5

Will

My feet pounded on the pavement while sweat dripped down my back. Yesterday's events ran through my mind as I jogged on a path in Central Park.

I'd followed Tina's boyfriend to a strip club and lost him when he went inside the backroom. He stayed there for thirty minutes and left with a package in his hands. He didn't deliver the package, instead took it back home with him.

Without any other follow-through, I couldn't confirm what was inside the package or if he planned to do something illegal with it. The entire expedition had been a waste of time.

Except for finding her there.

I was shocked when I ran into Christina at the club. And then I stumbled when she asked me what I was doing there. I couldn't say I was following someone. That would bring on too many questions, and I also didn't want to divulge that sort of information to someone I barely knew. So, I mirrored her response.

Except that made me stutter.

What did she mean by enjoying the show? I knew plenty of women who frequented strip clubs, but they usually went with other women or their boyfriends. Never alone.

She was definitely unlike any other woman I'd ever met.

As soon as I exited the park and reached my condo building across the street, my phone rang. It was Nikole.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Will. How are you?" she asked hastily.

"I'm fine," I replied with caution. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Well, not exactly."

As I suspected. "What's wrong? Is it Jake?"

"No. No. He's with my mother in Boston and I spoke to them both this morning. It's not that."

"What is it, then?"

"It's my friend, Christina."

I dropped a hand to my hip. "You don't have to worry about your friend. She can take care of herself," I said, recalling the ice pack I pressed against my groin shortly after meeting with Christina for the first time.

"I know. But she hasn't come into work today." Her voice sounded frantic. It was unlike Nikole. She'd been through a lot and didn't overreact.

"Perhaps she's sick."

"She didn't call in sick, and she hasn't texted me like she usually does whenever she misses work. I'm really worried about her. I was ready to go to her house, but I promised Jake I wouldn't. He doesn't think it's safe for me to go alone."

"Jake's right. You shouldn't go alone."

"Great. Then you'll come with me?"

I considered the possibility that Christina had run into some trouble after I saw her yesterday. If that were the case and I brought Nikole into the fray with me, I would never hear the end of it from Jake.

"No. I'll go alone."

"But—"

"You made a promise to Jake and my balls can't take anymore breaking, especially not from Jake, so I'm going in alone. What's her address?"

She sighed. "Fine. But text me as soon as you know anything. And if she's not there, then I'm calling the police."

"Yes. I agree. But let's take this one step at a time."

"All right. I'll text you the address now."

While I waited for Nikole's message, I took the elevator to the penthouse floor and stepped inside my apartment to shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in my black SUV and driving through Manhattan. Checking the GPS, I realized Christina's house was in Brooklyn. It would take some time to get there with traffic. Although it was past nine o'clock in the morning, it was still a weekday, and this was still New York City.

Traffic lightened after crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, but my energy darkened. I grew up in Brooklyn with my parents. I lived here until I was eighteen years old. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I joined the army. I had no mother, no father, no idea what sort of future I wanted.

Turning onto Christina's street, the brownstone houses loomed one after the other. This was a much better neighborhood than the one I grew up in, although mine wasn't exactly rough or poor, just not as nice as this one.

I parked my truck in front of the address Nikole had texted me and looked around.

A couple of women in black leggings and sunglasses walked their dogs and pushed strollers at the same time.

There was nothing suspicious about the neighborhood or what was happening around the house. I stepped outside and walked up to the front door. It was closed and the blinds to the front window were drawn.

I knocked twice on the door. And waited.

No one answered.

I rang the doorbell. And waited.

No one answered.

Discreetly, I checked the door handle, pressed down on the lever, and felt the door give. It was unlocked.

I looked over my shoulder to check if anyone was watching. No one paid any attention to me, so I opened the door. Only an inch.

Then I listened.

Nothing.

Removing my gun from the holster at my waist, I held it in front of me. The door squeaked open as my body squeezed through the entrance. The wooden floors groaned with the first step.

I waved my gun right and then left, looking for anyone inside the house.

My heart beat against my ribcage as I pointed my gun at the dark shadows behind the black velvet couch and around the corners leading to the back of the house.

Christina didn't strike me as the type to forget to lock her front door. She seemed meticulous and aware of her surroundings. Even if a bit abrupt in her assessment.

For the second time, I worried that perhaps she had met with some unfortunate incident. Had she been injured? Kidnapped? Or worse, murdered?

The thought made my chest constrict. I'd been harsh in my assessment of her. She hadn't necessarily been gentle with me, either. But, if something had happened to her, I would feel bad. She was a human being after all, if part hellcat, too.

After covering the foyer and the living room, I moved over to the kitchen. Despite trying to tread carefully, the wooden floors announced my every step.

A sound reached my ears from a distance. A muffled noise.

"Hello?" I called out.

The sound grew louder. It came from the right side of the house. I hastened my step and called out again. "Christina?"

What sounded like a stifled scream came from a closed room at the end of the hallway. I raced toward it, but when I tried to turn the knob, it was locked. I checked the top of the doorframe for the key, but there was none there. Someone must have turned the lock from the inside and shut the door.

"Christina!" I called from the closed door. A garbled "yes" came back to me. Without wasting another second, I stepped back and kicked the door open with my boot.

The frame around the door ripped off the wall and shredded pieces of wood flew into the room. I didn't know what I would find on the other side of the door, but I hadn't expected this.

I stood bewildered as I stared at Christina. Her eyes rounded for a second as the door crashed open and then she closed them. Her mouth, fastened with gray duct tape, moved, but I couldn't understand what she was saying.

My eyes roamed over the scene.

Someone, or several people, had taped her against the wall. She was fully dressed, thank God, but I had no idea how long she had been up there.

I rushed over to her and gently pulled off the tape from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

An angry red mark spread across her face where the tape had been. "Not as bad as my door."

