BROCK VENCENZA glad-handed the board members, smiling and nodding, making all the right noises. He just had to wrap this up and then he was off to the Cayman Islands for some richly deserved R & R. Deep-sea fishing, baby.
He saw the last concerned stockholder out the door and headed for his desk, closed down his computer, and tossed a few files into the in-box for Stephanie.
Speak of an angel; his intercom buzzed, Stephanie’s voice coming next. “Brock, there’s an Eric on the phone, says he has to talk to you. He won’t even give me his last name, sir.”
Brock frowned. Eric? Now there was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. Years. A lot of years. Enough years that it couldn’t be the Eric his mind had automatically pulled up.
“It’s probably just a salesman, Steph. Tell him I’m on vacation.” His yacht was calling to him. Calling.
“I already did. Brock, he sounds too upset to be a salesman.”
Brock growled. “Fine. Put him through.” Steph was getting soft if she couldn’t put off a nuisance call. He pressed the button for the outgoing line and barked out his name.
“Brock? Brock, it’s me. Please, love. I need help.” It was his Eric—his silly, goofy, soft-hearted, ridiculously idealistic to the point of absolute fucking madness Eric—with hysteria in his voice.
It might have been nine years and Eric might have dumped his ass hard, but Brock didn’t even hesitate. “What do you need?”
“Help. Someone’s kidnapped my daughter.”
Brock stood and grabbed his briefcase. “Where are you?”
“I’m downstairs. The security guard wouldn’t let me in. Please, Brock. Josie’s only three. She’s got to be so scared.”
“Don’t move. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and nodded to Steph as he passed her desk on the way to the elevators. “I’m off. You know the cell number if there’s an emergency.”
“Have fun, Brock.”
He nodded to her again as the elevator came.
Two minutes later he was in the lobby, scanning it for his ex. God, nine years. That was a lot of fucking water under bridges that were long ago burned.
Eric Wilson stood there, looking completely out of place in the glass and steel modernity of the lobby, reminding Brock oddly of the Scarecrow from Oz—still as skinny as always, dressed in a button-down, a pair of khakis, a ball cap. Jesus. The man had no fashion sense and was all arms and legs and nose and huge blue eyes and…. Right. Zero fashion sense.
None.
And he looked like he was stressed to the gills.
“Eric.”
“Brock.” Eric ran over to him, face drawn, eyes shining. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”
He put an arm around Eric’s lean shoulders and pulled him in for a quick, hard hug. “No problem, baby.” He drew Eric into a quiet corner. “Have you called the cops?”
“No. No, the note said they’d kill her. I just… it’s been almost two hours.” Liquid baby blues stared at him, pupils huge.
“You have the note?”
“I do.” Shaking fingers handed it over, the words already smeared with sweat.
We have your dotter, fag. We want $100,000 or she dies. We’ll call at 7. Have $$ redy. Dont call the cops or she dies.
“Okay, you need a scotch.” Or a Valium. Maybe both. “Come on.” He grabbed Eric’s arm and led him out to the parking lot where his Lexus waited.
“What—what do I do? I don’t….” Eric walked beside him, staying close. “God, if something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Brock opened the passenger door for Eric and then went around and got into the driver’s side. “We get you a drink. We pick up the money. We get my people on it.” He unlocked his cell phone and dialed the number for the company that did his security. He was friends with the owner; Gordon was a good man.
Eric clicked his seat belt on, reaching for his wallet.
Brock looked at him. “What are you doing?” Before Eric could answer, a cool woman’s voice said, “Bidden Security, how may I direct your call?”
“Anita? This is Brock Vencenza. I need to speak to Gordon. It’s an emergency.”
“Of course, Mr. Vencenza. Right away.”
The line went quiet, and then Eric handed over a picture of a beautiful, laughing little Chinese girl. “This is her, about a month ago.”
He handed the picture back and squeezed Eric’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re going to get her back.”
“Yes. Please, God. I’m so fucking scared.”
“Brock? Gordon. What’s up, man?” The deep voice was confident, booming. Strong.
“Gordon. I’ve got a situation. Kidnapping. Little girl. We have less than two hours before they call. The money’s not a problem, but I want your best kidnapping guys on this. I want the girl back unharmed.”
“Where can I meet you?”
He snapped his fingers at Eric to get his attention. “Address.” He repeated it back to Gordon when Eric told him.
Eric lived in an older part of town—one of those places that was going through a revival, with charming cottages and tiny little streets. It was mind-numbingly quaint. He called his bank as he pulled up into the little driveway of a well-kept, tiny house that looked like it should be on the front of some feel-good chick lit novel. Jesus. He’d bet Eric’s car was back at his office. If the man had a car, that was. It wouldn’t surprise him to discover that Mr. McDreamy was foot-power only.
He gave his name and asked for the bank manager. “Jim. I need a hundred thousand dollars in cash couriered to me within the hour and I don’t want to hear the words ‘I can’t.’”
“Let me make some calls.” Jim was a good man, if a bit persnickety. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I don’t believe that’s any business of yours, Jim. Just get me the money, and you’ll keep my business.” He got out of the car and followed Eric up the front steps.
Green. The little cottage was painted green. Eric dropped the keys twice before getting the key in the lock.
He followed Eric in and looked for a little wet bar or something in the living room. “Baby, where do you keep the good stuff?”
“The what?” Eric took his hat off, walking around in slow circles, stumbling over a few discarded toys.
He grabbed Eric’s arm and brought him around, looking into the beautiful blue eyes and brushing the still too-long blond hair off Eric’s forehead. “Booze or pills; you need something to calm you down, baby.”
