Chapter 14 #2
Agent Crundall looked up from her phone. "My team can be there in under an hour."
"An hour?" Abe's voice cracked with strain. "We don't have that kind of time. If they realize we've tracked them, they'll move her or…" He couldn't finish the sentence.
Officer Denson looked at him. "Abe, we'll get her back."
"Damn right. I'm not letting this asshole destroy Genevieve," Abe said.
He'd just found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
He loved her with all his heart and refused to lose her.
"We're going now," he said, grabbing his jacket.
"Officer Denson, you're with me. Where are your officers? "
"They headed home, once our duty at the club was over."
"You can call them in the car," Abe said. "Tell them to turn around pronto, and to meet us at the address as fast as possible."
"Detective Stewart," Agent Crundall called out, "this is a federal operation now. You need to wait for—"
"That woman is going to die if we wait," Abe said, his voice deadly calm. "I've been a cop for enough years to know when someone's life is measured in minutes, not hours." Without turning back, he added, "Run prints on that gun I confiscated. You should be able to ID one of the perps."
For the second time tonight he checked his weapon, his radio, and his backup magazine. There would be no more chances.
"Besides," he said, heading for the door, "Jason wants me . I'm the one who stole what he thinks belongs to him. If I show up, it might buy her time."
The drive through the streets of New Orleans was a blur of sirens and flashing lights. Abe pushed his patrol car hard, taking corners at speeds that would have been reckless under any other circumstances.
Officer Denson rode shotgun. After calling his officers for backup, he coordinated with the federal agents over the radio. "They're forty minutes out," he said.
"We can't wait," Abe said. "By the time they set up a perimeter and plan their approach, it could be too late."
The building came into view, a converted warehouse in the industrial district. Most of the windows were dark, but Abe could see lights on the third floor.
"Hold on, Genevieve. I'm coming for you."
*****
"Tell me that you see what I've done for you, and what I'm willing to give you. No one will ever love your talent the way I do." Jason waited for her reply.
Genevieve stared at him, seeing the desperate need for her validation of his superiority. This was her chance to defuse the situation, to play along until help arrived.
But the words wouldn't come. She couldn't bring herself to play along with his insanity. She wasn't about to pretend that kidnapping and terrorizing her was love.
"I can't do that, Jason," she said.
His face changed, the mask of control again slipping to reveal something ugly underneath. "Can't…or won't?"
"This isn't love," she said, backing toward the vocal booth. "Love doesn't involve threats and violence and destroying people's lives. What you're describing is obsession."
"Obsession?" Jason's voice was shrill. "I'm the victim here!
I gave you everything, and you threw it away, and for what?
A divorced cop with a government salary?
A man who can't offer you a fraction of what I can?
" He was moving toward her now. "I built an empire for you, and you call it obsession ?
I eliminated your competition, cleared your path to success, and you call it violence ? "
"You sabotaged my career!" Genevieve said, anger flaring. "You destroyed my opportunities, terrified my sister, had me stalked and harassed. That's not love—that's not even human decency."
"I was teaching you!" Jason screamed, all pretense of calm abandoned.
"Teaching you what happens when you make the wrong choices, when you ignore what's best for you!
" As he ranted, his perfectly styled hair fell across his forehead.
"I am offering you the world, and you're too stupid to see it.
Too blinded by some misguided sense of independence to recognize when someone is trying to save you from yourself. "
Genevieve reached for the ashtray in her pocket, just as Jason closed the distance between them.
"You want independence?" he snarled. "I'll show you what independence gets you in this industry."
Before she could react, he grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall. The impact on her back drove the breath from her lungs. Her head banged hard, and stars exploded across her vision.
"You think that cop loves you?" Jason's face was inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin.
"He doesn't know you like I do. He doesn't understand your art…
your passion…your potential. He sees you as some victim to protect, not the goddess you could become.
" His grip on her shoulders was bruising.
"But I see you for what you really are. What you could be with the right guidance, the right support, and the right man. "
One of his hands moved from her shoulder to her face, his thumb tracing her cheek in a grotesque parody of tenderness.
"I've waited so long for this moment, Genevieve.
So long to have you where you belong. I've been patient.
" His eyes looked glazed over. "You'll finally know me… as a man… your man. "
"Jason, please," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You don't want to do this."
"Don't I?" His eyes were wild now, completely disconnected from reality.
"I've dreamed about this, planned for it, worked toward it for years.
" His face was so close, she smelled his repulsive breath.
"You're going to learn to love me the way I love you.
We're going to make music together, beautiful music, and you're going to thank me for rescuing you from that pathetic excuse for a life you were living. "
He moved his other hand to her waist, pulling her body against his, and Genevieve knew with crystal clarity that talking had ended.
She drove her knee up hard between his legs with every ounce of strength she possessed. Jason doubled over with an agonized grunt, and his grip loosened enough for her to break free.
Genevieve pulled the glass ashtray from her pocket and thrust it against Jason's temple as he tried to straighten up. The impact sent him staggering sideways, drops of blood trickling down his face.
"You ungrateful bitch!" He had one hand pressed to his head, and the other clutched between his legs. "You don't know what you've done!"
But Genevieve was already moving. She lunged for the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall and yanked it free from its bracket.
Jason was recovering faster than she'd hoped and had turned toward her with murder in his eyes.
She pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle directly at his face, while squeezing the handle.
Chemical foam erupted in a dense white cloud, catching Jason full in the face and chest, then dripping down his clothes.
He screamed like a wounded animal and clawed at his eyes. She hoped they burned like hell.
Genevieve didn't wait to see how long the distraction would last. With her heart hammering in her chest, she dropped the extinguisher and ran toward the door. She heard Jason's enraged moans, relieved that he was temporarily incapacitated.
The hallway outside was empty, with an elevator at one end and a stairwell door at the other. She ran for the elevator first, stabbing the call button repeatedly, but nothing happened. The display showed it was locked, requiring a key card she didn't have.
Behind her, she could hear Jason crashing around in the studio, his voice raised in incoherent babble. She had only temporarily blinded him. He'd be coming after her within seconds.
The stairs were her only option.
Genevieve sprinted toward the heavy fire door, her hands shaking as she reached for the handle. When she yanked it open, an alarm began blaring, the sound echoing through the empty building.