Chapter 19

CHAPTERNINETEEN

“I was able to strip out the music…the song’s ‘Butcher the Weak’ by Devourment, by the way,” Tex said in a grim tone. “Fucking horrible lyrics. Full of violence and gore…more than usual. Anyway, you’ll want to hear what’s left. Here it is.”

Rocky and the rest of the group leaned in as they stared at the phone in the middle of the table. Tex had come through in a big way. As soon as he’d gotten the recorded call from Rocky, he’d started working on separating the sound files. They heard Raid’s voice as clear as day. It was obvious he was stressed, but his voice was even and calm, his sentences succinct.

“This is Raid. Khloe and I are in a trunk of a white Oldsmobile. We’re using Khloe’s smartwatch to call. Garcia’s man got us. We’re headed east. Call Tex to track us. I’ve been shot, but for now the bleeding’s under control. Whatever happens, make sure Khloe’s safe.”

“Shit!” Zeke swore.

The swear words the others used were far more colorful and brutal.

“What did Tonka say?” Ethan asked Rocky.

“He said he was getting on a plane as soon as he could arrange it,” Ethan told his friends. “He also assumed with Pablo being extradited, his only choice for entering the country is via boat again, so Raid and Khloe will likely be taken to someplace on the coast.”

“But we don’t know where they’re ultimately headed,” Tal said in frustration.

“Raid was right, they’re headed east,” Tex broke in. “The cell service sucks in southern Virginia and there are large dead spots that have little to no reception. But the last place Khloe’s watch pinged—good job on thinking about tracking her through it, by the way—was somewhere along Route 58 near Emporia.”

“So heading to Norfolk then,” Ethan said.

“That would be my guess,” Tex confirmed.

It was dark now, around ten at night. The women were all still at Rocky and Bristol’s house. No one wanted to go home knowing Khloe and Raid were in trouble. Duke was still missing, which also didn’t sit well with anyone, but at the moment, all their concentration was on figuring out how to find and rescue Khloe and Raid. They’d have to leave finding Duke to the good people of Fallport.

No one wanted to even think about the possibility that whoever took Raid and Khloe had killed the dog. Had lured them to that parking area by taking Duke, getting his targets to a place where he could kidnap them with no witnesses.

“There haven’t been any pings for an hour. My guess is that the guy is laying low somewhere. Waiting for a specific time he’s supposed to rendezvous with Garcia,” Tex said.

“Is that good or bad?” Brock asked when no one said anything.

“Both,” Tex said. “Good in that it gives us more time to mobilize our resources. More time for Tonka to get here from New Mexico. Good in that if there’s a plan in place, Khloe and Raid are probably safe from this guy because Garcia wants them alive. Bad in that Raid and Khloe have been in a cramped space for hours and are probably terrified. Not to mention Raid was fucking shot and could be bleeding out in that damn trunk.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking about the worst-case scenarios their friend could be experiencing. Then Ethan asked, “You’ll let us know the second you get another ping, Tex?”

“Of course,” the former Navy SEAL said, sounding a little annoyed by the question.

“Good. We know plenty of people who live in and around Norfolk,” Ethan went on.

“I’ve also got my Green Beret friends,” Zeke added.

“My state police contacts can monitor the roads,” Drew said.

“And I’ve still got contacts at Border Control,” Brock threw in.

“Right, we’re all on this,” Ethan agreed. “We didn’t spend a good part of our lives learning all there is to know about protecting our country to let some asshole drug dealer come in and snatch our friends out from under our noses. We need to get on the road. We can plan along the way.”

Everyone murmured their agreement and prepared to head out after Tex disconnected. No one fucked with one of their own.

* * *

Khloe’s head hurt. Bad. The songs all sounded the same and the deep bass throbbing for hours was almost as bad as any torture she could imagine. All she wanted was two seconds of silence. Okay, more than two seconds, but she’d go with that for now.

The car had stopped moving about ten minutes ago. She and Raid had both tensed, waiting for the trunk to open, for more guns to be pointed in their faces, but nothing happened.

For whatever reason, their captor had stopped and didn’t seem in any great hurry to get going again. It was nerve-racking, and while Khloe tried to rest to calm herself, it was impossible. She’d also tried to make more calls, but they were in some sort of dead zone and none of her calls or attempted texts went through.

