Controlled burn, p.19
Controlled Burn, page 19
He inches closer, and I scramble to get away from him, somehow managing to press my back to the wall.
He stops, seeming satisfied with my new position, and grins.
“It’s broken,” he says, looking at my wrist.
I don’t bother breaking eye contact with him, but I know he’s right. It throbs, my heartbeat pounding in my wrist, and I can tell just from clutching it that it’s already beginning to swell.
“Now, how are we going to get all that money?”
I shake my head. I’ve been over this more than once since he first pointed his gun at me.
“I don’t have three hundred grand.” I swallow. “I have thirteen thousand.”
He narrows his eyes. “You said you have a hundred.”
“I never said I had a hundred grand.”
“A hundred dollars,” he snaps. “Are you fucking toying with me?”
The threat in his eyes is clear. He doesn’t like to be fucked with.
“In my wallet,” I clarify. “I have a hundred dollars in my wallet, but I have more in the bank.”
“Let’s go get it,” he snaps, inching even closer.
“I h-have a limit of thirty-five hundred. I can only get that amount tonight.”
His upper lip twitches, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or considering the money I’m offering.
“Thirteen grand is still a lot of money.” He says it in a way that tells me he’s going to fuck up.
Fuck up as in probably screw over the Keres MC which doesn’t benefit either of us. He probably took this job with the understanding that actually finding the three hundred grand and jump drive was a long shot. He never anticipated having that kind of cash in his hand. His eyes narrow as he does the math, and I imagine thirteen grand is a lot more than Keres offered him to carry out this job. It’s very bad for the kids and me because he doesn’t seem the type to leave behind witnesses.
“I wouldn’t,” I warn.
“Wouldn’t what, bitch?”
“Adrian Larrick will kill you if you steal so much as a penny from him.”
His jaw clenches, but I can tell he’s actually hearing what I say. Maybe the man isn’t completely unreasonable after all.
“Is it thirty-five hundred every twenty-four hours or does it restart at midnight?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he roars, his scuffed boots getting close enough to kick me if he decides that’s the best way to relieve some of his anger.
I curl tighter, still keeping my eyes on him. “I’ve never taken that much money out. I don’t know. But we can go now and then try again at midnight.”
Even those two withdrawals wouldn’t drain my account, meaning I’d have to be with him for a very long time before he gets all the money, and my kids would have to be with the other guy that long as well.
“Or we can wait until morning, and I can go inside the bank and make a full withdrawal,” I offer.
“So you can alert the fucking police?” he snarls.
“I’d never do anything to compromise my children’s safety,” I remind him.
He nods as if considering what I’m telling him, but then he begins to pace around the room, extremely agitated with the decision he has to make. I keep silent and as small as possible with my back still to the wall.
Sunlight begins to fade in the sky, and I watch it disappear through the high warehouse windows as he mumbles to himself. The office we’re in has one solid wall which my back is against and three walls of windows, no doubt for the boss man to be able to look into the warehouse to make sure his workers are staying on task. The warehouse surrounding this one room is filled with what looked like machinery on the way in. The layers of dust and trash scattered all around the floor told me that it hadn’t been used in quite some time. No one is going to show up for work in the wee hours of the morning and discover us here. I was on my own with this man, and as time crawls by, he just gets more and more agitated.
I keep my eyes locked on him, trailing him from one end of the office to the other and back again. I realize the true danger I’m in when he starts to scratch at his arms, and I recognize the movements. Ty got that way when he was trying to stop using drugs. What started out as having a good time—social use if you will—turned into a full-fledged habit by the time the twins were born.
Like Ty, this man is turning into someone that would do anything for a fix, even steal the money I offered meant for Keres, to stop the bugs from crawling under his skin.
“We’ll wait for the streets to clear,” he says. “Later we’ll head to the ATM.”
I want to sob even harder with his plan. With the way he’s acting, there’s a good chance he’ll get that cash and kill me just so he can find his dealer.
He spins to glare at me, and I try my best to quiet my cries, but it’s nearly impossible. Instead of hurting me, however, he makes a few more threats before walking out of the office.
Chapter 32
Finnegan
“I’m not saying there isn’t anything to find,” Wren says, his voice low with his eyes locked on his computer screen. “I’m saying I haven’t found anything.”
I rub my hands over my face. I’ve done this so many times since I got back to the office, the skin on my cheeks hurts.
Wren’s confession hits me hard. He isn’t the type to keep from interjecting humor into the most serious of situations, and yet he hasn’t muttered a single joke since I arrived. Even the birds, Puff Daddy and Evie, are huddled together as if they too can sense the seriousness of the situation.
“Keep looking,” I tell him, even though I know he hasn’t stopped in the hours since I called him from the school.
An Amber Alert has been sent statewide with the description of the realtor’s car, but that was found abandoned an hour ago in the parking lot of a grocery store a few blocks from the school. I thought Wren was going to lose his shit when he got excited to track the abductor from there only to discover no camera in the area.
