Five-six, twenty-one, blonde and spiked hair, Robbie matched the license plate on the silver BMW with the ticket stub before climbing behind the wheel. He slammed the door, fired up the engine, put the transmission into ‘reverse’ and looked over his shoulder. A moment later, the driver door opened and his foot mashed the brake pedal. He came back around. “Hey, what the—” the numbers and letters—.357 MAG—engraved on the side of steel caught his attention.
Bent over the man, Jacob ran the gearshift to ‘park’ and pressed the button on the seatbelt latch. “I need this ride. Get out.”
Robbie’s hands went up. “You can have it. Just don’t kill me, dude.”
Spying the front of the house through the windshield, Jacob grabbed a handful of Robbie’s jacket and shirt and, “That’s the plan, son,” pulled the man from the car. A quick shift from ‘P’ to ‘D’ later, Jacob and the Beamer were accelerating toward the service driveway.
… … … … …
Headlights came straight for the women. Felicity pointed the Glock at the driver’s half of the windshield. The lights flashed and the car screeched to a halt, the passenger door flying open.
“Your chariot awaits, ladies.” Jacob shifted the vehicle into ‘reverse.’ “Let’s go. Let’s go.”
Felicity climbed in through the open door, while Elaine scampered into the backseat.
Doors shut, and Jacob peeled away, spun the sports car around and hit the gas pedal, careful not to drive away too fast. “We’re meeting up with Amber first before catching a plane back to the States. You two will be on American soil in no time.”
Felicity pivoted in the seat. “Can I talk to her?”
He tapped his earpiece. “Amber, you copy? Amber, it’s Jacob. Do you copy?” He waited a few seconds before shutting off the device. “I told her to maintain radio silence, until we were all clear.” He smiled at the passenger. “She must be playing it safe, giving us more time.” He went back to watching the road ahead. He checked his watch—9:05—and the smile left his face. She should be gone by now.
… … … … …
9:31 p.m.
“Amber, it’s Jacob. Do you copy?”
Felicity uncrossed her booted legs and squared shoulders with him. “Why isn’t she responding?”
Behind the wheel of the BMW, parked at a gas station/bar near Morley, he glimpsed her out of the corner of one eye. “I don’t know.”
“Did she get delayed?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know,” put an elbow on the door and covered his mouth.
“Do you think her earpiece was bro—”
“I don’t know,” he bellowed, while confronting his questioner, who reared away from him. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just as worried about her as you are.” Balling his hand, “We were supposed to meet,” he pointed at the building, “here. She was supposed to get the car and drive straight,” his fist returned, and he punched the dashboard, “here.” The radio started playing classical music.
Felicity flinched. A moment later, she shut off the radio. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her muscles tensing, as she braced for another outburst.
His chest swelled, and he exhaled a long, slow breath through pursed lips. If she had car trouble, we would have passed her. A mix-up with the valet? He made a face. It wouldn’t have taken this long. After running through a couple more scenarios, his mind settled on the one he feared most. He’s got her. That S.O.B. has her. Jacob tapped his earbud. “Amber, this is Jacob. Please respond.” Silence. “Amber, do you copy?”
… … … … …
Three minutes earlier…
His hands in pants pockets, Xavier stood in front of Amber, who sat in a chair. He squinted at her, his jaw muscles flexing. “Four men dead.” He strolled to her right side. “Two men badly beaten—one of them a good client of mine.” He circled behind the woman and stared down at her black hair. “A woman was beat up; two others are missing.”
Surrounded by four men, her hands at her sides, bound to the chair, Amber had stopped struggling to free herself twenty minutes ago. She smiled briefly. “It looks like you’re having a string of bad luck.”
Xavier bent over, wrenched her head backward and glared into her eyes. “Don’t test my patience, Miss Jones. I have no qualms with hurting women.”
His upside face an inch away from hers, her neck muscles straining, she swallowed, making a gulping sound. “Hurting them, kidnapping them, forcing them to,” she swallowed again, “be your sex slaves…I know all about what you’re capable of doing to women.”
He came back around, leaned forward and rested hands on the arms of the chair. “Who said anything about kidnapping or forcing anyone to be a sex slave?” He squinted. “Who exactly are you, Miss Jones? If that’s even your real—”
Amber sent her foot, and the toe of her sandal, upward.
Xavier staggered, holding his groin. He took a step forward and backhanded her across the cheek.
Amber’s head whipped to the side. She moved her jaw—up and down, side to side. Should’ve known he wasn’t going to let that one go. She curled up one side of her mouth. Still…it felt good.