“I have… in the cabinet above the fridge. So Josie can’t get into it.”
Brock headed in the direction Eric had pointed. He found the scotch easily enough, grabbed a couple glasses, and brought them back into the living room. “Sit,” he ordered, pouring them both a couple fingers of the amber liquid.
“What do I do now? What do I do? She’s going to be so fucking scared.”
“You keep it together for her. Drink. It’ll help.” He guided Eric’s hand, moving the glass to his mouth.
Eric gasped, but he drank, throat swallowing hard.
“All right, my security man’s going to be here soon with the kidnapping expert, and the money is on the way. We’re going to get her back.”
“Should I have gone to the police? I’m just so scared….”
“It doesn’t matter now.” He looked at his watch. Gordon’s man had better get here soon.
“Why would anyone take her?” Eric sounded so lost.
“You tell me, Eric. I haven’t seen you in nine years.”
“She was at day care. It’s a tiny place run by this lovely lesbian couple, and they were busy, and Lil said no one strange came in, no one raised a fuss…. Josie doesn’t like strangers.”
He shook his head and looked at the note in his hand. “Did you notice the spelling on this?”
“I… It was bad. Not the smartest crayons in the box. What if they hurt her?”
“They’re not going to hurt her, Eric. They want their money. She was just a means to an end.” He frowned. “Do you even have a hundred thousand dollars?”
“Brock, I teach high school English, journalism, and the periodic life drawing class. I made fifty thousand last year.”
“So why does this guy think you can come up with a hundred thousand dollars by seven tonight?” Brock didn’t like to think what the answer to that might be.
“I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t tell people about my personal life. I mean, when I had one.”
The doorbell rang and Brock put out his hand when Eric tried to get up. “I’ll get it.”
Eric nodded, legs curling up underneath him on the overstuffed sofa.
Brock looked through the peephole. Gordon stood there, solid and square, skin darkest mahogany. Grinning, he opened the door. “Gordon. Man. Thank you for coming.”
“Boss.” Gordon’s smile was white, broad. “Let me in and let’s get to work.”
He nodded, letting Gordon in. “Eric, this is Gordon, he’s the best security man in the business. Gordon, this is Eric. His three-year-old daughter has been kidnapped.”
“Okay, man. I need information—where was she? When did it happen? Is there a note? Demands?”
Eric blinked, stared a second. “Her name is Josie.”
“They picked her up from her day care. Here’s the note—I don’t know how it was delivered. Eric? How’d you get the note?”
“It was on the windshield of my car when I got out of school.”
“So they knew which car was yours and where you’d be.”
“I. Yeah, I mean, we have assigned parking spots, but there are a lot of teachers.”
Gordon nodded. “Is it possible one of your students has a grudge against you?”
“Students? Why would a student do this? They’re kids. They spray paint graffiti, egg houses, that sort of thing.”
“And this note looks like it was written by someone without a lot of education. They knew where to find your car. Do you have any students who have threatened you or your daughter in the past?”
“No. No, not at all.”
“Any students who are failing your classes? Who you’ve sent to detention, had any sort of confrontation with?” Gordon was all business.
“Sure. Always. There are always unhappy kids, but….” Eric’s panic came back, in spades.
Brock grunted and sat down beside Eric, putting an arm around the man, the feeling of the lean shoulders under his meaty arm surprisingly familiar still. “Breathe, baby. The more Gordon can figure out before we get the call, the better, right?”
“I… I guess. I suppose. I’m sorry; she’s supposed to be home by now, having her bath.”
“I know. We’re going to make that happen, okay?”
Eric nodded, clinging to his arm a little bit. “I’m sorry, love. I swear.”
Gordon met his eyes, mouthed, “You got some downers for him?”
“Have another drink, baby.” He poured out a couple more fingers of scotch and put the glass in Eric’s hands. “So what do we do when they call?”
“You let me talk to them.” Gordon looked sure, certain. “You let me set up the drop off and you keep him quiet.”
Brock nodded. He could do that. “So are you the kidnapping expert you were going to bring, then?”
Gordon gave him a wolfish grin. “I’m the head of the company—nothing but the best for you.”
The front doorbell rang. “That’ll be the cash.”
“I’ll get it. You stay put.” Gordon sauntered off, ass swaying as he went.
“Are you two lovers?” Eric was swaying a little bit himself.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure, and Gordon is the best security man I know. His company deals with all my security needs, which definitely puts him in the business category.” He hadn’t really had a lover since Eric. Oh, he’d fucked plenty of men, even had some repeats that had lasted months at a time. But lovers? No.
“Oh. He’s pretty. Not like you, but pretty.”
“I can introduce you when all this is over if you want.” He winked at Eric and ignored the pang that went through him at the words, despite the fact that he knew they were just a joke. Hell, Gordon’s partner would kick the ass of anyone who tried it on with the big man.
“No. No. No boyfriends for me. You…. You were all I needed. I mean, after you I. I mean. Fuck.”
“Shh.” He drew Eric in, held the man against his chest. “Just breathe and relax.”
“Breathe and relax. Right. She’s beautiful. She’s so smart and funny.”
“I bet. Did you go to China to get her?”
They were interrupted by Gordon and the money courier. “He needs your signature.”
Brock signed on the pad where he was asked to.
“I’ll pay you back, Brock. I swear to God. Every cent, even if I have to sell the house.”
“It’s a drop in the bucket for me, Eric. Let’s not worry about it and just concentrate on getting your little girl back.”
“Josie. Her name is Josephine Mathilda Wilson.”
“That’s a beautiful name. Tell me the story of her adoption.” Focusing on Josie was clearly calming Eric.
