Hero Book 3 - The Battle: Military Romance

  I leaned closed and squeezed Ricky's throat, turning his face from pale to red. “Some people might find that a little too convenient.”

  “I already went to the police,” Ricky stammered. “I wanted them to do something, to find her. They told me Leighton hasn't been gone long enough for it to be a missing persons case. Why would I do that if I had something to do with it?”

  I let go. He had a point. He could still be lying, but it looked a lot less likely now. “I don't need their help or yours.”

  “You have a plan?” Ricky asked, his voice frantic.

  Either he really cared about Leighton or he was one hell of an actor.

  “Do you know anything about the person or people who took Leighton?” He looked from me to Devlin and back again.

  “We have a pretty good profile of the person sending the threats, thanks to Haze,” Devlin said.

  Ricky glared at me, and it took a lot of self-control not to lunge at him just to see if I could get him to squeal like a small child.

  “No offense, Mr. Pope, but wasn't he the one who let Leighton slip away the last time?”

  I worked on ignoring him. I had too much to do. I couldn't let Ricky distract me. He was right about one thing. The police wouldn't consider Leighton a missing person for at least another twenty-four hours, maybe a little longer thanks to her history and her resources. But I wasn't going to look at it as a bad thing. It meant I had a small window before other people trampled all over the trail and destroyed anything that might lead me to her.

  “And he was the only one to find her,” Devlin countered Ricky's comment. His voice hardened. “I suggest you get out of our way, Ricky. If I understand correctly, Leighton already kicked you to the curb, and I agree that's where you belong.”

  There were several long beats of silence.

  “Well, I have one thing to say. If Haze screws up, I'll make sure he gets a one-way ticket back to the cornfield he came from.” Ricky stalked away, making sure to give me a wide berth as he went back to his flashy sports car.

  I ignored him and turned to Devlin. “Did you get the things I asked for?”

  He gestured toward the floor of the limo as I climbed back in. There was a case I hadn't seen before. I leaned down and opened it. Inside was a gun and clip. He watched as I loaded the gun and slung the holster over my shoulders. The duffel bag also contained a taser, a hard leather sap, and heavy duty binoculars with night vision capability.

  “Where's the sniper rifle?” I asked.

  “It'll be on my desk by the time we get back to the house.”

  I leaned back in the seat as the limo started forward again. “Don't mistake me, Devlin. I'll use the weapons only if absolutely necessary, but I won't let anything get in the way of bringing Leighton home safe.”

  Devlin was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes hard as he regarded me closely. They looked so much like Leighton's that it was almost painful. “That's what I'm counting on.”

  We rode for several minutes in silence before I spoke again.

  “There's only one plan that will work,” I said. “If there was paparazzi at the private party in Diabolique's VIP Lounge, it means a bouncer accepted a bribe. Once we get back to the house, I'll interview the bouncers on duty that night. That, plus the photographer, are the best bets to find out who didn't belong.”

  “And what if there's no proof that your substitute was seduced by Paris?” Devlin asked.

  “Then they both move to the top of my list of suspects, and I'll bring them back to your place.”

  “Alright,” he said. “I'm coming with you.”

  I shook my head. “I work better alone. You're not going to want to be party to my, ah, style of questioning.”

  He frowned and scrubbed his stubbled chin. I hadn't even realized he wasn't sporting his usual smooth-shaven skin.

  “Give me something to do, Haze. I can't stand twiddling my thumbs. Leighton is out there somewhere and I need to help.”

  I thought for a moment and then thought of something he could do. “Get the rest of the people in those photographs identified and send me a list of names. If anyone stands out for any reason, I'll go see them.”

  Even as we finished our discussion, we pulled up in front of the mansion that the Machus family called home. I followed Devlin into his office, inspected the contents of the long, flat box, and then took it with me as I went back out to my car.

  Devlin's final words echoed after me. “Go find our girl and bring her home.”

  I would. I would find Leighton and bring her home, even if I had to tear apart LA to do it.

