“Fuck!” I bellowed, making Jane jump. “Sorry,” I grumbled, and rushed to Posey’s office. “What did you find?”
Dylan shook his head. “Nothing yet. Rabbit’s workin’ on it.”
“I want Shutter to grab a truck and head to Carl’s,” I growled. “Tell him I’ll meet him there. If that little fucker’s done something to her, I’m gonna rip his dick off.”
“Brother, I’m fuckin’ sorry I wasn’t here,” Dylan said.
He looked wrecked, and as much as I wanted to rage, it wasn’t his fault.
I nodded, and took off again, arriving at Carl’s just before Shutter.
“What’s goin’ on?” Shutter asked as we made a run for Carl’s door.
“The fucker’s got Posey,” I growled, banging on the door.
There was no answer… no surprise.
“Stand back,” I said and put a boot to the lock. The door popped open and Shutter and I rushed inside.
“What the hell?” Carl squealed, running out from the back with a baseball bat over his head. “Get out of my house.”
“Where’s Posey?” I growled.
“I don’t know.”
“You fuckin’ liar.” I grabbed his neck with one hand and the bat with my other. Shutter assisted by getting the bat away as I slammed Carl against the wall. “Where the fuck is she?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The place is clear,” Shutter panted out after checking every room and closet.
“You’re gonna take a little trip with us,” I threatened. “And you’re gonna tell us exactly what we want to know.”
Shutter pulled zip ties from his back pocket, secured Carl, and then hit him hard enough to knock him out. I threw the man over my shoulder and carried him to Shutter’s truck, throwing him in the backseat and climbing in beside him.
I’d have someone pick up my bike later.
* * *
Posey
I couldn’t open my eyes and I couldn’t figure out why. I was sure I was trapped in some kind of nightmare. You know, the ones where you open your mouth to scream, but nothing comes out?
I tried to move, tried to force myself to wake up, but I soon realized I was already awake, but I was tied down. I had a blindfold on and a gag in my mouth. I screamed, but the sound was muted behind whatever was in my mouth. I was on something bouncy and I guessed it was a bed of some kind.
I couldn’t reach my necklace to press the panic button as my hands were tied behind my back, so I did my best not to panic. I needed to think.
My mind was fuzzy, but I was sure I knew who did this.
I think. I just had to remember.
Who would do this? I couldn’t remember his face. It was right on the edge of my brain.
My first thought was Carl, but I honestly didn’t think he had the balls.
I took a deep breath. No, it wasn’t Carl. The man was taller than Carl.
“You awake yet?” a deep voice sneered.
Shit.
Frederick.
I remembered now. Frederick had walked in and put a straw to his mouth, then I felt a sting on my neck, and everything went black.
I did my best not to move but I felt the bed dip before he squeezed my thigh, and it was too painful not to react.
“There you are,” he cooed, slapping me where he’d just squeezed.
I whimpered and Frederick laughed.
“Oh, did that hurt?” he asked. “There’s a fuck ton more where that came from, dearest. And I can’t wait to deliver it. You’re the reason Jane left me and you’re either going to make her take me back, or I’m going to return you to her in pieces. Maybe I’ll do both.”
I shivered.
God, I hated this asshole.
“Well, you just relax for a little while. I have some things to plan.”
He slapped my thigh again and I felt the mattress shake as he stood. I swallowed, trying to control my breathing as best as I could.
When I heard the click of what I assumed was a door, I scrubbed my head against the mattress, trying to get the blindfold to move. Enough to see and ease the panic that my claustrophobia was making worse.
I needed to think, and terror tended to make that impossible.
* * *
Shadow
I rammed my fist into Carl’s jaw… again, and he screamed in pain. “Where the fuck is she?”
“I don’t know!”
“Brother, let’s take a break,” Doc said, stepping between us.
“I need to find her.”
She hadn’t pressed her panic button, and the thought that she was incapacitated… or worse, made me crazy.
“I know. We will.”
Before I could focus back on my annihilation of Carl, Shutter pushed the door open and handed me his phone. “It’s Rabbit.”
Rabbit had been gone for about two weeks and it was the worst fuckin’ possible time for him to be out of sight.
I took the phone. “Did you find her?”
“No. But Carl didn’t take her.”
I frowned. “What?”
“I’ve been tracking him. He was nowhere near the studio. It wasn’t him.”
“He coulda hired someone.”
“He didn’t,” Rabbit said. “Swear to Christ, brother, it’s not him.”
“Fuck. Then who?”
“Workin’ on it.”
Posey had been gone for six hours.
“Goddammit! Work faster,” I growled.
* * *
Posey
I managed to slide my blindfold up enough to see out of the bottom. Not that it helped much, the room was pretty dark, but it helped me feel a little less claustrophobic.
I sat up and looked around. There was a little window above me, and a sliver of light peeked through, so I could tell I was in a basement. I just didn’t know where. It definitely wasn’t the home he’d shared with Jane, so I was at a total loss.
I twisted my hands, but pain shot through my wrists and I felt something warm tickle my skin.
“Shit,” I whispered, guessing the binds had cut me.
If I could just get loose enough to push the panic button on my necklace…
The sound of a lock sliding made my attempt at escape thwarted for the moment and I settled back down hoping to god my blindfold wasn’t too askew.
“I brought you something to eat,” Frederick said, and I heard a clank of dishes. “I’m going to help you sit up.”
His beefy hands squeezed my arms so hard I knew there’d be bruises tomorrow, but I refused to react as he lifted me to a seated position.
“I’m going to take the gag out of your mouth,” he said, tugging it down.
I took several deep breaths and licked my lips, rearing back when his hands went to my head.
“Fuck, Posey, I’m just taking off your blindfold. You don’t need to be scared.”
“I’m tied to a bed, Freddie, unable to move without your help. Your prisoner. Not to mention the fact, you’ve told me you’re going to deliver me back to my best friend in pieces. How else should I feel?”
“There’s that fighting spirit I hate so much,” he sneered.
He hated being called ‘Freddie,’ which was why I did it and did it often. What was incredibly ironic was that he’d actually lived in a house on Elm Street when he was a little boy.