She’d done her best to check on Raid’s leg, but he grabbed her hand and told her not to worry about it. It wasn’t exactly safe to leave a tourniquet on for hours, but unlike what most people thought, he wouldn’t lose his leg as a result. And the alternative was to take it off and have him start bleeding again, so she did as he wished.

The fact of the matter was, Khloe was scared and just looking for something to distract herself. She thought about what had happened to Raid and his friend Tonka, and their dogs, and the idea of being delivered to a man who enjoyed torturing both people and animals alike was terrifying.

Raid had called her brave for going through what she had in the past, but she certainly didn’t feel brave. Though one thing she did know—there was no way she was going to leave Raid in this Garcia person’s clutches if she got a chance to run. No way was she going to leave the man she loved to die alone. If this was their time, it was their time.

But surely they could think of something that would help them get out of this. They’d gotten that call through to Rocky, and she clung to that, although neither had any idea if he’d been able to hear Raid.

And the longer she lay there, the more stressed and worried Khloe got. She couldn’t help the tears that leaked out of her eyes. She didn’t want to be a crybaby, but she figured at a time like this, it was probably acceptable.

She felt Raid’s arms tighten around her and she buried her nose into his neck. He’d been her rock. She had no idea how he’d been able to remain so stoic. She wanted to talk to him. Wanted to hear his rumbly voice. But the damn music prevented them from having any kind of real conversation, which she was well aware was the point.

She took what solace she could in the warmth of his body against her own, the comforting feel of his beard on her cheek…

Miraculously, she must’ve fallen asleep in Raid’s arms, because she jerked awake when she felt the vehicle moving once more.

Lifting her wrist between them, she was stunned to see it was almost two in the morning. Somehow she’d slept for three full hours! Shifting so she could speak into Raid’s ear, she asked, “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” he told her.

Khloe’s frustration mounted. He wasn’t okay. How could he be okay?

The longer they drove, the angrier Khloe got.

Raid had been shot and needed medical attention.

They’d been kidnapped.

They were smushed in the trunk of a car going who the hell knew where.

The damn metal music hadn’t stopped for even a minute since they’d left Fallport, and she had a headache from hell.

And they still didn’t know what happened to Duke!

It was too much. And she was more than ready to fight back.

Yes, she was scared shitless, but the anger was stronger.

It was another half an hour before she felt the car slowing down. They’d made quite a few turns recently, and she prayed that they’d finally made it to their destination, wherever that was. She wanted to talk to Raid about a plan, about what they were going to do once they got out of this damn trunk, but it was impossible with that damn music.

Khloe had visions of springing from the vehicle like in the movie The Hangover, when Mr. Chow leaped out of the trunk of the car completely naked. But that wasn’t happening. When the lid finally opened, Khloe did try to move, but she found her entire body felt like one big cramp. All she could do was lift her head just high enough to see out of the trunk.

Besides, coming face-to-face with the barrel of a gun didn’t exactly inspire her to be Superwoman. Not only that, but Raid kept a firm grip on her arm, warning her not to do anything impulsive.

Her man knew her well. They hadn’t had to talk for him to know without a doubt that she wanted to do something. Wanted to protect him in any way she could.

The man waiting for them wasn’t anything like Khloe imagined in her head. He was well-groomed. Had brown hair that looked as if it had been styled recently. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt. His shoes were leather and looked expensive. All-in-all, he looked…normal. Nothing like the deranged drug dealer she’d thought of in her head. Not that she knew what a deranged drug dealer looked like. But it wasn’t this.

But no matter what kind of clothes he wore, or how widely he smiled…his cold, dead brown eyes told Khloe all she needed to know. He wasn’t going to take any shit from them, and he would take great delight in hurting them if they tried anything.

“So nice to see you again, Mr. Walker. And I’m pleased that you brought a friend with you,” Pablo Garcia said. His voice was even and calm with only a hint of a Spanish accent.

Khloe awkwardly climbed out of the trunk when the man motioned for her to do so, her ears ringing from the cessation of sound after so many hours. Garcia’s voice sounded as if it was coming through a long tunnel.

Not wanting to look at the gun in his hand, she turned to help Raid climb out of the trunk. If her muscles were sore and hurting, his had to be even more so.

