Rami

Chapter 2

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

The constant noise from the chair of the potential client—what the fuck was her name again?—was almost enough to make Rami get up and wheel her into the hallway.

He made a mental note to oil the damn thing when she left.

“Please,” the woman pleaded. “You’re my only hope.”

The balloon of annoyance pressing against his temples deflated as he stared at her strained hazel eyes. She clearly hadn’t slept in days, and her sallow skin and sunken cheeks displayed her suffering. Nevertheless, she was beautiful, with wavy brown hair and defined cheekbones.

Rami didn’t consider himself a compassionate person, but something about the photo of the woman pressed to the top of his desk twisted his heart.

Still. It didn’t matter if Ivy was smokin’ hot. He wasn’t getting involved in something he couldn’t finish.

“I’m really sorry, Ms....” He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in her name.

“Hastings. But call me Gigi.”

“Gigi. Look.” He sat forward and clasped his hands together on the desk. “If I thought I could be of help to you, I’d step in.”

Silence grew thick between them, and then her brittle exterior cracked, revealing a hard glint to her eyes. She hiked up her chin. “I call bullshit, Mr. Mitry. I know for a fact that your company has the ability to find my sister.”

He swallowed a wad of words. He didn’t want to ask where she’d gotten her facts. But Gigi needed to get it through her pretty head that the odds of finding her twin sister sixteen days after she’d gone missing was as likely as him sprouting fucking wings.

She’d come busting into his office at 8:00a.m., before he’d even had time to have a second cup of coffee, and demanded to speak to the owner. It was Rami’s lucky day—today, the only owner in the building was him and not Toth, his friend and business partner. The prick had called in sick yesterday and would be late coming in today. Which shouldn’t have bothered Rami since Toth hadn’t taken a sick day once in the whole eighteen months they’d been in business.

But today, that meant Rami had to deal with Ms. Ray of Sunshine and Anxiety.

He rocked his jaw then pointed to the words Backcountry Protection Services etched in bold black letters on the wall behind his head. “We’re a bodyguard service, ma’am. Your sister is not in need of protection. She’s in need of a search and rescue team. I’m sure the police are—”

“No.” She slapped her hand on the desk, and sparks flew from her feral eyes. “No.” This time the word came out on a haggard whisper. “They gave up. I can feel it. They suggested she was either lured away or ran away, for fuck’s sake! I was talking to her on the phone when she was taken. I—”

“Listen. I believe you.” Frustration mounted inside him. If he could help, he would. But what he’d said was true. “To me, this case screams abduction, and I’m going to bet by human traffickers.” Hell, when Gigi had told him she’d overheard a woman ask Ivy for help finding her dog, he’d known for certain this was the case.

Gigi made a choking sound and pressed her knuckles to her lips. Tears built beneath her lashes.

“We don’t have the kind of resources to do a country-wide search,” Rami continued, touching the tattoo that ran over his right eye. “Hell, your sister could be anywhere. Regardless of what you might’ve heard, my business doesn’t have the capabilities to look all over the world.” He tipped his head and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it a little more this time.

She shook her head and her throat bobbed.

His office door opened and August, one of their newest recruits and his good friend, paused in the doorway. August’s green eyes landed on Gigi and his face paled.

Rami looked at the woman now with her posture erect. If he were a betting man, he’d wager Gigi’s sudden change of demeanor was because of the several-carat-diamond ring weighing down her fourth finger and August’s gutted face.

She cut her gaze away from August and zeroed in on Rami. “He’s your resources.”

August stepped into the room and glanced down at the picture on the desk. “What’s going on, Gigi? Why’re you here?”

Her gaze lowered, and for a beat, she seemed to hesitate. The fact that the two of them knew each other raised a shit-ton of questions but not ones Rami would ask right now.

“Ivy, my sister, is gone. She was kidnapped.”

August drew back his head then rubbed his hand over the sandy-blond stubble on his jaw. “You sure? I mean—”

She swiveled in her chair. “She’s been missing for sixteen days. Was taken from the parking lot at a grocery store.”

August let out a curse.

Rami cleared his throat. “I was explaining to Ms. Hastings here that we don’t have the capacity to do that kind of search and rescue, and—”

She raised a hand to stop him. “And you and I both know that August is experienced in black ops missions. If you have him and others like him working for you, then this is absolutely something you can take on.” She leaned down and hefted her purse onto her lap.

Squeak.

That fucking chair.

He bit his tongue, refusing to admit that he and August had been in black ops together. Fact was, he couldn’t put his efforts into a job that would chew through his time and money faster than a termite through infested wood.

