14. H – E – L – P
fourteen
H – E – L – P
Monday was mostly annoying, made worse when Mikey discovered he could barely go an hour without glancing out his office window to look in Brandi’s direction. She’d been out of the office for most of the previous week, and while she had done what she could remotely, she was still playing catch-up. Something in him wanted to offer to help or assign her a helper, despite that either response was completely atypical. The fact that he even felt the urge concerned him.
Mikey had only just dragged his focus back to the task at hand—again—when his phone rang. His mother’s name on the screen had him bringing the device quickly to his ear. She was one of the few who didn’t usually call during the work day.
“I’ve got a room all ready for Brandi for tonight,” Eleonora declared. “You’re not going to drag your darling fiancée in to work in the morning before you get to the courthouse, are you?”
Mikey leaned back in his chair and swallowed his sigh. He’d forgotten already. Granted, things had gotten a little hectic after his mother’s visit. But traditional wedding or no, there was one so-called tradition his mother simply wasn’t willing to relinquish. She would not hear of the bride-to-be sleeping under the same roof as the groom the night before the wedding, so all of Mikey’s new in-laws had been essentially guilted into spending a night at their mother-in-law’s. It sounded more like a final trial to him.
“We’ll come over for dinner, then, if that works for you,” he said. “And no, I’m not expecting her to work in the morning before we sign papers. I’m not that cruel.” It was probably best left unsaid that they were both planning to return to the office for the afternoon.
Eleonora clicked her tongue at him. “I love you with all my heart, Michele, but you will not torture her with dinner with me the night before you get married. You bring her over after.”
“That seems a little—” Movement outside his office caught his attention and Mikey sat up straight as his eldest brother walked in. “Ridiculous.” They didn’t. “What did you do?”
Dante’s lips tipped up in a subtle smirk.
“Oh, good, Dante must be there now. He can tell you that part,” Eleonora said. “Remember, no later than ten. This old woman doesn’t stay up as late as she used to. Have a good day, sweetheart!” She practically hung up on herself in a rush to disconnect before he could ask more questions.
Mikey sighed and set down his phone. “What are you two scheming this time?”
“Is that any way to greet your brother?” Dante stepped up to the side of the desk and set down a suspicious slip of paper. “I can’t do nothing when my baby brother takes a wife. You should be grateful I’m holding back.”
Mikey scowled but obligingly reached for the paper. It took him all of a second to recognize Dante’s premiere restaurant’s logo emblazoned at the top. “Dinner reservations?”
“Consider this an advance on the wedding gift you’re going to let me get for you in the near future.”
Of all the things Dante could have pushed, reservations for two at a restaurant he owned really was him holding back. Mikey set the paper down. “I’m sure Brandi will appreciate this,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at Dante. “But this is plenty. Really.”
“That, little brother, is the part you get tonight.” Dante clapped him on the shoulder and turned. “Congratulations.” He paused, looking around the office as if taking it in from a new perspective. “I’m impressed you can handle working with your woman close enough to distract you and far enough to be out of reach. If it were me, I’d move her in here. There’s plenty of room.”
Mikey snorted. “Iris only owns a business because she wanted a hobby. You would have been more than happy to support her entirely.”
“Of course.” Dante met his gaze again, still smirking. “Your relationship has a different foundation than ours. You already work well together.” He started for the door. “The entire office will know she’s yours by the end of tomorrow, regardless. A statement would be a good idea.”
Mikey let the words play in his head as he watched his brother walk away. He noted Miguel slowly sitting upright and peering around the pair of monitors at his desk with blatant anxiety. Further away, he thought he saw Berto offer a wave.
Less than a minute after the elevator doors slid closed, Brandi stepped into the office. “Hey,” she said as she eased the door shut.
Mikey shifted his focus to her and felt his expression soften. “Did you need something?”
She smiled and walked closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of his desk. “I know it’s not really my business, but I wanted to check and see if everything was okay. Not everyday one of your brothers pops in.”
