I Beleive Now (5 page)

This time, he didn't know who took him. He never even saw the guy, and they took him right out from under the watchful eyes of Max's men. You had to be a little more than just on the ball to do that and for sure have some gutsy ones. How long had they been watching?
I picked the bathroom at random. How in the world had they known…?

Wait! That guy, that extra today.

He
was the one who told him about that bathroom. Could he have been involved? Come to think of it, Asher never
did
tell anyone there had been a replacement for one of the regulars today. He'd thought about saying something, but the replacement guy said he'd been called in by the man who was sick, said he was a friend and they did this for each other all the time. Besides, he was already there, the light was perfect, and the day was wasting away. Asher, being rushed, thought the reasons sounded legit, so he let it go and no one else seemed to notice or care, even Kira. The guy then proved to be nearly indispensable, too, by pushing almost everyone to work hard, including Asher himself. They actually accomplished more in a few short hours than he had in entire
days
before. Had that guy pushed them that hard just to make sure Asher didn't have time to check him out?
Why did I allow it?
He had to be the guy behind this. But if that was the case, who the hell was he?

Shit!

Asher was, in fact, happy he woke up at all. The reality that he had been blindfolded also gave him slight hope they might actually keep him alive and release him when whatever had to be done was done. Didn't kidnappers only blindfold you when they didn't want you to be able to identify them because they were going to give you back? Being blindfolded was a good sign, right?

It really, really has to be a good sign.

Since this time his kidnapping had nothing to do with him personally, it must have to do with Max. Most likely the people who kidnapped him were going to use him as bait or as collateral for something they wanted Max to do. His heart tightened. He knew the older man cared for him. It was pretty obvious in the way he protected him, chased him, and in what they did when Asher let Max finally catch him. But he was also very aware no real commitment existed between them. If the "something" they—whoever
they
were—wanted Max to do ended up being too big, too much, was Max going to come through to save him? Max might not think he was worth all the fuss. Asher, in his arrogant stupidity, had become a liability to Max, a weakness these fuckers thought they could exploit. Part of him wanted Max to just walk away, to show these bastards they had nothing on the man. But that was stupid-ass arrogance talking behind a blindfold.

Then another thought came at him unbidden.
What if whoever it was still wants Max's life? What if all they want is to get him in range so they could finish what they had failed to do before?
As loved and respected as Max was, as feared as he was, there were still a ton of dumb fucks out there who thought this time they might see the big guy slip up. Ha!

Except…

Turned out Max didn't need to slip because Asher did that for him.

Fuck! Why did this happen? Why didn't I let Kira do his fucking job?
He could blame no one but himself
yet again
because if he had told Kira about the new guy, if he had allowed Kira to check the damn bathroom before he went in, he wouldn't be in this position.

Max wouldn't be in this position.

He struggled a bit with the ropes. They held fast. He didn't necessarily want to attract any attention, but he also didn't know where those voices were coming from either—if they were in the same room, just far away, or if they were in a different room.
Can they see me if they are in a different room? Will they see me struggle, see that I'm awake?
He really didn't want to deal with them yet. He tried to lie still while at the same time pulling and testing the ropes on his hands, trying to figure out what they were, how they were tied, if he could loosen them—even if it hurt like fucking hell. After a moment, though, Asher realized the ties were not going to budge, no matter how hard he tried. He tried to relax as panic started to rise again. He had to think. He had to determine a way out. But fear had him by the balls and it was squeezing tight.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

He hoped Max didn't think he'd simply escaped the guards. If Max thought he was merely being a brat, no one might be out there even looking for him. But these guys kept him alive for a reason, right? Didn't that mean they were contacting Max? Maybe they already had and Max was on his way…

But—probably not. There had to be something these people wanted and knowing Max's world and the very fact they were fucking with a giant—and they had to know they were—that something wasn't going to be simple or easy.

Or fast.

Maybe not even for Max…

Oh god…

Crap! Crap, crap, crap! Okay, thinking isn't helping
.