“I went to China for her. The flight was so long and I had to go twice. There was a complication the first time, and I had to leave her. She was tiny and all eyes and….” Eric stopped, sniffled. “I promised her I’d be back. It took me three weeks, but I came back and brought her home.”
“You light right up when you talk about her.”
“She’s amazing. She just turned three. She’s such a happy little girl.”
“I bet you’re an amazing father.” It was what Eric had always wanted, why the man had dumped him. Suburbs, nine-to-five job, a family.
“I try to be. I can get tired, and I need to decide if I want to adopt another because I work, and…. God, I want her home.”
Brock glanced at his watch. “It won’t be long. You need to keep it together for her, okay? Let Gordon handle things.”
Eric nodded. “I’m trying. I am.”
“I know.” He could just imagine how Eric would be dealing with all this by himself. He took Eric’s hand in his own. “I’m glad you called me, baby.”
“You were the first person I thought of, the only one.”
“Good. I’ll always be here for you. I’m glad you knew that.” He glanced at his watch. It was almost seven.
Eric stood up, started pacing, walking the floor, arms wrapped around his ribs. Eric looked good—a little tired, a little harried, but good.
“You want a Valium, Eric?” Even if there wasn’t one here, he could have a bottle of the stuff sent over.
“Huh? No. No, she’s going to come home, right? I mean, it’s almost time. They’ll let her come home. It’s her bedtime.”
He nodded. Eric needed to believe that, and Brock hoped like hell that it was what was going to happen.
“Okay. Okay. I.” Eric’s cell phone rang. “Oh, God. What do I do?”
Gordon held out his hand. “Give me the phone, sir.”
Eric’s eyes met his and it rang again.
“Let him, baby. Gordon knows what he’s doing.”
Eric handed the phone over and Gordon flipped it open. “Hello? No. No, it’s not. This is Mr. Jackson. I’m Mr.….” Gordon looked over at him.
“Wilson,” Brock whispered.
“Mr. Wilson’s agent in this matter.”
Brock went to stand next to Eric, wrapping his arm around Eric’s shoulders and squeezing tight. Jesus, Eric was shaking violently, muscles jerking and trembling under his hand.
“Yes, I have the money. No. No, that is not acceptable. I want the child home. Tonight. No.”
Brock held on tight, keeping Eric right where he was. Gordon was handling this; they had to let him. Gordon was good at his job.
“I said no, you stupid fuck. There will be no negotiations, not without proof of life.”
Eric made a low, pained sound, and his knees buckled.
Brock caught hold of him, making soothing noises. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Eric. She’s alive—he’s just playing hardball with them.”
“Please, Brock. Please. She’ll be so scared.”
With a sharp glare at him, Gordon moved into the other room, growling furiously, snapping into the phone.
“I know, baby. But your best bet for getting her back sooner is to let Gordon do his job. He knows money is no object, that she’s the top priority.”
Christ, who would take a three-year-old little girl, and who the fuck thought a teacher had the wherewithal to pay out a large sum of cash as ransom?
Gordon came back in, lips tight. “They want to do the drop at oh-five-hundred hours.”
Eric’s eyes went wide and Brock could hear the man’s mind working that out. “So long? That’s ten hours.”
“Why?” Brock knew how frustrating this had to be for Eric. And that little girl had to be terrified.
“They won’t talk. I have my guys trying to find a trace on the cell, but it’s a long shot. They want to meet at a field out near Marlin’s Cove. Do you know it?” Gordon looked at Eric, but handed Brock the phone, careful not to show the screen to Eric.
Eric nodded. “The kids from school hold raves there. It’s just a big, open space.”
The phone had a picture of a crying dark-haired little girl wearing a pink “I love Daddy” T-shirt.
“Fuck me raw.” Brock muttered the words under his breath. That was…. Yeah. Right. He needed to find Eric some Valium.
He pocketed Eric’s cell, grabbed his iPhone, and called his physician’s private line while Gordon talked to Eric, whose voice was getting louder and more hysterical. Brock was promised Valium within half an hour, and he locked his phone and went over to grab Eric’s arm. “You have to calm down, Eric. I’d hate to have to slap the hysteria out of you,” he added, trying to lighten Eric’s mood a little.
“What do they want? Why won’t they do it tonight? I don’t fucking understand!”
“I don’t know. I think they’re trying to mess with you.”
Gordon nodded. “Okay, here’s the sit-rep. Mr. Wilson says the pickup point is the place where kids from the school hold raves. The way the note was written, where it was left—this all points at it being a student, sir. You need to really think about who might be pissed off at you. For whatever reason.”
“I. Should I go to the police, then? I mean, if it’s a student, they’ll do it again.” Eric was looking green.
Gordon didn’t think about that question for very long at all. “I think you should call the cops, but you tell them that I’m handling the exchange. They’re going to ask you the same questions, though, man, so you need to focus—can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you for any reason?”
“I mean, I’m a teacher. There are kids who hate my class, troublemakers.” Eric was beginning to hyperventilate.
Brock held one hand up, backing Gordon off. “Okay, baby. Take some deep breaths and tell Gordon who the troublemakers are—their names, what they did, why they don’t like you.”
“I… I’ll try. I can’t…. Oh, God. This is my fault.”
“Stop that, Eric. Come on, now.” Where the hell was that delivery man with the Valium?
“I… I’ll make a list. Are you going to call the police?”
Gordon nodded. “I have some friends, people who can keep it quiet. Hold it together for her, huh?”
“He will. You will, won’t you, Eric.” Brock didn’t make it a question. The doorbell rang again, just in the nick of time too. “That’ll be the pharmacy delivery.”