  Chapter 3

  Leighton

  When the door opened, the dim light was enough to blind me. I blinked hard and squinted up at the looming person in the doorway. He was beefy, not chiseled like Haze, but heavy and terrifyingly strong. His face was hidden under a black ski mask, and the room was too dark for me to make out any details other than sheer size.

  “Heard you shrieking away in here.”

  His voice was oddly high-pitched for a man of his size, and if I hadn't been piss-my-pants terrified, I would've laughed.

  “You could do it until your throat cracks, and no one will hear you. Still, it's getting on my nerves.” He slapped duct tape across my mouth.

  I tried to struggle away, but one meat hook of a hand was enough to keep me from going anywhere. He untied my ankles, and dragged me to my feet. Any idea I had about kicking him in the balls and running disappeared as I involuntarily sagged against him. Being tied up had numbed my legs, and I could barely stand, much less run for my life. I didn't even know where I was anyway.

  Sub-basement, I thought, as he took me up a short flight of stairs. The next room had hundreds of pipes and vents running along the ceiling. There were gauges and control boxes I didn't understand, and the farther we walked, the more I realized we must be in a large manufacturing warehouse or other industrial area. He was right. No one would ever hear me scream.

  I swallowed my panic and tried to focus on what Haze would do. When the paparazzi chased us, we'd ended up in a similar basement, but Haze had never hesitated once. He'd followed the pipes and found the exit without a second thought.

  The beefy man shoved me along the damp walkway, and I shuffled along slowly, trying to differentiate between the pipes and cables on the ceiling. At some point during our fiasco, Haze had told me water pipes almost always coincided with exits because water shut-off valves needed to be within easy access. Now, I traced the ceiling until I saw a black stamp with faded letters marking the water main.

  “In here,” the man said and shoved me into a side room.

  The concrete room was empty except for a metal folding chair and a narrow basement window. Weak sunlight filtered through the dirty glass, but it was still bright enough to hurt my eyes. He dumped me into the chair and tied my ankles to the chair legs.

  “Don't think I didn't see what you were doing out there. Trying to find the way out. Think you're pretty tricky. Good luck with that.” He sneered the last part.

  He yanked a black blindfold over my eyes and I heard him walk away. My only chance now was to convince the man to let me go. I started talking through the duct tape, making my sounds as pleading as possible against the tight adhesive.

  I wasn't sure how much time passed, but then I heard the footsteps coming closer.

  “Ah, hell, we have a while to wait. Might as well let you entertain me.”

  Without warning, pain shocked through me as the duct tape was ripped off my mouth. I could taste blood and wondered how much skin I'd lost on my lips. Tears stung my eyes and dampened the black blindfold but I didn't linger on any of it.

  “Whatever you're being paid, I can more than double.”

  “All I have to do is let you go, right?” he asked in his unusual voice.

  “Just untie my wrists and leave. That's it,” I said.

  “Then how would I get paid?”

  I thought fast. “Someone will have to c
ome and get me. They'll bring the money. We can wait together if you want.”

  The man chuckled, a strangely girlish sound. “No, thanks. I already got paid my first installment. My boss is quite generous.”

  “I'll triple it,” I said quickly. “There's no reason for you to keep working for whoever it is when I can pay you more.”

  “Let's just say I like the fringe benefits,” the man said.

  Something about his tone turned my stomach. I could practically hear him licking his lips over whatever it was my captor had given him.

  “Out,” another voice said, quiet enough I couldn't tell if they were male or female.

  I heard footsteps, then the door closing. There was an electronic crackle and then I heard the new person breathing in a weird way.

  “You rich girls really are all the same. Trying to buy your way through life. Didn't work, did it?” The voice was robotic sounding and I realized whoever this person was, they were using one of those voice manipulator devices. I wondered if that meant I knew them. I quickly shook off the thought. That couldn't be it. They had to be thinking more towards the future, disguising themselves for when I was released so I couldn't identify them.