Gigi dug into the black leather bag and slapped several bundles of cash on the desk then reached inside for several more.

Easily a hundred Gs.

“Now tell me you don’t have the resources.”

Rami tugged at his shirt collar. He wasn’t stupid enough to turn down a hundred grand, but he also wasn’t going to send his guys on a dead-end mission. “I can’t promise you we’ll be able to find her. It’s been over two weeks, Gigi,” he said, remembering to use her first name and hoping to hell it got through to her. “I hate to say this, but the odds of finding your sister are slim to none—and the odds of her being alive are just about impossible.”

There. He’d said it. Now he was the asshole.

Gigi’s eyes clouded with grief and her lip trembled. August drilled him with a gaze furious enough to murder him.

Rami shrugged one shoulder at his employee. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Lie to her? He didn’t have the energy for that shit.

August sat on the edge of Rami’s desk, his big-ass body inches from Gigi’s much smaller one. “Gig,” he said.

Her eyes flitted to his.

“If she’s alive, I’ll find her.”

If Rami could have kicked his dumb friend off the desk, he would’ve. “We need to talk,” Rami said abruptly, flinging back his chair as he stood. “Gigi, we’ll get back to you later today—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said defiantly, not taking her eyes off August. “I know she’s alive, August.” Her shaky hand landed over her heart. “I can feel her.”

August nodded and stood to help Gigi to her feet. “Give us a few minutes, okay? Go on to Pearl’s desk. She’s taking lunch orders and we’ll get you something.”

Normally Rami would have frowned on his team members buying lunch for people who weren’t clients, but he’d buy the lady a boat if she went somewhere else with this far-reaching request.

“I’m not hungry.”

August cupped her elbow and Rami’s senses sizzled. Something was up with these two, and when he found out what it was, he was going to beat August’s ass for making promises that involved his business.

“Eat or find someone else,” August said sharply.

Gigi huffed and slid her purse over her arm. “Fine. But please—hurry.”

August ushered her outside and closed the door behind her.

Rami leaned forward and rested his fists on top of his desk. Anger vibrated his muscles enough to shake the damn wood. “What was that about?” he hissed.

August waved him off as if he hadn’t just accepted a job without clearance. “I’ll handle it.”

“The fuck you will,” Rami blurted. “You’re gonna give me a bad name by taking jobs outside of our capability.”

“Is it really, though?” August asked, lowering his voice. “I mean, c’mon. We’ve done tougher rescue missions—I’d say a cave in Afghanistan’s a hell of a lot worse than wherever they took Ivy.”

Rami snorted. “Yeah, and we both left that world for a reason. Now you want back in?”

“This is different. She doesn’t deserve this.”

He held up his hands. “I agree with that. But we’ve got other contracts we’re responsible for. I can’t just throw them all away to put everyone on the payroll on this gig.”

“A hundred Gs should cover any shortfall, no?”

Rami glowered at him. “It’s not just about the money. It’s our reputation.”

“Then don’t worry about it.” August shrugged. “I’ll deal with it myself.”

Rami ran his tongue along his teeth. “You bangin’ her? ’Cause I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s got a rock on her hand big enough to knock you out.”

Anger flashed in August’s eyes, and he lifted a pointed finger. “Mind your business.”

“It is my business.” Rami straightened and gestured to the sign on the wall at his back. “Literally. Now tell me what the deal is and maybe I’ll help.”

August’s body relaxed, and he began pacing. “She and I had a fling. Short. That’s all.” He dragged his hand over his close-cropped hair.

“That’s all” my ass.

But Rami wouldn’t argue with him right now. “My guess is the sister was taken by human traffickers. You agree?”

August picked up the picture of Ivy, who was identical to Gigi.

“She was taken from a parking lot,” Rami continued. “Only video footage is of a van coming up behind her. It blocked the camera.”

“You saw a tape?”

He gave one nod. Gigi had practically held open his eyelids herself.

“There’s a good chance then. Lots of cases like that across the country over the last few years.” August dropped the crisp photo of Ivy smiling and holding a camera—a photo she clearly used to show the face behind her photography business.

“Right. And none of ’em have been found,” Rami guessed dryly.

“They didn’t have us.” August smirked.

Rami shook his head. “You screw up this business and Toth’ll put you six feet under.”

“I gotta try. Ivy doesn’t deserve this, whether she’s Gigi’s sister or not. Kills me to think about what this woman is going through, what they’re doing to her—if she’s alive. I’m doing this regardless if you like it or not.” A beat passed. “You got my six?”