His lips twitched. “My family has boundary issues.” He held the paper up, logo facing her. “Looks like we’re going out to dinner tonight.”
Brandi’s eyes widened. “Holy crap. I’ve always wanted to eat at The Dragon’s Roast.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well good news, I know a guy.”
She eyed the paper for a moment longer. “So, dinner at six-thirty … I’m thinking I’ll need a little time to get ready for something that nice.”
Mikey set the paper down. “I suppose I can let you off at closing time. I’ll probably need to work a little later, though.”
“Just be sure you don’t forget about dinner. I can get myself home.” She gave his arm a squeeze and turned to let herself out.
“Brandi.” Mikey stood and walked around his desk, meeting her in the center of the room. “It’s safer if I call you a driver.”
She blinked at him for a beat before smiling again. “I’ll wait inside until someone pulls up, and have them drive me up to the gate. I’ll be fine . You said he got shot, too, right? It’s only been a day and a half since then.”
He knew she had a point, but the risk didn’t seem worth taking.
Brandi laid her palm on his chest, her touch light. “Obviously if there’s word of him popping up this afternoon, I’ll change my mind.”
He blew out a breath and spun her around before he could do something more distracting, like kissing her in front of anyone who wanted to look into the office. “Remember I promised you freedom from Miguel?”
“I had forgotten, actually…”
Mikey leaned in, hands on her shoulders, and placed his lips beside her ear. “Find some time to do a little shopping. You get a nice new desk to go with your new setup, and once it’s here, we’re sharing this office. We can redecorate the rest of the space to accommodate.”
He felt her sharp intake of breath. “You’re having me work in here ? With you?”
“I am.” Because, as always, Dante had been right.
She let him take a little of her weight. “Can I have a bigger system? More monitors?”
He grinned. “You can. Trust me to handle that for you?”
“Well now I’m not so sure my ten-minute break is long enough. I feel like celebrating again.”
Mikey grunted, his nose slipping into her hair for a deep breath before he released her shoulders. “You’re a distraction. Get back to work.”
She stepped forward but flashed him a grin. “You’re looking forward to having me at your elbow all the time and you know it. See you after work, handsome.”
She hadn’t lied. When she’d originally insisted on handling her own transportation like a grown woman, Brandi had fully intended to do as she’d explained and go straight from the office to the manor. Even as she stood in the lobby, phone in hand, waiting for her rideshare driver to appear, she knew that was still the smart plan. She understood that just because Mikey hadn’t seen any sign of George or a lingering vehicle that might contain him didn’t mean the man couldn’t be just around the corner.
The problem was, she’d had just enough time near the end of her shift that day to scroll around and she’d very quickly found the perfect desk. So perfect she’d verified the specs with Mikey and placed an order. And now she had an itch. She needed newer, nicer, better stuff to use with that shiny new desk she expected would be delivered in forty-eight hours. Mikey was handling the tech end, so there was no point in her worrying about that.
A car pulled into one of the open spots outside the building seconds before her phone chimed, indicating her ride had arrived. Brandi hefted her purse a little higher on her shoulder, sent a short reassurance to Mikey that she was leaving, and stepped out the door.
Just a couple small things. What work desk was complete without the proper pen holder? Also she needed to find some file storage that would fit within the parameters of the storage shelf, for the inevitable hardcopies she had to keep for various clients. Her current storing system would be in the way. Probably she could find all of that at one location if she hit the right store. She checked her phone again to verify the time after ducking into the car. As long as she didn’t let herself get distracted, she could absolutely pull it off and still be home before Mikey.
“Off work for the day?” her driver asked. He flicked his gaze to her only briefly via the rearview mirror before easing the hybrid Toyota into motion.
