Chapter 19 Captivity #2
Knowing that was impossible, he hung his head to rest, wondering if he would die like this, alone in a strange place, where no one would know what happened to him.
Natalie's face popped into his mind, and he desperately hoped she was safe with Cade and Annabeth, free from these monsters. That was the most important thing.
But even if Natalie was out of danger, she must be distraught and traumatized. Tristan should be the one comforting her after this ordeal, holding her and assuring her everything was okay. They had no family but each other.
If he couldn't escape this situation, she would be all alone.
Tristan choked back a sob as despair swamped him. He wanted more than anything to go home, to hug Natalie, to be there for her and watch her grow up.
And then there was Cade. What was he doing and feeling? Was he upset over Tristan's disappearance? Tristan wanted to believe he was, had to believe it. The two of them needed to talk, to figure out their future, if they had one.
If he survived.
He absolutely had to get out of this, to go home and hug Natalie, to hug Cade, to be with those he loved.
Desperation crashed over him, and Tristan was suddenly frantic to escape. He needed a plan, and willed his brain to cooperate, to think logically.
If he could reach the car, the GPS would lead him home, but with his hands and legs tied and no phone, it seemed impossible to break free of the ropes, disable his captor and find the keys.
Craning his head to scan the workbench behind him, he spotted pruning shears and a box cutter among the tools.
Maneuvering to see if he could somehow stand or shift the chair, he found his legs too tightly bound to move much.
He might be able to scoot the chair slowly to the workbench, but the heavy wood was sure to scratch the floor loudly enough to be heard.
Maybe he could try when his captor was asleep.
Tristan floundered for other options, but finding none, decided he'd wait till the house was quiet, then implement that plan, flimsy as it was.
As he sat there, exhausted and aching, his thoughts wandered to Natalie yet again. He tried to remember her face the last time he saw her, when she said she was going to a friend's and he hadn't paid much attention, figuring he'd see her again in a few hours.
God, what he wouldn't give to go back to that moment, to tell her to stay home, to bribe her with pizza or her favorite movie, anything to prevent her from leaving, from triggering this series of horrific events.
A slamming door interrupted his thoughts, and then an unfamiliar voice from the house reached him.
"What's up, boss?"
Tristan latched onto the word 'boss' and wondered how high up Pearface was in the organization. Could he even be the Handler Annabeth and Cade were looking for?
"I found the red-headed reporter at the Gamma location. He was waiting in the car while a team went in to get his sister. I can't reach anyone there. I think they took the gems, maybe killed our guys."
"Fuck, that's bad."
"He says they got all our houses. No one is picking up at any of them."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What do you want to do?"
"Send out scouts to each location. I want visual confirmation within the hour."
"I'm on it."
For a while after that, only the sounds of footsteps came from the house. Tristan didn't know how much time had passed, but he guessed maybe an hour.
In the silence, Tristan let his head hang to his chest and thought of Cade, wondering what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he'd thought about the possibility of them being together.
It gutted Tristan to think he might survive this only to have his heart broken, but he forced himself to set that aside, to have faith.
Instead, he listened to sounds from the house, and eventually the second voice said, "It's confirmed. The gems are gone from all ten houses, there's no sign of our guys, and the sites have been scrubbed."
Tristan heard Pearface curse, "Son of a bitch."
"Now what?"
Tristan strained his ears, listening for the rest. After several beats, he heard Pearface tell the other guy, "The bidders won't lose any money if we call the auction off now, but the real problem is the other clients who already paid for product we can't deliver."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know yet. We have access to some of the client info and bank accounts, but our complete financial records are on the Broker's laptop. For now, send out a mass communication that the auction is canceled, and we're shutting the whole operation down."
"Understood."
"Now," Pearface said menacingly, "That reporter is gonna tell us where that laptop is."
Tristan's heart stuttered and galloped as it occurred to him that they might kill him if he didn't give up that info. But how could he put Cade and Annabeth in danger, and as a result, Natalie? It was out of the question.
But dying was not exactly an appealing alternative.
As he furiously clicked through plausible lies in his head, Pearface reentered the garage, his expression hard and angry. Fear zipped up Tristan's spine as he watched the man resume his place in the chair, weapon already pointed.
"Where's the laptop?"
"I don't have it," Tristan hedged.
"Don't fuck with me," Pearface snarled, lifting his gun arm. "Tell me who has it, or your brains are gonna paint these walls."
Gulping, Tristan stuttered a story he hoped could buy him some time. "My friend... John," he supplied, choosing the most generic name he could think of.
"What's his last name? Where does he live?"
"I... I don't know. He works at a computer store. I heard he's a hacker, so I... took it to him."
"Where's the store?"
"Downtown."
"Name and address."
"I don't know exactly... "
"Do not fuck with me kid," Pearface threatened, cocking the gun.
The sound made Tristan's stomach twist. Grasping for something believable, he lied through his teeth, "It's on 20th or maybe 21st Street?
I can't remember. The name is... something like 'The Tech Store' or 'The Tech Shop.
' It just opened up," he thought to add at the last minute, hoping that might explain why an internet search for the place would turn up empty.
Pearface decocked his gun and stood without any other words. When he left the garage, the air whooshed out of Tristan's lungs. He bought some time to escape or for someone to find him.
