Gideon's Redemption (20 page)

“Run, Eli! Go now!” Shannon shrieked and was relieved as he bolted away.

“Fucking bitch!”

She saw the fist coming out of the corner of her eye, but ducked too late. Instead of her jaw, Ray hit her squarely on the side of her head. She staggered, her vision distorted with flashes of light. His punch had really rung her bell.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ pay for that, bitch.” He backhanded her across the cheek, whipping her head around fiercely with the strength of the blow. “By the time I’m done with you, even Gid won’t know you.” She heard those last words as another searing pain cut through her head and a black nothingness overcame her.

* * *

Gideon sat with a sobbing Eli, the little boy clutching Gideon’s neck. His shuddering, gulping breaths were heartbreaking. He was overwrought, the fear for his mother unbearable. They had barely managed to get the story out of him between hiccups.

After Shannon had launched herself at the armed gun man, Eli had escaped. He had run for blocks until he saw a police car, which was actually UCLA campus police. They had immediately called in the local and state police to help investigate the alleged assault and abduction.

That had been almost four hours ago. Eli had been so distraught he had forgotten his new address along with his Dad’s cell phone number. The only number he managed to recall was one of his old school friends. They had tried that unsuccessfully, reaching only voicemail. Finally, the campus police had accessed the student data files. However, with Shannon only having registered that day, her information hadn’t been fully uploaded yet. The chancellor had been notified. He’d called in someone from admissions who had found her application and file on some data entry worker’s desk.

Gideon was contacted minutes later and made arrangements to meet the police at his home. They immediately started placing recording devices on his business line and were ready to trace any calls coming into his or Betsy’s cell phones. His living room soon resembled command central.

“Shh, bud, you’re going to make yourself sick,” he whispered against his son’s hair, rocking him back and forth. Gideon was holding it together, being strong for his son, when all he really wanted to do was scream and rage, and when he was done with that, curl up in a corner and sob uncontrollably. Betsy entered just then with a fresh pot of coffee and a soda and cookies for Eli.

“Come here, sweet baby,” she said as she held out her arms for her surrogate grandson. He reluctantly left Gideon’s arms and climbed up in her lap. Once settled, he sipped at his soda and nibbled on a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Gideon met Betsy’s eyes, the adults sharing a silent moment of solidarity. They would do what they needed for Eli, but inside they were flying apart.

“Mr. Eli, exactly how long has Ray Reynolds been making threats against you?”

“It’s Mr. McCord actually. Eli is my stage name. Ray never made any threats to me. He was upset about being fired and was trying to con his way back into my good graces. I had severed our business relationship and stopped taking his calls.”

It was then Gid remembered. “Shannon answered one of his calls today. It was a heated exchange. Of course, I could only hear her side, but she told me he said vile things to her and that he blames her for losing our contracts. He made quite a bit of money off Northern Exposure and our individual recording careers over the years.”

“Do you have any idea where he would take her?”

“He said she better have sunscreen.” All eyes in the room turned on Eli. The boy clung to Betsy, his tearstained face strained with worry as he clutched another cookie in one hand, his favorite batman action figure in the other. Gid got up and crouched in front of his son.

“Did he say anything else, bud? Think hard because it’s real important.”

“He kept talking about cats. Mentioned Mom’s pussycat a couple times, said hers must be lined with gold. He musta thought Mom had a cat.”

Gideon sucked in a breath.
The bastard!
If he touched her—raped her—there would be no place for him to hide, nowhere on earth that Gid wouldn’t find him.

“Anything else, Eli?” Gideon’s voice was strained, barely controlled rage making his voice quiver slightly.

“Yeah, he said something about a fat cat too.”

“He’s in Oceanside,” Justin North said quietly from the doorway. Gid hadn’t even realized he’d arrived. He was flanked by Johnny and Sticks, who stood shoulder to shoulder, presenting a unified front of support, radiating concern and sympathy for their longtime friend and bandmate. “Pez Gordo, Gid,” Justin exclaimed. “His boat is named Pez Gordo which means Fat Cat. He’s taken her there, I’m certain.”

