Chapter 14
Consciousness returned slowly. Genevieve felt like she was swimming up from the bottom of a deep, dark pool. Her head was heavy, and her thoughts sluggish. She had a metallic taste in her mouth, and it was an effort to move.
She wondered where she was. Through her foggy mind, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. She was sitting in a leather chair with her hands resting loosely in her lap. There were no restraints, although her body felt so heavy she wasn't sure she could stand.
The room came into focus gradually. It was a recording studio with professional equipment. She noticed a mixing board with dozens of sliders and knobs. The walls were lined with foam soundproofing that gave off a faint chemical smell, like new carpet mixed with industrial adhesive.
There was a vocal booth with thick glass windows. This wasn't a studio she recognized, but it was high end, the kind of setup that cost serious money.
Then she remembered the club and a man in black clothing. She put her hand on her neck, recalling the stab of a needle. Weak and helpless, she hadn't been able to resist when the man threw her over his shoulder.
That was all she remembered, but the abductor worked for Jason. She was sure of that. And Abe would try to rescue her, if he could find her. He had to find her.
But first, Genevieve must survive whatever Jason had in store for her.
She forced herself to take slow, steady breaths, fighting against the lingering effects of whatever drug they'd used. She couldn't afford the luxury of waiting for her head to clear completely. Every second counted.
She gripped the arms of the chair and pushed herself up on wobbly legs. The room spun for a moment, then it stilled. It seemed that she was getting stronger minute by minute.
Something on the wall gave her pause. There were dozens of photographs, carefully mounted and arranged like a twisted art gallery. There were photos of her leaving her condo, and more of her with Brooke.
There were even photos of her taken through her condo windows. In one picture, Genevieve was sitting on her couch. In another, she was sleeping.
She couldn't handle looking at more. Clearly, keeping the building secure wasn't effective. Her upstairs condo had two windows, and it hadn't occurred to her that it wasn't safe to leave the blinds open.
Genevieve tried to regain her composure, while she scanned the space to look for anything useful. There was a small glass ashtray on the mixing board. And mounted on the wall near the door was a red fire extinguisher.
Numerous electrical cords were visible and would be easy to trip over. She needed to be careful. Briefly, she considered strangling Jason with a cord. Tempting as that idea was, she abandoned it, knowing it was doomed to failure.
Patting her back pocket, she didn't find her phone. Of course, that would have been confiscated by her captors.
The vocal booth might be useful. It had thick walls and a door to block out external noise. It was a potential hiding spot if she needed one. Although she would quickly be discovered.
She noticed something about the studio layout. It was a corner unit, with windows high on two walls. They were several floors above street level.
Before she could walk to the window to consider rescue possibilities, a noise distracted her.
Genevieve listened closer, her heart pounding. The scrape of a key card being used in a lock was followed by the sound of a door handle.
She moved swiftly toward the solid glass ashtray. It was roughly the size of her palm. She slipped the potential weapon into her jacket pocket. It would have to do.
Genevieve quickly moved away from the mixing board, positioning herself near the center of the room where she could get to either the fire extinguisher or the vocal booth if needed.
She attempted to look confused and helpless. If she could show Jason what he expected, then she could buy time and stay alive.
*****
The door opened with a soft electronic beep, and Jason stepped into the studio like he owned the world. He was immaculately dressed in an expensive suit, his dark hair perfectly styled. His blue eyes were bright with manic energy. He looked like a successful record executive, not a kidnapper.
"Finally," he said, his voice filled with what sounded like genuine relief. "We can talk without interruptions…without that cop poisoning your mind against me."
Genevieve kept silent, watching him carefully. His movements were slow and precise, as though it took effort to contain his emotions.
Jason waited for the door to close, then he moved into the room. His gaze didn't leave her face. "You have no idea how hard it's been, watching you throw away everything that we could build together."
He moved past the photos on the wall, a reminder of how thoroughly he'd invaded her life.
"Jason," she said, keeping her voice level, "what is this place?"
