Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aubrey
The floor was moving. No. That didn’t seem right. She was moving? Bree opened her eyes, taking in the darkness around her—the ground shaking at the same time. A car? A trunk? They hit a bump, her body thumping up and pain shrieking through her head. Flashes of the evening came back. The gala. The balcony. The man in the shadows. Blood on her hands. Coming in and out of consciousness several times over the last…who knows how many hours. Bree’s breath came out in panicked gasps.
“Get a grip, Bree.” She whispered as she gasped for air. “This. Isn’t. Going. To. Help.” A soft cry worked its way out of her mouth as they hit another bump. Was he doing this on purpose?! She took a deep breath and worked on controlling her breathing. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Over and over again until her mind cleared a little and her focus returned.
Okay, so currently held captive in the back of a car. Not ideal. But almost all cars…all cars?…have a handle inside the trunk. She just needed to get out. Don’t let them take you to a secondary location. That was rule number one if you’re in the process of getting kidnapped. She needed to act and fast. Her hands were tied behind her back, the ropes cutting into her wrists, but maybe she could get them loose. She pulled them apart and tried to wriggle them around, only succeeding in causing a stinging pain in both arms and tears to run down her face. Great. Kidnapped and snotty. And no longer in her gown? Bree”s brain stuttered to a halt. What had happened while she was passed out? How hard had he hit her in the head? Panic fluttered, and Bree stomped it down. She could panic after she got out of this mess.
Bree moved around the trunk backward, letting her hands roam over the interior from behind her back. She just needed to be able to leverage it a little bit…after a few minutes of searching, she fell back on her bottom. This was getting her nowhere. What else could she use? What else could she do? She could kick out the taillight? But would that draw too much attention? Would anyone notice? What was she out if I tried? What was she out if she didn’t?
Bree laid back and aligned her feet with where—she hoped—the right taillight was. She kicked over and over again until there was a satisfying pop, and a breeze came in. Bree looked out of the hole, and a new wave of despair crashed through her. It was dark. Which meant he probably wouldn’t see her, but neither would anyone else.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, and the imaginary cotton started to wrap around her brain. No. No, she wasn’t going out like this. She scooted her body over to the other side of the car and lined her feet up with the other taillight. She kicked as hard as she could once, twice, three times, and cheered internally when the second one came loose. Now if an officer saw it maybe they’d be more inclined to pull them over.
She sat back and considered what to do next. She needed to get out of this car. It was dark, she had no idea where she was, and she had a head injury. Likely a concussion as well. So, she needed to get out and avoid a head injury while doing so. Easy peasy.
If she could find the stupid latch, maybe she could pull it and…then what? Tuck and roll? That sounded like a surefire way to avoid a head injury. She internally rolled her eyes. She definitely needed a better plan than that. If she could get her hands untied—or at least in front of her—maybe she could find a weapon to wield whenever her captor opens the trunk. She tried to remember his face but nothing came to mind other than the nagging feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before.
She could find the latch and then wait for the car to stop and use her body weight as momentum…but he’d have to be leaning over the back of the trunk…it was worth a shot, at least. She couldn’t jump out of a moving vehicle. But what about at a stop sign or stop light? There was some chance of her getting run over by another car, which would be a definite setback. Ugh. Why couldn’t there be one right answer? A clear path forward. This felt like choosing a favorite book boyfriend…but with a lot higher risk. Obviously. A manic laugh rose in her throat, which she quickly quieted. Her thoughts were running wild ninety miles an hour and entirely unhelpful.
She didn’t need to draw attention to herself. How long had they been traveling? How much further did they have to go? Did she have anything valuable or identifiable that she could actually reach and drop out of the back of the car like a modern-day Hansel and Gretel? Bree felt around again and sighed loudly. It was empty.
A spark of hope flared in her chest. Surely Noah and the others knew she was missing by now, and they’d…what? Her phone wasn’t there because she had left it in her purse at the Gala. There was no indication of who took her—heck she didn’t even know who took her and she was in his car. The hopeful feeling sank just as quickly as it had risen. Noah would find her. And no matter what, she wouldn’t be a damsel in distress. Despite the fact she was, in fact, both a damsel and in distress. Eh, semantics.
Bree shook her head clear of the nonsense and the room spun a little. Ugh. Definitely concussed. The night slowly turned to day and they hadn’t stopped yet. As the blue light of dawn filled the trunk, hopelessness overwhelming her for the first time.
***
If it was morning, they were at least twelve hours away from home. He must have stopped at some point…or several points…while she was unconscious. As the sun fully rose into the sky, they came into a town and pulled into the gas station. Bree laid down and feigned sleep, listening to see what her captor would do. His door opened and shut, and he muffled a curse by the trunk. Guess he didn’t appreciate the remodel of his tail lights.
The trunk opened just enough for him to get to her and he shook her hard. “Aubrey. Get up.”
Bree opened her eyes and got her first good look at her captor, his face coming into sharp relief. The scar dissecting his right brow looked painful, and she vividly remembered having the same thought before. “The valet? From the lodge?” She asked, genuinely confused.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am.” He snarled. “You’re finally free of that maniac. Now you can go back to creating music. You’re free.”
