Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) (13 page)

Sixteen

I was jostled, disoriented. My head hurt. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. I was surrounded by the warmth of leather and a hint of cedar.

“Open the door!” Vance shouted.

Heels hurriedly clacked against pavement.

“Where’s Oliver?”

Who’s that?
That voice, I know that voice.
Where the hell am I? What’s going on?

“Oh my God, where is he?” she asked again.

Cici. The voice was Cici. I was laid down on the seat of the Rover, the scent of the interior familiar, and memories rushed in. Oliver had thrown up. He’d looked at me, his expression had changed, and I was hit on the head.

“What the hell is going on? Where’s Oli?” That voice I recognized instantly—Camille.

That was the third time someone asked about Oliver. Where was he? I tried to speak, but all that came out were sounds of pain. There must have been a cord attached from my mouth to the back of my head. When I moved my lips, the cord tightened and tugged on a knife stuck in my skull. I struggled to raise my fingers and inspect the damage. By some miracle, nothing was there. No knife. Thank God.

“Everyone get in the car.”

My door shut and three more followed, one after the other. The car moved, and I rocked back against the seat.

“Oliver’s gone. He wasn’t there. Di, we’re taking you to the hospital. Talk to me,” Vance said.

Panic gripped his voice. I wanted to say something, to tell him I was all right, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate. More moans came out. The goddamn throbbing on the back of my head was like someone was playing whack-a-mole against my skull.

“I’m calling the police,” Cici said. Her voice came from the front of the car. She was in my seat. Even in my weakened condition, I found enough strength for that to irritate me.

“No!” Camille said. “I’ll call them.”

An instrumental of a Foo Fighters song, and the theme song from
Acts of Desperation,
began to play, but it wasn’t coming from the radio. It was next to me—a ring tone.

“It’s Oliver,” Camille said, confused. “Hello?”

What followed was silence filled with sparse sounds of agreement. The call ended.

“Was that Oliver? Where is he? What’s going on?” Cici asked.

“Someone’s taken him,” she said through a slow whisper. “They have him and said they’ll kill him.”

The car stopped.

“We’re calling the police now,” Vance said.

“No!” Camille said. “They said not too.”

“What?” Vance asked. “We have to.”

“They said they’ll be in touch.”

“It’s a bad move. We need to call the police.”

“When it’s my husband’s life on the line, I make the call of what we do and what we don’t do.” She snapped. “Take her to the hospital, and I’ll wait for the next phone call.”

Vance offered nothing else, but I felt the conflict brewing inside him. The car moved again, and I drifted into a black dream.

Soon, Vance’s arms wrapped around me, and I came to. “What’s going on?” I muttered against his chest. Finally, my brain rose to the challenge.

“I’ve got you. You two stay here. You’ll draw a crowd if you go inside.”

“Not a problem,” Camille said as if no other option existed. “Hurry, if it’s possible.”

Vance’s exhalation of air brushed against my cheek, and I felt a tightness take ahold of his chest. “As quick as I can be.” He’d somehow managed to keep his voice even and hadn’t let on to the rage I knew boiled inside of him.

“What happened?” I asked as he carried me.

“I waited at the end of the street for you and you weren’t there when I pulled up. I looked down the street and couldn’t see you. I ran and found you unconscious in an alley next to a pile of puke.”

“Oliver threw up. We stepped into the alley so he could have some privacy.”

“Did you see anything or anyone?”

“No, I was standing across from him. I’d given him a tissue to wipe his mouth and someone came up behind me. I didn’t hear anything. All I saw was Oliver’s expression change, and then it was lights out.”

“How do you feel? Are you okay?”

I tilted my face toward his and he looked down on me. “I think it’s just a bump on the head. They just knocked me out. It didn’t even break the skin.”

“Scared the shit out of me finding you like that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. I don’t need to go in there. Put me down. I can walk this off.”

He laughed. “Keep dreaming. You have a concussion at the least. You blacked out. You’re getting checked.”

A cool burst of air greeted my skin when Vance walked through the automatic doors into the emergency room. He set me down in a chair and spoke to someone at the front desk. A few minutes later, I was taken back into an exam room. 