One hand cupping his private area, the man flung his free arm toward her. “Tie her damn feet down too,” he yelled before steadying himself on a nearby table.
Two men knelt at her feet. She watched one man tie and wrench the ends of a thin cord. Her body jerked and her head fell backward. A lone teardrop left her eye and streaked across her temple. Seconds later, she winced and let out a muffled groan when the cord grew tighter, digging into her ankles.
Xavier snapped his fingers. “A knife.” After receiving a folded knife from the man next to him, he flicked his wrist and the blade locked open. “I’m done playing nice.” He grabbed her gown, cut a slit in the ‘V’ and ripped the material down to her thighs. “Did you inform the band?”
“Yes sir. They’ve been playing louder for some time now.”
“Good.” Xavier motioned. “Bring in the machine and,” he pulled up on the cups of her black bra, exposing her breasts, “put the electrodes here.”
Amber’s heart pounded in her chest. The ceiling tiles spun. Pressure built in her brain. She closed eyes. Don’t let him win. You can do this. You’re strong. You— Jacob’s words came to her:
“My point is you’re strong, Amber. No matter what happens in the next few hours, days or weeks, keep that at the forefront of your mind.” Jacob glanced at her. “And if you’re a praying person, I suggest you do that too.”
Righting her head, she clenched her teeth and drew in a breath. God, if you’re listening, I could sure use some help right about now. A second later, she let out the air and shivered, feeling as if she had been left in a freezer. Please God. I need you.
Xavier sneered at the helpless woman. “We wouldn’t want Miss Jones’s screams to upset the guests.”
“Sir,” a man held his cupped hand out to his boss.
Xavier plucked a white piece of plastic and eyed the man.
“I found it on the floor by her feet. It wasn’t there a minute ago.”
Xavier examined the device. It must’ve fallen out when I hit her. He slipped the piece into his ear, immediately hearing the tail end of a sentence.
“…you copy?”
… … … … …
Jacob raised a hand to shut off the comm.
“Mr. St. Christopher I presume.”
The hand became a fist, and Jacob brought his arm back a short ways. “If she’s lost one single strand of hair, I will show you no mercy.”
“I was just about to apply some therapy, of the…electrical nature, to help loosen her tongue; however, we discovered—”
“You son-of—”
“Relax. She’s fine…for now. Her future condition…” Xavier chortled, “well that depends on you.”
Jacob sat upright. “And your life depends on how well you treat her.”
“I would be careful about throwing around empty threats.”
“By now, I’m sure you’ve learned I’m more than capable of delivering on promises.”
“Indeed.” Xavier paused. “It seems each of us has something the other one wants. How about we make a trade? You give me my property, and I’ll give you yours.”
Jacob grabbed the steering wheel as if he was in a NASCAR race going two hundred miles an hour. “I was thinking you let her go, and I won’t kill you.” He heard laughing.
“You are very confident. I’ll give you that, Mr. St. Christopher.” He waited a beat. “Meet me at Policeman’s Creek Bridge in Canmore—northeast side—at eleven o’clock.”
“Where the hell is that?”
“I have no doubt a man of your talents can locate a bridge.”
“I want to speak with—” the line went dead, and Jacob gripped the wheel harder before opening his hands and letting out a long, slow breath through pursed lips. Take it easy, Jake. You’re no good to her this way. Producing his phone, he pecked at the screen: p o l i c e m a n s
“What are you doing? Is my sister all right?”
“We’re meeting Bergeron in Canmore at eleven. He wants to make a trade.”
“A trade? A trade for…” Felicity slowly tipped her head back before nodding, “…her for me.” The woman’s chest heaved, and she looked out her window. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’m ready.”
He faced her. “This isn’t baseball. No one’s being traded. I’m getting Amber back, and all of us are going home.”
“He’ll hurt her if we don’t do what he says. I’ve seen what he can do.” She turned away. “She could already be…”
“Knock it off,” he shot back. “Amber’s fine. Bergeron is a man of business. He won’t risk damaging,” Jacob bobbed his head, “forgive me…but he won’t risk damaging his property before the deal is done.” He went back to his cell. “And besides…you’ve seen firsthand what I can do too.”
Felicity spied him out of her peripheral vision, her mind seeing the dead bodies piling up in the wake of his passing. Yes, I have. Facing him, “So,” she crossed her legs and rolled onto her left hip. “Just how do you plan to get her back?”
“First I need to find this place.” He typed: c r e e k b r i d g e “And then I can begin working on a plan.”
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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