  “Did you try opening your legs? Isn't that what gives Leighton Machus her extra edge, her ability to get whatever she wants?” the voice asked.

  My stomach turned sour and roiled. My captor was walking in circles around me now, toying with my red curls in passing.

  “You didn't even offer him a taste? You’re a horrible tease, Miss Machus. Everyone knows that. It's one of the things that sickens me the most. How you tease people, string them along, make them want you, then turn away as if you don't even see them.”

  I yanked my head away from the hand. “I'm not like that. You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “Your little friend Paris? She's a naughty one. I like her.”

  “She's not my friend,” I snapped.

  The sharp slap across my cheek stung, but I gritted my teeth and refused to cry out.

  “She's better than you. She has ambition. I can see your whole future, Leighton. Want me to tell you about it?”

  I held back my rising panic and promised myself my future was a long, open stretch of time. It wasn't going to end in this concrete basement room with some deranged and jealous kidnapper circling around me.

  “Here it is. Once your granddaddy's finally sick of you, he'll hand you off to one of his associates, maybe marry you off in a business deal. I'm guessing it'll happen sooner rather than later. He has to be getting tired of your shit. Everyone else is.”

  Bile rose in my throat, but I choked it back and forced my breath to stay even. How did this person know so much about me? Why did they hate me so much? Despite the alterations from the speaker, I could tell each word dripped with anger and bitterness.

  The only thing that gave me any hope was that they hadn't said my future would end here.

  “Do I know you?” I asked. “What did I do to you? Whatever it was, I'm sorry...”

  Pain shot through my foot as my captor stomped on it and I clamped my lips together to keep from making a sound. It wasn't easy. I'd already known my heels were long gone, but my feet had been so numb from the cold, I hadn't felt much when I’d been walking. Now, however, I felt every inch of my foot.

  “You want to say that again?” the electronic voice asked.

  Another stomp on the same area, but I still managed to stay quiet. My foot was throbbing now, heating up as blood rushed into it.

  “You rich girls are all the same,” the voice snarled. “Loose with your money and your morals. Loose with everything until someone else wants the same thing. Then you get in the way just because you can. Doesn't matter if you really want it, you just don't think other people should have it if you can take it.”

  I shook my head. What the hell were they talking about?

  “You don't agree?” The electronic voice raised an octave, but still wasn't identifiable.

  The next hit was a dull blow against the side of my head.

  Little pinpricks of light danced behind the black blindfold, but I refused to make a sound. I concentrated on the awkward blow. Anyone who'd ever fought with siblings, even just messing around, knew how to punch, but my captor had given me a knock on the side of the head with the butt of their hand. It was more like a child imitating a karate chop than a kidnapper quelling their victim. This person had clearly never hit anyone before, not for real.

  “You know what I think? I think you deserve this. For getting in the way of people's happiness, for pushing people aside like they were nothing.”

  The strange attacks came in a flurry now. Sharp, awkward blows to my shoulders and head. Kicks to my shins.

  Then the chair tipped and I was on my side. Pain went through me, my elbow throbbing like crazy.

  A hard kick into my ribs made me gasp while another finally drove a sound out of me despite my efforts. Then, I was pulled upright, the chair set back on its legs.

  “Don't you have anything to say for yourself?” the voice asked, clearly out of breath.

  “What do you want?” I asked, panting, barely able to breathe myself.

  “Don't you get it? I want you to hurt, I want you to feel like garbage, like the trash you really are. No one's looking for you, not your bodyguard or that boy toy that ran off to Kansas. You're the one who's been tossed aside and I want you to feel it.”

  Another slap made my ear ring, but I was too busy to wince. My captor was circling around again and I waited until they were behind me. I pushed off with all my strength, throwing myself and the chair backwards. I tucked my chin to my chest to protect the back of my head, but my captor was closer than I realized, and the metal chair cracked into their leg.

  The electronic voice howled, a hair-raising combination of static and sharp-pitched notes. There was a struggle, but they got out from under me and I heard the muffled static sounds as they headed to the door.