* * * *

The call came at 11:34pm. Max had been staring out of his office window, contemplating the many torture techniques he had employed in the past, debating which ones were the most painful, the most effective, which ones kept the victim alive longer. He had never enjoyed using those techniques in the past, but now…

He heard the ring and knew instantly it was him. In a matter of seconds, Jasper came into the room and quietly told Max he was wanted on the phone. The caller was not identifying himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cadum stiffen. He had not left Max's side since the kidnapping. It was odd for him to react, although he knew the man had also developed a fondness for Asher, which of course was odd for Cadum as well. They had earlier pulled all their men back and abandoned the search, Max making the decision since he knew they'd not find Asher that way. Exhausting his men at this point was not wise. Max had also been concerned about the attention that even the methodical searching he was doing might attract, not only from the authorities but also from the underworld. He knew he needed to act but not in a way that showed weakness, confusion of any kind, or fear.

They had also taken the precaution of securing Asher's brother, Ryker, whisking him off to one of Max's safe houses. There was no reason to believe he was at risk, but Max wasn't taking any chances. Ryker was extremely upset over Asher's kidnapping. He peppered Max with questions about what he was doing to find Asher and also making it clear to Max he was at fault this time.

Yes, he was working hard to find Asher and yes, he knew where the fault lay.

He turned and walked the few steps to his new desk. Well, not new exactly. The large piece of furniture was over a year old now and sent from the same manufacturer. It was hard to believe it had been that long since a bomb had gone off on this very spot. The carpet had been changed too, of course, the walls freshly painted, his bulletproof windows checked thoroughly for flaws due to the compression the bomb had caused.

He looked at the phone just lying on his desk. His heart flipped again. He closed his eyes for just a moment, one tiny moment. Then he opened them, blinking not only in anger but determination.

He reached out and picked up the receiver.

CHAPTER THREE

"Tyler," Max said into the phone.

"Max Tyler! Great to hear your voice again."

"Lucca?" Max glanced over at Cadum's once more expressionless face, then at Jasper. His only show of surprise was a hard blink. Even Max was surprised and surprising Max was very hard to do.

Lucca is the son of a bitch behind this?

"You got it, buddy. I'm impressed you recognized my voice. But then you're just one hell of an impressive guy, aren't you?"

"Cut the crap, Lucca. What do you want?"

"No, no, no. It's not what
I
want. It's what
you
want, right? I have your little pet here."

Something about how he said "pet" made Max's skin crawl but he refused to allow this soon-to-be dead man walking, to know Max was irritated. "Let me talk to Asher."

"Of course! I knew you'd want to." There were some muffled sounds, a soft cry. Max's heart wrenched when he heard the mournful sound. He could hear Lucca telling Asher to talk into the phone.

"Max…Max?"

Max closed his eyes as he dealt with another shock through his heart. It was clear Asher was frightened. Max had not protected him and now he was in trouble and scared. "Asher? Are you all right?"

"I'm…I'm fine…but…I don't know what's going on… I'm sorry…"

"There, you see?" Lucca was back on the line. Max heard another slight cry in the background. Again he knew the sound came from Asher. However, he also now knew for sure Asher was alive and well; he just didn't know for how long. "He's just fine. He's waiting for you to pick him up."

Continuing to keep any emotion at all from his voice, Max replied, "I imagine you are now going to tell me how I will be able to do that?"

"Well,
I'm
not going to, but Wyatt here will."

As he'd figured from the beginning: Wyatt Jackson. They were working together.

"Max?"

"Jackson. Heard you were able to sidestep all of those charges."

"Yes, no thanks to you, since you're the one who orchestrated all those charges in the first place."

Max laughed. "I knew you'd be able to get out from under all of that. I never really intended for you go to prison." He dropped his voice to dark and dangerous. "It's far too easy for anyone to kill you there and I'd have had to stand in line."

Max thought he heard Jackson swallow hard. He also imagined beads of sweat popping out on his pale, too big, greasy forehead. "Well, I-I don't think you will want to do that anymore since I…we…have your…your lover."