A glimmer of hope washed over Gideon. Although their ordeal was far from over, at least they had a lead to go on, a small clue as to her possible whereabouts. He squeezed Eli tight, whispering, “You did good, Eli. You hang here with Bets while we go look for your mom.”

Gideon kissed the top of his head before he rose and moved to the door, his friends stepping in line behind him.

The lead officer who had already been on the phone issuing orders for a search of the Oceanside marinas, called to him as he passed, “Mr. McCord, this is best left for the police to handle.”

“Fine, you do your job, but I’m going to be there waiting when you find her.”

Sticks was hanging up his phone as they walked out the door. “I’ve got a friend with a chopper that’s ready to go, Gid. We can be there in 30 minutes.”

He turned grateful eyes to his friends. “Thanks. I might need you guys to hold me back later. If he’s hurt her, I’m gonna have to kill the motherfucker.”

“We’re on it, man,” Johnny replied. “We’ll even restrain you, if necessary. Justin, you got your cuffs with you, man?”

“No,” Justin quipped, “but I’ve got a ball gag with your name on it if you don’t cut the shit.”

They all chuckled softly. Although the situation was tense, they had a way of putting each other at ease with humor. The friends were close, like brothers. When one was hurting or in trouble, they all rallied together to lend a helping hand. They all had the same sexual inclination for control and shared an interest in kink, especially BDSM. In a typical manly fashion, jokes and insults often flew freely, frequently at one or the other’s expense.

“Touchy much? Sheesh!” Johnny returned as he followed Gid into the backseat of Justin’s big Escalade. “Don’t you worry, Gid; we’ll keep you out of the slammer. But I think we can arrange for you to get a few swings in before they haul his sorry ass to jail.”

The private helipad was just minutes away. Once in flight, Gideon looked out the window as the chopper headed south along the coast. No longer having to maintain a calm front for Eli, he let his mind wander and his thoughts were inundated by the many horrible scenarios and possible conclusions to this mess. He couldn’t imagine life without Shannon again. He had just found her and they were making such progress in rebuilding their relationship and a life together with Eli.

Lost in thought, he vaguely heard the guys talking, or rather shouting, as they struggled to be heard over the loud whir of the chopper blades. Justin was holding a map, and he informed them there were three major marinas in Oceanside. No one had a clue where Ray stored his boat, so unless their luck turned, they would have to search all of them, further delaying finding her if they started at the wrong one. Gid heard Justin list the marinas—The Fuel Dock, The Harbour Guest Del Mar, and The Oceanside Yacht Club.

“The Yacht Club,” Gid suggested on a hunch. “Wouldn’t that be just like him? Pretentious, vain asshole that he is. He’d migrate right to the ritziest marina so he could show off and rub elbows with the privileged elite. Damn parasite! How did we put up with his shit all these years?”

“The question is more like why, Gid. It’s because he helped us become successful and make a crap ton of money,” Johnny said what they all were thinking. “It’s easy to turn a blind eye to personality deficiencies when you’re raking in the cash hand over fist.”

Gid focused weary eyes on his friend. “Yeah, John, but at what price?”

“I answered the why question. I didn’t say it was justified, my friend.”

Gid turned back toward the window, looking down at the lights of southern California at dusk. He was grateful to be surrounded by his friends, Sticks in particular. His chopper friend also knew some private security contactors who were on the ground, already at work in Oceanside. How Sticks had these contacts was beyond Gideon, but he was grateful for them, and Gid knew he would owe him a huge debt if they located Shannon safe and sound.

As they descended into Oceanside, Gid worried that Reynolds would get wind of the cops closing in on him and head out to sea with her. They didn’t have a contingency plan for that scenario. Visions of Reynolds getting scared and ditching his plan, throwing a bound and helpless Shannon overboard before escaping south into Mexican waters, had his heart racing in fear. He silently returned to the activity that had consumed him off and on since learning of her abduction. Although woefully out of practice, he drew from his childhood catechisms and he prayed.

