Blackness Takes Over & Blackness Awaits (39 page)

“Run and hop in the shower. I’ll stitch you up once you’re done. There’s gonna be a scar,” Aidan informs me. I couldn’t give a shit at this point. I don’t respond other than to fly up the stairs two at a time to our room. I no sooner close the door when I’m enveloped in Kid’s scent. She always smells clean. She’s light and airy, not covered in lotions and perfumes. She smells like a bright fresh spring morning. My hands start to shake as the emotion builds in me. Kid’s gone. Fucking gone and I’m standing here in her room shaking like a leaf. I stamp it down. I have to keep my shit together for Kid.

I climb in the shower and wash off in record time. I pull on jeans, a black thermal, a black hoodie, and fly back down the stairs. Aidan has laid out all of the supplies he needs and gets to work on my face silently.

“Fucked up today,” Aidan breaks the silence.

“Don’t,” I warn. They did fuck up and I don’t know where we all go from here, but this is not the time. Aidan lifts his chin at me and keeps working. Once my face is cleaned and stitched we head back into the office, or more aptly, the command center. All the guys are on phones barking orders, yelling, cussing, growling and grunting. It’s like observing an alternate universe of high-tech cavemen.

“Care to fill me in on what you know?” I ask Aidan.

“The Mancini family is the largest crime syndicate in Chicago. All the ‘soldiers’ of the family bear a mark, a tattoo of a stab wound, on their necks. Shows that they bleed for their family. That’s what you saw on the delivery guy’s neck. I’ve worked on enough trauma victims to be familiar with it,” Aidan explains.

“With Sully Senior being the Bureau Chief of the Bureau of Organized Crime in Chicago he’ll surely be able to help,” Aidan says as O’Sullivan ends the call he was on.

“Kav you got that plane waitin’?” O’Sullivan barks at Kav. Kav holds up a finger and receives a death scowl in return. After thirty seconds Kav hangs up.

“Let’s roll out,” Kav instructs. We all head into the garage piling into Cal and Kav’s SUVs. The only thing anyone packed is the laptops and tablets we all had out in the office. I jump in with Kav and O’Sullivan while Aidan and Taylor jump in with Cal. Kav’s driving like a madman and I feel better with every mile we gain toward the Downtown Airport. The tension in the car is thick, but I don’t care. This isn’t about us, it’s about finding Kid.

“Look, Kellerman,” Kav breaks the silence. “This situation is fucked. You don’t have to be here. We’ve got this.”

“Fuck you, Kavanagh,” I fume at him. “You guys may have had her thirteen years longer than me, but she’s my life. I’m not goin’ anywhere until I know she’s safe.”

“Good,” O’Sullivan and Kav say in unison.

“Fuckin’ pricks,” I snort. God these guys are a pain in the ass constantly testing me. The tension eases off a bit, but the silence remains. We pull into the airport and pile out running across the tarmac to a waiting Learjet 60. The six of us file in followed by two young pilots. I hope they at least have their licenses. The pilots have obviously been made aware that we’re in a rush because as soon as our asses hit the leather seats the plane starts up and taxis to the runway. Once we’re up in the air one of the baby-faced pilots comes into the cabin.

The pilot, whose name tag identifies him as Tanner (a twelve-year-old’s name), brings two trays of sandwiches and follows with multiple bottles of water and soda. Aidan and I are in the forward facing seats at the front of the plane. Kav and Cal have their backs to us and O’Sullivan and Taylor are facing them. I’m as far away as I can get from Taylor but that’s not saying much. We all eat without uttering a sound, willing the hour and twenty minute flight to Chicago Executive Airport to go faster. I’m sure the inside of this plane is nice, I don’t notice. My thoughts are with Kid and how the hell we’re going to find her.

“What’s the plan guys?” I ask to no one and everyone after we polish off the food.

“Don’t know,” O’Sullivan answers. I turn in my seat to look at him. “I gave my pop everything we have. He’ll give us the run down once we land.”

“You should probably stay out of this as much as you can,” Taylor sneers at me. “Not much you can do.”

Before I can spout off something foul, Aidan pipes in, “He’s the one that figured out Kid was missin’ and found the mark on the fucker’s neck. I’d say he’s done everything so far.” His tone is clipped and simmering under the surface, the giant is raging. Aidan is definitely team Kellerman.

“Whatever. Just keep him outta my way,” Taylor instructs the cabin.

“You’re not runnin’ shit, Taylor. Back the fuck off Kellerman. He already laid your ass out once. Hate to see you suffer brain damage from another assault,” Cal taunts. Cal is also team Kellerman. If I can get Finn in on this I have the Callaghan trio. Finn, shit…we should have picked up Finn.

“We shoulda picked up Finn,” I say to Aidan.

“I called him. He’s gonna stay in Kansas City and run down some leads first. He’ll meet us in Chicago tonight or early tomorrow. He’s so pissed it’s best he’s not on this plane,” Aidan replies directing an accusatory eye flick toward Taylor. Finn is also team Kellerman. My Callaghan trio is complete, time to move on to another family.

“Just got an email from my pop,” O’Sullivan announces. We’re more than halfway through the flight at this point. To say it’s dragging would be the understatement of the century. “Says he put together a small task force, keepin’ most of our info to themselves not wantin’ to tip anyone off that we’re lookin’. Can’t find a connection between Mancini and Kid. Families are pickin’ us up at the airport.”

“That’s not a lot of information,” Kav points out the obvious.

“Yeah,” O’Sullivan agrees and goes back to whatever he was doing on the laptop.

