Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
April gradually woke to the sound of falling rain.
She was sitting in a soft chair. A recliner?
Her head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to her skull.
Her mouth was full of something thick. Cloth.
Was she chewing on a blanket? She tasted copper and chemicals.
Something was wrong with her hands—they were behind her back, circulation cut off enough to make her fingers tingle.
How did I fall asleep in a chair with a blanket in my mouth? What—
She tried to turn over to take the pressure off her arms and couldn't. Her torso was pressed against the chair, held in place. So were her legs.
Memory crashed back in fragments. The courthouse. Judge's chambers. Fire alarm. Smoke in the corridor. Tripping, her ankle twisting. A firefighter helping her up, his hands steady on her arms.
Thank you so much, I—
The sting in her neck.
Oh God.
April's eyes snapped fully open, adrenaline burning through the fog in her brain.
She was sitting in an oversized recliner, the kind that belonged in someone's man cave.
She didn't have a blanket in her mouth—what was she thinking?
It was a gag, the cloth cutting painfully into the corners of her mouth.
She wasn't just lying on her hands—they were zip-tied behind her back.
Her legs were bound to the chair with rope.
Her torso was secured with more rope across her chest and belly.
She'd been kidnapped.
A wave of nausea passed over her. April forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose, fighting the panic that clawed up her throat—the fear of getting sick and choking on her own vomit. Panicking wouldn't help. Panicking would only make it worse.
She looked around, taking inventory.
Unfinished basement. She was in a corner where two concrete walls met—both outer walls, probably.
One wall had a small window with a window well.
The well was covered with a clear plastic cover, yellowed with age and streaked with mud, but she could see through it enough to make out gray daylight.
Rain fell steadily, drumming against the plastic cover.
Through the murky plastic, she could see the shapes of leaves and branches moving in the wind.
The only sound was the rain.
April listened hard, straining to hear voices, footsteps, traffic, anything that might tell her where she was. But there was nothing. Just rain.
She didn't scream. The house could be in the middle of nowhere for all she knew. And if she screamed, they'd know she was awake. Better to wait. Better to gather information first.
April replayed the abduction in her mind, trying to piece together details. The firefighter. His accent had been American at first—professional, calm, reassuring. Can you walk? But at the end, right before everything went black, his accent had changed. Russian. She was sure of it.
Is Vince behind this? Why would he do this to me? Oh my God, is Kevin safe?
She heard footsteps.
April's heart slammed against her ribs. Someone was coming closer. She heard the metallic sounds of a door being unlocked, somewhere behind her.
The door opened. Artificial light poured in.
April held perfectly still, watching the pale shadow of a man on the wall in front of her.
An overhead light turned on, bright and harsh, making her squint. A man walked around the recliner to stand in front of her. The same firefighter who'd "saved" her. Except he wasn't dressed like a firefighter anymore. All black—black pants, black shirt, black jacket.
How stereotypical, the detached part of her brain observed. A kidnapper dressed all in black. I guess the TV shows got it right.
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled.
"You’re awake already, April Taylor," he said, his Russian accent thick and unmistakable now. "Or is it April Meyer? I suppose you've gone back to Taylor, haven't you? Smart. Made it harder for Vince to find you."
April's blood ran cold. April Meyer. Her name in Vegas. The name she'd buried when she ran.
"I am going to remove your gag," the man continued, his tone conversational.
"But before you waste any energy on screaming, let me tell you—no one is close enough to hear you.
So why don't we do this the easy way? I remove the gag, you do not bite me, you do not scream, and you answer my questions. Do you understand?"
April nodded. She tried to say yes, but it came out muffled against the gag.
The man chuckled. "All right. The gag is coming off."
He reached forward and untied the cloth, then pulled it away from her mouth. April gasped, relief flooding through her even as her throat burned. She tried to speak and realized her mouth was bone dry. She coughed.
"Oh, of course." The man stepped back, disappearing from view. "You must be very thirsty. One moment. I'm a terrible host."