Chapter Fifteen

Hands tingling and numb, she pulled futilely at the ropes binding her arms tightly behind her back. Lying on her side on a comfortable, bunk style bed, she looked toward the small window and the waning light. Sheer curtains covered the porthole, or whatever they called windows on a boat. All she knew was that her head was throbbing where he’d beaten her unconscious. That combined with the rocking of the boat as the waves slapped against the side was a potentially messy combination. Her stomach roiled and was going to rebel if she didn’t get out of the stale, stuffy cabin very soon.

“Ray!” Shannon shouted, grimacing as the noise jarred her aching head. “Unless you want to clean up puke from your stateroom carpet, you better get down here.”

She felt unusually bold, considering her situation. But Eli had gotten away and she just had herself to worry about. Gideon would take care of him if something happened to her, so she could afford to take a few risks. Besides, he wanted a hostage for ransom, so until they got that all arranged, she was probably safe—relatively speaking, of course.

“Quit your bellowing, bitch. That’s why I never got married. Who could possibly put up with someone carping at them 24/7?”

As if someone could put up with your obnoxious ass,
Shannon thought, but remained silent. She was concentrating on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. The pig stomped down the stairs and came to stand over her. His cloying cologne was overpowering at this short distance, and she wished now he had stayed away.

“I’m sick. Please untie me.”

“That’s not happening, slut. You’ll just have to get used to being bound. I hear that’s what Gid’s into, so you should be used to it. In fact, I borrowed some toys from a kinky friend of mine,” he said with a leering grin. Tugging a duffel bag from under the bed, he opened it to reveal some BDSM tools, gleefully showing them to her one at a time—a riding crop, wooden paddle, red rubber ball gag, and a pair of nipple clamps with teeth. “I’ve been looking forward to trying them out on you. You deserve to be punished for what you’ve done.”

Picking up the crop, he approached her. He flipped her on her stomach and pulled down her jeans and panties. “Let’s start with a little ass whipping, shall we?”

The first blow had her sucking in a shocked gulp of air as it viciously lashed across her right cheek. She regained her voice with the second blow, screaming shrilly as the crop seared into her left cheek. Unable to move with her hands tied and her jeans and panties hobbling her legs, she rolled to her side trying desperately to protect her burning bottom from more excruciating pain. Sadly, her act of self-preservation left her front open to further assault. Actually, it was her only option other than taking more of the same, for if she’d rolled the other way, she would have fallen off the edge of the bed.

The third blow of his sadistic crop landed across her exposed hip and belly. It was too much—her throbbing head, the rocking boat, and the excruciating whipping all combined. As she had warned, her stomach rebelled and she promptly yacked all over his expensive Italian shoes.

“Fucking bitch! Look what you’ve done!” He pulled a knife from his belt and she cringed in fear.
This is the end,
she thought, but he used the blade to cut the ropes from her wrists. “You are going to clean up this stinking mess, and then I’m going to finish your whipping.” His hand came down brutally on her naked ass several times before he stepped back and motioned for her to get up.

Sobbing in pain, Shannon moved slowly, resigned to do his bidding or suffer even more abuse. She took slow, shuffling steps toward the bathroom, her movements restricted by the jeans and panties that remained twisted around her ankles. Her bottom throbbed and her belly burned from the fiery whipping. She thought reflectively of Gideon. His spankings now seemed like love taps compared to this maniac. Never would she question his punishments, she thought miserably, if she ever got that chance again.

Tears ran unchecked down her face as she rummaged for cleaning supplies under the sink. A bucket, some rags, spray cleaner… Her gaze froze as she spied a large wrench lying loose toward the back of the cupboard. She grabbed it and hid it among the rags.

“Come on, bitch, move it. The stench in here is overpowering.”

When she returned, she saw he had removed his shoes and socks, as well as his pants, and was now sitting on the bed, a gun in his hand. He used it like a prop, a scare tactic in his warped little drama where he was the lead actor and director, nonchalantly waving the weapon around or pointing with it.

Dumb ass,
she thought almost gleefully, knowing he had been lulled into a false sense of superiority after the whipping. He obviously thought her cowed and obedient.

“I’ll have to take you up top to finish your spanking, at least until this place airs out. I want to enjoy every minute of our brief time together. I guess that means a gag to keep you quiet, so you better be done with your puking.”