Rami folded his arms across his chest and gave his head a shake. Fucker knew how to get to him. “Yeah, I’ve got your six,” Rami muttered. “I’ve always got your six.”

He had his friend’s back. Always. But completing this job successfully would be a different story altogether.

***

Whomp, whomp, whomp

The whirring melody of a ceiling fan that only stirred hot air was a persistent soundtrack when she was conscious. Ivy groaned at the blasted noise that pulled and pushed her in and out of sleep.

Sweat coated her skin and dampened her clothes. A rancid stench she didn’t want to identify burned her nostrils. She forced open her eyelids and focused on the objects waltzing around her. In a few minutes, the swaying would steady as her brain recalibrated. Normally she didn’t have her eyes open very long before someone plunged another needle into her skin.

They didn’t want her to fight again.

The memory of lunging at one of her attackers and biting his face burned a hole in her mind. In return, she’d received violent punches and kicks. She brought her hand to the puffy skin around her eyes. At least the swelling was going down—how long had it been since she first woke up here?

Days? Weeks?

She’d lost track.

Why are they keeping me?

The drone of a TV punctured the haze that clouded her awareness. She swallowed, but no spit coated her tongue. The red plastic cup on the floor they sparingly filled with water had been empty the last few times she’d checked. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d peed in the bucket in the corner. If she didn’t find water soon, she’d die of dehydration.

So what? If desiccation wasn’t her demise, whatever they’d been injecting her with—the substance that removed her from reality for hours or days on end—would make her croak. She swiped the back of her hand over her lips and the salty taste of sweat and dirt filled her mouth.

Her arm shook and dropped to the ground as though a weight were strapped to her wrist.

She was weak. The slightest movement made her muscles ache. But she didn’t want to die here.

Not like this.

She lifted her head and surveyed her torture chamber. The tattered brown couch was about ten feet away. To her right was a small kitchen area and to her left, a short hallway with a single bedroom and bathroom.

A vague memory of being carried in the dark over a dirt-covered field entered her mind for the millionth time. She was in a trailer in the desert somewhere.

Which meant she was far from Seattle. Surely it had been weeks since her kidnappers approached her in the parking lot. Weeks since she’d dealt with mundane daily tasks or made silly faces to get a baby to smile for a photo.

Now, her sole purpose was survival. Her captors rarely gave her food. Her appetite had long since vanished, but she forced herself to eat whatever scraps they gave her.

Ivy clung to the sound of her mom’s voice in her head, clung to the memory of her father’s warm embrace. And then there was her sister. She closed her eyes and thanked God for the images of Gigi in her mind’s eye. Gigi’s face, a mirror image of her own, was the only thing that truly calmed her down. The only thing that gave her the determination to get through this nightmare.

But Gigi was so far away. Her laughter and her voice were already slipping from Ivy’s psyche. When the rest was gone, she’d have nothing to keep her going.

Finding out where she was being kept might help her escape, but the tinfoil on the windows and the chain around her ankle prevented her from doing that.

She pushed herself into a sitting position. The room whirled around her as if she’d woken up in the eye of a tornado. She closed her eyes and willed herself to inhale the stale, humid air. The scent of moldy food and urine—probably her captors’ and hers—hit the back of her throat. She gagged.

Get it together, Ivy. This is the longest you’ve been awake while they’re gone. Your only fucking chance.

Her arms trembled beneath her weight, but she kept them planted on the slick linoleum. The insides of her forearms stung, but she didn’t dare look at the needle marks. If she could find food and water, the drugs would leave her system quicker. Then maybe she could work on getting out of the shackle around her foot.

The swirling gradually slowed and she forced open her eyes. Empty food containers covered every surface, and dirt and garbage littered the floors. Cigarette smoke stained the peeling floral-patterned wallpaper, turning it a yucky yellow hue. Holes chewed up chunks of the drywall—a result of her male captor’s vicious temper. A critter scampered by, but she didn’t even jump. The little creatures were the only things not out to hurt her.

A centipede crawled to a pile of garbage against the wall and wiggled under a half-empty bottle of water.

Thank god.

Ivy dragged her body the two-foot distance and snatched up the bottle. She didn’t give a shit whose lips had been on it last. She quickly unscrewed the cap and downed the piss-warm liquid. There was just enough for a couple of gulps. She needed gallons more, but it would keep her alive a little while longer.

A sign from the universe not to give up.