I was seen almost immediately. After a nurse started an I.V. of clear fluid, they wanted to take me for a CAT scan, which I refused. It sounded way too time consuming, and Vance and I needed to be available as soon as possible. I also declined the blood tests they wanted. What could have been the point of those? I felt fine, woozy, but fine.

I did submit to a neurological exam after Vance threatened to kill me if I refused one more thing. I had to do all this touch my nose nonsense and look here and look there while they shined a light in my eyes. My vision was fine. Nothing was blurry and I wasn’t seeing double.

My diagnosis was a mild concussion, but after some rest, I would recover completely. They wanted to keep me for observation, which was never going to happen. I could rest at home later, and it wouldn’t cost me a dime. After I signed the forms for leaving against medical advice, Vance and I left.

I was in and out quickly, but it had gotten late. The sun had begun to set, and a slight chill had settled into the air. Vance and I walked back to the car, side by side this time. When we got in, Cici was staring out the window, and Camille was absorbed in her phone.

“Any updates?” Vance asked slipping behind the wheel.

“No, nothing yet,” Camille offered. “How’s your head?”

I’d expected Camille to act as though my injury were an inconvenience and was surprised by her concern. “It’s totally fine. A mild concussion. I’m good to go.”

“That’s good news.” She tossed her phone on the seat and clasped her hands together. “Please, take me home.”

Vance pulled out of the lot and sailed up the road.

Seve
nteen

We arrived at the apartment. Vance and I walked into the kitchen while Cici sat at the table, stunned. Camille paced restlessly in the other room while staring at her phone.

“You need something for your head?” Vance asked. “I can dig through the freezer.”

I stroked my goose egg. “No, I’m fine.” It was sore, but a bitter taste in my mouth was what I focused on. I swirled my tongue against the roof of my mouth and dug through my pockets for a square of gum, but they were empty. “Do you have any gum? I think I bit my cheek when I fell and my mouth tastes terrible.” My head throbbed, syncing with the beat of my heart, each pulse fueling my anger. I couldn’t believe Oliver had been taken on my watch.

Vance popped a square of gum from its foil package and dumped it into his palm. “You did everything right.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, releasing some of the tension.

“You don’t know that.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“He was my responsibility.” I crunched the outer candied shell between my teeth, clenching them so hard it hurt.

“You’re going to break something if you keep doing that.” He placed his thumb and index finger on either side of my jaw and rubbed the protruding muscles in a circular motion.

I jerked my head away and wiggled my jaw. “I’m pissed.”

“I know you are, and I get it, but if you were taken down then it couldn’t have been prevented.”

I grunted and stared at a gray vein running through the marble counter. “Maybe.” I avoided his eyes knowing they’d only make me feel better and processed his words. Deep down I knew he was right. I nodded but replayed what had happened anyway to isolate my error. I’d surveyed everything before Oliver stepped into the entrance to that alley. Everything. I’d scanned the buildings and doorways, windows and rooftops. There was no one, and I’d watched Oliver like a hawk. What could I have missed?

“We should call Cavanaugh and tell him what happened,” Vance whispered, interrupting my thoughts.

“You haven’t done that yet? I thought you would’ve while I was getting looked over by the doctor.”

“I never left your side. When would I have called? I needed to hear you were okay first.”

“We should call it in now then.”

In the other room, Camille’s distinctive ring tone sounded again, and I released my phone back into my pocket. It was them. I’d call it in later. Vance and I listened to the call with attentive ears, but Camille’s hushed toned proved challenging to hear anything. She paced, talked, listened, digested, and worried. Cici remained silent.

Camille pled with him—I assumed it was a
“
him.” They say ninety-five percent of all abductors are male, unmarried, and have few friends; hence the ubiquitous phrase “bad guys.”

The call took less than five minutes, and when it ended, Camille let out a blood curdling scream. She walked toward us clutching the sides of her head, phone in hand. Cici rushed to her aid.

“I’m sorry,” Camille said, fending off Cici’s attempt to console her. “Outbursts aren’t going to help. I’m okay. He’s alive.” She stood panting for a moment and regained her composure. She approached us smacking her phone against her hip. She stopped when she reached the island, and her eyes filled with tears. “Please. You have to help me get him back.”

