37
Man, Woman, Child, Dog
Alex
I’m in my car on the way to Zoe’s boutique. If I’m lucky, she’ll be up for a quickie before she opens the store. My cock is already hard, imagining putting her up against the wall and plunging into her.
My phone rings through the car system. “Alex Wolf.”
“Zoe hit her panic button.”
My brother’s hard voice turns my world upside down. “Fuck. Where is she?”
“On the road, en route to work. Car hasn’t moved in almost sixty seconds.”
He gives me the location and I speed up, running a red light just as it changes. Her car’s on the other side of the boutique from here, a good mile away. I already know what I’ll find but I race there anyway.
Her panic button summons the police as well as our firm, so I’m not surprised when a patrol car pulls up at the same time I do. I run across the street, dodging traffic, to where her vehicle sits on the side of the road, empty, the driver’s side door open. Her purse is still sitting on the front seat.
I call Lucas as the cops descend. “She’s gone.”
“Call Deke.” There’s death in his voice, and I know one of us should keep a grip but I don’t have it in me to talk him down. “I don’t care how many markers we wind up owing. I want every possible man, woman, child, dog, everything looking for her.”’
“On it.” I ignore the police trying to get my attention and make the call.
38
Right Now
Lucas
I call Zoe’s father and demand to be put through. “Is there anything you didn’t tell us?” I snarl as soon as he answers.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about someone just snatched your daughter.”
There’s a shocked silence before he whispers, in a voice that suddenly sounds decades older, “Zoe?”
“Yeah. So you tell me everything and you tell me right now.”
There’s a pause before he says, “The confidentiality agreement —”
“Listen to me, you son of a bitch. I don’t have time to come in and negotiate a new agreement with you. They have your daughter.”
He draws in a shaky breath, and then he starts talking.
39
Over
Zoe
I’m cold.
The house — I think it’s a house — where they’re keeping me doesn’t seem to have any heating. I’m lying on my side on a mattress that smells none too clean, my wrists and ankles bound behind me.
My captors traded my hood for a blindfold, reaching up under the former to wrap the latter around my eyes. Except for the fact that I think they’re all men, I know nothing about them. They haven’t even spoken in my presence.
Whoever they are, they’re worried about me identifying them … which gives me hope. If they planned to kill me, it wouldn’t matter. So they’ve grabbed me for some other purpose.
This must have to do with my father … or the Wolf brothers. Could someone they crossed paths with in their line of work be holding a grudge? Maybe, but I would think anyone with half a brain would know better than to mess with them.
I shift slightly on the mattress, trying to ease the ache between my shoulder blades. Another pee-mergency is bearing down on me, thanks to the coffee I drank this morning. Asking if I can use a bathroom is not something I want to do. It’s unlikely they’d take my blindfold off; they might not even untie me all the way.
That would mean unknown men helping me and/or watching me … I shudder. No. I’ll hold it until I burst.
My sense of time is skewed, but I think it’s been a few hours. A rumble in my stomach confirms that it’s probably lunchtime by now. Damn.
I twist my wrists against their bindings, and to my surprise feel them give a little. They’ve wrapped me up so tightly my hands are numb. Working them around in circles as best I can, gritting my teeth as whatever they’ve tied me with digs into my skin, I keep flexing until a little bit of blood flow returns to my hands. It hurts like hell, but it’s better than having my circulation cut off.
I rest for a minute, then go back to work. Bit by bit, a fraction at a time, my bonds loosen until I can drag one hand free. Wincing at the tingling in my hands and the raw skin on my wrists, I sit up and take off my blindfold.
After a few seconds, I can see that the room I’m in is tiny — maybe some kind of storage closet? An old pantry? No shelves on the walls, though. It’s dark, but there’s a tiny sliver of light coming under the door.