His olive-green cargo pants were stained red from the thigh down to his ankle on his right side, but he stood next to her as if he hadn’t been shot hours earlier and didn’t still have a bullet lodged in his leg.

“I wish I could return the sentiment, but that would be a lie,” Raid told their captor.

Garcia laughed. A maniacal sound that grated on Khloe’s nerves and made her extremely uneasy. Intellectually, she’d understood Raid when he’d told her that Garcia was psychotic, but hearing about it and experiencing it in person were two completely different things.

“Where are we?” Raid asked in a cold tone.

“Norfolk,” Garcia said easily enough. “This is where you’re from, right, Ms. Moore…sorry…Watts?”

Khloe nodded slowly.

“Well, I’m sorry we won’t have time to visit any old friends of yours. We’ve got more interesting things planned. Please, after you,” he said, gesturing with his pistol for them to walk ahead of him.

Khloe didn’t want to do anything this man asked of them, but when three other men climbed out of nearby cars, she realized they didn’t have a choice. It seemed as if they were in some sort of parking area. It was dark, with only one streetlight shining dimly across the lot, and she couldn’t see any other people. The nearest buildings were rundown, riddled with broken windows, and seemed deserted. If she had to guess, they were in some sort of industrial area that wasn’t used anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she could smell the ocean, that briny smell of salt, fish, and seaweed the water gave off.

“Khloe,” Raid whispered as they began walking in the direction Garcia had ordered. “When you get the chance, run.”

She almost snorted, but held off at the last minute. “Run? There’s not a chance in hell I’d be able to get away from all four of them,” she hissed. “In case you forgot, Alan tried to run me over and my leg doesn’t work the way it used to.”

She probably shouldn’t have been so blunt, but she was stressed way the hell out. If Raid thought she was leaving him behind to be killed by Garcia, he was so wrong.

Raid’s jaw ticked as he limped along beside her.

“It’s okay. We’re gonna get out of this,” she reassured him. She had no idea if that was true or not, but she desperately needed to believe it.

As they walked toward some lights in the distance, she realized where Garcia was herding them. Her nose had been right.

Several abandoned docks stretched into the water beyond an equally dilapidated warehouse. A lone boat was tied to the nearest one. It wasn’t much to look at. To her, it looked like one of the lobster boats she’d seen on a reality TV show, except much lower-end. It was about twenty feet long, had a small wheelhouse, and a lot of ropes and barrels and other miscellaneous crap strewn across the deck.

Raid stopped in his tracks and turned to Garcia. “No,” he hissed.

Garcia laughed again. “Sorry, my friend, but yes.”

“I’m not getting on a fucking boat with you,” Raid barked.

Garcia moved faster than Khloe expected. He lunged toward her with murderous intent and for a second, her life flashed before her eyes.

He brought his pistol up and jammed it against her forehead.

“You are,” he insisted. “Or Ms. Watts’s brains are going to be splattered all over both of us.”

Khloe couldn’t take her eyes off Garcia. He was staring at Raid, challenging him. Daring him to call his bluff. She could feel herself sweating, even though the air was chilly here by the water. Her mouth was dry as a bone and she couldn’t swallow.

Raid had grabbed her hand when they’d started walking, and she was digging her fingernails into the skin on the back of his hand but couldn’t make herself let go. She was frozen in fear. The feel of that gun against her skin was obscene, and it was all she could do to suck in air.

The standoff lasted only seconds, but it felt like a lifetime to Khloe.

Raid must’ve nodded or otherwise let Garcia know he’d do what he wanted, because the gun lowered and the drug dealer turned his attention to her. “Sorry about that,” he said insincerely. “Now, if you’d please continue walking, we can get our pleasure cruise started.”

Khloe was shaking so hard she didn’t know if she could put one foot in front of the other. She’d seen movies, read countless books where the heroine was plucky and sarcastic and strong as hell. She felt like none of those things right now. The anger she’d felt earlier had completely disappeared. All she felt now was pure, unadulterated fear.

They were going to die. And this man was going to make sure they suffered before he finally killed them. Despite knowing if she stepped onboard the boat, they were doomed, she had no choice but to do just that.

