“Yes, I bought a storage unit,” I tell him carefully.
“My grandmother owned it,” he says, pacing a little as he speaks. “She passed, but I was out of the state at the time, so I had no idea. I also had no idea her death meant she hadn’t paid for the storage unit for six months, which meant it was repossessed by the storage unit owner.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I mutter, pulling on my bindings.
“When I finally got back to town, I couldn’t get into the unit. I had to pick the goddamn lock. Imagine my surprise at finding it was empty.”
That’s because I bought it and transferred all the stuff to the back room in the store, sold on what I couldn’t sell in the store. The rest I got rid of.
“Imagine my surprise,” he mutters. “I spoke to the owner of the storage unit company. He said he’d sold it on to pay for the rent arrears. He did, under duress, give me your details.”
“You ransacked my store,” I accuse.
“I was in a rush.”
“Did you break into my apartment, too?”
“When I didn’t find the item in the store, I wondered if you’d taken it home with you, if you knew the true value of the piece.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He rushes at me, his face inches from mine as he hisses, “You’re lying. Where’s the portrait?”
My suspicion confirmed, I swallow bile. How can one little portrait cause this much turmoil?
I peer into his face, my heart thundering beneath my ribs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His hand flashes out and catches me in the face. My head snaps back from the force of the blow, and I’m transported back to my past, back to a time of fear, when I was used to taking hits from Thomas. I shake my head, trying to stop the ringing in my ears, and failing.
“Does that jog your memory?”
“I really don’t know—”
His fist slams into my face again.
The pain ricochets through my entire jaw, which throbs angrily. Trembling, my head lowers to my chest as I try to breathe through the pain.
“Please, don’t.”
He paces in front of me. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make it all stop.”
I should tell him, but I’m scared if I give up my leverage, he might kill me, so I keep quiet.
I brace for a hit, but it doesn’t come. He drops his hands to his hips.
“I’ll make you talk, but it won’t be a pleasant route to get there. Why don’t you just tell me what I want to know now, make it easier on us both?”
“I don’t know anything. There were lots of portraits in that storage unit.”
“You’d know it. It’s an ugly thing. It stands out.”
It is the picture I thought then. My stomach rolls, making nausea wash over me.
“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone what you did,” I tell him. I know bargaining won’t help, but I need to buy time—enough time for someone to realize I’m gone and send help. I know my chances of being rescued are slim to none, but I have to have faith in the police. I have to have faith that I’ll be saved, because the alternative is to give up, and I’ve never been one to give up on anything in life. I’m not about to start by giving up on myself.
“I don’t remember any specific portraits. There were a few, though.”
“What did you do with them?”
When I don’t answer a flash of metal catches my eye before the hard steel of a blade is pressed against my throat. I tip my head back to stop the knife digging deeper and all my synapses snap to alert. This is where I die.
“I sent them away.”
“Where?”
I can’t give Harry up. I won’t, but I also need to live long enough to survive this.
“To have them appraised.” This is a lie. I only sent the ugly portrait, but I figure I can keep him busy for a while.
“Who did you send it to?”
“I don’t remember off the top of my head. It was some guy I found online.”
He rubs the bridge of his nose. “You’d better hope like hell that portrait is still safe.”
“Of course it’s safe.”
He digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a search engine. “We’re going to go through every single appraiser in the Louisiana area until you tell me where you sent it. And if you lie to me, I’m going to cut your fingers off.”
I swallow bile. I believe him.
27
Jared
My frustration is mounting with every passing second Nia is missing. I want her in my arms, safe, whole, well, but I have to be content with scrabbling around in the dark for any slither of information.
We’re heading over to the storage unit company, intent on finding out who owned the storage unit Nia bought in the auction. I want details and I’m not afraid to throw my weight around to get them. All that matters to me is getting Nia back safely.
When we pull up outside the storage unit place, I get out of the car before Slider’s even brought the vehicle to a complete stop and head for the main office. I know my guys are on my heels, even if I don’t bother to turn around and check. I trust both men to have my back and keep my life safe. Brothers-in-arms… that’s what we’ll always be, even if none of us have served for years now. That doesn’t just go away and we fall back on old habits.
As soon as I push the door open, I see the man standing behind the desk has a swollen jaw and the start of what looks like a black eye. Did someone get here before us?
I don’t bother with any preamble. “Storage unit four-seven-two… who owned it?”
He blanches and I feel a little bad for eliciting that reaction from him. He already looks like he’s been through hell.
Immediately, he reaches for the phone. “I’m calling the cops this time.”
Beanie stops him by pressing the button under the receiver to cut the call.
“This time?”
“You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to roll with the punches. I haven’t done shit to you.”
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I tell him, “but the lady you sold that storage unit to… her life is in danger. I need to know everything about it, including the person who hit you.” I give him a sympathetic look. “Who was it who messed up your face?”
He clamps his jaw for a moment, before answering, “Someone else looking for details on storage unit four-seven-two.”
My heart freezes at this information, but there’s also a hint of satisfaction knowing I could be close to getting the answers I need—answers that could lead me to Nia.
“Can you describe him?” Beanie asks.
“I can do better. I got him on camera.” He nods up to the CCTV camera on the wall.
“You didn’t go to the cops with it?” Slider’s eyes move from the camera back to the man behind the desk.
“He told me he’d kill me if I did. I took that threat serious considering what he did to my face.”
“You two look at the footage,” I order Slider and Beanie before turning back to the owner. “Where’s it kept?”