Chapter Thirty
Noah
“I’ve got her!” Theo yelled triumphantly from the dining room table. Noah walked over to where Theo was sitting and watched the live video feed. The perp was standing at the pump, and Bree was sitting in the car looking at each of the video cameras.
“She’s making sure she’s caught on film,” Noah muttered, watching her turn her face fully to each one.
“Smart girl.” Zach complimented.
“I’ve got police en route,” Eli said from across the room, holding his cell phone to his ear.
“Will they get there in time?” Noah asked.
“No.” Theo said. We watched as the man went back into the store, returned with the receipt, and pulled away.
“Have them put out a BOLO.” Zach instructed Eli. “White sedan. Early twenties. Not sure of the make or model. License plate ending in 2R7Y. Two people. 30-year-old woman with brown curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. Jeans, dark green sweater, sneakers. Male, mid-30s, sandy brown hair, green eyes, scar on right eyebrow, wearing dark pants and a light polo.”
“On it,” Eli said.
“Who is he, Theo?” Noah asked, suddenly feeling that time was not on their side.
“I’m looking—” Theo entered in the new parameters against the other searches they’d done. “Here! Skyler Johnson. 32. Lives outside of Phoenix, Arizona. We have his current address.”
Noah walked over and looked at the picture. He slammed his hand on the table. “That’s him. That’s the valet.”
“Is he taking her to Phoenix?” Zach asked.
Theo pulled up a map. “It does look like they’re headed that way. The station they stopped at was just off I-10.”
“Would he really take her to his house?”
“One way to find out. Either way, we’d be closer to her last known location in Phoenix than we are here. Theo, call Dominic Bianchii—call in that favor we’re owed. We need a plane to Phoenix. Grab your go bags. We’re leaving in ten.”
“We should really get a personal jet,” Theo mumbled, bringing the phone up to his ear and placing the call.
The voices around Noah faded as he walked down the hall to get his go bag from the closet. On the way back, he stopped in the doorway of the studio. It was almost as though Bree was there. The smell of paint, the piece she was working on still on the easel, a paintbrush tossed casually on the table next to it. Clean, but positioned as though it had just casually been tossed down. Her speaker still in the corner where she liked it.
“The plane will be waiting for us,” Theo said from behind him. Noah nodded. Theo put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re gonna find her. Or she might find us. She’s a smart woman. She’ll either find a way to escape or to keep herself safe. She knows you’re coming for her, Noah. So let’s go get her.”
Noah walked out of the room, leaving everything precisely how Bree had left it. Theo was right. Bree was smart and Noah wouldn’t rest until he found her. He didn’t know what Skyler’s problem was, but he did know that Skyler Johnson messed with the wrong woman and it might be the last thing he ever did.
***
Aubrey
If she had to listen to herself sing one more song she’d throw herself out of the moving car after all and save this man the trouble. Concussed or not. Bree grumbled internally as they listened to her last album on repeat for the third time.
The man, who still wouldn’t tell her his name because he insisted that she knew it and was just being difficult, looked over at her with a frown on his face. “Why aren’t you singing, Aubrey? You love to sing.”
“Being kidnapped doesn’t really put you in the mood for a sing-a-long.” Bree said, irritation overriding her fear—and apparently her good sense.
He looked honestly affronted and alternated his attention between Bree and the interstate. “I didn’t kidnap you, Aubrey. I rescued you. You know, you could be more grateful.” He spat, returning his attention to the wheel.
The irritation was about to take over, but she took a deep breath. Her snarkiness was going to get her killed. This man wasn’t Noah. He wasn’t going to find it oddly endearing. Noah’s voice flashed through her mind and she found herself grateful she was able to talk to him—to tell him that she loved him while she had the chance. Even if she didn’t make it out of this mess. Even if he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. He deserved to know.
“You’re right—I’m sorry. The concussion makes me feel a little weird.” She admitted placatingly.
“Concussion?!?”
“From when you hit me on the head with the rock.” She reminded him in a tone that was far more polite than she thought it should have been, considering he was the one who inflicted the concussion. But a girl has to live, right?
“I didn’t think I hit you hard enough for that…might need a doctor…medical attention…no…that would draw too many questions…” He muttered under his breath.
“I…I don’t need a doctor.” Bree said quickly, not wanting him to spiral and decide she suddenly needed to be freed in a more permanent sense of the word. “There’s nothing they can do for concussions anyway—just rest and avoid re-injuring it,” She reassured him.
“How do you know?” He asked suspiciously.
She shrugged and decided there was no harm in telling him the truth. “I’ve had one before.”
He nodded and gripped the wheel tighter. “We’re almost home. You’ll be able to rest for a couple of days, and then we can get you back in front of your fans. Your socials will be active again. I can help you manage it, of course, and help keep the creeps and stalkers away.”
She didn’t miss the irony there. “That would be great. What do you think we should do first?”
“We’ll need to produce a counter statement to that farce of a last video you made. The one that said you were done with the label and industry. Hah.”
“But I did part ways with the label when I retired, and even if I didn’t, my recording studio is back in Trenton.”
“I built one for you in the house. We can produce your music together from the comfort of our home. You’ll never have to even step outside except for shows and publicity signings. We have a backyard with a big tree you can lay under. And I have a lot of bookshelves—I noticed you have them in your home, and I bought all of the books I could see from your videos so you’d feel at home—” The manic gleam in his eye set her pulse racing and she swallowed past the fear and anxiety.
Play along, Bree.“That sounds amazing.” She croaked out. “I love reading.”
“I know you do.”
They drove for another thirty minutes before they pulled into what looked like a normal subdivision. There were retirees out walking their dogs, a few pre-school aged children playing at the park, and then the car slowed even more as they pulled into a cute two-story with blue-gray siding and neat white trim. While most of the yard was rock, there was a raised flower bed along the front of the home full of fall flowers in bloom.
Bree furrowed her brow. “This is a beautiful home. You live here?”
He nodded proudly, hitting the button to open the garage door.
“You’ve been in Rhodes for a while, though. How did you keep your yard so nice?”
“I hired a company.”
That makes sense. “The flowers are beautiful.”
“They’re your favorites.” He said distractedly as he slowly began inching the car into the garage. As he did, Bree looked over at the garden and found—to her horror—that they were all her favorite flowers. And the house was her favorite color. The garage door slowly closed, and her heart sank right along with it. She had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t making it out of this house alive.