Free of the…Oh, Noah. Years of watching Criminal Minds and other crime TV sank in and she quickly decided that playing along was the best option in this scenario—hopefully those shows didn’t fabricate all of their information. This would be an awful time to find out.
“I’m so glad you rescued me.” She said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. Bree used her minimal acting skills to make doe eyes at him At least, she hoped that’s what her eyes were doing. Her face kind of had a mind of its own sometimes, and now wasn’t a good time for that trait to come out.
The valet looked at her suspiciously. “You were happy at his house. Even though he wasn’t letting you make your music or talk to your fans. He locked you away.” He argued. “But it doesn’t matter because I have you now. Though clearly, you don’t know how to respect other peoples’ property.” He glared at her before looking pointedly at the taillights.
“Your parents should’ve taught you better, but no matter. You’ll be riding in the front seat after this. Now, listen closely. We’re going to go in and use the restrooms. If you talk to anyone, if you make a move that would indicate you’re here against your will, I will kill Noah Hawthorne. And Eli. And Peter. And Zach. And Theo. Are we clear?”
Bree gulped and nodded. “Yes.” She managed to get out. He reached around her, the smell of body odor and smoke filling the trunk. He was inches away, and her heart rate picked up as he drew a knife out of his pocket.
He looked at her frightened eyes and held up his hands—one of them still holding the knife—in a placating manner. “No, pet. I won’t hurt you. I want you to be free. With me.” He cut the ropes off her wrists and helped her out of the trunk like the gentleman he thought he was.
“Thanks,” Bree whispered quietly, hoping to appease him.
“I wouldn’t have left you trapped there with him, Aubrey. Your creative spirit would be snuffed out.”
She meant thanks for cutting the ropes, but that worked, too. She walked docilely with him into the store, forcing a smile at the clerk and looking at every security camera in the place. Please actually work. Please actually work. She chanted in her head. At least then maybe Theo could find her. If he knew where to look. But she’d seen enough episodes of The First 48 to know that security cameras were often grainy at best and just as often for show rather than function.
Bree walked into the women’s restroom and took her time, hoping someone would walk in. Just when she was beginning to give up hope, the female clerk walked in. Bree took a deep breath while reading her name tag and prayed this would work. “Hi Ashley, my name is Aubrey Gray,” Bree said to her in a quiet voice while she washed her hands. “I’ve been kidnapped and need help.”
The girl turned to Bree, her eyes wide. “Are you serious? What can I do?”
“Do you have a phone on you?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I use it quickly?”
She nodded and pulled out the phone, handing it to her.
“Where am I?” Bree asked her.
“Close to Lupton, Arizona.” She said just as quietly.
Bree dialed Noah’s number—a number she was now thankful she knew by heart—and waited impatiently as it rang one, two, three times. Please pick up.
“Hello?” Noah’s voice asked, his warm timbre filled with worry and suspicion. He sounded tired, too.
“Noah?” Bree whispered back, tears filling her eyes.
“Bree!” He half shouted. “Where are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m at a gas station near Lupton, Arizona. I’m using an employee’s phone, but I’m out of time. Noah, it’s the valet from the lodge where we did the collaboration shoot. He has a newer white car—I kicked out the taillights, but I’m not sure if he’ll get them fixed.”
“You need to stay there, Bree. Don’t get back in the car with him—”
“I have to Noah. He’s armed. What if he takes this out on someone else?”
“Bree—”
“I also think he was using a different name. He told me that I ‘know who he really is, so I think he gave a false name to the lodge.”
“That’s great, baby. You’re doing a great job.”
“He’s putting me in the front seat from now on, Noah. I’m wearing jeans and a dark green sweater with my hair pulled back.” Bree felt nauseous, knowing the valet must have changed her out of her gown while she was unconscious.
The sound of a fist pounding on the door interrupted them. Bree looked up, terror in her eyes.
“I have to go, Noah. I…I love you.” She whispered. Hanging up before he could reply. Bree looked at the girl and handed her the phone. “Get in the big stall, quickly. And sound like you’re violently ill.”
Ashley went into the stall and began making retching noises. Bree wished she had time to throw up herself. Her skin felt like bugs were crawling all over it, disgusted at the fact this unknown man had stripped her down and changed her clothes. Noah would find her. She just had to hold on until then.
Bree opened the door and curled her nose in disgust. “Sorry, it took so long.” She said, using a smooth tone. “One of their stalls was out, and well—you heard the other.” She grimaced.
He looked at her with suspicion before taking her hand and walking out of the store. They walked to the car and he opened the passenger side door for her. She slipped in and buckled up, looking for the cameras around the station hoping that Theo was watching her right now.
He walked over to the gas pump and seemed to be fiddling around with it. Maybe getting a receipt? Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t working. His movements became gradually more agitated and he kicked the pump before walking back to Bree’s door and jerking it open.
“Don’t. Move. It’s not just your life on the line.” He said pointedly, slamming the door and stalking back into the gas station. She watched him go and found herself praying that Noah and the guys would be able to intervene and get back in time.
A few minutes later, he walked back out of the gas station, paper receipt in hand, and got into the car. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. She casually looked over and frowned as she noticed small cuts along his forearm that hadn’t been there earlier. At least, she didn’t think they had been there earlier. Bree looked forlornly back at the gas station, hoping that Theo had the chance to find her on one of the cameras before they pulled out and disappeared once again.