The Gilded Cuff (19 page)

C
ody lounged back in the driver seat of his car, debating his next move. People filled the sidewalks as they explored the seaside village for late dinner and other evening entertainment. He turned his attention back to his phone. Earlier this afternoon he’d found a bug in his office. The tiny tracker on one of Emery’s new bug-detecting prototypes had gone off. Cody had been tinkering with the new device and had located the bug, lodged in a tiny crevice of wood near the window. Cody took his time removing it so as to not give a clue to its installer that he’d found it. It was time to quit playing nice with the other side. Whoever this bastard was had blown up Emery’s stables and nearly killed Emery and Sophie.

Naturally Cody did what he did best: he’d reversed the signal’s connection and set up a tracking program on his phone. It led him into town, but then the signal had cut off abruptly. Cody wasn’t like Emery and Hans. He didn’t think defensively, but rather offensively. He was a tech man. His understandings of people were based on what technology they used.
Take this guy, for example
, Cody thought.
He plants a bug, then the signal stops…why?

He couldn’t understand it. Why plant a tool if you quit using it?

Something wasn’t right. To be honest, nothing had felt okay since Emery had brought Sophie home. From nearly the moment she’d arrived, Emery’s nightmare flashbacks had returned, barns had been burned and threats from the past seemed to have resurfaced. He’d personally gone over every inch of her personal life from the moment she was born to now, and he’d found no connection to Emery’s kidnapping. So why had her arrival started a string of bad events? Cody had learned to read people at a young age and he didn’t think Sophie was in on a plot to kill Emery or anything like that. According to her, she was here to save Emery’s life. But he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that her showing up had started something bad.

The light plink of rain on his car window made Cody shudder. He’d rather be back in the mansion than out in the rain. The sign of a nearby bar caught his attention. He could get a drink and keep dry while he waited to see if the signal would come back on.

He pocketed his phone and got out of the car. People hustled by him on the street, trying to get inside as the rain came down harder. He merged into the throng of bodies moving into the bar. Inside it was hot and noisy. A man with a guitar strummed lazily and sang a classic rock love song while couples milled about the tables. Harried waitresses, burdened with trays of glasses and bottles, fluttered between the tables. Cody spotted an empty seat at the bar and snagged it. He put his hand up to signal the bartender. The tall, dark-haired man with a hooked nose came his way ready to take his order.

“What’ll it be?” The man’s tone was gruff, as though doing his job was an irritation.

“Scotch on the rocks.”

The bartender grabbed an empty glass, filled it with ice and poured two fingers of Scotch before passing it to Cody.

Cody leaned back against the bar and took a drink. The place was filled with happy tourists and restless locals. The combination filled the atmosphere with a charge of energy. He longed to join in but he didn’t know anyone. As much as he loved his private world behind the Lockwood gates, he needed to get out. Get a life. Hans always teased him about needing to get a girlfriend. Maybe he was right. If nothing else, getting laid once in a while would be nice.

He took another sip. Frowning, he licked his lips. A heavy taste numbed his tongue. Funny, he hadn’t had Scotch in a while but he didn’t remember it tasting like…

The world around him suddenly spun on its axis. The tilt caught him off guard and he fell back against the bar.

“You okay?” The bartender’s gravelly voice seemed to bounce around in his head, the sound deafening.

Cody blinked, straining to bring his blurry vision back into focus. The guy had come out from behind the bar and was peering down at him.

“Can’t…can’t…” Cody’s tongue was too thick to form words, his limbs suddenly too heavy.

“Let me help you. I’ll get you a cab.” The bartender bent and threw one of Cody’s arms around his shoulders and hoisted him up onto wobbly legs. Shouldering his way through the crowd, the man dragged him to a black sedan.

It wasn’t a cab. Nausea ate away at his insides, and the sick feeling doubled when the man opened the door and shoved him hard. Cody pitched forward into the dark interior and landed on the backseat. The man lifted his legs and shoved them inside before slamming the door shut. Cody struggled to stay awake, but darkness and silence pounded at the insides of his brain repeatedly and then everything went black.