The centipede scurried on its way as if its purpose had been to help her. A bag of chips sat on top of the pile of trash, and she snatched up the green bag and glanced inside. The smell of dill pickle made her mouth tingle, and she shoveled in a handful of crumbs. The salt burned her cracked skin, but she didn’t care.

Food meant stamina.

Stamina meant survival.

Escape.

She scanned the uneven floor of the trailer. There had to be something she could use as a weapon or to pick the lock at her ankle. Her gaze landed on a hole in the wall created by the guy’s foot during his most-recent temper tantrum. A nail was just visible.

She pushed garbage out of the way and got onto her knees. Holding her own weight made her thighs tremble, but hope was too great to quit. She dug her fingertips into the broken wall and snapped off chunk after chunk of drywall to get to the nail that stuck out from a stud in the doorway to the hall. She gripped the end and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

She was too weak. Letting out a grunt, she placed a hand on the wall for support and yanked with the other hand. The nail squeaked.

Yes, come on, come on.

She gritted her teeth and used all her strength, wiggling the nail side to side. The metal end dug into her palm, but she continued. She’d slice her hand to the bone if it meant getting free. She leaned back and pulled harder.

The nail moved more.

She gasped and her chest heaved. Her skin burned and her lungs screamed. Almost there.

Don’t give up!The insistent words in her head rang in Gigi’s voice, making a sob leak from her throat.

Ivy cried out, pushed the stabilized hand firmly against the stud, and surged backward.

Snap!

Drywall dust fluttered into the air and covered the debris on the floor. Hope blossomed its tentative petals inside her, flooding her veins with strength and confidence.

She had the weapon. All she needed now was an opportunity.

Outside, a car door slammed. She jumped. The nail burned a desperate hole in her palm. She had to hide it. Protect the little piece of victory with her life. She glanced down at her black tank top. If she shoved it in her bra, they might see it through the tight material. If she stuck it in the pocket of her shorts, they could find it there as well, though they hadn’t attempted to remove her clothes.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Panic made her brain momentarily fuzzy.

She moved back to her spot near the wall, where a small piece of linoleum near the baseboard had lifted. Peeling back the flooring a bit, she tucked the nail underneath it. Then she slid back to her position on the floor and lay down, turning her face toward the wall so they wouldn’t see she was awake. Inch-thick dust and dirt caked the baseboard, and the walls were blotched with stains that looked like coffee but were probably urine.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to use the nail. But she couldn’t. She had to figure out how to get the shackle off and then strike when there was only one of them. No way she’d be able to fight them both.

Their footsteps grew closer, and her heart thundered in her chest. She focused on slowing down her breath for fear they’d hear her when they got inside.

The metal stairs rattled and the trailer shook. Her captors’ argument carried through the paper-thin wood. “How’s that my job?” the woman, Marty, hissed.

During the brief periods when Ivy was conscious and not high on whatever drugs they gave her, she’d hear them fighting more often than not. Sometimes it resulted in Marty getting her face punched by Wayne, her partner.

She’d also heard other sounds from the couple, and in those moments, she prayed the drugs would take her back into their ruthless arms before her captors sensed she was awake and dragged her into their bed. Wayne often tried to persuade Marty to do so. The woman didn’t have a sensitive or compassionate bone in her body, so her resistance was likely out of jealousy.

If Ivy didn’t escape soon, the time would come when she was alone with Wayne. A shudder covered her from head to toe.

The door banged open, and she fought not to jump.

“’Cause Fernando said to keep her healthy lookin’,” Wayne snapped. “Now they’re ready to take her and she looks like shit. Clean her up and feed her. We’ll delay them a couple days.”

Terror spread through Ivy like a flashfire. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she’d be passed off to the highest bidder.

Marty huffed. “The others were gone in a couple days, max.”

Couch springs squealed as Wayne dropped into the seat. Ivy didn’t need eyes in the back of her head. She’d become so accustomed to their sounds that she could sense their movements as easily as seeing them.

A beer hissed open. “I told ya. She ain’t like the others. We’ll get a lot of money for this gig.”

Marty sighed and the couch squeaked again. “Fine.” A second slipped by. “She should be awake by now.”

Wayne grunted. “If she’s dead, you’re joinin’ her. I fuckin’ told ya we couldn’t leave her too long without water.” The flick of a lighter followed by crackling reached her ears. After a minute, sweet-smelling smoke spread through the dense air inside the trailer.

Goosebumps raised Ivy’s flesh. It wasn’t so much the sound or the smell that got her—it was what would follow. The insides of her elbows and forearms burned as if her veins recognized the poison in the air. Anticipated it.

“Check on her,” Wayne commanded.

