Against the Rules (20 page)

She eased the bike down the trail following the dust from the van. She didn’t want to alert them by stirring up any of her own.
Time to shift, damn it. Off the gas, pull in the clutch, click it, now release the clutch.
After a heart-stopping series of bucks and lurches the revs came down and the bike accelerated.
Yea!
She’d done it.

When she reached the pavement, she panicked. Without the dust, how would she know which way they’d gone? She wasn’t cut out for this cloak and dagger crap. She was a teacher. A tear ran down her face. He was counting on her.
Think
!

Looking at the pavement, she saw two faint tracks of dirt heading south toward I-40. She had to catch them before they hit the freeway. She had to know the direction. If she could just get that, she could find a payphone and call her dad. He’d know what to do. Teague was wrong about him. He wasn’t dirty. She’d know, she was his daughter for goodness’ sake.

Chantel got on the gas a little too hard coming off the gravel and spun the back end around. Her foot came off the pedal instinctively trying to keep the bike from hitting the ground. Too fast. She was going way too fast to put her foot down. Her ankle twisted. Pain shot up her leg. She jerked the bike hard the other way needing to get the weight off. Miraculously, she righted the bike and got it back on the pavement. Somebody upstairs was looking out for her. She never could ride a bike worth a damn. With both feet firmly on the foot pedals, she gunned it.

Chapter Twelve

“Sid, what’s going on? Why are you driving Chantel’s car?” Ed got close enough to see inside the windows. Everything looked in order.

“Hey, Ed.” He shrugged, not wanting to offend the man. The chief spoke very kindly of him. “Just following orders. You know the drill. Drive this here, drop this off there. I do what I’m told and don’t question the big guy.” He smiled, hoping that his unease didn’t show on his face. Ed gave him the willies.

“Need a ride?” Ed asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve got it handled.” Why would a special forces trained, tough as nails bastard like Ed be content to run Donley’s estate? Chantel had told him that Ed had been a part of the family since before she was born. Maybe Donley had saved his life or something and now he was repaying him. Whatever, it wasn’t his place to ask.

“Should I lock up? Will Donley be back soon?”

“You know the boss. He makes his own decisions. I don’t see any harm in locking up, though. Just in case.” Sid had no intentions of discussing the chief’s whereabouts with anyone, especially Ed.

* * * *

Chantel dropped the clutch, popped a wheelie going into second gear and scared herself half to death. Just up ahead, she saw a white van. Her heart thundered so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. Was it the same van? She’d have to get closer and double check the plate. Should she wait for more traffic? Did she dare? How many white vans were there out in the middle of the forest? With her luck there was a white van convention caravanning through the state and she’d never find the right one.

Hugging the right line, she got as close as she dared. It was hard to see—no helmet, no eye protection, the wind making her eyes tear. Yeah, it was the right van. Teague was right there, on the other side of that door, bleeding and counting on her to help him. Please let her get this right.

She backed off, formulating a plan. She could track them to their destination. Probably get caught and most likely wherever they were taking him would have more bad guys and more weapons. Not a good plan. No one was on the freeway this early in the morning. Just a few truckers and early travelers. If she found a phone and called her dad, told him where they were and the license plate, they could surround the van, save Teague and catch the bastards that had hurt him. Her throat tightened just thinking about him.

A sign caught her eye. Rest stop one quarter mile ahead. Please, God, keep Teague safe. Tears poured from her eyes. This was a huge gamble. She felt like she was abandoning him. Every cell in her body demanded that she continue following the van. It was almost impossible to force the bike off the freeway. As she pulled onto the sidewalk beside the phone, Chantel realized that she had no purse. No money. She patted her jeans and found she was wearing Teague’s sweatpants. No pockets, no money.
Oh, God.
Panic set in. She cried with abandon. She’d never catch them now. What had she done?