His face lit up with pleasure, as if she'd asked exactly the right question.
"This is our new beginning, Genevieve. A real recording studio, just for us.
State-of-the-art equipment, soundproof rooms—everything an artist could dream of.
" He gestured around the studio with obvious pride.
"I had it built specifically with you in mind.
The acoustics are ideal for your voice. The mixing capabilities are industry leading.
I can make you a star here, the blues legend you're meant to be. "
"By kidnapping me?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Jason's expression darkened for just a moment, then smoothed back into that unnerving calm. "I rescued you from mediocrity, from that cop who doesn't understand what you're capable of. I saved you from an industry that was never going to give you what you deserve."
He began pacing around her in a slow circle, gesturing expressively as he spoke.
"From the moment you walked into my studio all those years ago, I knew you were unique.
I saw your potential when no one else did.
Every opportunity I gave you and every door I opened was an expression of pure, professional love. "
The concept made her skin crawl.
"And you repaid me with betrayal," Jason said in a wounded tone. "You left my band just when we were building something incredible together. You married that loser instead of recognizing what we had."
Genevieve could see the perverted logic in his mind, the way he'd rewritten their entire history to cast himself as the wronged romantic lead. "Jason, we never had anything romantic. I worked for you. That's all."
"That's all ?" His voice rose slightly, and she saw a flash of rage that lurked beneath the surface. "I gave you your career! I saw your talent when you were nobody, singing in dive bars for pocket change. I elevated you, refined you, and made you into something worthwhile."
He stopped pacing and faced her directly, eyes blazing with conviction.
"Look around you. This is what I've built for you, and for us .
The Barraco family backed the deals I've made and supported the successful elimination of competitors.
Every single move was calculated to bring us to this moment. "
A knot formed in Genevieve's stomach. She remembered what Abe had told her about organized crime connections. Jason wasn't just unstable. He was backed by killers.
"You forced me to do this," he said, his tone shifting. "You ran away, brought that cop into our business, and attempted to turn the industry against me. Did you think I'd just disappear, and let that nobody steal what's mine?"
The possessive undertone in his voice made her step back. Jason noticed the movement and smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression.
"You're afraid of me," he said with satisfaction. "Good. You should be."
He paced in front of her, taking his time.
"Do you know what I've done to people who tried to interfere with my plans?
The jazz musician in Lafayette who spoke out against my business practices is currently serving five years on drug charges.
The singer in Baton Rouge refused to sign with my label, and her career is over, permanently . "
Genevieve's mouth went dry. "You destroyed their lives."
"I protected what's mine," Jason said. "Just like I'm protecting you now. I'm keeping you from making bad decisions and getting rid of people who don't understand your value. I'm saving you from a world that would use you up and throw you away."
He stepped closer, and she smelled his expensive cologne. Nausea hit her. When she looked into his eyes, Genevieve witnessed his madness with shocking vividness.
"Say it," Jason said, his voice dropping to an intense whisper. "Say you understand now."
*****
Abe stood in the NOPD conference room, staring at the whiteboard where the FBI had mapped out the Barraco family's known properties. Every minute that passed was another minute Genevieve was in the hands of killers, and the thought was driving him to the edge of sanity.
"We ran the plate number you got at the scene. The company that owns that getaway van lists this warehouse district building as their address," Agent Crundall said, pointing to an address on the map. "But it's registered to a shell company. It could be a decoy."
"No," Abe said. "It fits Jason's psychological profile. He'd want somewhere that represents his power. It's a recording studio in a building he thinks he owns."
Images flashed through his mind. He remembered Genevieve's terrified scream as she was carried away. Fury simmered when he recalled the cold calculation in Jason's eyes during their recent confrontation.
"Genevieve is alive," he said. "She must be alive. Jason wants her compliant, not dead ."
But the alternative scenarios were alarming. What Jason might do to break her spirit, to force her into his delusion of love, was unthinkable. And when triggered, the psycho would resort to violence.