But he wasn't stupid; his time was just about up, because when they discovered his lie, he was dead.
It was quiet for a time, and Tristan tried to rest his eyes, to save up some energy to try to escape.
Neck twinging from hanging his head at an awkward angle, and shoulders aching from having his arms tied tightly behind him, he had never wanted to lie down so badly in his life and would have been happy to curl up on this concrete floor if he could only rest his head.
It must be the middle of the night, he guessed, maybe closer to morning, because he was getting hungry despite the lingering nausea.
Though he couldn't see the two men or hear them talk, their heavy footsteps meant they weren't asleep, so he couldn't implement his plan.
Tristan perked up when he heard the second voice call out, "We've got a problem. Several, in fact."
"Jesus, what?" Pearface asked.
"There's chatter saying the Gem Collector put out a contract on you."
"Fuck. He was bidding on the rough ruby, upping his offer as soon as a rival bid came in. He must have really wanted it."
Tristan swallowed hard. They were talking about Natalie.
"I don't get it. Why can't he just find another ruby? It's not like he lost any money."
"I don't know. Word is he's fucking bat-shit crazy, eccentric and unpredictable and shit. Who knows how his mind works?"
Closing his eyes, Tristan sent up a prayer of thanks that this monster didn't actually get his hands on his sister. Hopefully, she had been in that house, and Cade had taken her to safety. He had to believe that.
"Okay, what else?"
"Well, messages are streaming in from clients who contracted for gems we don't have anymore. Since they can't get delivery of the product they purchased, they want their money back now. Some are threatening hits on you if they don't get it."
"Tell them to fucking get in line. What kind of refunds are we talking?"
"Here. These are just the ones we know about so far."
Several beats passed without any sound, then Pearface cursed, "Son of a bitch. We don't have that kind of money in the accounts I have access to. I need that fucking laptop."
Heart hammering, pulse thundering in his ears, Tristan felt dread rising, drowning him. When they found out he lied about the laptop, they would surely kill him.
"What do we do?"
"I dunno. Let me think."
Tristan waited anxiously for more discussion from the house, but as time ticked by with no voices, he got more and more agitated. He spent time trying to come up with any alternative to his current plan, but short of the impossibility of disabling his captors, no ideas came to him.
Finally, he heard Pearface tell the other man, "We're leaving the country. I'll arrange a plane. I've got access to enough money to tide us over until we can get set up somewhere else."
Tristan's jaw clenched, knowing these guys were going to go somewhere else and victimize more innocent girls.
He wished his arms and legs were free so he could punch these monsters, beat and kick them bloody, maybe even shoot them.
They needed to be wiped from the face of the earth before they hurt anyone else.
"What about the laptop?"
"With the hit on me, I want to get out as soon as possible. We don't have time to look for it now. After we get settled, I'll have someone search for it."
"What about the reporter?"
"We'll dump his body in the river on the way to the airport. By the time anyone finds it, we'll be long gone."
"Okay, boss. Whatever you say."
Tristan's blood chilled as the words "dump his body" rang in his ears, and he stifled a sob. He was too young to die. He'd been about to get Natalie back, and he'd just found Cade. It wasn't fair for his life to be over now, and he wasn't going to give up without a fight.
Driven to act on his half-baked plan, Tristan started to move his chair toward the workbench. He didn’t know how he'd reach any tools with his hands tied, but he had to try.
Gently scooting his chair a few inches toward the workbench, he was relieved that the only sound was a quiet scratch against the concrete.
With no reaction from the men in the house, he shuffled the chair again, then waited but heard nothing.
Emboldened, he moved closer to the workbench, little by little, proud of himself until he pushed too hard, losing his balance.
The chair toppled over backwards, and Tristan crashed to the floor. Quick reflexes allowed him to lift his head enough to avoid banging it too hard on the concrete, but the blow was enough to momentarily stun him.
He didn't have long to process his mistake, because the noise brought Pearface to the garage, and Tristan reeled, crushed by disappointment. The man's lips parted in surprise, but then he smirked.
"Guess whatever you were doing didn't quite work out for you, did it?"
Though he felt like vomiting, crying, raging, Tristan clamped his mouth shut and cast a murderous, defiant glare at his captor.
"Hey, come here and help me," Pearface called to the house.
The second man came in, and Tristan finally put a face to the voice. Tall and lanky with dark hair and thick black glasses.
"Help me move him so he can't reach anything.
As they worked together to right his chair, Glasses asked, "Should we just kill him now?"
"Yeah, probably. Fucking redheads. Seems like they always cause trouble, but they are popular with the clients."
When Glasses said, "I'll get my gun," Tristan's breath caught, and panic crushed his lungs.
He was going to die. Right here and now.
Tristan hunted wildly for any ideas to stay his execution, but static screeching in his ears and the relentless chants of 'I'm going to die' devoured all rational thought.
"Wait a minute," Pearface said suddenly.
Tristan's eyes snapped to the puffy face, praying for a reprieve, but did not expect the sneer and the sharp, cruel laugh.
"Forget the gun. I have a better idea."
"What?" Glasses asked, apparently as confused as Tristan.
"You'll see," Pearface answered, grinning evilly.
Before Tristan could process what was happening, the man took out his phone and pointed it at Tristan.
"Smile for the camera."