Grayson
. . .
THIRTY-NINE
“Go home to your girl,” Moretti says after my second fight this week. Luckily, this was an easy fight, and I was left unscathed.
I salute him. “Will do. Have a good night, brother.”
Moretti looks worse for wear. The dark circles under his eyes and the permanent scowl on his face are telling. I don’t ask what’s going on, but whatever it is put him through the wringer. He’ll tell me if he wants help.
I forgo showering here. Maisie would freak if I came home covered in blood, but I’m clean today. I’m also in a rush to get back to her.
I throw my stuff in my bag, reaching around for my keys.
Usually, my phone would be right next to them, but I don’t see it anywhere.
I was running late today, so I stormed in here like a tornado.
Now, I’m thinking I might have dropped it in the parking lot.
I retrace my steps but don’t find it. Maybe I just left it at home.
I pull out of the parking lot, Brooks and Dunn blasting through the radio. My hand taps anxiously outside my truck window as I make my way home. I have a nagging feeling of something being off, and I just want to be home with my girl in my arms.
The second I pull down the drive, I know something’s wrong. I bring the truck to a halt, grabbing my handgun from the glovebox before I’m running towards my very open and very broken front door. The house is pure chaos—the security alarm blares on repeat, but not a soul can be found.
“No,” I beg. “Please, honey, be okay. Maisie?” I scream, tearing through the house. I follow the blood trail to my bedroom, following a scratching noise coming from my closet.
“Fuck!” Evie jumps out, howling and rubbing against my legs. I snatch her up, cradling her to my chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’re gonna find our girl, I promise.”
This explains the missing phone. They planned this. I pushed too fucking hard, just like Moretti warned.
“Motherfuckers!” I scream, slamming my fist through the drywall.
I scramble to my laptop and search the junk drawer for my backup phone. I speed dial Moretti, punching the speaker button before logging onto my computer. I pull up my security cameras. What plays on the screen is straight from a horror film.
“Moretti,” he calls through the phone when he picks up.
I don’t waste time. “They have her.” Three simple words, and he’s on it.
“How can I help?”
I sigh, trying to calm down so I can think this through logically. “I’m watching the security cameras right now. Looks like we are dealing with two men. I’ve seen them around the Underground, two of Matteo's goons.”
“Names?” Moretti demands, typing in the background.
“I’m not sure. My surveillance only has video and no sound. I can’t get a clear look at them. They followed her out to the forest. There’s blood…” My voice cracks.
“She’s a fighter. That’s good, Gray. We’ll find her,” he promises.
“They took my phone while I was fighting. I never knew the alarms went off. I fucked up and fell right into their plan. I’m such a fucking idiot!” I scream, kicking over a chair.
“Losing your temper won’t fix anything. You couldn’t have known. Let’s think this through and get your girl back, alright?” I hear more typing.
“I need blood,” I seethe.
“And you’ll get it. I’m searching through our database right now for any hits out on Maisie. Is there anything I can go by to speed this up? Did she leave anything behind? Check the video again. There has to be something.”
“There’s nothing,” I scream, restarting it for the fourth time.
“They break in, Maisie hears immediately and hides in my closet. They find her, and she puts up a good fight, even stabs one of them in the neck before running out the front door. They follow her out, and, ten minutes later, their car drives away. They wouldn’t leave without her, Moretti,” I warn, my voice trembling.
“Break it down to the basics. One little thing you see could help.”
I close my eyes, shaking away every bad thought of Maisie’s fate right now. I slow the video down, zooming in on Maisie. That’s when I see it: Maisie’s phone in her back pocket open to a phone call.
“I think I have something,” I shout.
“Good. That’s good,” he sighs.
“She called someone and left it open. I have all my calls and messages forward to my backup phone. I'm checking it now. I also track her phone if she kept it on her in the forest.” I swipe through the notifications.
“We can work with that,” he says.
“Found something. She left me a voicemail.”
“Hang up and listen, and then call me back immediately.”
I don’t say goodbye before hanging up and pressing play. If I thought watching it on video was bad, hearing it play out has bile rising in my throat. I heave into the sink.
I’m going to murder them all.
I call Moretti back. “Anything?” he asks.
“Rick and Johnny. They’re mine, Moretti. I mean it. The things they threatened her with, I can’t…” Words fail me at the sound of their disgusting words in my head.
“I’ll be right by your side to help you get your revenge. I’m pulling up their files right now. Anything else?”
“I’m pulling up the tracker app to see if it’s still active.”
“That’s good news,” he assures me. “I just found the email chain on Maisie. They were instructed not to kill her. We can work with that. There are two sets of coordinates listed as the drop off point in opposite directions for security reasons. We’re going to have to split up or make an educated guess here, man.