I stared at her, confused by her reply. Was she making a joke? Or was she genuinely upset about her door?

"Are you going to stand there with your mouth open, or are you finally going to get me down?"

I crossed my arms and stepped back, assessing the situation. "I don't know," I said, rubbing my lips. "I'm thinking I might strap this tape back over your mouth."

She narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would. But fortunately for you, I'm a glutton for punishment."

I smirked at her annoyed expression, but I dropped down to my haunches and ripped off the first piece of tape around her left ankle. She wore tights, which made it less painful for her but trickier for me as the tape stuck like cement over the fabric, pulling out threads and stitching.

"I think you're going to have to throw these clothes out after I'm through."

"These were Versace," she sighed.

"You spent all that money on a pair of tights."

"If you don't have good taste, then just say that you don't." Her eyes dropped to my black jeans and although I knew the designer label was hidden, I also knew she probably still recognized them. However, she didn't give me the satisfaction.

"I'm almost done," I said, removing the tape from her arms. There was just one more left underneath her chest. She reminded me of a ragdoll, with her arms and legs dangling limply.

"What's so funny?" she asked, tilting her head. "Don't tell me you find a woman taped to a wall amusing?"

I shrugged. "A little. At least, after assessing that you are alright. You have to admit, it's a little funny."

"It's not. It's humiliating. I can't believe they did this to me."

"Who did this to you? Was it the same guys that drove you into a ditch?"

"No. This time, it was bikers."

"Bikers, huh? You must have pissed them off enough to tape you to a wall, but not enough to hurt you. What happened? Did you grab the wrong set of balls this time?"

"They weren't the right ones last time, either."

I grinned. "You say that now, but I know they were more than a handful."

"I have small hands."

I bit back a bark of laughter and resumed my work.

"I pushed a few motorcycles to the ground in a fit of rage yesterday."

"A few?"

"About ten."

"Wow. You're lucky you're still alive. Why would you do something like that?"

"I hadn't planned on all of them falling. Only one. But then they all came crashing down like dominos."

I shook my head. "Looks like you bit off more than you can chew. What were you doing at a biker bar, anyway? I'm assuming that's where one would find at least ten bikers."

"It was a pool hall, and I was looking for the man holding my sister hostage."

"Have you confirmed that to be the case?"

"She hasn't answered her phone, and no one has seen her leave the house. I don't know what else I would call that."

Pulling off the last bit of tape, I slid my arm across Christina's middle to prevent her from falling. "I'm fine," she said, and I stepped back to give her room, but she teetered forward and was about to land flat on her face.

"Whoa!" I caught her in my arms before she could hit the ground. "Your legs are probably numb. Here, let me help you."

She put her hands on my shoulder, and I guided her to the bed. Sitting on the black satin comforter, she dropped her head into her hands.

I looked around the room for a bottle of water and noticed the black chair and black dresser in the corner. "You certainly like black."

"It compliments my soul," she said with her head still down.

I smiled. The women certainly had a sense of humor, even in tough situations like this.

I realized I'd been going about it all wrong with Christina. I could never meet her head-on. She would need to lead the way.

"So, how are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Help your sister."

" We aren't going to do anything. I already told you; I'm handling it."

"Yes. And so far, that's landed you in a ditch with stitches and duct taped to your bedroom wall."

She lifted her head and skewered me with a frosty stare. "I don't appreciate what you're insinuating."

I tried really fucking hard not to smile at her obstinate remark. Was she really that obtuse, or did she know how ridiculous she sounded? I figured her pride just wouldn't let me in.

"Fine. What are you going to do about it?"

"Why do you care?"

"If I know the next time you plan to go after her kidnappers, then I'll make sure I book the time off from work to save your ass."

"You did not—" she stood with her finger pointing in my direction, but her legs gave out and I lunged forward, holding her up before she could fall.

Placing her back on the bed, I smirked. "You were saying?"

"Fuck you."

"Maybe. If you don't hurt my manhood again."

"I make no promises."

Again, my lips twitched, but I kept my smile in check. I'd never had more fun with a victim in my whole life. But Christina would hate me if she knew I described her as a victim. I bet, according to Christina, the violent acts were just hiccups in her plan.

"Admit that you need me."

"I don't need you."

"Fine." I picked up the duct tape from the floor. "I'll just fasten this back on you and you can pull a Houdini."

"I don't need some guy stalking around me and telling me what to do. If you haven't noticed, I don't do well with orders."

"That's great because I do."

"What?"

"Tell me what's next in your plan."

She rubbed her face and then ran her fingers through her hair. The arch of her neck caught a ray of light seeping through her bedroom window and my breath caught in my throat.

"Will. Or is it William?"

"The full name's William, but I prefer Will."

"Great. William, then. I understand you are used to swooping in and taking control, but that's not going to happen here. I've always taken care of myself and this time won't be any different. So, while I appreciate it may be your instinct to save the day, your job here is done."

I considered making a joke about saving her, but I didn't think she would like it.

I also knew that asking for help wasn't something that came easily to people. I was quite familiar with it.

"Look, Chrissie."

"It's Christina."

I smiled. "I won't get involved anymore unless you ask me to personally. I will stay as far away from you as possible. But if you should ever need me," I dropped to my haunches in front of her and waited for her to look me in the eye. She finally lifted her face and the look of confusion in her gaze caught me off guard for a second. Regaining my thought, I continued, "For anything at all. I want you to promise that you'll call me."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something different in the way she looked now. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Promise me."

"Fine."

"You have to say it."

"I promise I'll call you if I need you."

I watched as her eyes scanned my face. I didn't move, allowing her to read the truth behind my stubbornness. "I'll be there."

Then, I stood up and walked out of her apartment, expecting to never see or hear from her again.