Vance glanced at me and then back to Camille. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much Diana and I can do. This isn’t our job. We should call the police. The fact that we haven’t yet is bad enough.”

“I can handle this—
we
can handle this. I don’t need the police, I need you two. Some clown from the FBI will screw this up, or they’ll assign some local Barney Fife. They’ll create a huge media frenzy and get him killed.”

“I really think we should call the police too. I’m scared for Oliver,” Cici interjected.

“You stay out of this. You have absolutely no say in what’s going on here. You didn’t hear your husband’s pained moans through the phone just now. I did. They said no police. We’ll do what I say.” Camille’s skin flushed scarlet.

I hoped to soothe her by softening my voice. “I understand how desperate you are, but this isn’t what we do. The police are trained to handle things like this. Calling them is the best thing for Oliver now.”

She leaned against the counter and smacked her palms down. “No, it isn’t! You didn’t hear what they said. You both can do this. I know you can. Please.”

Rationalizing was going nowhere fast. “What do they want?” I asked, hoping if I took a different path, it would lead us down the right road.

“Ten million dollars. Ten. Million. Dollars.” Her eyes bounced back and forth between my face and Vance’s, searching for some level of understanding. She looked up to the vaulted ceiling and was silent for a few beats and then spun around. “I’ll pay you extra. Double what Oliver is paying you. Triple!” She rubbed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ll give you both twenty thousand dollars if you bring him back to me. Oliver needs to be on set, but after today, I can come up with an excuse. But any more than one day will create problems. Filming will be delayed, heads will start to turn, and it’ll cost the production company tens of thousands of dollars. We won’t be able to leave this building without pushing through hundreds of people all wondering what’s wrong with Oliver.”

“But…” I attempted, but Camille didn’t let me finish.

“No ‘buts.’” You don’t understand. We won’t be able to sneeze outside of these doors without thousands of pictures being taken, and then those pictures will be smacked across every tabloid headline. This story will be devoured. Chewed up and spit out. Even Cici will agree with me on this. This isn’t the kind of attention Oliver needs. Trust me, I know him, and we might disagree on lots of things, but he’d agree with me on this. He does not want this.”

Cici reluctantly nodded her head. “She’s right. Oliver wouldn’t.”

Vance chewed the inside of his cheek and looked to me for an answer. I didn’t have one but knew what he was thinking. Twenty thousand dollars was a drop in the bucket to Camille, but to Vance it would help his family in a way he’d otherwise not be able to. He weighed the options.

“Do you trust us enough to try this knowing this isn’t our area of expertise?” Vance asked.

“You both are supposed to be the best. Absolutely, I trust you. You already saved us once. You can do it again. You
will
do it again.”

I laughed to myself.
No pressure there.
Yes, we had handled a couple incidents while working this assignment and the outcomes had been favorable, but despite them, Vance and I had never done anything like this. We had a lot of training, but it would be a clear breach of protocol.

“I appreciate your votes of confidence, but this is different. We don’t know how to find Oliver. He could be anywhere.” I wanted to help for her sake, for Vance’s, and for my own redemption, but there were a lot of variables. We needed to study the situation inside and out, backwards and forwards before making a move, but with what we faced, time wasn’t on our side.

Vance shook his head. “I know how to find him.”

I squinted. “How?"

“From the tracking chip card I gave him.”

“Oh,” I said through an exhale. “That’s right.”

Camille leaned in and hung on our every word. “You can track him?”              

“Yes, we gave him a small card embedded with a tracking chip. It should be in his wallet.”

“So, can you find him?” Camille’s big, blue eyes widened.

“I haven’t tested it in the field yet, but yes, we should be able to, if he still has it on him,” Vance said.

“See. This is why Oliver chose you. That’s brilliant.”

In Vance’s eyes, it was obvious the scales tipped in favor of us rescuing Oliver. To the man whose family was everything, this was his answer to save them. He gave me a silent look that begged for a verdict, but I was on the fence.

“Would you mind if I spoke to Vance privately for a second?” I asked.

