooting with you?”
“I shoot well.”
“What’s the name of the place?”
“Tenafly Rifle and Pistol Club.”
He said the name a little too fast, as if he had rehearsed it. “What happened then?”
“We parked in the parking lot behind the place. Before we got inside, someone hit me in the back of the head. I fell and noticed he was wearing a mask. Before I could get to my gun, he kicked my face, and I passed out. When I woke up, Chris was gone. They must have hit my car with theirs when they drove off because there was damage.”
“They?”
“Before I passed out, I noticed another person wearing a mask who stood close by. He was shorter than the first guy and fat.”
That description fit the two brothers, but Dima had seen their photos.
“Did anyone else see what happened?”
Dima shook his head. “There was no one else there.”
Yet, somehow, two people had managed to sneak into the parking lot, overpower Dima, and then snatch Chris.
Jay’s vision filled with red, his heart thumping. Think, don’t act. He could have easily taken down Dima and beaten the truth out of him, but if he failed or was stopped by Oscar, he’d lose his only link to Chris’s whereabouts. For now, he needed Dima in one piece.
He cleared his throat, composed on the surface. “Do we know anything else that might help us find Chris?”
“Mickey knows the address of the Mitchells’ house,” Oscar said. “It seems that the two brothers still live there. You should ask him for the address, then drive over there to check.” He narrowed his eyes in anger. “Those rotten animals. You should have seen what they did to my car! And to Dima, of course. I have other cars, obviously, but it’s the principle!”
Oh, Jay was going to look at that car all right. If there was one thing he knew, it was busted cars. He also had no doubt that searching the Mitchells’ house would be pointless. The brothers would never do something so obvious, not when they were working on their alibi in sunny Florida.
“What about the tracking app on Chris’s phone?” Oscar asked.
“It shows he’s in Pennsylvania, but I don’t buy it. First thing they’d do would be to get rid of his phone. If it’s still working, they’re using it to confuse us. I’ll keep an eye on it, though.”
“Okay. Dima, go rest in one of the rooms. You’ve earned a few days off.”
“Thank you.” Without looking at Jay, Dima got up and limped outside.
“He’s fucking lying,” Jay hissed the moment he was alone with Oscar.
“I’m aware of that possibility, yes.” He got up and walked to the minibar, his purple suit giving Jay a headache. “What can I get you?”
“The man you promised to help me protect.” It took all he had not to shout.
Oscar huffed. “Don’t make me feel even worse than I already do. We’re on the same side.”
“Are we?”
“Stupidity doesn’t become you. I like Chris, and I don’t hurt the people I like.” He poured himself wine and came back to sit. “Let’s assume that Dima is lying. Do you think he knows where Chris is being held, assuming he’s even alive?”
“Don’t go there. He is alive. My guess is that Trevor is too clever to let Dima know where they’re keeping Chris, but I’m sure he knows more than he told us.”
“Then we’ll need to be smart about this. If Dima feels that he’s in danger, he’ll likely disappear.”
“His car.”
“What about it?”
“Can it still drive?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him to bring it over to my garage tomorrow. I want to inspect the damage. I’ll use the opportunity to pressure him a bit; nothing too extreme.”
“You’ll find out he’s not easily pressured.”
“We’ll see. But I wonder if we should get the police involved and have them question him.” Jay had been raised never to trust the men in blue, but he was clearly out of his depth here.
“Dima won’t speak with the police,” Oscar said firmly. “The last thing I need is for him to yammer about the things he’s seen in this club.”
“This is not about your damn club!”
“And we will keep it that way, understand?”
Jay looked away and reluctantly nodded. He didn’t have enough allies to start alienating them. Still, if push came to shove, he’d go straight to the cops, and the hell with Oscar’s rotten club.
Jay’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and almost dropped it. A wave of relief left him speechless, but it didn’t make sense. The notification was for a message from Chris, sent to their group chat. Jay gingerly entered the group and read the message.
“What is it?” Oscar asked.
“Fucking trouble.”