“Pharmacy?” Eric looked completely confused.
“Come to the kitchen table, man. Let’s make a list and call my friend Max.” Gordon took Eric’s elbow, led him to the kitchen.
Brock went to the door and signed for the pills. It seemed all he was doing was signing for things.
There was a little dented hatchback outside, though, one with a pale blonde girl in it, staring at the house from across the street, talking furiously into a cell phone. As soon as he stepped outside and met the girl’s eyes, she slapped the phone shut and started rolling up her window, even as the Dodge Omni drove away. The bumper sticker on the back said, “Valley Hills Dance Squad Loves Basketball.” He stared at the license plate, memorizing it. Then he hightailed it back inside.
“Gordon. XTL352. Silver Dodge Omni. There was a blonde in it, watching the place. Looked like she was sharing what she was seeing, too.”
“Excellent work, Boss.” Gordon stood, hands smoothing the crisp white button-down. It struck him, suddenly, how odd they both looked in this homey house—him in his Versace, and Gordon looking like… well, exactly what he was, high-paid security. “I’m going to make some phone calls. You’ll, uh, sit with him?”
“I will.” Brock shrugged his jacket off and hung it in the hall closet. The small closet was filled with little coats, mittens, shopping bags, a sled. His jacket looked dark and huge in the space.
He shut the closet door. It didn’t matter, did it? He was just here to help. It took three big steps to make it back to the kitchen, and he smiled and grabbed Eric’s shoulder, squeezing. “I’ve got something to help calm you down.”
“What? I don’t want any more booze. It’s making my head hurt.”
“No, this is Valium. It’ll help, I swear.” He opened the pill bottle and shook out one of the little triangular pills.
“Are you sure? The police won’t be mad? What if I need to drive somewhere?”
“I will drive you anywhere you need to go. And who the fuck cares if the police are mad—these assholes took Josie from you.” He cut the pill in half with the kitchen knife. If that didn’t fix Eric’s nerves, Brock would give him the other half.
“They did. He… is she okay? Did Gordon tell you?” It looked like Eric was about to shake apart.
He went to the cabinet to grab a glass with some cartoon characters on it, and then he poured Eric a glass of water. “Okay, open up.” He put the half pill on Eric’s tongue and handed him the water.
Eric swallowed, choking a little as he drank. Brock rubbed Eric’s back and encouraged him to drink the whole glass, from the tip of Bugs Bunny’s ears to the huge, white-toed feet where Elmer Fudd was crouching.
“Come on, baby. Breathe.”
“I’m trying, love. I swear. I am.” God, those eyes were so fucking beautiful.
“I know. The Valium will kick in soon, I promise.”
“I’m so fucking scared.” Eric reached out for him, took his hand, fingers tracing his knuckles.
Brock squeezed Eric’s hand and then pulled him in close to hold him tight. “It’s going to be okay, Eric. We have a clue now. Gordon’s going to get her back.”
Eric settled against him, leaned hard. “I’ll owe you forever, Brock. I swear. You’re my hero.”
“I’ll be your hero anytime you need me, baby.” He always would be.
Eric nodded. “I know. I didn’t deserve to call, after all the times I wanted to and didn’t.”
“Yeah, well, that little girl means all bets are off. No way I could say no.”
Eric had wanted to call him? He wasn’t sure if he believed that or not—Eric was the one who had left. Brock was the same person. Older, maybe, but not a whole lot had changed. He was still a power businessman, he worked hard, he played hard—not as often as he used to—and he lived hard.
“I’m glad.”
“So you wanted to call me?” He figured it would make for a good diversion.
“Uh-huh. All the time. Every time something went right, every time something went wrong. I knew you were too busy, though.”
“You were the one who broke it off,” he reminded Eric gently.
“I know. I…. How could I compete with your life, Brock? How could anyone? You’re like… like a superhero or a movie star, my beautiful Italian stud—tall, dark, and handsome. Practically fucking perfect in every way. There wasn’t a place left for Joe Normal.”
“I’m not a superhero. And I didn’t want you to go.” He pulled Eric closer. “I never wanted you to go. It was like a punch to the gut.”
“I know. You just… your whole life is bigger than me, and I wanted to be a dad.”
“My life is bigger than you.” Huh. He’d thought there was a place for Eric in his life. He still did.
Eric nodded. “I was the geeky little guy who everyone dreaded coming to the parties and the soirées.”
“But I wanted you there.” Okay, that sounded pretty selfish. “I guess it was uncomfortable for you.”
“It was bad for business and you know it. Eventually you would have found one of those pretty people to take in my place.”
“I go alone,” he growled. He never had a plus one.
Eric’s cheeks heated. “I’d say that I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
“I don’t begrudge you your family, baby. You knew what you wanted and you went out and got it—those are my tactics.”
“Yeah, and she’s… well, she’s my whole life, now.”
“Gordon’s going to get her back for you.” He stroked Eric’s back.
“I hope so.” Eric pulled away—one of the shirt buttons had left a round mark on Eric’s cheek—and rested his face on his arms, sighing softly. “I miss her, man.”
“I’d like to meet her. Maybe we could, um….” He searched his brain for something one did with a three-year-old girl. “Go on a picnic?”
“Oh, she’d love that. Josie loves being outside. She likes to pretend to golf, and she has a tiny little tricycle.”
“I should take you both golfing, then.”
“I’d love that.” Eric gave him a soft, wistful look. “You’re looking good, Brock. You know that, right? I love the silver that’s coming in, right there. It’s… fascinating.” Like he couldn’t help himself, Eric reached up and brushed through his hair, tugging a bit.