  “Give her some bruises. Knock her around, make her feel it,” the electronic voice said, the anger making its way through the device's distortion.

  The door slammed and I heard that strange girly laugh again.

  “Your boss is a psycho,” I said. Every breath hurt and I wondered if my ribs were cracked. “Don't you think he'll turn on you?”

  “Who cares?” The beefy man pulled me and the metal chair upright with one dizzying move. He checked to see if the blindfold was still in place. “He's an interesting person to work for. Like I said, you can't match the fringe benefits.”

  He. At least I had a gender to go with my mysterious captor.

  The beefy man hit me with an open, loose hand, but the effect was as jarring as hitting a brick wall going thirty miles an hour. I whimpered. It hurt worse than anything the other man had done.

  I let myself cry out as blows continued to rain down, let go of everything except my brother and Haze. Ian had been through much worse. He'd been attacked, shot, and lived through an explosion that could easily have ended his life. Haze had withstood even more. Special Forces training, multiple deployments that he'd never spoken of, months in hostile territory, and, most importantly, charging in to save my brother's life.

  No matter what happened, I would survive. I would get back to them. I clung to that, repeated it, and let it sustain me until my chair fell over and blackness took over my world.

  Chapter 4

  Haze

  The bouncers stood in front of the nightclub manager's cramped office. Arms crossed, feet hip-width apart, and eyes fixed above my head. Only one of them was actually taller than me, but all three men were clearly used to their presence being intimidating enough to discourage most curious or inebriated patrons.

  They were going to figure out pretty quickly that none of that shit worked on me.

  “Let me just start by saying that, unless you've had interrogation training from the US Army Special Forces, this won’t go your way.” I waited to see whose eyes
moved first.

  The tallest one glanced at me and then away. Perfect. I walked right up to him and lined my toes up two inches away from his. The proximity made him frown, but there was nowhere for him to go. I had him against the wall.

  “All three of you stayed to monitor the after hours private party up in the VIP Lounge.” I didn't make it a question. “And it was your consent that allowed the party to continue after the club closed down.” Again, not a question.

  “Manager allows it,” the tallest bouncer said without looking at me.

  “You know what else the manager allows?” I asked. “Me to report any one of you, or all three to the police for the part you played in Leighton Machus' kidnapping.”

  We hadn't gotten a ransom note or any solid proof that Leighton had been kidnapped, but until I had evidence otherwise, I was treating it as such. My gut was telling me that, this time, Leighton hadn't simply run off. Even without the threatening letters, I probably would've thought the same thing.

  I moved to the bald bouncer standing near the office door, drawn by the way he twitched when I'd said Leighton's name. “You know the name, and I'm guessing it wasn't from the tabloids. I'm thinking a photographer bribed you to let him in so he could take pictures of her.”

  The man's jaw flexed and I felt a surge of adrenaline. The moment I heard Leighton was missing, I'd wanted to fight someone, destroy someone, and if he was going to give me an excuse, I was ready to oblige. The bald bouncer stepped back and I could see his resolve weakening.

  “He paid for a few photographs,” he blurted out.

  Our eyes connected. “And you're going to tell me his name for free.”

  As soon as he did, I was out the door and on the phone. Within forty-five minutes, I was edging along a rotted privacy fence and letting myself into the photographer's small house up past Topanga. Probably not my smartest move to date, but also probably not my dumbest either. I could only hope he didn't have some slick silent alarm system. Getting arrested for B&E was the last thing I needed..

  Tommy Multon wasn't home, so I gave myself a quick tour. A dirty galley kitchen was smothered under stacks of pizza boxes and take-out containers. The living room was furnished with a leather easy chair, a video console, and the kind of rug bought off a chain link fence along the boulevard. The tiger face on it stared up at me as I moved through the living room and found the photographer's computer. Instead of a dining room table, he had a corner desk and two large computer monitors plus shelves of photography equipment. These were essentially the only items of value in the entire house.