Broken Identity (25 page)

Ivan remembered details. People were only pawns for getting the information he wanted, and Drake had been the perfect candidate because he was desperate. Their conversation had all been an act on Ivan’s part, a manipulation of words that was meant for his own gain. Using Drake was supposed to be easy, just another game of chess where he picked apart his opponents until they were forced to either forfeit or face the penalty—never a pretty sight from six feet under. The setup and kidnapping were flawless, and while the wallet contained little, Ivan’s plan promised cash. Everything was going smoothly until…

Ivan cursed. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Drake. He could practically feel the money leaving his hands every time he imagined Drake conning him at his own game. Andrew Tavner may have slipped from his grasp once, but Ivan had a way of getting what he wanted, due to a little more information Drake had spilled without realizing its far-reaching consequences. But Ivan remembered. Oh, yes. He remembered well.

“Was that the house?” Lomas said, turning in his seat to check the address on the mailbox they had just passed.

“Missed it,” Ivan said, abandoning his thoughts to muse over some other time. “I’ll turn around.” He slowly drove past the mailbox again.

“That’s the one,” Lomas said, unable to break his gaze from the antique white, Victorian-style home trimmed in chocolate brown and accented by a winding stone walkway. “Just look at that house. I’ll bet the inside’s filled with all sorts of expensive stuff.”

Ivan ignored his drooling. “Lots of windows means most likely all alarm-protected. That goes for the doors as well.”

Lomas tossed his cigarette out the window and faced Ivan. “Whadaya think? We never tried breakin’ into a house this big before. Could be more of a gamble than it’s worth.”

“Nothing’s worth more than the money,” Ivan snarled. “Drake has a debt he owes us for standing us up.” He surveyed the area for any busybody neighbors who might be lurking behind the protection of their curtains, watching them. “Coast appears clear, but I still don’t want you actin’ suspicious. We’ll meet up behind the fence in his backyard. If we’re gonna get in, it’s gonna be through the back where there’s nothin’ but trees and thick brush. Is that clear?”

“Sure.”

“Good. You go first. I’ll park the car and meet you in ten minutes.”

For once, supper was dead silent. The only sound came from the occasional crackle of garlic bread; too bad spaghetti noodles could be eaten noiselessly. Andrew could feel his body tensing up as he shot another glance at Drake, who stirred his food as if he were prepared to do so until he made pudding out of it.

“What’s wrong with everybody?” Ronnie finally said, looking at them both.

Andrew glanced up and caught Drake staring back at him. “Do you want to tell him, or would you rather I told him?”

“Might as well get it over with now,” Drake said jadedly, slapping his fork down with a clang. “I’m leaving, Ronnie.”

Ronnie furrowed his eyebrows. “What? But you can’t—”

“I’m not staying here anymore. My mind’s made up.”

Ronnie’s eyes fell to the table. “So you don’t like us anymore?”

“Nothing personal. I just think it’s time I move on.”

Ronnie bit his lip as his eyes blurred over with tears.

Oh, no. Not the tears,
Drake thought.

Andrew reached over and rested a hand on Ronnie’s arm. “Ronnie, don’t get upset. It’s Drake’s decision.”

Ronnie furiously shoved his chair away and darted from the room, blubbering words no one could understand. Drake heard the back door dramatically fling open, then bang shut.
Knew I should have left a note.

His appetite now completely lost, Andrew stood to go after him.

“Wait,” Drake said. “I caused this. I’ll go find him.” He wandered through the living room, past the piano and all the beautiful things he knew he would soon miss, and opened the back door slowly. “Ronnie, c’mon, man. Don’t do this.” As tough as he was trying to be, it hurt him deeply to see the kid cry, especially after knowing he was the one who had caused it. “Ronnie?” he said louder. He shook his head and stepped out onto the porch.

“Help!” someone shrieked.

Drake searched the yard but didn’t see anyone.
That sounded like…
a stick snapped. He jerked his head in the direction of the noise.

In a flash, Drake saw Ivan clamp a hand over Ronnie’s mouth just before he shot out of sight.

Chapter

14

K
IDNAPPED!

Drake Pearson rushed through the door, nearly knocking Andrew over. “Ronnie’s been kidnapped!” he blurted, out of breath.

Andrew’s face turned ashen. “What?!”

“No time to explain!” Drake pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time.

Andrew wanted to follow him, but ran outside instead and searched the streets. There wasn’t a single car on the road.
No, God
, he pleaded, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him.
God, not Ronnie. Anyone but him.

Drake yanked open Andrew’s dresser drawers and hysterically searched for his car keys. Stamps, no. Envelopes, no, not there either. Good grief, what was this, the post office?
Hurry up! Hurry up!
He heard Andrew sprinting up the stairs and yelling, “Who are they, Drake? Where are they taking Ronnie?”

Drake ignored him and tried another drawer.
Bingo.
He snatched up the keys in a numb fist and turned to leave.

Andrew appeared in the doorway like a pale phantom, eyes wide and frenzied with panic. “Tell me, Drake!” he demanded. “Tell me where they’ve taken him!”