Brock was feeling rather wistful himself. “I imagine I look pretty much the same, aside from the crow’s-feet.”
“You look… sleek. I look messy.”
“You look like a man worried about his kid.” He kissed the top of Eric’s head. “I promise not to make any judgments just now.”
“Okay.”
There was a commotion at the front door. “You let me in, you beast! Eric! Eric, I called the day care. Is it true?”
Eric winced, and so did he.
Ellora. Eric’s twin sister.
Great.
He raised an eyebrow and Eric winced again but nodded.
“Let her in,” he called to Gordon before going to head her off at the pass, keep some distance between her and Eric. She was, at best, an emotional harpy. At worst, she was a manipulative bitch, and Brock wouldn’t be surprised at all to discover that she’d been encouraging Eric to leave him, all those years ago.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” She looked just like a broader, more painted, more hysterical Eric. It was still creepy.
He crossed his arms. “I’m here for Eric.”
“Ellora. Shut up.” Eric stared at her. “Please.”
“He needs support right now, Ellora. Nothing else.” He wasn’t interested in what she thought about his being here, or anything, really.
“Is she really gone? Do they know who took her?”
Brock answered the questions. “Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
Eric blinked at her. “Shut up. Just….”
Brock growled. Clearly Eric wasn’t happy to have her here. “If you’re not here to help, get lost, Ellora.”
“Fuck you. Oh, God, Ricky. What happened?” She pushed into the kitchen and into Eric’s lap, putting her forehead to his.
“I walked over to pick her up, Ellora, just like always. I went and she was gone. There was a note on my car.”
“I just got him calmed down, Ellora. Don’t you get him all worked up again.” God, she drove him nuts, always had.
“Is he stoned? He looks stoned.”
“He’s had a little Valium. Are you going to go now?” He sure as hell hoped so.
“No! I’m here to help. Have you called Mom? Dad and Jenny? How about Cousin Alan and Uncle Lawrence?”
Oh, God.
No.
Not the whole clan.
“Ellora, stop right there. Gordon has everything under control, and Josie is going to be home before you know it. The last thing Eric needs is a ton of people going hysterical on him.”
Eric looked at him, nodded, eyes huge. His Eric was the quiet one of that bunch, the gentle one.
“He needs his family, damn it. You’re just a controlling fuck; you always have been, and—”
Brock fixed Ellora with a stare. “If I pay you, will you go away?”
“I will not! Did you hear that, Ricky?”
He thought that Eric almost smiled. “El. I love you. Please. We’re trying to deal. Please… can you go get groceries? Supplies?”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. And El—don’t be telling anyone until we have Josie back. You never know who might be listening.” He just wanted her gone; she was stressing Eric out.
“Oh. Okay, sure. Are you sure you don’t want the family here? For support?”
“This is our secret, Ellora. Please.” Eric’s breath hitched.
“The less people who know at the moment, the better.” Brock pulled out his wallet and handed her a couple hundred dollars. “Restock his pantry for him—get all Josie’s favorites.”
“Okay. Okay, sure. I’ll be back, Ricky.”
He watched her go and then turned to Eric. “Shit, I haven’t missed her.”
“No? She’s got a good heart; she’s just… El.”
“I still can’t believe you both came from the same egg.”
“Two eggs. Not identical.”
“Oh, that explains everything.”
Eric chuckled, nodded at him. “I tell myself that. A lot.”
Brock stared for a moment; he’d always loved Eric’s smile. Their eyes met. Eric was exhausted and worried and still so fucking hot. Why had they broken up again? Oh, right. Eric’s insistence on the ordinary life. Of course, it seemed Eric’s ordinary life wasn’t going exactly according to plan at the moment. Brock reached out and took Eric’s hand. He held on, offering what support he could.
“Thank you for taking my call.” Eric leaned toward him. “My hero.”
“Does that make you my sidekick?” He let Eric lean on him.
“Yep. Supersuit and his sidekick, Khaki Boy.”
That startled a laugh out of him, and he hugged Eric tightly. Eric grabbed him, surprising him as Eric held on and cried. Brock patted Eric’s back, awkwardly at first and then with more ease. He felt it as Eric let go, crying himself out and then resting, right there in his arms.
He tried not to think about how good it felt, how right, about how much he’d missed this. Eric’s little girl was missing; that was all this was about.
Gordon came in, eyes serious. “I have the police and the feds coming. They’re sending people to the day care, too. Things are going to get a little wild.”
Brock squeezed Eric, keeping him where he was. “Did the license plate pan out?”
“I’m waiting to hear from the guys.”
“Tell me you’re bringing her home soon, Gordon. We need to hear that.” Eric needed to hear it.
“I’m going to get her home to her father, Boss. I swear on my balls.”
“You hear that, Eric? It’s as good as done.”
Eric nodded. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do it.”
“You two just sit tight and leave the dealing to me. There’ll be a lot of people through here asking the same questions. Just keep your cool, okay?”
Brock nodded at Gordon’s words and squeezed Eric tight.
“I just want her home, snug in her bed.”
“That’s going to happen, man.” The doorbell rang again and Gordon gave them a nod. “Sit tight. I’ll get it.”
“I. Okay. Okay.” Eric squeezed his fingers tightly.
Brock moved to stand behind Eric’s chair, hands on Eric’s shoulders, and stayed there as one law enforcement person after another came into the kitchen and asked Eric the same questions over and over again.
It was grueling and exhausting, and he wasn’t even the one in the hot seat.