This day is a clusterfuck of monstrous proportions. I have never felt as high as when Kid and I laid our shit bare, agreeing to move in together; and I’ve never felt as low watching her carried away on surveillance. Mix in there the beat down the boys handed me, Taylor making a play for Kid, and Cassie being pregnant, December fourteenth can go fuck itself. I need to talk to Cassie. Once we figure shit out I’ll call her. The timing of this couldn’t be worse. I need to be completely focused on Kid, not worrying if I’m going to be a father.

“We’ll find her,” Aidan says softly. I think he’s talking to me but when I look at him, he’s staring out his window. I don’t respond. I can’t consider the alternative to his statement.

I close my eyes willing myself to catch just a little rest before we touchdown. I know we’re in for long hours and I need every ounce of energy I can gain. Just as I’m about to nod off I hear Kav start to talk.

Kavanagh

“Brian,” I say to O’Sullivan. We never use each other’s first names and I can hear my voice is pained as I say it. “This shit’s wrong. What’re we gonna do?”

“Don’t freak out on me, Kav,” O’Sullivan pleads; his tone just as pained.

“I’m not freakin’ out. I’m bein’ realistic. If Mancini has her,” I pause and take a deep breath. “You know what we’re gonna find and it’s not Kid. Not Kid alive and not Kid okay.”

“Don’t,” O’Sullivan growls at me. “Don’t do that. We’re gonna find her. Kid’s strong and smart. She’ll keep herself alive until we find her. Our families are not gonna lose her. We’re not gonna lose her.”

I want to believe him. I want to trust everything he’s saying, but I know the truth. Mancini doesn’t leave witnesses. He makes people disappear. He makes them disappear in a variety of ways that has my stomach turning as I think about the news reports in Chicago of dismembered bodies being found piece by piece throughout the Midwest. Dogs found having people’s body parts in their stomachs. Kid can’t be that. She has to be okay. She has to fight.

“She’ll fight,” I whisper to O’Sullivan. He cocks an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“Fuck yeah she will.”

Shannon

Ugh. I’m fucked up. I feel like I’ve been on the bender to end all benders. My head is killing me and my body feels like it weighs eight hundred pounds. I slowly open my eyes but find I’m in the dark, not just dark…blackness. There’s not a speck of light to be seen. I close my eyes and will my body to ascertain where it is and what state it’s in.

I’m fully clothed, all the way down to my panties. My boots (gun hidden in my boot) are gone. I’m on a mattress, no pillow under my head. My wrists and ankles are bound. It feels like rope, but I can’t be sure. I think I’m in a bed and my ankles and wrists are attached to the head and footboards (hard to tell). I’m spread eagle. I test my binds and quickly realize I’m not wiggling out of this. I’ll have to be let go or find something sharp to cut myself loose. In the blackness I don’t see either of those things happening. I want to scream even though I know that would be foolish at this point. This is a nightmare come to life. This day is a fucking nightmare come to life. Butch is free and I lose a little bit of Mia, I fight with Kel, make up with Kel, find out Kel essentially cheated on me and got a girl pregnant, I make out with Taylor, I get kidnapped, and now I’m in blackness…fucking nightmare.

A door opens to my left and I put on an Oscar-worthy performance of drugged up sleeping kidnap victim. It’s a male that has entered based on the smell of his cologne and the timber of his voice.

“She’s still out…” His voice is harsh and deep, the same voice of the man who carried me onto the plane. That’s right, I was on a plane. Fuck these drugs have really jacked with me.

“He cracked her fuckin’ head open so yeah, she’s still out…” I don’t hear any response so I figure he’s on the phone.

“I’ll get her up and talkin’ soon…” I don’t recognize his voice other than that of my drug-pushing kidnapper. His accent is Chicago or the likes.

He stops talking, but I don’t hear him move. I don’t panic. My years with Uncle Mick are screaming in my ear to be calm…I am. My pulse is even as is my breathing. I’m calm like a sleeping baby. All of a sudden I hear a scraping metal sound. I pretend this wakes me…if I was asleep it was loud enough to do the trick.

I flutter open my eyes. The light streaming in from the open door only exacerbates my headache. I look at myself and discover that I am, in fact, bound to a double bed that’s a few feet off the floor. The head and footboards are metal and look like they come from an insane asylum (comforting). I’m tied to the furthest edges of them with light colored rope. Knots from a sailor it would seem. I’m not getting out of these. The room is maybe fifteen feet by fifteen feet, with a dresser and a lamp against the wall at the end of my bed, to the right of that heavy green paisley curtains are drawn across what I assume is a window though I can’t see it or any light. The wall to my right has a door in the middle (closet?). There’s a bedside table on the right of the bed with a lamp with no shade on it. The left wall holds my exit/his entrance and the cause of the noise that “woke” me, a metal chair that my captor is sitting in…studying me.

The man’s hair is an inky black, cut short and disheveled. His eyes are deep brown surrounded in long dark lashes and a strong brow. His large nose has a sizeable bump and his face is long. His mouth is in a straight hard line fading into his dark stubble-covered jaw. There’s a tattoo of some sort on his neck, but I can’t make it out from here. He has broad shoulders and huge arms. He’s wearing black slacks and a light grey button down shirt (bit formal for a kidnapper). He’s sitting with his elbows on his knees so I can’t gauge much else about him. I try to memorize every feature. We stare at each other for what feels like hours.

“You’re not scared,” his voice is demonic, low and harsh. That was a statement not a question so I don’t respond.

“That’s new,” he says more to himself than me as he stands from the chair and moves toward me.

“Most people panic when they wake up bound to a bed in a dark and strange place,” he’s trying to make me panic. I don’t panic. I follow him every step of the way to my bedside with my eyes on his, he doesn’t break our connection.

“This is going to be very interesting,” he purrs stroking the back of his fingers across my cheek. I don’t flinch. I want to slap his hand away and put a bullet in his head, but I lay there silently as he touches me.