Chapter Twenty
NATALIE FOLLOWED THE road that led to the Pier’s underground parking entrance. Leaving Ford behind had been like tearing off a limb, and her forthcoming rendezvous with a killer wasn’t exactly a pleasant distraction from her heartache. Or her chances of making it back alive.
She wasn’t fool enough to think otherwise, even if she often played the ditz.
After parking, she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves.
When that didn’t work, she slid the tracking bean from her pocket and tongued it into the space between her back gums and her cheek.
She tried to pretend she was sucking on a lozenge and simply had to move it out of the way to talk.
Unfortunately, its taste was less honey-lemon and more bicycle tire.
Worth it to give her friends the heads up on her location if things went wrong, though.
Apparently, a twin of the little device had saved Jason’s hide recently, and he’d urged Emma to keep one in her pocket or purse at all times in case she sensed trouble. Jason’s totally valid paranoia now benefited Nat.
Heart racing, she locked her car and ran out of the dimly lit garage, a little disoriented.
The bark of sea lions echoed off the dark jetty and the walls of the inner harbor.
Ocean waves crashed on rocks just below her, and from somewhere nearby, the clang of a buoy carried on the cool, briny breeze.
Across the water from where she stood, metal sails adorned the Redondo Pier, creating a popular photo op when the golden light filtered through them at sunset.
With the sun nearly forty-five minutes gone, the artificial lighting had taken over, flagging the spot where she needed to be.
Which way? To her left, where most of the restaurants and bars sat, people milled about, taking selfies, eating churros, carrying cranky toddlers.
She turned right, jogged up the ramp past a busy seafood restaurant, and rounded the corner, passing a strolling couple, a grungy man tugging a rolling backpack covered in dirt, and a family of four with matching sunburns.
The pier widened, providing a lookout with benches spaced out along the rail, perfectly positioned for sunset watching.
Rarely as crowded as Venice or Santa Monica, the pier was still fairly busy, especially with the ever-present groups of people fishing off the side.
Her sneakers scuffed over etchings of humpback whales and dolphins as she approached the concrete tables in the center of the space.
The pier had plenty of lighting, and her neck prickled with the sense of being watched, but she didn’t clock any immediate threats.
A black-crowned night heron sat atop one of the metal sails, and another had perched on a lamp post. Surely that was a good sign, right?
A reminder of her team, her support system, the bond they’d forged through pain and vengeance. Like they were watching over her.
Heart tapping out an adrenaline-addled rhythm, she approached a tall figure in dark clothing leaning against one of the tables. A hoodie kept his face in shadow, his form a black blot against the twinkling lights on the peninsula behind him.
She slowed, trying in vain to calm her breath. “Erik?” she asked, ever hopeful.
“You Natalie?”
Her heart sank. His voice was all wrong, and she should’ve immediately realized his build was off too. Moving closer, she noticed a tuft of scruffy gray beard and a large nose, though the rest of his face stayed hidden.
“I have a message for you.” The words came a little slow on a two-pack-a-day voice.
She swallowed her disappointment. Of course Erik wasn’t here. Had she really thought it’d be that easy? “Who’s asking?”
His dark shoulders lifted. “Fuck if I know. Some dude paid me to give you this.” He held out a cheap flip phone. When she hesitated, he sighed and stood, a beat-up skateboard in one hand. “Look, lady, I ain’t got all night. You Natalie or not?”
“Yes.” She snatched the phone from his callused palm and clutched it to her chest.
The man dropped his board to the concrete, hopped on, and rolled away, the sound of his wheels incongruously loud in the night.
She spun in a circle, hoping that Ford, Emma, and the Steele team were out there somewhere watching. Ready. Undetected. She loved him, and she wanted a future with him. Here, in Geneva, wherever. To do that, she had to stay alive.
Which meant staying focused.
No one on the pier seemed to pay her any attention, so she sat on the slatted metal seat, cold seeping through her jeans.
“Okay, asshole. Now what?” Her tongue reflexively sought out the GPS tracker in her cheek, toying with it nervously.
Catching herself, she stopped and clenched her teeth together.
Toe tapping, she opened the cell phone. It was unlocked—no password required—so she viewed the contacts list. There was only one memorized number, listed as Mace. Oh, goody. More weapon-themed nicknames. What absolute douchebags. She tapped the name.