When the questions from a rat-faced fed started to get personal and nasty, Eric flinched. “Why are you asking me these things? No, I don’t drive two blocks to pick Josie up. She loves the walk!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we have to ask these questions. The parents are always the first suspects in cases like these.”
Brock thought this particular FBI agent needed a lesson in diplomacy.
“He didn’t do anything to Josie, and you’d be better served looking for who really did take her instead of upsetting him.” He, on the other hand, didn’t have to be diplomatic.
“Do you know a girl named Chrissie Lynk?” Gordon looked grim.
Brock squeezed Eric’s shoulders, not liking the look on Gordon’s face at all. He waited for Eric’s answer, for Gordon to explain.
“Chrissie? Sure. She’s in my third-period class. Why?”
“She was driving the car Brock saw, man, and she works part-time at that day care.”
“Are the cops going to pick her up? She’s got to have Josie, right? Or at least know who does?”
“The cops are at her house; she never came home today.”
Eric stood up. “I’ll go find her.”
“What?” Brock and Gordon said it at the same time.
“I’ll go find her. I’ve been teaching those kids for seven years. I know them. I know….” Eric swayed, pale as milk.
Brock grabbed hold of him. “If you know where they’d take her, tell Gordon. He’ll handle this.” He didn’t want Eric going anywhere.
“I don’t—they go to the park, to the railroad tracks. To…. Why? Why the fuck would they take my baby?”
“Because people suck.”
“I’m going to find her.” Right, because after a downer and two shots, Eric was so stable.
“No, baby. Let Gordon deal with this.”
“Actually, I could use your help, Eric. You know these places. Brock, you can drive, Eric can navigate, and I’ll deal with little asshole teenagers who think they’re having a laugh.” Gordon smiled and it wasn’t a nice smile.
“No.” Officer… Someone-or-other slammed one hand on the table. “You three are going to sit tight and let the professionals deal with this.”
Gordon’s eyebrow went up. “Pardon me?”
Brock snorted and left Eric’s side to get up in the man’s face, happy to be able to do something. “Gordon is a professional when it comes to personal security and kidnapping. The man’s company is responsible for rescuing countless kids that have been taken, and he’s our best bet to get Josie back quickly and safely.”
“Look, this is—”
“Marty.” Another cop came over, stood right behind Gordon, almost the same size as Gordon. “You and I both know Gordie’s on the level. Let the man work.”
“Max.”
“That wasn’t a request, Marty.”
Brock nodded at Max—he hadn’t seen the cop, who also happened to be Gordon’s lover, come in. “Thanks. Eric, come on. We’re going to show Gordon where to find Chrissie.”
“Okay. Okay, sure.” Eric wavered a little as they walked. “What if someone calls here?”
Max smiled, the look sympathetic. “I’ll be here, with Office Martinez. This is the department’s number one case right now, do you understand?”
Gordon tugged him aside as Max talked to Eric. “Boss, you need to understand, the press is going to start picking this up. Do you want your name involved?”
“No. The last thing I want is any of these kids—or anyone else—thinking Eric’s got access to bigger money.” He was pretty sure Eric wouldn’t want to suddenly have to deal with twenty-four-hour security. Hell, the man didn’t even have an alarm on his front door.
“Okay. Then you hole up here, huh? Let me go out with Eric first, and we’ll pick you up back in the alley?”
He grumbled, but he could see the sense in it and he nodded. “All right. You take care of him; he’s had a couple of shots of whiskey and half a Valium.”
“I have your back, man. You know that.” One huge hand wrapped around Eric’s elbow, leading him out.
Brock watched them go, knowing Eric was safe with Gordon. He headed for the back door, slipping out while everyone’s attention was on Gordon and Eric.
God, the backyard was so… normal. A swing set. Toys. A little gas grill. A tiny vegetable plot with seedlings.
He went out the gate at the far end and walked to the other end of the alley.
Gordon’s big black Hummer pulled up and he climbed into the back seat. Eric was looking into the backyard through the window, shaking his head. “She’s going to get a small pool this summer for the backyard. I promised her.”
Brock leaned forward, hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Can she swim?”
“Not yet. But she wants to, so badly. She loves baths.”
He could picture Eric bathing his daughter, water and bubbles everywhere. It was just so… domestic. He couldn’t decide if that was creepy, adorable, or just wrong.
Luckily Gordon interrupted at that point, asking for directions.
“The park is down off Mays. Turn left at the light.” Eric was looking around, trembling a little. “Could you hear her when they called? Was she crying?”
He squeezed Eric’s shoulders. “You sure you want to do this to yourself?”
“I… I need to know. Is she okay?”
“She’s unhurt, alive. She wasn’t happy.” Gordon looked grim.
“Of course she wasn’t. She wants you, Eric. You have to concentrate on the good, on what’s coming.”
“I want her home.” Eric sighed, the sound sad. “I want you to meet her.”
“I will. And I’ll take you both for a picnic and for golf, and we’ll have a good time.”
“Okay. Okay, Brock…. Hey, turn right up here and head down the street.” Eric sighed.
Brock leaned forward, looking everywhere as Gordon followed Eric’s directions. He hoped like hell they found Josie sooner than later.
“Stop. There’s a group of kids. Her friends. There on the corner.”
Gordon slowed the car and parked before grabbing the binoculars and handing them to Eric. “Is Chrissie in the group?”
“I….” Eric looked, blond eyebrows lowering as he tried to focus the binoculars. “No. No, and her boyfriend and best friend aren’t there either.”
“All right, the next place then.” Gordon started the Hummer up.
“They wouldn’t be in public, right? I mean, at a diner or something?”
