Brianna's Navy SEAL (18 page)

Cable popped his own phone from the clip on his waistband and keyed Brianna's speed-dial number. It went right to voice mail. He kept his voice calm while he left a message telling her to call as soon as she heard it. He hoped to hell her battery had run down.

He snapped his phone shut right before Frank hit his “off” button. “Tell me."

"They were shopping in an open-air market. A bunch of Alena's friends came by, and one of ‘em's engaged, so there was squealing and jumping. She thinks Brianna moved across the way to another store, but when she looked up, she was gone."

"She could have just wandered down the aisle.” Cable's voice remained even, despite the way his heart thundered and his blood raced. He was already hepped on adrenaline and he didn't even know what he was facing.

"It was almost an hour ago. She's walked all over the place and can't find her."

"All right. Let's get over there."

"Two minutes."

By the time they got there, most of the shops and kiosks were closed. There were still plenty of people around, courtesy of the bars and clubs lining the streets around the market. Music poured out of many of them, each clashing with the next and giving Cable a headache.

They met Alena near the clothing shop where she'd last seen Brianna. Her friends hovered behind her, looking nervous and worried.

"Cable, I'm so sorry.” Alena fell against him. He hugged her, then set her back. She took a deep breath. “She was right here.” She pointed to an empty rack, then to a book stand. “I saw her go over there, and then Betzy was showing me her ring, and ... well.” She stopped as if realizing her friend was right behind her, but Betzy wasn't that kind of friend.

"I rattled on about Robbie's proposal and the house we're buyin’ and never even noticed she was with someone else.” She sniffed hard. “It's my fault."

"We don't even know what happened,” Cable said. He had a feeling this could devolve very quickly into a self-pity-fest, and that was the last thing Brianna needed, assuming she was in trouble and not merely lost. “How big is this place? Is there a map?"

Alena shook her head. “It's basically four blocks on this street, and two side streets at the other end. Like a T. If she reached the end, she'd know it, and it wouldn't be hard to figure out where she was. We parked at the end of the T."

"Did you check the car?” Alena nodded. “Okay, you and your friends go back there and stay. Call Frank or me if you see her."

She nodded again, and they headed off immediately with purposeful strides, though he thought Alena looked a little shaky. That wasn't like her, but he supposed losing his brother's girlfriend when someone might be after him was enough to shake up anyone. He realized they hadn't told her about their meeting with Sid.

He and Frank moved up opposite sides of the street, questioning everyone who was even partially sober. Cable gave Frank the school photo he had of Brie, and he described her. But everyone shook their heads or shrugged. He asked if they'd seen anything odd. A struggle or a fight. A woman looking drunk but walking alone. No one had seen anything, and Cable was beginning to wonder if he was in Stepford. It had apparently been a very quiet night.

A whistle echoed across the street. Cable looked up to see Frank motioning to him. He thanked the couple he was talking to and jogged over to his brother-in-law.

Frank jerked his chin at Cable. “Tell him what you just told me."

A gorgeous black woman nearly as tall as Cable and a short black man with his arm around her waist and his head at ... just the right level began talking at the same time. Cable raised his eyebrows, and the man shut up and let the woman talk.

"We've been here a couple hours, and yeah, I saw a bit of a chase, I guess you'd call it.” She started sweeping her arm as she described the event. “A blond woman came running up the street on the other side. I was over there.” Gesture. “Checking out candles. She ran right by me, and you know how something grabs your attention? I watched her for a second. And then a guy runs by, too, and he's got his hand to his ear, like on those cop shows. They went that way.” Another gesture, this one almost knocking her boyfriend in the head.

"Did you see her after that?"

"No, but—"

"I did.” The little guy took up the narrative with a more subdued illustration than the woman. “I think it was the same woman. I was waiting here for Sienna and this woman ran across the street and down this way.” He raised one arm and pointed down the cross street. “I didn't see more. I'm sorry."

