Chapter 21
Nolan
I roll my eyes in irritation yet still answer the call on a heavy sigh, “ What? ”
Nothing.
Not a word.
Not a cough.
Not even a faint giggle.
“ What? ” escapes in an even more irked tone than before.
Still silence.
Forfuckssake, really ?
Right now?
She wants to play stupid games, where the prize is me suffering from a stress induced stroke because the last shit I need at this very fucking minute is my self-absorbed ex on my goddamn phone distracting me from the literal ticking clock we’re up against?
Fuck that.
And fuck her.
I prepare to hang up the phone when a sudden rustling noise is heard.
An ass dial?
She ass dialed me?
How the fuck is that even possible in this day and age?
You mean to tell me smartphones ain’t smarter than that by now?
Yet again, I move to end the call only to beat to it by an unfortunately loud crunch.
What the fuck was that?
“Ace?” Garcia cautiously calls out from his position across the room. “You want coffee or not? You’re holding up the line.”
“There’s no fuckin’ line.” Our eyes briefly meet. “You’re in my kitchen, asshole, not that piece of shit coffee joint you worship at.”
“ Me , dick breath, ” he lightly laughs. “ I’m the fucking line. ”
Amusement threatens to be seen in my glare.
“Yes or no?”
There isn’t time to answer courtesy of the unhappy huffs attached to Kid who’s attempting to get off the couch beside me. “I can ma-”
“ Don’t even ,” is instantly thrown in his direction over my shoulder.
“ But- ”
“ Don’t argue. ”
Like the moody teen being slightly incapacitated is turning him into, he slams his back against the couch cushion, an action that results in a low, misery-filled moan, “ Ou… ”
“Deserved,” mirthfully leaves me prior to replying to my other best friend. “And yeah. I’ll take a cup.”
More displeased grumbles escape my fiancé prompting Garcia to good naturedly chuckle, “Relax, Woods. It’s just a cup of brew, not a marriage proposal.”
Kid’s frame sulking further into the couch is followed by him calling out, “Two spoonfuls of sugar.”
“For yours or his?”
“ His .” He does his best to adjust himself in his seat. “Just ‘cause I can’t physically make it, doesn’t mean I can’t make sure that it’s done right. ” My cellphone free hand lands lovingly on his thigh. “And no coffee for me.” His fingers lovingly land on top of mine. “Not thirsty.”
“You should still be hydrating,” scolds our houseguest. “Helps the healing process.”
Post mocking him under his breath, Kid investigates the call that just came in. “Who was that?”
“Uh…” Confusion returns to the device I’m still clutching. “Jolene.”
“Our fiancée goes fucking missing, and your ex-girlfriend magically decides to call?” He lets his brows dart down. “That feels sus’.”
“Despite, Goof Trope’s inability over there to complete the word,” Garcia pokes during his crossing over with two mugs, “I’m inclined to agree. How often do you two have contact?”
“More often than I fuckin’ care for.”
He hands me mine after I’ve transferred my phone to the coffee table. “How often does she reach out via call or text?”
“Been awhile…” One shoulder mindlessly bounces. “Not even real sure the last time she did.”
“Hm.” His ass drops down onto the arm of the couch. “What’d she say?”
“She didn’t.”
Garcia’s head slowly tilts in a silent request for more information.
“There was jus’ some crackles and then a crunch.”
“She ass dial you?”
“Maybe?” Gripping the mug tighter occurs at the same time I shake my head. “But that don’t feel right.”
“You think maybe she knows something about Bunny?” Kid’s question has me redirecting my gaze to him. “You think maybe she heard or saw something?”
The set of questions gets similar thoughts stirring in my own mind.
Jolene is a piece of work but an accomplice to shit like kidnapping?
Not so much.
It’d be like a billionaire test driving a KIA.
Highly unlikely.
“Chad,” Kid abruptly tosses out, steering my focus back to him. “ Chad McAllen. ”
“The shitty alias McAdams was using to get information about this town?” Garcia recalls. “Zero burned that shit back with the bounty hunters.”
“Right, but Jolene was his in,” Kid gradually continues, ideas doing their best not to stall, “so what if…maybe…she accidentally became his parents in too? What if she heard about Bunny’s disappearance and thinks she knows something? Or remembers something? Or someone? Or-”
“ Saw someone ,” I thoughtlessly mutter, attention oscillating between the two of them.
“According to English, she had no free rooms at her B&B. And based on the credit card information, Zero pulled, he confirmed that neither the McAdams nor security team were staying there. But they have to be staying somewhere . Post said they’d been in town for a couple of days lookin’ into her son’s disappearance, so where was the somewhere?
Where are they stayin’? Even if they rented an RV or a glamper, they’d still have to park that shit somewhere, and you can’t just park that shit anywhere around town without people talkin’ or noticin’ unless-”
“It’s somewhere people aren’t regularly traveling to!”
“Like Annabelle’s property where Jolene crashes when she doesn’t feel like drivin’ back to Crystal Waters!” The epiphany has me practically shouting at Garcia. “Call up Zero!” Slamming the mug on the table barely precedes me repeating the demand. “ Call him up now! ”
There’s no argument or hesitation from Garcia to do exactly that.
No more than a few swipes later, he’s holding the device out in front of him, all of us waiting for a response. When the first round of calling doesn’t get answered, he tries again.