Guilt momentarily clogged Brandi’s throat. She’d been so focused on the purpose behind her choices, she hadn’t thought about what she was doing. Her gaze immediately darted out the window and she nearly demanded he let her out before they’d even left the parking lot. Instead, she held tighter to her phone and forced the fear down. There had been no sign of her stalker since Saturday. For all they knew, he’d bled out somewhere from his wounds—though she did doubt she was so lucky. Regardless, she couldn’t let herself go through life assuming everyone she ever interacted with was in danger. It was bad for her health.
Brandi exhaled and managed a small, strained smile. “Yes. Although I do have an errand I need to run before I get home.” She paused, the guilt still gnawing at her. “Can you swing me by a store if I promise to be fast? And pay for the wait time, of course.” The question was barely past her lips when she realized they had already turned out of the parking lot, though she hadn’t given him any destination at all.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I know where you need to go.”
“Excuse me?” Brandi jolted in her seat as her driver accelerated around a corner, taking them off the main road. The move immediately thinned traffic, allowing him to maintain an obviously high rate of speed that sent her pulse skyrocketing. “What the hell is going on? I’m not paying to be fucking kidnapped!” She could not possibly be so unlucky. Right? “Stop this car and let me out right now!”
“Mind shutting up?” her driver said. He reached for the stereo, dismissing the GPS display and switching on the radio. “G wants to talk to you. I don’t ask questions, means I don’t have answers.” He cranked up the volume to make it extra clear he was done.
G? What the hell? She was beyond confused. They were driving much too fast, this was completely insane, and she couldn’t for the life of her think of who her driver-turned-abductor might be referring to. It was all so crazy and overwhelming that even the fear felt hesitant. What the hell did I walk into?
Her phone buzzed in her hand, the low tone of the ringtone indistinguishable over the screaming metal grating through her ears. She had already let her purse fall to her lap, so she was able to shift her phone enough to view the screen without dropping her chin. It was a text from Mikey. She assumed he was acknowledging the message she’d previously sent him, but suddenly she realized this might be her only chance to get out of whatever was happening unscathed. If she could figure out a way to articulate the situation without being obvious.
His message was not what she expected. It was both helpful and stupidly, irrationally heartwarming.
Mikey: Tell your driver to slow the fuck down. Or I will personally remove his lead foot.
For a split-second, she actually felt the urge to smile. Then it passed and she realized she still needed to figure out an efficient response. Not sure what else to say to signal her problem, Brandi opted to send four small messages in quick succession.
Brandi: H
Brandi: E
Brandi: L
Brandi: P
Her driver glanced over his shoulder for a precious second as she sent the last message into cyberspace. “The fuck are you doing back there?” He asked the question without turning the music down, doing a poor job of projecting his voice over the guitar. But at least he’d returned to looking forward again.
Brandi made sure to keep her phone low, even silenced it, to keep it obscured by both her hand and her purse. “Seems like I’m being kidnapped. Odd of you to ask.”
She thought she saw his hands twitch on the steering wheel, but it wasn’t until the car finally slowed to accommodate traffic that he twisted back and yanked her purse from her grasp. He ignored her outcry and tossed the entire bag toward the passenger seat. All of this he managed to do without taking his eyes from the road. “Can’t have you plotting shit, got that? Just sit still and don’t be fucking stupid.”
Brandi used the opportunity to shift in her seat, carefully tucking her phone under her leg and out of sight. If he saw it, he never reacted.
For a single, stupid second, Mikey stared at his phone and the string of letters Brandi had texted him, not comprehending. It didn’t help that they’d arrived out of order. Then the word snapped into place in his mind and Mikey felt as though he might have exploded on the spot. He shoved to his feet, barely thinking to grab what he needed, and stomped from his office. “Downstairs!”
He didn’t break stride or pause to see if either man was going to pretend they hadn’t heard him. Not that Berto had ever played that game. Mikey had the elevator primed for descent to the basement level when Berto and Miguel shuffled in, both wisely keeping a bit of space from him.
After a moment of heavy silence, Miguel said, “You have that De Salvo rage look on your face.”