My initial thoughts were that this had to do with Ty’s bullshit and the Keres MC, but the more brick walls we hit, the more I begin to think that it may have something to do with Blackbridge because these guys are sure going through a lot of trouble to avoid digital detection.
Wren couldn’t find the car pulling into the parking lot, and although he’s watched videos of every car leaving the parking lot, he didn’t find a vehicle with three kids inside.
With each tick of the clock, I feel like I’m closer to losing my damn mind. I don’t even know if the kids and Kendall are together or if they’ve been separated. The latter makes more sense because I know the abductors would get a hundred percent compliance out of almost any mother with the threat of harm to her children. Hell, I’d do whatever they asked if they had me in that very same position.
“Hello,” Wren snaps after hitting a button on his phone.
“Wren?” an unfamiliar male voice asks.
“Speaking,” my friend says, his hands still flying over his keyboard.
“This is Officer Ray Olsen with the St. Louis police department.”
“I’m in the middle of some—”
“Looking for the Stewart kids?”
I spin around to face the phone, and Wren’s fingers freeze on the keys.
“That’s right,” my friend says.
“We have them here at the station,” the man says.
“And their mother?” I ask.
“I only have the children. I have very little information about what’s going on, but I also have a procedure to follow. With their mother unavailable, I’m going to need to contact social services.”
“No,” I snap. “I’ll come get them.”
“And you are?” the officer asks, not very quick to release kids that were abducted right back to an unidentified person.
“Finnegan Jenkins. I’m their… I’m their mother’s boyfriend.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but—”
“We live together,” I interrupt. “After what those kids have been through, they need familiarity. I can assure you that they’ll be safe with me.”
Wren nods as if he agrees, and I turn to him.
“Do what you have to do so I don’t have any issues when I get there,” I tell my friend before hauling ass out of the office.
A dozen or so worried faces look up at me when I leave the office.
Deacon pushes off from the counter, striding toward me.
“They found the kids,” I say, and several of the women begin to cry with joy. “I’m going to go get them from the station. Wren may need some help to persuade the cop on the phone that I’m not going to hurt them.”
Deacon stalks toward Wren’s office, and I know if he’s involved, it’ll get handled.
“What can we do?” Jude asks as he stands from the sofa, his hand still holding Parker’s, who was sitting beside him.
All of these people have been congregated in the breakroom for hours, waiting helplessly for any word about the situation.
“The kids are probably starving. They’re going to need to be comfortable and distracted.”
“We’re on it,” Anna, my boss’s wife, says as she steps forward after a quick glance in her sleeping baby’s direction.
The little guy is sleeping through the chaos in Hayden’s arms.
Whitney and Parker stand from the sofas they’re sitting on.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell them. “But thank you for being here.”
I let my eyes roam over every person in the room, my heart swelling with gratitude, but then I bolt.
I don’t bother obeying traffic laws on the way to the police station. If I get pulled over, I’m sure I can convince the officer to give me an escort to get the kids.
I’m stopped by a stern-looking man as I enter the police substation where the kids are.
“Can we talk?”
My eyes drop to the name tag on his chest, noticing it reads OLSEN. This is the guy that called Wren.
I nod, following him to the corner of the room, my eyes darting all over to locate the kids.
“Are they hurt?”
He shakes his head. “They aren’t hurt. What I was able to determine is that the kids were picked up at school by some guy with a dragon tattoo on his neck.”
I file this information away because Wren may be able to identify him with it.
“That man took them to the park. The oldest boy told us that they played for a while, and he didn’t think anything of it when he noticed the man had left. You know kids, they don’t pay much attention. He said the little boy complained about being hungry, so they went to find the man and couldn’t. It was nearly dark before a woman walking the track around the park noticed them alone and called the police.”
“They were there until dark? The fucking Amber Alert went out at four-thirteen.”
The cop frowns in solidarity. “You know how people are. Their phone chimes and they just rush to turn the alarm off. I doubt hardly anyone pays much attention. The woman who called it in admitted that she does the very same thing, but despite not knowing the details of the alert, she knew it wasn’t okay for children that young to be out that late on their own.”
“I need to get my kids,” I tell him.
“I spoke with Deacon Black and then referred that call to my supervisor. I have clearance to release them to you, but I hope you understand why I’m cautious.”
“I appreciate your diligence, Officer Olsen.”
He nods before guiding me through a thick door that reads POLICE PERSONNEL ONLY.
Kayleigh is the first to see me, and she screeches as she jumps up from her seat at a small table, running across the room. She flings herself into my arms but isn’t really interested in the hug I have to offer. Her little hands press against my chest, and she looks up at me with a wide smile.
“We played at the park for hours, and Kason even pushed me on the swing!”
I look to her brother, and even though they’re the same age, I can tell Kason is more aware of what’s going on than Kayleigh is.
“Hey!” Knox says, pulling his eyes from the mostly blue crayon drawing he’s working on. “We got chicken nuggets.”