Marty’s footsteps, much lighter than Wayne’s, padded across the linoleum. A shadow passed over Ivy’s body and she snapped her eyes shut. Her lungs heaved in her chest, screaming at her to breathe, but she forced low, shallow breaths through her nose.

Now that she’d been conscious, she couldn’t handle the idea of another hit of the drug. Couldn’t stand the thought of being knocked out and not knowing what they were doing to her.

Marty crouched and leaned close, bringing her ear near Ivy’s lips. “She fucking stinks. She’s breathin’, though. Pass me the needle.”

Wayne tsked. “Didn’t you hear what I said? She needs water, for fuck’s sake. You blow this job and I swear to Satan, woman—”

Ivy didn’t dare open her eyes to see Marty’s reaction.

Marty muttered something under her breath and shuffled away. A moment later she approached again. A sneaker-covered foot pressed against Ivy’s bare thigh and shook her. “Get up,” Marty growled.

Ivy blinked her eyes open, feigning sleepiness. She rubbed her face and glanced up at her captor. Marty’s black bicycle shorts hugged her thighs, and her sweat-stained yellow tank top accentuated her heavy middle. Her long, dark hair was tied in a bun on her head. Fraying wet strands sprung out around her head. The melted mascara that ringed Marty’s eyes also didn’t do her any favors.

“Drink.” She opened a bottle of water and passed it to Ivy.

Ivy accepted the bottle with a shaking hand, making precious liquid spill from the top. She brought the plastic to her lips and drank. Cold liquid filled the barren cavern of her mouth. The water was fresh and tasted like heaven. Greed overtook her—she tipped back the bottle and chugged. Water ran down her throat and filled her belly, which had been empty for days.

She gasped and paused, praying she wouldn’t upchuck. She closed her eyes and waited but nothing happened. Her body had absorbed the water like a sponge.

“Done?” Marty snarled.

Ivy shook her head and started pounding the rest of the water, but Marty wrenched the plastic from her lips before she got to the last drop. “That’s enough.” She turned to Wayne. “Now get me the shit.”

Alarm spread through Ivy. They were going to drug her. Again. She gasped and shook her head violently.

God, no. Please, no.

Wayne approached with a spoon and familiar black case, the leather so worn it was cracked and white in spots. Tears sprang to her eyes and her tongue burned with the temptation to beg for mercy.

She wouldn’t find that here.

He passed Marty the spoon that held the substance he’d melted moments before then pulled a needle from the bag and handed it to Marty. She popped off the cap and dipped the tip in the miniature pool of cancer.

Terror burrowed deep inside Ivy like a parasite. She couldn’t take any more.

She wouldn’t.

“No!” The scream ripped from her dormant vocal cords. All rationality left her mind. She launched herself away from them.

The metal on her ankle clamped her in place.

Wayne let out a laugh and snagged her calf. She landed on her back and he dragged her closer. “It’s not so bad. You’ll start to like it, I promise.” A glassy sheen coated his eyes—he was already high. “I’ll do it in your foot. Your arms are too beat up.”

“Don’t touch me!” The demand broke on a sob as she kicked and twisted.

Wayne’s laugh turned high-pitched, advertising several missing teeth. His gaze went to her bare thighs, and he licked his lips.

Disgust rippled through Ivy. She pounded her free foot against his shin and thigh—anywhere she could reach.

“Let me go!”

“Here.” Marty handed him the needle.

“Look at ’er fight. This way’s more fun.” He hooked his arm around her knee, holding her in place. When he brought the needle down, she stomped her foot against his arm, nearly knocking the device from his fingers.

He cursed. “Shit! Help me, for fuck’s sake!”

The bottom of Marty’s sneaker came into view then delivered a blow to Ivy’s face. Her head bounced backward and connected with the floor. Bursts of light filled her vision.

The needle plunged into the skin near her ankle. Then the cold trickle of liquid hell touched her veins, freezing her on the spot.

She gasped as the substance traveled up her leg and danced along the inside of her thigh before flooding her system rapidly. Fog hit her brain and her muscles turned weak. She blinked, using all her strength to resist the drug, to hang on to her senses for just a minute longer...

“There you go,” Wayne said cajolingly. His hands were warm and damp on her skin. He caressed her thigh, as if helping the drug move quicker.

Her body floated, and a tingling sensation warmed her from the inside out.

Gigi’s face filled her mind’s eye once again, and she stopped fighting. A smile spread her lips as she was welcomed into her sister’s arms.

Home.

The ground beneath her back turned to quicksand, dragging her down and blotting out her vision.