Mikey slid him a glare.
Berto gaped openly at his colleague. “You’re not supposed to say that,” he hissed.
Miguel shrugged. “I like to know what I’m dealin’ with is all.”
Mikey dragged in a deep breath, checked his phone once more, and said, “Brandi went and got herself fucking kidnapped.” The elevator doors rolled open and he pushed forward, barreling into the underground workspace.
The motion-activated lights popped on soundlessly, flooding the basement with white light.
“What?” Miguel asked as the two trailed behind him. “Didn’t she just leave?”
“Girl’s really having a hard time…” Berto said. “Wait, you’re tracking her now?”
Mikey didn’t even bother sitting before booting up his system, thereby triggering the rest to wake. “Of course I’m fucking tracking her. You idiots think I’m going to let my fiancée get in a car with a stranger, when she’s got a violent stalker loose out there somewhere, and not track her every goddamn move?” He was never letting her take public transportation again.
Berto’s mouth opened, but there was a momentary delay before he said, “Sorry, your—”
“ Fiancée ?” Miguel exclaimed. “Since when? I thought you were just—”
“Fucking focus!” Mikey swiped the tracking readout to the main display, where anyone in the room could see. “I need everything we can find on the motherfucker who picked her up, I need to know if the company he works for is involved or not, or if the driver on record is even the asshole behind the wheel. I need to know where they’re fucking going so we can have crews enroute before they get there. So shove your curiosity and get to work.”
As soon as the two gaping fish had composed themselves enough to grab a station, Mikey dropped into seat and slid his headset into place. As much as he disliked the idea of occupying his phone, he knew it was unlikely Brandi would be reaching out again. It was better, arguably, that she didn’t try. So he had to hope she knew that, too, and he made the one call he absolutely had to make.
Cristiano answered on the second ring. “Thought you might be preoccupied tonight.” It almost sounded like he was teasing.
Mikey unlocked his jaw. “I’m starting to understand why you locked Felicity away in the beginning.” He watched Brandi’s dot on the map finally decelerate to something within the governed speed limit and a small coil of tension eased. If they were nearing their destination, that was actually bad, but so was the prospect of her abductor flipping them over with his reckless driving. “Brandi insisted on taking a rideshare from work and got herself kidnapped. I need your help.”
Whatever Cris had started to say died on his tongue and he grunted. “Son of a bitch. I’ll call Ryōma and we’ll hit the street. Forward me what I need.” He disconnected without waiting for a pointless agreement.
Mikey barely had his hand back on his phone when Miguel made a sound of displeasure that carried through the room. On reflex, Mikey’s focus snapped back to the GPS display, but Brandi’s tracker was still active. And Miguel’s vocalization wouldn’t have made a whole lot of sense even if it weren’t.
“Man, M, I think I know this jackass,” Miguel said. “Not, like, real well you know? But we met once.”
Cold dread joined the unpleasant feelings tightening Mikey’s insides. “Get to it.” He didn’t even bother correcting Miguel’s choice of address. It wasn’t worth the effort.
One of Mikey’s monitors blinked as Miguel sent over a mugshot, presumably of the man he was referring to. It wasn’t the same man as the picture that came up when Mikey looked into the account for Brandi’s assigned driver. This one was younger, in his early to mid-twenties, with dark hair and eyes and an olive skin tone that was indicative of Portuguese ancestry.
“Dude’s a carrier,” Miguel said. “He moves shit from place to place, you know?”
Mikey felt his frown deepen. “You’re saying this piece of shit’s an Ink Blot?”
Miguel sighed the way he generally did at being reminded of where he’d started. “Oh yeah. I don’t really know his story, but I got the feelin’ he was real loyal to the guys in charge.” He paused. “You know, the two I thought were in charge.”
“Barros and Ramires,” Mikey confirmed through clenched teeth. He reached for his phone to make another call.
“Exactly. Probably he’s one of the guys they plucked from an old crew back when they were startin’ up,” Miguel said.