"That's something. What did the guy look like who was chasing her?” Frank took notes while Sienna described him. There wasn't anything different about him than a thousand young men in baseball hats and baggy pants. But they had something. Something was always better than nothing.

"Thank you very much for your help,” Cable told the couple.

"You're welcome.” The man tightened his arm around Sienna, who leaned on him a little.

"I hope you find her,” the woman added.

"Thanks."

Cable and Frank moved in the direction Brianna had last been seen. Cable scoured the ground and surrounding area for anything Brianna might have dropped, or any other sign of her. Frank was on the phone again, this time to the local police. When he'd finished, they started questioning people again. There were far fewer of them on this side street, and most had arrived since Brianna disappeared.

"Watch out.” Frank pulled Cable to his right to avoid a pool of vomit.

"Ugh.” He grimaced and stopped breathing through his nose. “A bit early for that, isn't it?"

"Not anymore. You've been off the street too long, buddy. I—” He stopped Cable. “What's that?"

A foot past the vomit was a pile of crumpled newspaper and candy wrappings. Chrome glinted underneath it. Cable bent and pulled out Brianna's cell phone. The casing was scraped, as it if had been dropped and maybe kicked around a little bit.

Any little bit of hope he'd had vanished.

Brianna didn't think she ever completely lost consciousness, but she didn't have much awareness, either. Not for minutes or hours or whatever it had been. Light and shadow started to resolve, her head stopped spinning, and nausea escalated again. But she could tell she was in a vehicle. The back seat, since she was leaning against the left door. Untied, probably because she'd been so out of it. As soon as she became aware, she focused on not letting them know. She kept her body limp and her head drooped to the side, her hair hiding her face, and prayed they didn't sense that she was awake.

The three guys, assuming they were all in the car with her, didn't talk. They moved at a moderate pace, slowing then speeding up from time to time, as if approaching traffic lights that changed before they got there, or stop signs where he didn't make a complete stop. She took heart in the light that kept flashing over her eyelids and the sound of an occasional car passing.

For a while she fought the nausea. Once she thought she had that battle won, she tried to take inventory. She had her jacket, but the pockets weren't hanging right. They'd either taken her phone, or she'd dropped it. The card case she was using for a wallet was still in her back pocket, she could feel the hardness of it. Not that it helped her any. No weapons. Weaker than she'd been before. No way she could outrun them in this condition.

She tried to summon all the possibilities based on movies and TV she'd seen, books she'd read, experiences she'd ... experienced in the past few years. But her brain wasn't working very well, and she had a feeling she was running out of time.

Brianna wanted to scream in frustration—and then it came to her. She waited until the car slowed again. She gradually inhaled as deeply as she could. She had one chance. One of the guys in the front seat started to say something. But it was too late to abort.

She exploded upward, screaming at the top of her lungs. The driver's reaction, as she'd hoped, was to slam on the brakes. The men all instinctively jerked away from her, giving her one precious second to yank open the door. The guy in the back seat reached toward her, but she screamed again as she rolled out of the car.

The pavement was harder than she'd expected, for some stupid reason. She used momentum and kept rolling, keeping her hands up to protect her face and trying not to bang her head. As her speed died she rolled to her feet and tried to run and get her bearings at the same time.

Her legs didn't want to hold her. They wobbled, and her eyes rebelled against the neon lights around her. The traffic light they'd been slowing for was next to a gas station, but there were no cars there and she didn't want to get trapped.

Speaking of trapped, she only managed a couple of steps before she approached a tall chain link fence around what looked like an empty lot. Shouts behind her sounded like arguing, but she didn't think they'd let her get far. She had to make a decision.

Her labored breathing made it for her. She didn't have the strength to climb a fence. She pivoted and almost went down when her brain didn't keep up. Her stomach churned. Footsteps started pounding from her left. She righted herself and began to run.

Thank God she'd kept up her exercise regimen. Despite the drug and the nausea and the dizziness, her body recognized what she wanted and glided into a rhythm. She pushed as hard as she could, aiming for familiar golden arches a block or two away. Cars sped by, but she didn't want to risk losing ground trying to flag them down. She could hear breathing behind her, and grumbling. He'd be pissed if he caught her. Might do more damage than they'd done the first round. She
had
to get away.