April heard plastic wrapping tearing, then the squeak of plastic moving against plastic. He returned with a water bottle, cap already removed.
"This should help," he said, his voice a mockery of politeness and hospitality. "I'm afraid I don't trust you enough to untie your hands, so I will give you the water."
He put the bottle to her lips.
The part of April that wanted to fight, to resist, to spit in his face—screamed at her to refuse. But the rational part, the part that wanted to get back to Kevin and Shane, told her to wait. To drink. To stay strong. To hold off for the right opportunity to escape, to fight, to kill if she had to.
She drank.
The water was cold, clean, the best she'd ever tasted. She nodded when she needed a breath, and he pulled the bottle back, then brought it to her lips again. It took a few minutes, but she drank the entire bottle. He crumpled it in his fist and tossed it into the corner.
"Now," he said, settling back on his heels. "I just got done speaking with Vince."
April's voice came out raspy. "What does he want?"
"He wants you to cooperate, of course. We all do." The man smiled. "This can go very easy for you, April. Of course you'll get a cut. Vince promised you that a long time ago, and we will honor it."
April stared at him, completely lost. "A cut? A cut of what? I don't know what you're talking about."
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "I see that we can't do this the easy way.
" He leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Listen.
Vince made some bad choices. I am one of those bad choices.
He came to me for help to find you after he got out of prison.
He tried finding you on his own and no luck.
He promised us a big, big cut. We gave him nice things.
He said you ran away when he was arrested.
I don't judge you for that. I don't blame you. I would too, if I knew what you knew."
"I told you. I don't know what you're talking about," April said again, her voice stronger now.
"Vince already gave up the password," the man said.
"We persuaded him to. And he was ready to sell you out anyway, I have to say.
He was begging for his life." His smile turned cruel.
"He tried to convince us we should traffic you instead.
Said we could make good money that way. He didn't care what happened to you. "
Horror crawled up April's spine. Vince had tried to traffic her?
"So we have the password from him," the man continued. "And all we need from you are the seed numbers."
"The what?"
"The seed phrase. The recovery code that grants access to the crypto wallet." He said it slowly, like he was explaining something to a child. "Vince said you counted the cards when you played Blackjack in Vegas." He tapped his temple. "That takes a good memory, no?"
That wasn't really how card counting worked, but April wasn't about to school him.
"Vince has the password. You have the seed phrase memorized. Together, they unlock a very large fortune."
April's mind reeled. Crypto? Seed phrase? What the hell was he talking about?
"I'm still confused," she said, her voice shaking. "I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything like that."
"Oh, I think you do," the man said. "Otherwise, why would you run? Why disappear so completely that even Vince couldn't find you for ten years?"
"I ran because he beat the hell out of me!" April's voice rose. "I ran because if I didn't, he would have hurt our child. That's why I ran. Not because of some…some crypto scheme I don't even know about!"
"Oh yes, your child, little Kevin." The man's smile widened.
"Such a sweet boy. Don't you want to go home to him?
If you give us the code, you can. And as I said, we will even cut you in.
I don't like to hurt women. I don't like to hurt mothers of sweet boys like Kevin.
Just give us the numbers, and we will let you go.
There is plenty for everyone. That's all you need to do. "
April's chest tightened. He knew Kevin's name. He'd seen Kevin, or at least knew enough about him to—
"I'm telling you, I don't have it," April said desperately. " Vince is scamming you. There is no crypto. There is nothing. I don't know why he's doing this."
The man's expression hardened. "Then I'm afraid we're going to have to get a little rough with you, April, because I don't believe you.
I don't believe you at all." He stood, looming over her.
"You are a gambler. A card counter. A cheat, really.
You lived that life. Vince said you were part of his operation before he went to jail. "
"That's not true!" April pulled against the zip ties, panic flooding her system. "I had nothing to do with any of that!"
"Maybe that's part of the reason why you ran," the man said thoughtfully. "You didn't want to be caught. You were the one who had all the money. But Vince kept the password as a safeguard. Wise of him, I think."