“Yes, please, go in there.” Camille pointed to a set of French doors on the other side of the room.

I led Vance into an office and shut the door behind us. “This is risky.” I leaned against a dark walnut desk and faced him.

“I know, but it’s worth the reward.” Vance sat on a quilted leather ottoman opposite me.

“Even if we get fired? You know this could end badly.”

He shook his head. “We won’t.”

“We might.”

"I know we can handle this. And… I need this money.”

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. “If we turn the locator on and find him, we’ll need to come up with a plan quickly. And we only do it if it’s safe for both of us. If at any point I feel like we’re in over our heads, I will call the police. Clear?”

Vance agreed with a curt nod. “Clear.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.” We bumped fists and rejoined Camille in the kitchen.

She searched our faces for the answer she wanted. “So, will you do it?”

“Yes,” I answered.

Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. “Great. Bring him back to me. I told the men who have Oliver I’d give them whatever they wanted, but I’d need some time to gather the money. They gave me twenty-four hours. They’re supposed to call me and tell me where to drop it. You have to find him before that.” Her gaze briefly flicked upward. “It’s unbelievable. It’s like I’m living a scene from one of Oli’s movies.”

Vance patted her hand. “Lay low and don’t leave this apartment. We’ll be in touch.”

.              .              .

Vance and I entered the darkened second floor of B&B’s headquarters. Everyone had already checked out for the day. As we walked down the line of desks, the air was filled with the heavy scent of rubber and plastic from the industrial carpeting.

We arrived at my desk, and I checked the time on my phone. I was late calling Gabe. I switched the base of my lamp on, and Vance pulled out my chair. He grabbed another from a neighboring desk. 

“Hey, I need to make a call. Be right back.”

“Do what you have to do, but hurry up.” Vance took a seat and punched the power button on my computer.

I walked into the ladies room and waited for the door to shut completely before making my call.

“Hey,” Gabe said through a pleasant laugh. “I was just thinking about you. Where are you? I was starting to worry. I expected to hear from you an hour ago.” His office chair squeaked as it did when he leaned back, and his voice was deep like he’d been hanging on the edge of sleep.

“I’m still working.”

“Well that makes two of us. What’s kept you?”

“Something came up.”

“What?” His voice perked up, and the chair squeaked again.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious, but I can’t make it tonight.” A knot tightened in my belly.

“Why?”

“Vance and I have something we have to take care of with Oliver.” I crossed my arms and squeezed my elbows, bracing myself for his reaction—it was coming, like the achiness of an old wound on a rainy day. He was going to be angry and probably jealous.

“Is everything all right? Your voice seems different.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just sad I’m not going to see you.”

“Well, if what you’re doing is so important there will be plenty of time for us later. How long do you think you’ll be?”

The tightness in my abdomen loosened a bit. “I might have to work through the night.”

“Through the night?” His voice raised an octave or two higher. “Since when do you do that?”

Claws clamped down and twisted my guts again. “Since something unexpected happened.”

“What?”

“I… I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.”

He grunted. “You don’t trust me?”

“No, it’s not that. Of course I do. I signed a confidentiality thing, so really, I can’t tell you or else I’d…” I smiled a little. “I’d have to kill you.”

“Oh, I see, bodyguard humor,” he said with a slight laugh and was silent for a few seconds. “Contracts can be a pain, but they are my saving grace some days. I understand.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

“How could I be? I’ve been pulled away more times than I would have liked lately, the most recent occurrence probably the most regrettable. It wouldn’t be fair to be upset with how understanding you’ve been. But promise me something?”

I smiled. He never ceased to surprise me lately. “Anything.”

“Call me when you get in. I need to hear your voice again tonight.”

“But what if you’re sleeping.”

“Then you’ll wake me and I’ll fall asleep again and dream about you.”

My smile spread from ear to ear. “That sounds nice.”

“So, later then?”

“Yes, I promise I’ll call.”

“Good. Whatever it is you have to do, be careful.”

“I always am.”

I returned to Vance feeling much lighter. I sat next to him as he hovered over my keyboard, staring into the screen, hardly noticing me. I watched while he navigated a foreign computer system.