They covered their bases. Either of these locations mean anything to you? Sending them through now.”
The coordinates ding at the same time as my tracking app loads. I don’t feel bad about installing it anymore if it saves her life. I snuck it on her phone the day I installed the new security system for this very reason.
“C’mon, please.” The little blinking dot indicating Maisie’s phone pings to life, moving at the speed of light across my screen. “Thank God,” I cry, my head dropping to the counter.
“I’ve got her live location,” I shout. “Looks like they’re headed toward the second location. They have a big jump on us, though.” I’m out the front door and in my truck before he responds. I rifle through my truck, making sure all my stashed weapons are loaded before I’m barreling down the drive.
“I’m right on your tail. I’ll see you there,” Moretti promises, screeching tires following.
I’ve never driven so fast. I don’t stop for a single traffic light or stop sign, not when Maisie’s life is hanging in the balance. Fuck the laws and anything else standing between me and my girl.
“Hang on, baby. I’m coming for you,” I promise, desperately watching her dot move across my screen. I slam the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
Her dot stops moving exactly at the coordinates from the email.
I remind myself I owe Moretti my life and then some.
I check my GPS—I’m still another thirty minutes out.
The pit in my stomach bottoms out, and I slam my hand down on the steering wheel.
I can’t think about all the things they could do to her in that amount of time.
I shave ten minutes off the drive, slamming my truck straight through the chain link fence meant to keep me out. It’s an abandoned graveyard with no cars in sight. There’s a small, crumbling building lit up off to the right. I’m out of my truck, gun drawn, Moretti right at my side from his car.
“Keep your guard up. Now is not the time for emotions," he warns.
“I know,” I seethe, kicking the door down. “Fuck,” I hiss, dropping to my knees in front of her.
Maisie, my beautiful angel, is blindfolded and strapped to a chair with chains, bloodied and bruised. It’s the most horrific sight I’ve ever seen. Her clothes are ripped and wet with some type of sticky substance I’m afraid to look closer at.
“I’ll do a perimeter check and make sure we’re alone,” Moretti says, gun raised, moving like a shadow.
“Maisie, honey, I’m here,” I murmur, gently brushing away the bloodied hair matted to her face. I check her pulse—it’s faint. She’s out cold, her head slouched forward. I assume she’s drugged when I notice the needle mark on her neck.
How did things go so wrong? I became weak and let her in. I broke all my damn rules, and now, she’s paying the price. I will never forgive myself for putting her life at risk. Things could have gone so much worse, but that’s no excuse. Maisie has been through enough. She never deserved this.
I make quick work unwrapping the chain, looking her over for major injuries. When I find none, I gently lift her into my arms. Her small, battered body melts into my chest, and I plant a kiss to her forehead before sliding the blindfold off. She doesn’t stir.
“The building is clear. We’re alone. I just don’t understand. Why leave her alive to be found? They couldn’t have known you track her,” Moretti says, sliding his gun into his pants.
“They know I have security that would alert me if someone broke into the house. They wanted time to take her without getting caught. That doesn’t explain the rest of it, though. If they wanted me to find her and receive my warning, how would I know to come here?”
Ding. Moretti's phone rings. When he pulls it up to his face, he swears under his breath. He shoves it in my face: it’s a text from Matteo with a photo attached.
Tell your boy next time he steps out of line, she dies, it reads with a set of coordinates leading here. There’s also a video of Maisie with a gun pressed to her temple. I can’t watch the full video after the first hit.
The text explains the rest of their plan, we just got the jump on them. I don’t have time to crash out and fall to my rage.
A whimper graces my ears, and Maisie shuffles in my arms. She’s starting to wake up; she’s going to be in a lot of pain when she does. She needs medical attention now.
Moretti opens the door for me. “The nearest hospital is fifteen minutes from here. I have a connection there. I’ll let them know we’re coming and to have a room ready, no questions asked. I’ll drive.”
I follow him out to his car, draping Maisie carefully in my lap. I’ll come back for my truck later. “I owe you one. I mean it. You ask, and it’s done,” I tell him, stroking Maisie’s hair as he speeds off.
“I just might take you up on that,” he replies, a dark look on his face in the mirror.
Maisie whimpers again, her eyes scrunching tight, like she’s lost in a bad dream.
“Help is coming, Mais.” I plant a kiss on her forehead and whisper the three words I’ve been dying to tell her but been too much of a coward to say.
I’m a selfish man. Just this once, I have to say it before I have to set my butterfly free.
“I love you,” I promise against her skin, cradling her tight, like I can protect her from the unjust world I laid at her feet.