Chapter 23

It's Payback Time

"HE PIPED IN SMOKE THROUGHthe ventilation system. It has the look and smell of an actual fire without the flames and heat. It's a sure-fire way to get everyone out of the building if that was his goal." Lieutenant Reynolds, with the LA Fire Department, glanced at Axyl, strapped to a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his face, being loaded into an ambulance. "Everyone who was mobile, at least."

"And you're sure there's no one else on the fourth floor?" Noah asked for the third time.

"The building is clear, sir. We searched every room on every floor. All we found was your man and a scared-shitless cat in a closet. If your girlfriend was inside, she must have gotten out."

Noah whirled on Keiran, who stood at his shoulder. "What about surveillance?"

"The feeds went out three minutes before the alarms sounded."

"How did that happen?" he demanded to know.

"We're still checking into it."

"Don't bother. Someone took them out, and that someone has Fiona. It has to be Parra."

"Agreed, but there has been no sign of him at his apartment, and we have no leads on his whereabouts. Neither do the police. He hasn't been to work in weeks, and he has no family in LA that we know of."

Noah whirled again and strode away, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Everyone has a past. We're missing something."

"I've got the team on it. Including every available man in San Antonio. They're running whatever Jonas feeds them. If there's something to find, we'll find it."

"Work faster. There's no telling what damage that psycho will do before we find her."

"I'm aware, Noah. We're doing everything we can," Keiran assured him, remaining calm in the face of his rising agitation.

"I know you are. It's just—" His voice faltered with regret. "I shouldn't have left her."

"Would you have done anything different from Axyl thinking the building was on fire? There was no choice but to get out."

He shook his head. Axyl was a good man, one of their best. "I'm not faulting anyone. I just want her found." He pulled out his phone. "I need to get one of my partners to cover consults until this is settled."

A text notification on the screen with a number rather than a contact name put him on instant alert. When he opened it, his blood ran cold.

He turned the screen Keiran's way, showing a picture of Fiona bound to a bed, gagged and frightened out of her mind. Below it was a brief message. "It's payback time."

"That's it." His calm shaken, the Rossi director grabbed his phone from his hand and scrutinized the image and message. "No ransom request? No directions to the trap he undoubtedly has planned?" At Noah's grim expression, he cursed under his breath. "Motherfucker."

"We need to recheck his place. There's gotta be a clue we're missing. And we're not waiting for a warrant," Noah declared. "We need to find out where he is. Now."

Keiran must have agreed because he was on his phone ordering Eric, Jerry, and Tristan to meet them in front of Parra's last known address in twenty minutes.

"Make it ten," Noah growled as he strode toward his vehicle. "Or you can all join me in the search when you get there."

FIONA HAD NEVER BEENthis miserable. Her throat was raw from the smoke, and her body ached from coughing. Lying flat on her back, restrained to a bed for hours only added to the pain. She pulled at the ropes for what seemed like the hundredth time. They wouldn't give, and the rough fibers abraded her skin, which was already rubbed raw.

She whimpered, alone, afraid, helpless, but that only started her coughing again.

The door burst open, and an unusually chipper Jordan announced, "Picture time!"

Chuckling at his own joke, he put a knee on the mattress then ripped her shirt open in the front. Buttons went everywhere, pinging on the hardwood floor.

She struggled, tugging hard on the bindings until she was out of breath and coughing and wheezing worse. Her efforts were futile. All she managed to do was drain her energy and do more damage to her already raw, irritated wrists. He didn't seem to notice her misery. Maybe he even enjoyed it because he carried on with his business, smiling away.

"I thought for this follow-up shot, you should be naked. Let's let lover boy see all the hills and mounds and jelly rolls I'll be fucking if he doesn't do exactly what I tell him to."

Fiona shook her head, surprised that would be part of his game. She'd always thought he found her disgusting. She cried no behind the gag, and pleaded for him not to, but it came out muffled, not that he'd listen, and sent her into another coughing fit.

"Poor Fiona. The smoke really got to you, huh?" His mocking laughter grated on her nerves as he pulled the remnants of her shirt out from under her and went to work on her snug yoga pants. When he had a hard time rolling them down with her on her back and her legs bound apart, he produced a wicked-looking knife from a sheath in his boot.

"Lie still now," he warned. "You wouldn't want to flinch and have me slice off a pound of flesh." He added with a smirk as he began shredding her pants, "Not that you'd miss it."

Too terrified to move lest he cut her with the sharp, six-inch blade, she pleaded with him to stop. The knife felt cold along her cheek as he slid it beneath the cloth tie holding the gag in place and sliced through it.

"What was that?" he asked then snickered. "You sound like a stuck pig squealing. How's that for irony, Fat Fiona?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, happy to breathe, but her jaw ached, and she croaked like a frog her throat was so dry.

"Because I want you and your boy toy to suffer."

"Why? What have we ever done to you?"

"You mean other than make my life hell? I had pity on you, alone on the benches, unwanted. Then you and Doctor Holier-than-Thou had me kicked out. I shouldn't have wasted my time or energy on you, Sofia."

"But... I'm Fiona."

He stared at her a moment as if confused then waved his hand. "Whatever. Selfish cunts like you are all alike."

Dear heavens. He was calling her by his dead mother's name, the one he killed at only thirteen years old. She closed her eyes, trying not to move as he sliced through the rest of her clothes. Last were her panties. When he slid the knife under the narrow band of fabric at her hip, she hissed at the searing pain when he also sliced her skin.

"Oops, I'm a butterfingers with a knife," the sick sadist said then chuckled. He moved away only to return in a moment and demand, "Open those pretty brown eyes and say cheese. I bet a fat cunt like you likes her some cheese."

She was afraid not to obey. The flash from his camera phone made green and yellow dots dance in front of her eyes. He checked the image and grinned like the maniac he was.

"Perfect. Doc is going to go nuts when he sees this," he crowed as he bounded off the bed and left her naked, bleeding in two places—he'd also nicked her shoulder—and, thankfully, alone. But for how long?

Without question, he planned to lure Noah into a trap. Then what? Would he kill Noah and rape then kill her? She didn't doubt he planned to end her life. That's how a serial killer like him got his sick thrills. But he said he'd only do the former "if" Noah didn't comply.

Fiona closed her eyes, tears leaking from between her lashes and running down her temples into her hair. She wanted desperately for Noah to charge through the door and rescue her. Even more so, she wanted him nowhere near the crazy man with the knife who was out for revenge. Her priority was his safety above all else.