Authors: Kyra Jacobs
“It don’t stop until I say it stops,” Marcus said. “And I got far too many people demanding money from me to close shop just because you got your damn panties in a wad.”
Vanessa had a part in all of this? Nausea swept through me. How much of my whereabouts had she shared with Marcus? And to think I’d trusted her! Then again, so had Grace. And look where it’d gotten us both.
All this thinking had my head pounding. Traces of whatever I’d been drugged with remained on my nose, its smell repulsive. I went to reach up and rub it away, but my hands were bound behind me. My feet were tied with something as well.
Panic began to clear the fog in my brain. As more and more of my senses began to reawaken, I noticed my mouth was horribly dry. I tried to swallow, but something got in the way of my tongue. Some sort of gag. I tried to look around, get a sense of my surroundings, but everything was pitch black.
I fought back an overwhelming sense of despair. And regret. Why, oh why, hadn’t I listened to Nate? Traitor or not, he would have kept me safe.
“Where’re we taking her, boss?” a third voice piped up. It belonged to a man, but I didn’t immediately recognize it.
“Back to Maxwell,” said Marcus. “Since Vanessa’s been worthless this month, this gal’s gonna have to spill the password herself.”
“And after that?”
“She’s all yours.”
“No!” Vanessa cried.
“Shut up!” Marcus roared. “So help me, Vanessa, I’ll kill you myself tonight if you don’t knock it off. Matt’s had to pick up your slack lately, so it’s only fair I give him this little cutie. It’ll be like an early Christmas bonus.”
The two men laughed. I was awake enough to feel the color drain from my face. Matt?
Matthew Findley
? I could still picture in my mind the look he’d given me in the stairwell that day. Like a wolf, staring down his prey.
I had to find a way to get out of here.
The vibration beneath me lessened—our vehicle was slowing down. Panic coursed through me. Along with the fear of not knowing what would come next. And whether or not I’d survive.
Vanessa’s whimpering subsided, but her sniffling continued. I almost felt badly for her. Clearly she was in way over her head. But then, she wasn’t the one about to get thrown to the wolves. I was.
I said a quick prayer. Thanked God for keeping Grace from having to go through all of this. Then prayed for a miracle.
The vehicle stopped. Doors opened, then shut. A door near me burst open. Still I could see no light.
“Okay, sleeping beauty,” Marcus said. “Let’s go.”
I felt myself being hoisted up, and realized for the first time that I was actually inside of something. A large bag of sorts. Marcus suspended the bag in the air for a moment, then lowered it down.
The surface beneath me shook and shimmied. Wheels clattering. Something flopped on top of me. Not too heavy, but definitely flimsy. And another.
Rugs. I was being buried beneath rugs in an industrial-sized laundry basket. No surveillance camera would ever see me. My heart sank.
The van door creaked on its hinges as someone slammed it shut. Then a pair of hands clamped onto my entrapment and shoved it forward. Steered me back into the bowels of what I’d aptly referred to just hours before as my own…personal…hell.
* * * *
To say the ride into the building was uncomfortable would have been a major understatement. But I had bigger worries than that. Like what Marcus needed me for. And what Matthew was planning to do to me. And would I ever see the light of day again?
The cart climbed a ramp, rolled over a bump—a door jamb, perhaps. It continued on down a long, smooth hallway, then stopped.
Ding
. Elevator doors swished open. We moved forward. Stopped again.
Another swish of the doors, and we began our ascent to what I could only guess was the second floor. Probably my very own office. At the back of the building. Which faced the meadow completely surrounded by woods. No one would see what was happening. No one would know to come to my rescue. I fought back tears and prayed even harder.
Another ding, and we were on the move once more. Gliding across a carpeted floor. The air around us silent but for a wobbly wheel, rattling below me.
We came to another stop. Keys rattled on a ring, then a door opened. Probably to the Marketing lobby. I could picture Vanessa’s desk. The water feature. Would I ever see any of that again? Or would they…would they…
I squeezed my eyes shut. Refused to travel any farther down that thought path.
The laundry cart lurched forward once more, the lobby doors snapped shut behind us, and a lock clicked. Then the rugs that had buried me in the basket were removed.
This was it. There was no use fighting—how could that possibly help? I couldn’t walk, talk,
see
. All I could do was wait. For God knew what.
I was suddenly lifted into the air. Had the wind momentarily knocked out of me as I was tossed over someone’s shoulder, my midsection landing square on a bony socket. The person below me began to walk. They gripped the bag, along with the seat of my pants, to keep me from sliding off.
I’d never felt so helpless in all my life.
Eventually my captor stopped. Unlocked a door. Stepped inside and dropped me to the floor.
My back screamed from the pain, but I kept silent. Didn’t want to appear any weaker than I already did.
I heard the sound of a long zipper. Blinked as light began to filter into my confined space.
“Looks like someone’s decided to wake up and join the party.”
I stared up at the sneering, scarred face of Marcus Phillippe. Felt an instant hatred toward the man. Threw daggers at him with my eyes.
“Oh, and does she look pissed.” He looked off to the side. “You got yourself a feisty one, Matt.”
Dark laughter echoed in from the hallway.
“Come on, princess,” Marcus said, turning his attention back to me. “Let’s get you up into your chair so we can get this show on the road.”