Drake wanted to scream. His mind was playing games with him again, confronting him with an evil he wasn’t ready to face. He knew he was to blame for this disaster; was his mind resolute on beating him down with that truth until he fell apart in self-destruction? A guy could only take so much pressure before—

“Drake!”

Drake shook in anger. He could kill Ivan for this. “Call 911 and tell ’em he’s probably been taken to a shack behind some diner called Miller’s!”

“Where’s that?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t take notes about the place! That’s all I remember!”

“Well, show me! Drive me there…do
something!”

Reminded of every wasted second by the rapid pumping of his heartbeat, Drake rammed past Andrew. “I’m going to get him!”

Andrew spun. “Drake, you’re not leaving without me!”

“I’m going alone!” Drake hollered back, racing down the stairs.

Andrew tried to catch up, but Drake was out the door before he reached the bottom stair. “Drake! Drake, do you hear me?!” he screamed.

An engine started. Andrew looked out the window just in time to see Drake peel out of the driveway and accelerate down the street.
Dear God…Don’t let them hurt Ronnie.

Drake was flying through the streets with the hazard lights on, trying desperately to remember exactly where it was he had been yesterday. He had taken so many side streets and cut through countless back yards that more than once he had to back up and retrace his steps. Some things looked familiar, but every time he thought he was on the right track, he came to an intersection, forcing him to rely on what little information he had stored in his memory. Everything had taken place in one huge blur yesterday as he ran down lonely alleys and sidewalks that he was surprised he could remember anything.

Drake could feel something stirring inside him, and even though he was angry and frustrated with himself, he found himself crying out to the only one who could help him now.

God.

“Oh, God…” he started, his bottom lip quivering with fear as he felt warm acid creeping up his throat. “God, if You’re real…if You can even hear this…I promise I’ll go back to church if You’ll only protect Ronnie. I’ll even get a Bible to read. I’ll go to church every week and get my life right if You just promise me that You won’t let them hurt Ronnie. I promise I’ll change. Just give me another chance.”

“Say something, you stupid brat! Where’s Drake?” Ivan yelled, slapping Ronnie hard across the cheek for the fifth time.

By now, Ronnie was so much in tears that he could barely speak. “Please don’t hit me again,” he whined.

Ivan knelt down and shook Ronnie’s shoulders brutally, clenching his teeth to keep from losing it. “Tell me now, or so help me…”

“I don’t want you to hurt him!” Ronnie cried, releasing a new flood of tears. He lifted his head slightly, then cowered at the sight of Ivan’s frozen glare. He reminded him too much of his father.

“Maybe he don’t know where Drake is, Ivan,” Jameson, one of the eight, said. “Drake obviously wouldn’t still be livin’ with ’em after what he done, so how could the kid know where he’s at?”

“You got somethin’ better in mind?” Ivan hissed. He raised a hand to slap Ronnie again.

“Leave ’em alone, Ivan!” Jameson said, pulling his arm down. “He’s just a kid.”

Ivan’s body tensed. “Yeah, and I’m just a guy who lost out on a lot of dough, so
shut up!”

A loud bang shook the door. Everyone snapped to attention.

Ivan secured a hand over Ronnie’s mouth and slowly drew a finger across his neck to accentuate his warning. “Don’t think I won’t
kill
you,” he mouthed, his lips curling at the word
kill
.

Ronnie swallowed and tried to keep from bursting out in tears again.

“Put the kid in the back room,” Ivan whispered to Lomas. “I swear, if he makes the slightest peep, it’ll be your life.”

Lomas moved Ronnie into another room and closed the door.

Ivan pulled a handgun from his pocket and moved tentatively toward the door. “Whatdaya want?” he hollered.

“It’s Drake! Open up!” Drake yelled back, banging more fiercely.

Ivan unlocked the door and flung it open. He met Drake with a crooked smile. “Decided to come back and fling yourself on our mercy? What happened? The old man get away from ya? Or was the money just too tempting to give up?”

Drake wasn’t smiling. He matched Ivan’s stare and stepped up close to him until they were nose to nose. “Where’s Ronnie?” he said sternly.

Ivan casually leaned against the doorframe. “Who, the brat? Perfect timing. I was just askin’ him about you, but now that you’re here, you can join him.” Ivan held his gun on Drake and turned serious. “Walk.”

The sight of a gun was no scare to Drake anymore. He more than happily walked inside and made eye contact with every one of Ivan’s low-quality friends as Ivan led him toward the back room where Ronnie was being held.

“Ronnie!” Drake exclaimed, running to him. “Ronnie, have they hurt you?”

Ronnie’s face was pale as he stared helplessly up at Drake. “I’m OK,” he said, his timid words barely discernable.

Drake caught sight of a thin trickle of blood at the corner of Ronnie’s mouth and red marks on his cheeks, evidently due to slapping. He looked over his shoulder and glared at Ivan. “Is this your idea of payback, you animal? Does it make you feel like a big man when you hit a little kid?”

An indescribable fury rose in him. He didn’t have a thought-out plan to go by or even a clue about how he would escape, especially now. All he knew was that Ronnie was in danger, and if he were there only to offer comfort until hopefully the police arrived, that was a good enough reason for him.