Her feet skidded a little in the loose sand at the edge of the parking lot, then pounded across the cracked, pitted macadam. Then she was there, slamming into the door, yanking it open, through the entry into the restaurant...

She turned to see the big guy—Gip?—stop outside the main door. She gasped for air, her eyes locked with his furious ones. His narrowed, and she swore if he'd had a gun he would have shot her.

He pointed a finger at her, clenched his hand into a fist so tightly it shook, then stalked away, body language telling her he was cursing.

If there wasn't a four-year-old boy staring from the booth next to her, she would be doing some of that herself.

Cable didn't stop looking. He and Frank searched more of the area until the police arrived. They gave them what they knew and kept searching. He knew it was hopeless. Whoever had been after her had probably taken her away in a car or some other vehicle.

It wasn't like he knew what he was doing, either. He wasn't an investigator. He'd always been given an objective and told how to accomplish it, and that was far different. If Brianna was trapped inside an enemy camp in the desert, he could get her out no problem. Figuring out where she was ... well, that was a big problem.

Despite his inexperience, he knew what the garbage pile wheeling with gulls meant when they went around a corner and through an alley to be confronted by it.

"Don't.” Frank clasped his shoulder. “You don't know they dumped her."

But he had a sick feeling they had. Why not? The news was full of stories of abductions, of women found raped and murdered and discarded like garbage. He had to look. Had to find her. Fear and despair held him motionless as he absorbed the sheer enormity of the pile in front of him.

Frank pulled him away and made him sit in the bed of the truck while he made calls. Cable caught occasional words like “backhoe” and “dogs” and tried not to understand what they meant. But all he could think about was all the reasons she hadn't wanted to get involved with him. If he'd listened, she wouldn't have been here. She wouldn't be dead now.

The pain in his chest intensified, tightening so hard it vibrated. He swallowed and it eased, then started again. His eyes burned with dryness, but he couldn't seem to blink. When his chest tightened a third time, he realized it wasn't heartache or an oncoming coronary, but the vibration of his cell phone in his chest pocket.

Dispiritedly, he pulled it out and stared at the display. Unavailable. He had no interest in who might be bugging him and started to put the phone away, but one tiny ray of hope, a voice that said she hadn't been found yet and he'd damned well better not give up, made him flip it open and answer it.

What he heard made all his pain so far feel like a sliver.

Brianna went outside as soon as she saw Frank's truck pull up. Of course, Cable scolded her. She stared at him in stony silence until he wound down, relented, and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she couldn't have fallen down if she tried. She sagged against him in relief. Her head swam now that she'd stopped working so hard for stability, and the nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

"Hospital,” Cable barked at Frank. He helped Brie into the truck. “Call the cops on the way."

She would have protested. She was so damned tired. But she was sick, too, and she'd been kidnapped, for God's sake, and she had to deal with all that meant before she could rest.

The cops met them at the hospital, but Cable and the doctor wouldn't let them talk to her until she'd been examined. She thought that was stupid, since the ER was as busy as any other she'd been in, and though they gave her an exam room right away, they didn't actually examine her for an hour. She figured that was quicker than most people would get at her level of trauma, but she didn't think the cops would appreciate cooling their heels while they waited.

Then, too, she had to describe her experience for Cable, then the doctor so he could examine her properly. At Cable's insistence they performed a rape kit, though she tried to tell them it hadn't been that way. Saying “I told you so” when they were done gave her no satisfaction. They drew blood for chemical testing and talked about inducing vomiting, but Brianna shook her head violently, and when that didn't knock her off the table, the doctor relented.

"Most knock-out drugs won't do lasting damage,” he assured Cable, “and she seems to be coming out of it normally. The vomiting might have helped, but they also may have misjudged the dose. She came to much earlier than she should have, it sounds like."