Don’t panic, you can do this
. She could call nine-one-one, but didn’t dare. She could call collect. The old-fashioned way. She pressed zero. The operator came on the line almost immediately. Chantel recited her father’s private cell phone number as calmly as she could. Seconds ticked by before the operator came back on the line advising her that this was a restricted number and did not accept collect calls. Her brain was slow and sluggish, fighting to function through her fear for Teague. “Please try one more number for me,” she pleaded, then recited his home number.

Please, Dad, pick up. Don’t go to the machine
, Chantel silently begged.

“Who should I say is calling?” the operator asked politely.

“Chantel. Chantel Donley.”

“Your party will speak with you, Ms. Donley, thank you for using—”
Blah, blah, blah.

She didn’t wait for the operator to finish. “Dad, it’s Chantel. I need your help!”

“Chantel, it’s Ed. Your dad is working. How can I help?”

“Ed, call him on his cell. Please, he has to send help. Teague was kidnapped. He’s in a van. A white van. Write this down. The license plate number is…” She pushed her shirtsleeve up to see the number scratched into her arm. It was starting to fade, but she could still read it. “WXP one-three-nine.” She told him everything she could think of, their location and direction.

“I’ve got it, Chantel. I’ll let him know immediately. Now, where are you?”

“I’m on I-40 near Flagstaff. What should I do?” She didn’t trust her judgment. She was too conflicted. All she wanted to do was rush after Teague.

“Head for home, Chantel. I’ll call your dad and let him know everything you’ve told me then I’ll head out to get you. Let’s meet at that rest stop with the pretty outlook area you like so much.”

She could breathe again. Ed would get help. “Okay, but call Dad now, please, Ed,” she implored him, desperate to get Teague help.

“You got it.” The entry door slammed shut as he put the phone back into the cradle.

* * * *

“Who was that, Ed?” Donley asked, crumpling down into his desk chair.

“Wrong number. Any word on Chantel?” Ed looked at Donley, assessing his mood.

“Nothing new. I’ve got men searching the area near the cell tower her phone last connected with. We’ll have her soon enough. Go ahead with your plans.”

“If you’re sure you won’t need me.”

“No, it’s handled.”

Ed smirked as he went out of the door. And to think his application had been turned down and this asshole had been promoted to Chief of Staff.

They’d see in time.

Their brains were no match for mine.

That’s the way the monkey goes.

Pop! goes the weasel!

* * * *

“You sold me out,” Teague accused Foster.

“Time and time again. My three car garage and pool were all courtesy of you.”

Teague considered knocking what was left of Foster’s teeth out, but he was only grateful that Donley wasn’t a part of it. He had been worried about Channy. “Looks like it didn’t pay off too well this time.”

Foster lashed out with his feet, causing the ties to cut further into his skin. “Bastard!”

Ignoring Foster, he focused on the one in the passenger seat. He was obviously in charge and, from what Teague could tell, the most dangerous. Teague watched him pull out his cell phone.

“G., it’s Sammy. I’ve acquired the package. We’re en route.”

Ballsy, taking all the credit when he had two men with him. Teague listened closely. Knowledge was power and right now he needed every advantage.

“You got it.” Sammy closed the phone. “Flip a bitch, Marco, G.’s headed to Rio Rico.”

“He’s sick of being up to his ass in snow,” Marco snickered.

Sammy snorted.

Teague cringed. Rio Rico. He eased the weight off his legs and arms. Four hours was a long time to ride bound. He couldn’t afford to cut the ties and give away his advantage. He wanted them lulled into a false sense of security. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he worked his fingers and feet, keeping the circulation flowing without adding to his wounds.

The van pitched wildly, throwing Teague into Foster. His left ankle gushed with fresh blood as he tried to remain seated.

“You asshole.” Sammy smacked Marco upside the head. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the enclosed van. “We aren’t supposed to draw attention.”

“Sorry, man.”

These clowns were beyond pathetic. They had no training, just street smarts and not much of those. It wouldn’t do to be too cocky, though. He was walking into hell—Rio Rico was their southwest headquarters. Tunnels crisscrossed underneath the border allowing easy entry for weapons, drugs and their latest commodity—humans.