Cody woke to the intense pain of a rope slicing into his wrists and ankles. Head throbbing and neck aching, he swore softly and forced his eyes to open. His eyelids scratched over his eyes like sandpaper and his mouth was dry and sticky.

“Welcome to the party, Cody,” a rough voice rumbled from somewhere to his right. Cody swiveled his head heavily in that direction, raking a bleary gaze over the bartender.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a good friend of Emery’s.” The man threw back his head, tossing long wavy black hair from his cold dark eyes. Cody wasn’t afraid of much, but those eyes…like peering into the fires of hell.

“You’re the asswipe who set fire to Emery’s stables.” It made sense. This prick was toying with him to get back at Emery.

“Any more insults and I will lose interest in being courteous.”

A laugh gurgled up unexpectedly. “Courteous? You motherfu—”

Crack!

Cody’s head snapped back with the blow. Blood trickled down his face and the headache which had only just started to dull came roaring back to life. Hacking up the blood which drained down the back of his throat from his nose, he tried to get hold of himself. He took stock of his surroundings. It was a sterile room lit by one hanging ceiling light. There was a laptop open and on, sitting on a cheap table that had been shoved into the corner. The glow of the screen taunted him. His one ally was out of reach.

His captor sat straddling a metal chair beside him, forearms resting on the chair back, within easy smacking distance.

Bastard. Fucking bastard.

“Too scared to talk, Cody? I had a feeling you were all chatter and no action.” The way the man spoke his name was almost obscene, as though he enjoyed using it. Well, newsflash for him, Cody wasn’t a pansy and unless this guy started to cut off body parts, he wasn’t singing like a canary any time soon.

“Okay. I’ll talk. You’ll listen. My name is Antonio. I know a lot about you, Cody. You are quite the hacker. My bug showed me just how skillful you are. Does Emery know you regularly hack into government databases when you’re bored?”

Cody blinked. The bug had been impossibly small, yet Antonio implied that he was getting video feed. It was the only way he would know how Cody spent his off-hours.

“So you got into my office after you left that sick little calling card in the kitchen.” Maybe if he could keep Antonio talking, he’d learn more about the man’s end game.

Antonio shrugged. “A little theatrical, I admit. But it was well worth it. I only wish it had been covered with Fenn’s blood. Pity it wasn’t.” He stood and walked over to his desk, where a huge metal mallet sat. He picked it up, tapped it into his other palm thoughtfully and turned back to Cody with an evil grin. With slow, measured steps he moved back into the sickly yellow circle of light from the single overhead lamp.

“Now, I have a few questions I need answered. Cooperate and we’ll be great friends. Keep quiet and I’m afraid your typing career will be short-lived.” Antonio’s black gaze dropped to Cody’s hands.

Oh, hell no!
Cody jumped in the chair, only to feel the ropes around his wrists cut deeper. This creep was going to pulverize him with the mallet!

“Who is the girl sharing Emery’s bed?”

Cody hesitated only a second, weighing the odds of whether the information would hurt Sophie. Her job was public knowledge.

“She’s an investigative journalist.”

Antonio digested this with apparent interest as he scrutinized Cody’s face. “And Emery knows what she is?”

Cody nodded. Who the hell was this guy? Antonio was tall, built like a linebacker, and he looked dangerous enough to give Hans a run for his money. But while Hans carried himself with a quiet sense of power, this man seemed to glory in it. With each twist Cody made in the ropes, Antonio’s lips twitched, as though he enjoyed watching Cody struggle.

He had to think of something fast. “Can I ask you a question?”

His captor stroked the head of the mallet thoughtfully. “Go ahead.”

“What happened to Fenn the night Emery escaped?” There was a high likelihood this question would get him killed sooner rather than later, but he wanted to confirm his suspicion that it was Antonio who had kidnapped Emery and Fenn.

“That is actually a question I would like answered as well. I cannot finish the job I was hired to do until I find both of the twins. I have put off killing Emery for years, hoping Fenn would contact him, reveal his whereabouts. But now I don’t have to worry. I’ve finally found him.”