Gordon shook his head. “Or at their houses. The cops are taking that route.”
Brock let his hand slide up Eric’s arm. “Where else do they hang out? You know this, Eric. I know you do.”
“The barn in Acker’s field. Down in that parking lot off Maness.” Eric pointed down a roughly paved road that turned to gravel about the point that the trees crept right up to the edges. Brock would bet that kids brought their sleds up here in the winter—it was isolated enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about traffic, about adults harshing their fun.
“The barn first—they could hide her there.” Gordon had already turned the car toward Acker’s field.
“It still gets cold at night and she has nightmares. She needs her night-light.” God, Eric was obviously going through every worst-case scenario he could think of.
“She’s going to be okay, Eric. We’re going to get her. Gordon’s got blankets and all sorts of shit in the back.”
“Right. Going to get her and bring her home.”
Eric kept directing them toward the field in the quickly fading light, sure and steady.
Brock wasn’t a praying man, but he found himself doing it now. He wasn’t sure how much longer Eric could keep it together. There were three older cars at the gate, one the silver one with the bumper sticker from earlier. Bingo.
Brock squeezed Eric’s shoulders. “This is it,” Brock whispered as Gordon cut out the engine. “How do we do this, Gord?”
“You two sit tight. I’ll go in.” Gordon met Eric’s eyes. “You stay here, man. No matter what.”
“I.”
“No. Matter. What.”
Brock tightened his hold on Eric’s shoulders. “He’ll stay.” Brock would make sure of that because he trusted Gordon with his own life.
“Good.” Gordon slipped out of the Hummer and headed for the barn, going around to the back.
Eric stared. “Brock, shouldn’t we go? What if he needs help?”
“He said stay, baby, so we stay.” He patted Eric’s shoulder with one hand. “You want to come sit in back here with me?”
“No. I want to go in there and get my Josie.”
“Gordon is going to get her. He’s the best in the business. You let him do his job.”
“I’ll try.”
They both watched as Gordon crept toward the dilapidated barn, moving slow, staying low. It was excruciating to just sit and watch, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Eric.
Brock saw the puff of smoke from one of the broken windows before he heard the shot and Gordon swung around, grabbing one shoulder for the barest second and then pulling a pistol from a shoulder holster.
“Fucking shit.” These were supposed to be high school kids. What the fuck were they doing with a gun?
He held tight to Eric. Running out now would only put him in the line of fire.
“Brock!” Eric screamed. “They shot him!”
Gordon was running now, his own pistol at the ready, toward the barn.
“They shot at him. He’s going to get her.” He started climbing over the front seat of the Hummer, managing to get himself into the driver’s seat. “This way we can make a quick getaway when he comes out with her.” His heart was pounding hard, his stomach in his throat.
“Should we call 911?”
He thought about it for half a second and then nodded. If nothing else, the cops needed to be there to make arrests. “Do it. Tell them who you are and where we are.”
“Okay.” Another series of shots rang out as Eric dialed, whimpering. Brock didn’t say anything, but there was a line of bright red staining the back of Gordon’s shoulder.
Brock hated this. He hated just sitting around while other people did.
Two teenaged girls ran out of the barn—one the blonde he’d seen before, the other a skinny redhead in a green-and-white cheerleader outfit, both screaming and crying. Fuck. He could hear the sirens but these kids would be long gone before they got here.
“I’m going to get them,” he told Eric, opening his door silently.
“No. I will.” Eric bolted out of the car, moving faster than Brock thought his ex-lover could. “You two stop!”
“Shit!” Brock ran after Eric, cursing with every step.
There was another series of shots, the sounds of sirens, and then Eric reached the girls, grabbing them both.
“Who’s got the gun?” Brock demanded, coming up behind Eric, hand helping to hold the teenagers.
“Art,” the blonde sobbed. “He’s gone crazy in there.”
“Josie! Josie, is my little girl in there?”
The blonde nodded and Eric took off like a shot, heading right into the line of fire.
“Eric!” Brock didn’t have to even stop to consider it; he let the girls go and took off after the idiot.
It was like a nightmare, watching the barn doors open, one kid armed with a small rifle in his hands and another slung over his back, while a second kid came zipping out on a four-wheeler, a screaming little girl under his arm, her legs kicking furiously.
Eric never slowed down.
Not until the boy took aim at him and shot.
Twice.
Roaring, Brock made a split-second decision and launched himself at the four-wheeler; he knew instinctively it was what Eric would want him to do.
He heard more shots, but he ignored them, focusing on that little girl, who was fighting and screaming, calling for her daddy. He saw as the kid decided to throw Josie out of the four-wheeler and he sped up, desperate to catch her, to save her. He got hold of her, but he had to overreach to do it and his feet went out from under him. Throwing himself around, he managed to land on his back, Josie on top of him. He was winded and his head slammed against the ground, momentarily stunning him.
There were lights and sirens, people yelling, and then someone took Josie out of his arms. He made sure that someone was a grown-up—a cop as it happened—and then he sat up, looking for Eric.
“Boss? You hurt?” Gordon was covered in blood.
“Gordie! Get your ass over here!” Gordon’s lover was bellowing, furious.
“I’m fine—Eric needs a doctor. And go see Max before he shoots you himself.” He crawled over to Eric. “Baby, we got your girl.”
Eric wasn’t moving. Not at all.
“Boss, you…. You gotta get back. Let the ambulance in.”
He ignored Gordon, his hands on Eric’s face. “Come on, baby. Josie needs you.” Jesus, Eric was so fucking cold.
“Daddy!”
At her scream, Eric’s eyes fluttered. “Jo….”