He hooked a hand under my right arm and lifted me into a standing position as if I weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers. Then he reached into his back pocket and produced a six-inch long knife. Its sharp edge gleamed beneath the room’s fluorescent lighting.
“Jessica, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Slash. You play nice, and he’ll leave you alone. Resist me…” He glanced at the knife, then drove it to the hilt into the top of my desk. “And he’ll have to get up close and personal. Capeesh?”
I tore my eyes away from the knife. Nodded vigorously.
“Good.” Marcus grabbed my upper arms. Pulled me across the room. Shoved me down into my office chair. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to untie your hands, and you’re going to write down your password for me. Understand?”
I stared at him, shocked. I’d been kidnapped for a damned
password
? Hell, he could have just asked me for that at knifepoint on my front porch. I would have coughed it up in a heartbeat!
“Understand?” Marcus repeated, impatience in his voice.
Somehow in my panic-stricken state I managed to nod.
“Good.” Marcus retrieved his knife and reached behind me. I braced myself for some immense oncoming pain. But instead of cutting me, the knife tore through whatever had bound my hands together. The binding fell away, and I slowly moved my hands forward to try and massage out the throbbing indents in each wrist.
“Now.” Marcus shoved my chair to the side desk, then slammed a pen and notepad down before me. “
Your password
.”
I tried to lift my hands. Truly I did. Wanted to pick up the pen. But my muscles were suddenly frozen with fear.
Marcus’s face came back into view, eyes narrowed. “Do we need to go back over our introductions with Slash?”
My gaze shifted from the pen to the knife in his hands. I managed to jerk my head back and forth.
“Good girl. Now
write
.”
Somehow I managed to reach out my trembling hand, grab the pen, and scribble down my network password. The writing was barely legible, but it was the best I could do. I just hoped it was enough.
Matthew piped up behind us. “We’ve got company.”
“Shit. Well, go on—stall him. I can handle Miss Priss here.” Marcus cast a dark look upon me. Ran his fingers along the knife’s blade. “Sounds like that boyfriend of yours picked up on our trail.” His gaze shifted to the wall clock. “Though I don’t know how. Been driving in circles for an hour, waiting for you to wake up. No matter. This will only take a second.”
He looked at what I’d written then and growled. Something hard slammed into the back of my head. I cried out in surprise, the sound muffled by the gag in my mouth. Pain radiated from the point of impact.
No one but Marcus could hear my cry. And from the look on his face, he couldn’t have cared less. “I need the password to get into Orange Financial, not this. Hell, Matthew got us this a week ago!”
He shoved my chair toward the computer. Reached around me. Held his knife to my throat with one hand, fingers on his other flying across the keyboard. A moment later my computer was running through its network initialization sequence.
“Now.” He whipped my chair back over before the notepad. “The
other
password. And since we’re running a little short on time, I’m going to hurry this along by counting to three. If it’s not on that paper by then, that blow to the back of your head is gonna feel like a day at the spa compared to what I’ll do to you next time.”
I wanted to obey him. Wanted like crazy to avoid any more pain. But fear had suddenly wiped my memory clean. I stared down at the notepad, pen in hand, trying desperately to remember my password.
“One…”
Come on…
I closed my eyes. Wracked my brain.
“Two…”
Nothing.
Tears began to trickle down my cheeks. Why couldn’t I remember?
“Three.” His hand reached out, grabbed a fist full of my hair, and slammed my face down into the desk. “Don’t think you can hold out for a rescue, sweet thing. You give me that password, pronto, or all your boyfriend will find is pieces of you scattered around this office.”
I trembled beneath his crushing grip, and the pen slipped from my hand. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks in rivers now, pooling around my face on the desk. “I…I ’ant ’member.”
He lifted my face a small distance up from the desk and slammed it back down again. Stars dotted my vision. “
Find a way
to remember. My patience is running thin.”
I tried to nod, the pool of tears smearing across my face. More pain as the fist in my hair tugged me upright once more.
“Good,” he said, his voice unnaturally smooth. Then his voice changed back to rough-verging-on-psychotic. “
Now
write
.”
I reached a quivering hand out to pick up the pen. Shook so badly that I dropped it. Fumbled to pick it up again.
Marcus tightened his grip on the knife. I forced myself to look away. Focus on the tear-stained notepad on the desk.
Think, Jessica, think!
What’s the damn password?
And then it came to me.
AntEater22.
Michael and his stupid passwords. No wonder Vanessa hadn’t been able to guess it on her own. I had half the word scratched onto the pad when a gunshot rang out. The pen froze in my hand.
Oh, God, no. Please, not Nate. Don’t let him be—
Marcus’s knife materialized below my chin in the blink of an eye. “Focus, Jessica. Don’t make me cut this pretty little throat of yours.”
I swallowed hard. Felt the blade press into my neck as I did. Willed my right hand to finish its work.
“Good girl.” Marcus shoved my chair over to my computer once more. Reached around me to type the password in. “For your sake, it better be right.”
The clicking of his fingers on my keyboard echoed through the dead quiet of my office. But my mind wasn’t on the clicks. Or the ensuing embezzling. Or Maxwell.
It was on that lone gunshot. And Nate.
Chapter 33