Cody’s ears filled with a sharp ringing and the words tumbled out. “Fenn’s alive?”

Antonio’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Enough questions. Why did Emery bring home a journalist? He never takes women home. What game is he playing?”

Cody calculated the risk of telling more than he should. There was a chance he could get more questions answered. Like the fact that Fenn Lockwood might still be alive…

“Emery’s going to tell her about the kidnapping. In return he’s getting lucky.”

Antonio laughed. “Such a poetic answer, Cody. Are you hoping the lovebirds will stay together? Like a fairytale?” His laughter turned harsh. “Don’t you know that fairytales are gruesome things? Violent, bloody? The charming prince always loses his companions in the last battle. He goes on alone. And you are not the prince of this tale.”

Those words were the only warning he got before the mallet swung down on his right hand.

A primal scream tore from his lips and his bones seemed to explode out of his hand and shatter. Adrenaline spiked, flooding him with more panic, and he fought for breath. He flung his head back, sucking in air as pain radiated from his hand. Blood crashed against his eardrums, dulling his awareness to any sound beyond the steady roar in his head. It was only when the other man’s hand dug into his hair, wrenching his head back, that he realized Antonio was talking to him. The man’s lips moved and Cody stared hard at them, trying to understand what he was saying.

“We have a long night ahead of us, Cody. I suggest you stop screaming or you’ll go hoarse long before midnight.”

His scream, which had apparently kept going, cut off abruptly at Antonio’s words.

“What happens at midnight?” he asked with a gasping breath as the pain in his hand continued to scream silently all on its own. He wanted to throw up…no, he
was
going to throw up…The pain worked its way upward, spreading through his body. His hand was a bloody mess and he couldn’t stop staring at the odd way white shards of broken bones poked out at odd angles from his skin.

“Carriages turn back to pumpkins, horses to mice, and I slit your throat and leave you somewhere for Emery to find.”

Shit. What the hell do I say to that?

Cody’s churning insides went still as a single-minded focus he’d never experienced before took over him.
Separate pain from thought,
Hans’s voice echoed in his head.

“What time is it?” he asked, amazed at the steel in his own voice, even if the words did come out between panting breaths. Hans would be proud.

Antonio checked his watch. “Eleven o’clock.”

Cody looked over at the computer and smiled through the shattering agony zinging through his limbs like an electric current. “One hour? A lot can happen in sixty minutes.”

“Indeed. A lot.” Antonio picked up the hammer.

Cody shut his eyes.
Forgive me, Hans, but I’m going to scream like a ten-year-old girl.

Hans paced the empty space of Cody’s command center. Years of protective service left him with a natural sixth sense for danger and everything in him screamed that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Cody had been gone for almost two hours. He never left the house without telling Hans where he was going.

The kid’s desk was cleared of its usual clutter and on it sat one single device. A tiny bug the size of a pinhead. Hans was no whiz like Cody was with all of this tech stuff, but he knew that bug wasn’t a product of Lockwood Industries. Which meant Cody had found it. That bug could be connected to whoever had set fire to the stables and left the package with the shoe. Logically it had to be, but Hans wouldn’t jump to any conclusions.

Hans’s cellphone buzzed in his back pocket. He retrieved it and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Hans, it’s Royce. We’ve got a problem. Cody’s been kidnapped.” Royce Devereaux explained hurriedly. Hans had only a moment to think how lucky Emery was to have such a loyal friend who viewed this as his problem too.

“What’s happened?” he demanded.

“I happened to see Cody at the Dockside Pub. He was having a drink and then he sort of seemed out of it all of a sudden. Like he’d been roofied. I started to go to him, but the bartender looked like he was helping him. But then I saw him walk Cody outside and throw him into a black sedan. I tried to get to them, but the crowds in the bar were rowdy and I got into a fistfight trying to get out. By the time I got outside the car was gone.”

“Damn.” Hans pulled the phone away from his ear to hold it to his forehead as he shut his eyes and drew in a calming breath. He put the phone back to his ear.