“Yeah, that’s right, baby. That little girl needs her daddy—you make sure she has him.”
“Hurts. I. You don’t let El take her to Mother. You watch her. For me, Bee. For me. Please.”
Jesus, he hadn’t heard that pet name in years. Years.
“Baby, I….” He groaned as Eric coughed, blood staining the pale lips, and then he nodded. “All right, Eric. For you.”
“For me. For—” Those eyes rolled up and Eric started convulsing, feet hammering on the ground.
“Help! Somebody help him!” Brock shouted.
Max grabbed him, pulled him out of the way. “The little girl needs family to go with her to Children’s. You’re his partner, right?”
“That’s right.” Not strictly the truth, but he was the closest thing Eric had to one, and he’d made the man a promise that he’d take care of Josie. “Make sure he’s taken care of, okay?”
“You have my word. She’s in that ambulance.” Max pointed to one of five. Jesus. Five.
He nodded at Max. “Take care of that man of yours, too.” Then he trotted over to the ambulance. Once he was closer, he was able to pick out the right one right away. Josie was crying, screaming for her father.
Wincing, he made his way over to her. “Josie. Josie, I’m Brock—your daddy asked me to come take care of you.”
“Daddy….” She sobbed, fighting the EMTs. “No! No! No no no no!”
The screams escalated and he opened his arms, the frightened girl catapulting into them.
She was tiny, but strong, her arms wrapping around his neck in a death grip. “There, there,” he murmured, patting her back. He had no idea what to say to her, what to do.
“Sir, we need to take her in.” The woman held her hands out, and the girl screamed again.
“NONONONONO!”
Okay, well. Josie was her father’s daughter. She wanted to hold on to him.
“I’ll stay with her. I promised Eric I’d stay with her.” He nodded toward the ambulance. “You want us in here?”
“Yes. We’ll take her to Children’s. Thank you.”
They climbed on and she held tight to him, shaking and sobbing softly.
“I’ve got you,” he told her, going back to the awkward patting. “You’re safe now.”
“I bet you need to use the potty, huh? Maybe a snack?” The EMT kept talking, but Josie wasn’t budging.
Maybe she just needed to hold on to someone who wasn’t holding her for ransom and who didn’t have a gun.
“You hungry?” he asked Josie. “Or thirsty?” He’d kill for a shot of that whiskey right about now, himself.
“Wants Daddy.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s got stuff he has to do, though, so he asked me to stay with you, okay?”
Shit, the poor thing had been taken and held under God knew what kind of conditions, with people she didn’t know, and now all she wanted was her daddy and he was saying no. He wouldn’t blame her if she got hysterical again. He was hoping that didn’t happen, but he wouldn’t blame her.
“Cookie?” Those black eyes looked hopeful.
He chuckled and glanced up at the EMT. “I want one, too, so I hope you have a whole box of them.”
“I have a box of Girl Scout cookies in the cab.” The EMT smiled.
“You rock. Did you hear that? There are cookies.”
“Cookie?” At his nod, she gave him a tremulous smile.
He smiled back, pleased as punch he’d kept her from starting to cry again. The EMT brought a packet of cookies and got them settled quickly for the drive. He opened the package and picked up a chocolate cookie, handing it over.
“T’ank you.” She ate it, allowing the EMT to take her blood pressure.
Brock closed his eyes and leaned back against the side of the ambulance. “Is everyone being taken to the same hospital?”
“Yes and no. We’re all in the same complex, sir, but different buildings.”
“Can you get on the radio and find out how her f-a-t-h-e-r is doing?”
“I’ll try, absolutely.” She found a little stuffed cat, offered it to Josie, who grabbed it.
“Thank you. How is she doing? Everything okay?” Brock asked.
“She looks fine. Scared, upset, a few bruises, but fine.”
“Okay. Good.” That was something, right?
“Yes, sir.” There was a little quiet murmuring, and then she shot him a quick look.
He narrowed his gaze on her. “What?”
She shook her head. “They’re performing CPR.”
He felt the blood drain from his face.
“I’m sorry.” She looked away, and Josie started wriggling.
Brock let her wriggle for a moment, trying to catch his breath. This was crazy. Insane.
“They’re going to get him into surgery, sir. Right away.”
“He’s got something to fight for.” Brock said it to remind himself of that. This little girl he was holding meant everything to Eric, he’d seen that, and the man would fight death itself for her.
“Daddy.” As if thinking about him made her want Eric, she asked for him.
“He’s going to the hospital in another ambulance, okay?” God, what was he supposed to tell her?
She stared at him, dark eyes exhausted and confused.
“How about a nap?”
“My bed?”
Jesus, everything was a pitfall, wasn’t it?
“How about a sleepover?” Was she even old enough to know what that was?
Her brow furrowed, and she stared at him, blinking slower and slower. He stared back, willing her to go to sleep.
Her fists stayed curled in his lapels, even as she dozed off. The EMT sighed. “They’re going to wake her back up when we arrive. It’s taking longer because of the situation. They want to move her into a secure room immediately.”
He nodded. “Good. That’s good. I’ll stay with her.” He didn’t make it a question; he’d made Eric that promise.
“The nurses there are amazing. They’ll help.”
“Good, good.” Very good, because he didn’t have a clue how to take care of a little kid.
Not one.
“Here we are. Can you carry her in?”
That he could do without any problems. She didn’t weigh any more than his briefcase on a busy night. He nodded and climbed out of the ambulance, Josie clutching him like she knew they were going to try to take her away from him.
The lights and noise were a little overwhelming, even to him. He held on tight to Josie, patting her back now and then with one hand, and followed the EMT inside.