The Happy Meals have been consumed and long forgotten.
“You guys ready to head to the office?” I ask as Kayleigh wiggles out of my arms.
“Yes!” Knox says, and he abandons his drawing.
“Let’s clean up in here before we head out.”
I turn to find a woman handing a booster seat to Officer Olsen and I could hug and kiss them both for taking Knox’s size into consideration.
“Figured you may need this.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, taking the booster when he holds it out for me. “What I have with Kendall is new, but I’d never let anything bad happen to those kids.”
We both stand here and watch as the three kids clean up their dinner trash, and Kason is extra attentive in helping Knox gather his crayons and stuff them back into his backpack.
“My wife is a nurse and she swung by to see them. They don’t have any physical injuries, but that oldest boy has a lot of questions. Still no word on their mother?”
I swallow a lump forming in my throat. “No.”
I haven’t until now considered that although the kids are safe, things may not be so good for Kendall. I haven’t even called her brother Ezra to let him know what’s going on. Thinking of him makes my head go to a dark place, one that includes burying their mother and having to watch a man who took off to Vegas take custody of these kids. I honestly don’t think I could ever let that happen. I wasn’t lying about what I have with Kendall being new, but I’ll be damned if I lose her to some piece of shit and then walk away from her kids, too.
“I’ll be praying for her,” Olsen says as he claps me on the back in solidarity.
“Ready?” I ask the kids, not even managing a fake smile when they approach.
“What about ice cream?” Knox asks, his eyes bright and hopeful when I buckle him in my truck.
“That’s a great—”
“Mom would say no because it’s late,” Kason says, interrupting me.
I nod at him, noticing how he looks older now than he did when I saw him yesterday before bed.
“He’s right,” I tell Knox, scrunching up my nose. “But tomorrow, I promise.”
Knox scowls at his older brother but keeps his comments to himself.
With such precious cargo in my care, I drive much more calmly back to the office, and despite feeling his stare burn into the back of my head, I don’t make eye contact with Kason.
Kayleigh is excited to be back at the office, but Knox is already half asleep when I pull him out of the truck. I walk with the youngest in my arms to the elevator.
When we arrive on the Blackbridge floor, everyone swarms into action. Whitney takes Knox from my arms, telling me she’s going to lay him down in my office. Kayleigh easily gets distracted by something Anna offers, but Kason sticks right with me.
“Where’s my mom?” he asks, his eyes telling me that he isn’t going to move until I give him answers.
“She’s—” I open my mouth to lie to the kid, to tell him she’s running errands, but he’s not a fool. “The man who picked you up from school was a bad man.”
“I figured that out when he mentioned Ty.”
It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t refer to him as his dad.
“Another bad man took your mom.”
He nods, as if he had already suspected that in his own head.
“We’re doing everything we possibly can to find her.”
He looks over his shoulder, noticing all the men and women fawning over his brother and sister.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Wren has been going nonstop, Kason. We won’t stop until she’s found. I promise.”
He considers me for a long time before nodding and walking away. I’ve been grilled while testifying in Federal court on a case before and didn’t even feel the level of scrutiny I just felt from that seven-year-old.
I lock eyes with Deacon who draws Kason into the conversation he’s having with Jude, Kit, and Quinten. He gives me a slight head nod, letting me know the kids are taken care of.
I arrow myself back to Wren’s office.
“He’s fucking working!” Puff Daddy snaps. “Leave him the fuck alone.”
“Sorry,” Wren says. “I had a telemarketer call. I wasn’t exactly friendly when I answered the phone. Like who the fuck even buys a goddamned extended warranty anyway?”
“Find anything?”
Wren shakes his head, his hands still working over the keyboard.
“Couldn’t find the clit with two hands, a flashlight, and a map!” Puff says, and I find that with the bird back to true form it calms me. This office is always wild and lively, and the quiet, I now realize, was making me even more antsy.
“Puff,” Wren warns.
“I swear!” Evie snaps. “Such a scoundrel!”
“Say it to my dick!” the male bird responds.
I shake my head, watching them, but snap my head around when Wren’s computer dings.
“About fucking time!” Puff yells. “I thought you were losing your touch.”
“What is it?” I ask, getting closer.
“An ATM,” he says, his fingers working fast. “I have to hack—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you have to hack. Just do it.”
Wren, not waiting for my response, pulls up a grainy video two seconds later.
I want to rejoice at the sight of her, but then I notice she’s favoring her right arm and using her left to key in the information. I know for a fact she’s right-handed.
“She’s hurt,” I whisper.
“Her wrist,” Wren predicts. “The alert was delayed because that ATM is a fucking dinosaur. The withdrawal happened eight minutes ago.”
Wren pulls up a map, a red flashing dot, pinpointing the location.
“That’s a really shitty part of town,” I hiss.
“The worst. Minimal cameras, but I’ll track what I can. Whoever has her isn’t going to take her very far to get her money. I’d gamble they’re within a few miles of that machine.”