“That’s a good start,” Mikey said as the line rang. “Keep digging.” With the line ringing, he texted a shorter update to Cris. There was too much information still unknown, and too much to convey.
“Mikey,” Dante greeted when the line connected. “I just spoke to Cris. Tell me what I need to know.”
Mikey’s gaze shifted back to the tracer, noting the vehicle had turned onto another less-traveled road and once again accelerated well beyond reason. He felt his throat constrict with unfamiliar emotion. “The Ink Blots took her.”
Brandi braced herself as her abductor spun into a gravel lot positioned on the opposite side of the road. I’m going to have whiplash if I ever get out of this damn car. Dust flew outside the car as he brought them to a swift, jarring stop. Beyond the dust, she saw a second car, parked and waiting.
Brandi lowered her hands to her lap, fists shaking as she fought to hold herself together. They were past the city limits, but they hadn’t arrived anywhere in particular. She doubted very much this was where she was being taken. She also recognized it was highly likely her uncomfortable, teeth-clenching ride was about to take a turn for the worse.
As if reading her mind, her abductor killed the engine, abruptly silencing the blaring stereo. “Unbuckle your seatbelt, then put your hands on the back of the seat in front of you. You try anything funny and maybe I just put a hole in your head and leave you here, understand?”
The second car was mostly in front of them, making it hard to see clearly. She was pretty sure whoever it had come with hadn’t yet climbed out. Or maybe they were just switching. I’m not even sure which would be worse. “I understand.” She hated having no way to fight back, but the phone still pinned beneath her thigh wasn’t going to help here. So, slowly, she released her seatbelt and proceeded to tip herself forward just enough to rest the flats of her palms against the seatback.
Her abductor grunted and climbed from the car. He slammed his door, walked around, and only then did he click a button that unlocked her door before wrenching it open. “Walk with me,” he said sharply, simultaneously grabbing hold of her nearest arm and pulling.
Brandi stumbled from the car and felt her phone slide from the seat.
She saw his gaze dart past her. There was no way he didn’t see the phone. He made a sound almost like amusement, reached back with his free hand, and slammed the door shut. “You won’t be needin’ that.”
She dug her feet in on instinct. “What I don’t need is one more jackass manhandling me and trying to ruin my life! Just get your hands off me, ass—”
He spun and pinned her front to the side of his vehicle, the arm he still held bent behind her back as he moved in close. He tangled a hand in her hair and whispered in her ear, “You think ‘cause you got your feet under you, suddenly you got a chance? Don’t get so full of yourself.” His weight shifted closer and his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Your man ain’t here to save you.”
Her blood ran cold. This lunatic knew about her relationship with Mikey, somehow, and still he was assaulting her. Was it possible that was actually the point?
She was jerked upright before she could lose herself too thoroughly to that train of thought and, with his two-handed grip, her abductor forcefully walked her across to the waiting second car. He walked her around to the back passenger side, opened the door, and shoved her in before she could get her feet under her. She toppled sideways, barely able to discern more than a silhouette in the driver’s seat, and scrambled to right herself.
She was promptly shoved against the back of the seat, and before she could process what was happening her abductor drew the seatbelt across her body with swift, practiced ease. Brandi opened her mouth to protest, but before she could make a sound her arm was yanked up and a tell-tale clink proceeded the bone-chilling sensation of something cool and metallic clasping around her wrist. She gaped at the sight of handcuffs holding her arm up, attached to the car’s built-in safety bar. Once he was done, he cut her a sidelong glare. “Mind yourself, bitch.”
Speechless, she could only watch as he straightened and shut the door with downright frightening care. The door immediately locked.
“Sorry for the dramatic introduction, Ms. Richardson,” the man in the driver’s seat said. He rolled the engine over and twisted enough to meet her stare directly. There was an unmistakable, calculating glint in his light brown eyes. “My name is Gustavo Ramires. And there’s something I need from you.”