"Oh, don't get too full of yourself, Jackson. I
will
kill you." He paused. "But you're right. I need to wait to take Madden off your hands first. So tell me. What do I need to do?"

"Something not even simple for you, Tyler. I want my life back. I want my houses and cars and credit cards—all of it."

"Sounds simple enough to me. How much money will it take?"

"Oh, money is only part of it, Tyler. I want my political standing back as well. I want my job. I want the press to love me again. Do you understand? I want them to fucking love me."

Max was quiet for a moment, but only a moment. "How long do I have?"

"I'd love to tell you to take as much time as you need, knowing it took me an entire lifetime to get to where I was, but the official names go on the ballots in less than a month, and I want to be back on that ballot. Not only that, but I want to win the election. You have less than a month, Tyler."

"I will do it in less than a week. Now I want something from you. I want pictures of Asher Madden in four hour increments, holding the day's newspaper, emailed to an address I'll give you. That way I know he'll stay alive during this process. If you miss even one, I'll stop the process, find you, and kill you. You got that?"

Jackson seemed to think about it for a moment. "Yes. I can do that. Give me the address."

Max gave the email he wanted to use. "Remember, Jackson. You miss even one, and you're a dead man." He hung up.

So Lucca and Jackson were working together. That was not good. Both were small, lazy men. All of this only meant they were working with others—a group or a gang—and Max needed to find out whom. He could trace the IP address from the emails he'd be receiving but chances were good the effort would be a futile one. He'd have experts study the pictures, but again, groups were smarter than individuals on a whole and certainly smarter than Jackson or Lucca, so chances were good there might be little to no clues where they were holding Asher. The main concern centered on the possible stupidity he might be dealing with because stupid people were jumpy people and jumpy people made mistakes. So having them take those pictures, having them make sure there was nothing in them that could be traceable, just simply forcing their attention on something else, keeping them busy just might keep them calm.

Plus he wanted to make sure Asher remained unhurt…

Up until now things concerning Max's businesses had been going as planned. They pretty much always did. He usually never left anything to chance, never left anything uninvestigated. His people examined everything thoroughly, explored everything completely, generally with cool, clear heads. They faced great and small enemies every day as well, with that same demeanor. But this time the situation was different—wholly, completely different. Today he faced a new, very deadly, enemy.

His own heart.

He had never had to make these types of decisions based on what he needed to now base them on. This, of course, would never—could never—be handled any differently and not only because he was Max Tyler, but also because this involved Asher. To leave any rock, any pebble, unturned where Asher was concerned, wasn't going to happen. He took out a cigarette and lit it. As he drew deeply and exhaled slowly, he forced himself to calm down.

He always protected those he employed—his subordinates and anyone else he considered himself to be responsible for. If Max Tyler had your back, you had nothing to fear. But Max had to admit, even though he'd soon have things well in control, he feared for Asher, and every time he allowed himself that knowledge, his heart hurt. He had not experienced this feeling in a very long time—if ever—and he didn't like it. Not at all. He took another drag. Let the smoke out slowly. Let himself relax a little more.

I will get you out, Asher.

It had become a chant, a mantra.

A prayer.

He sighed. Time for the next steps. He snuffed out the half-finished cigarette and rose to his feet. Time for those idiots to start paying for messing with his things, his people…with him. He adjusted his suit jacket as he mentally adjusted himself and walked toward the door.

Max considered the situations—past and present—as he went, remembering when he first heard Lucca's name. He knew he needed to infiltrate, separate, and conquer—the only and best way to end this—and while he was at it, collapse, once and for all, the human trafficking ring that
someone
was again trying to set up in his territory. He knew Jackson had been involved that not so long ago yesterday and the route had to be what was behind this kidnapping, too. Jackson would pay. Max was determined to make sure
all
those bastards who had intended to sell Hunter's little sister to the highest bidder, paid dearly. She had been twelve years old, adorable, white, and a virgin—immensely valuable in the sex trade.