“Punctual,” a distorted voice said. Probably a man, but hard to tell. “Good job.”
“Fuck you. Where’s my brother?”
He tsked. “But so impatient. And foul-mouthed. I should’ve expected as much.”
“You’re the one who wanted me here, so let’s skip the games, okay? We both know I want Erik back, unharmed. What do you want?”
“I’m just looking for information. That’s it. No one needs to get hurt.”
“Oh, yeah? I have a bullet wound that says different.”
A noise of irritation came through the line. “That was a communication error. You have nothing to fear from me.”
She inhaled sharply. He’d just confirmed he was involved with the same men who’d taken Emma. Mind racing, Natalie scoffed at the idea that he wasn’t a threat. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“Actually, I believe you’re smarter than average, Miss Brown.”
She ignored his name cropping. “I don’t actually care what you think of my intelligence. If you want anything from me, I need proof that Erik’s alive and unharmed.”
“Fine.” The line went dead silent. Had he put her on mute?
“Natty?” Erik’s breath stuttered, and her heart ping-ponged around in her chest at the old nickname. Mace must’ve turned off the distorter because her brother’s voice was unmistakable. “Are you really alive?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Hey, Error,” she said, using the moniker that had made Erik so angry as a kid, hoping it would confirm her identity. “Did you really think I’d be that easy to get rid of?”
“Nat.” His voice turned serious. “Whatever this is, stay out of it. Mom and Dad need you.”
Her chest threatened to cave in. “No can do, bro. It’s my fault you’re there, and I’m going to get you out.”
“Natalie, don’t—”
“Enough,” a different man said, his voice distant over the line. Closer now—and without distortion—he said, “You have your proof. If you want to see your brother again, follow my instructions.”
“Why are you doing this?” Natalie asked.
A man and woman passed by holding hands, and the woman gave her an odd look. Natalie forced a bland smile and turned to face the dark water.
“Because I want your network.” Mace’s voice hardened. “I want the names of everyone you’re working with to discredit hardworking businessmen like me—all the informants and investigators you work with—I want you to cease all further operations, and I want my money back.”
“Oh, is that all?” Not a chance in hell. “You already know about Emma. That’s it.” Emma had been with her in Lucerne. There was no way to keep her out of this. “I don’t have your money.” Truth, regardless of his identity. “There’s nothing more to tell.”
“Bullshit.” The man on the phone huffed impatiently. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Colossally. But smart enough to figure out how to get her here, so… “I don’t know, Mace. Or should I call you Harrison?”
There was a sharp intake of breath. Bullseye.
Several heartbeats passed before he finally spoke again.
“I’m tired of this game,” he said, his voice flat and deadly.
“Here’s what you’re going to do.” He laid out his directions.
“If you have any weapons or tracking devices, now’s the time to ditch them.
And start thinking hard about your answers to my questions, because if you don’t give me the information I want, your parents will lose both of their children tonight. For real this time.”
Ford was going to lose his ever-loving mind. While Natalie had raced off to meet up with God-knew-who, he’d ridden with Emma and Jason to Jason’s apartment, only a mile down the beach from the Redondo Pier.
So close, but it might as well have been across the ocean. They couldn’t risk going to the pier, especially since they’d been followed by a team of at least two cars, maybe more. No way would they jeopardize Natalie or her brother by blatantly disregarding the kidnapper’s instructions.
Nor would they let her walk into a trap without backup.
Ford stood in the living room and tried not to spin out.
Thankfully, Jason had been hiring like crazy the last few months to ramp up Steele Security’s LA presence.
He had half a dozen people in place around the pier before Nat even parked her car.
Supposedly they were blending, working in pairs or small groups to look like locals or tourists out late.
Ford had to trust that they knew their job. Not easy.
“What can I do?” His veins buzzed. Despite Jason’s stellar qualifications and reputation, letting the other man take the reins didn’t sit well, especially with Natalie’s life on the line.
But this was Jason’s territory, his team that could respond so quickly, and the man had a vested interest in protecting Nat.
He wanted to repay his debt for leaving her behind in Lucerne, and he felt an obligation to do everything he could to keep his girlfriend’s partner safe.
He also had a sense of duty a mile wide—something Ford could relate to and respect, even if their paths had been very different.