The only redeeming factor in this situation was that Raid was with her. She didn’t want to die. She’d finally found a man she could picture herself spending the rest of her life with, she had a group of men and women she felt were true friends, and she was getting back on her feet professionally. But it seemed as if what she wanted meant nothing. Not when a psychotic man was holding them hostage, seemingly hell-bent on torturing the man he blamed for his incarceration.

She and Raid were a lot alike. They were both introverts, sarcastic, liked animals…and both had people blaming them for their own bad decisions. She would’ve laughed, but she didn’t have it in her.

She stepped over the side of the boat and held onto Raid, steadying him as he did the same. Garcia joined them onboard, as did one other man. The two men left on the dock quickly released the lines and before she knew it, they were on their way.

Garcia stayed on the back deck with them, always pointing that damn gun, and the other man went into the wheelhouse to drive.

“Rain’s coming. It’s going to get cold. I suggest you sit and get comfortable,” Garcia said conversationally. “We have a ways to go to reach our destination.”

“And where’s that?” Raid asked.

Khloe didn’t think Garcia would respond, but to her surprise, he seemed delighted Raid had asked. “Back to where we were first introduced,” he said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve got the exact coordinates where you stopped my boat. It didn’t seem fair to me that you missed all the fun the first time, so I thought we’d recreate the scene, this time while you’re conscious, so you can participate. Pity I don’t have your mutt to play with…but I’ve got something better.” His gaze swung to Khloe, and she shivered.

Raid was so tense next to her, she was afraid he was going to break in half. Somehow he managed not to respond to Garcia’s taunt, but Khloe knew it was only a matter of time before he broke.

Garcia wasn’t wrong, it was cold as his buddy in the wheelhouse gunned the engine and the boat roared off into the blackness of early morning. The winds were high, making the ride rough, extremely choppy. The waves were rolling and as they continued through the water, the rain they were promised began to fall.

Khloe and Raid huddled together against the side of the boat, doing their best to brace themselves as the vessel slammed down onto wave after wave.

At one point, Raid picked her up and settled her on his lap. She protested immediately. “Raid, your leg!”

“My leg doesn’t hurt and is the least of our worries,” he told her.

When put like that, Khloe had to agree. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly. She buried her nose into his neck and tears came to her eyes. God, was this going to be the last time she was held in his arms? The last time she felt his thick beard against her skin? This sucked. Big time.

“This is good,” Raid murmured into her ear as he bent over her, trying to block at least some of the wind.

Khloe’s brows furrowed. Good? How in the hell was their situation anything close to being good?

“It’s two against two,” Raid went on.

“They have guns,” Khloe mumbled into his neck. It was noisy here on the deck with the rain, wind, and waves, but nothing like the damn music in the trunk of the car they’d had to deal with.

“They’re coming, Khloe. We just have to hang on until they get here.”

She knew who “they” were. Their friends. The confidence Raid had in them was reassuring. She nodded against him.

Garcia had never stopped talking, taking great pleasure in explaining in minute detail all the things he was going to do to them. How he was going to torture her just like he did poor Dagger and Steel. It was hard to block out his words, but Khloe much preferred to concentrate on the man holding her.

“They’re gonna get here in time,” Raid said once again in a low, rumbling tone.

Khloe didn’t know if he was trying to reassure her or convince himself. She believed in their friends, but she wasn’t sure they’d be able to figure out where they were in time. If they’d be able to prevent Garcia from carrying out all the awful things he was threatening.

Yes, as Raid had said, the odds were technically even, now that it was Garcia and his buddy against the two of them, but she wasn’t sure she would be much help. And Raid was wounded. And, as she’d pointed out, they had guns.

But…she and Raid had determination on their side. And love. Surely love could overcome evil. It did in the movies.

Khloe winced. That was the dumbest thought in the history of the world. Movies weren’t real. They were fake. Scripted. She and Raid were flying by the seat of their pants here. And the bullets in Garcia’s gun were real, not simply flashbangs. If they were going to make it out of there, they’d have to work together. Stay on their toes. Take whatever opportunity presented itself to act.

The words were easy to think, much harder to actually do. The farther they got from shore, the harder it was not to panic. It was the middle of the night, it was raining like hell, and they were trapped onboard a small boat with a psychopath. Love was going to have to work pretty damn hard to win the day.