It’s what had kept him in this intolerable position for so long. The idea of children being sold into prostitution made
his
situation pale in comparison. Using his computer skills, he’d made a dent in G.’s business, closing several houses and ‘training centers’. Bile rose every time he thought about it too closely.

* * * *

Chantel pulled off at the rest stop, desperate for news on Teague. She paced back and forth waiting for Ed or one of her father’s men. Hopefully, it would be Ed. He would tell her what was happening. Not to mention that she was afraid to get into the vehicle with someone she didn’t know. She tried to sound brave when she was really scared to death about the Weasel. Those pictures were forever engraved in her mind.

Why would anyone mutilate women then sew them back together? It was too sick to fathom. And that verse he put with each corpse…

You may try to sew and sew,

And never make something regal.

So roll it up and let it go.

Pop! goes the weasel!

What was the point? What did he mean by it? She tried to put the thoughts out of her head, but every time she looked in the direction of the parking lot, she imagined that each vehicle was driven by the Weasel.

She needed Teague. Needed to know he was safe. The thought of blood trickling down his face brought fresh tears to her eyes and self-doubt to her heart. She should have stayed behind the van and watched over him.

“Oh!” A squeak of glee escaped as she saw Ed’s SUV pulling into the lot. She jumped up and down, waving her arms though he could clearly see her.

He’d barely stopped the vehicle before she rushed to the passenger side and pulled the door open.

“Ed, thank God. Did you let my dad know? Have they stopped the van? Is Teague okay?” Her questions rushed out.

“Slow down, Chantel.” He walked around to the passenger seat, leaned in and pulled the seatbelt across her lap. After locking it in place, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, shiny, tubular object then jabbed it painfully into her leg.

Before she could register what had happened, her body grew warm and the world grew dark.

Ed pulled a pillow from the back seat and rested it between her head and the window. The seatbelt did the rest. Anyone looking into the vehicle would assume that she was catching a catnap.

He got back onto the highway and drove a few miles before turning off. This area was perfect. He’d planned to acquire her in town, but this was better. In northern Arizona, winters were tough. Few realized that the area received more snow than most mid-western states. The jobs were scarce, keeping the population low. Yet, hunters frequented the area enough that locals didn’t pay much attention to strangers.

The turn-off he wanted was just up ahead. Over the years, he’d perfected his technique. Hiding out in the open worked best. The monkeys were too busy looking for bananas to look twice at him.

He turned off the highway and followed the back roads deep into the forest, taking rarely used trails until he was sure he’d be undisturbed. He pulled over and waited, listening, and using his binoculars to ensure that he was alone. Minutes ticked by as he grew accustomed to the sounds of the area.

Quietly, he moved around the back and pulled out his all-terrain cooler. Times had certainly changed since Jasmine had forced his hand. He remembered how bulky the box had been with her inside it as he’d carried it to his basement. The excitement had been intense. He felt a stirring in his cock just remembering it. Would the cardboard rip out? Would she wake early and struggle? Maybe the old ways had been better.

No. Times had changed. Techniques had advanced. He needed to stay one step ahead of the monkeys. Being privy to all the latest crime fighting techniques certainly helped. It was laughable how easy it was to garner any ‘need to know’ information.

He tugged on the ramp and wheeled the cooler to the passenger side. As he pulled the door open, Chantel’s head slid out, her body slumped against the seatbelt. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Chantel.” He fisted her hair and pulled her back into the SUV. “Just like my Jasmine. Allowing another man to touch what belongs to me. Soon you’ll be washed in the blood. One way or another. Then you’ll be mine. Fresh as the day you were born.”

She had his smell all over her. Teague. That’s what she called him. To Ed, he was simply the next monkey to die.

With great care, he loaded her inside the cooler and firmly latched the lid. If she woke early, there would be no arm pushing through the folds of cardboard trying to alert the monkeys. Cheryl had done that. Naughty girl. He rubbed his dick remembering her lessons. She’d learned. It had taken a long time. His cock jerked to attention. Sweet memories. Now it’s time to make some more.