And again.
And again.
And again, between sips of coffee refusing to be ignored.
Anxiety continues to build until Zero’s soaking wet face finally appears in the frame. “ Am I not allowed to fucking shower?! ”
Garcia lowers his mouth to retort, although words don’t escape so much as a long, low, rumble.
I know that sound.
Fuck, I make that sound.
In fact, I made that sound not too long ago while Kid came all over my face.
“Is this piece of shit frozen again?” Zero grumps, dramatically moving his lissome figure around, gifting us a shot of his towel bearing status.
“ Oh, ” airily leaves my fiancé in such a manner that it snaps the phone holder back into gear. “Um…yeah…okay…”
“Don’t okay.” Placing my palm in front of his eyes, I playfully bite, “ No okay. ”
Light laughs get lost behind possessive puffs out of Garcia, “Maybe don’t flash us your George of the Jungle ?”
The reference is clearly lost on the computer wizard given his furrowed brow.
Which I expect.
He’s sitting at the same after school gen lunch table as Kid.
They’ve gotta be around the same age.
“Pretty close to showing us your gears,” calls out the man trying to push my hand down.
“Huh?”
“Your twig and berries, Skynet,” I loudly clarify.
“You know some bears actually eat both twigs and berries?” Zero counters at the same time he focuses the phone back onto his face.
“Black bears are probably my favorite of the bunch, which for the save file are not always black.” The information drop is attached to him plopping back into what I assume is his computer chair. “What’d you need?”
“ A cold shower ,” mindlessly murmurs Garcia under his breath.
After my hand falls back to Kid’s leg, I ask, “Can you trace a call?”
The blank brown eyed stare I’m given is worrisome.
“You can…” cautiously creeps out, “can’t you?”
“Oh, I thought that dumb shit was a rhetorical question.” He places his phone on a stand that gives us a profile shot of his face and runs both hands through his slightly shaggy, chestnut hair.
“You know considering how I hacked into Pentagon level security to find out who and how your girl was taken.”
“Very fucking snarky for someone who just learned to ride their bike,” Garcia teasingly scolds on another sip of coffee.
“You just learned how to ride a bike?” Kid curiously asks, voice riddled with excitement. “Type?”
“Ducati Superleggera V4.” Zero energetically waggles his eyebrows. “The Lambo of bikes.”
“I appreciate the comparison, although I don’t appreciate that Ducati isn’t directly owned by Lamborghini.”
“That paperwork is messssyyyyy ,” croons the hacker in glee. “You should see their-”
“Can you two pause your fucking playdate for a moment, so you can trace where a call came from?”
Zero smirks, wets his lips, and says to Kid. “TBC.”
My fiancé happily nods. “TBC.”
Between Garcia’s glaring and mine, that shit’s about to stand for “To Be Cockblocked”.
“Number?” is asked alongside clacking of the keys.
Not recalling it by heart leads to me grabbing my phone.
Bringing it back up.
Scooting a bit closer to Kid as I read them out loud.
“Call originated from these coordinates,” he murmurs prior to reading out the address.
“Property owned by Annabelle Steel. Hosts weddings. Parties. A pony convention last year.” A couple more clicks bring up information we can’t even see a glimpse of due to being on a separate screen. “The sex kind, not the actual animal.”
In spite of my curiosity pleading with me to investigate that, I stay in my lane. “Can you get like a current aerial shot or view of the property or like a heat detection map or something?”
“What? You think I can just hack into some private company’s secure system,” mocks Zero during quicker and louder typing, “highjack one or two of their thermal imagining satellites,” things flashing on and off the screen we can somewhat see make it difficult to indicate if shit’s going right or wrong, “reprogram them to read that particular piece of land,” more seemingly frantic clattering, “and tell you there are nine active thermal signatures of a human variety spread out across the main property with several smaller ones surrounding the space – most likely wildlife?” He tosses us an overly cocky grin. “ Idono, my guy . Seems hard.”
Garcia hides his chortle behind a sip of his coffee.
Oh yeah.
These two fuckers are made for each other.
“That much heat – on a typically empty property – means that’s where they’re held up,” I firmly declare.
“That means that’s where our girl is!” Kid prematurely flies to a better sitting position. “Let’s go get her!”
“Calm down, Superboy,” our attorney quickly insists. “We can’t just storm the grounds – the icy grounds by the way – of the property, halfcocked. We need a plan-”
“The plan is rescue her!”
“That’s not a plan,” Garcia corrects. “That’s an objective .”
Irritation shoots from my future husband prompting me to rest my palm on his thigh once more. “ Breathe, Kid. ” The glare I’m given is immediately returned. “ Now. ”
He sucks in a sharp breath, ultimately whimpering through the agony.
“ That ,” I calmly reiterate. “ That is why we need a plan.”
His body gingerly reclines back to its previous position.
“We’re tryin’ to minimize the risks of injuries and potential loss of our lives.”
“I’d like Garcia alive at least until he delivers my snacks,” Zero comments, face in the camera, fingers flying across the keys.
“ Touched ,” my best friend states on a snarky smirk.
“You may wanna get that plan into cheetah speed,” advises the computer lead at the same time he looks into the camera again. “ Fyght or Flyght just finished filing a flight plan for that exact location. ”