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“Barry! You absolute fucking lunatic, get the fuck out here before I shoot you!”
I finish texting the address to Nic’s PI buddy before I open my door, pistol in hand, safety off. I stay low, keeping between the vehicle and the building. The fuckhead is probably in there on his own—we’re not talking about some seasoned criminal here; this is Nic’s brother, whose only recorded interaction with the police is a drunk and disorderly from his fraternity days—but I’m not taking chances.
“Barry!”
Nic has no such reserve. My stomach twists in on itself. I swear to Christ, I’m going to spank him for this later, making himself such a fucking target.
“Barry!” The first two doors he tries are locked, but the third one opens easily. He yanks the door wide and yells again. “If you so much as lay a hand on her, I’m going to kill you.”
He walks in, still yelling, the threats getting more and more creative. I cover him as best I can. There’s absolutely nobody around, much less in the parking lot—mixed blessing; we’re clearly on our own with this clown—but Nic just walks right into the dark warehouse without so much as checking it out first.
“Natalie!”
The heavy sounds of machinery coming from the buildings on both sides of this one make it hard to hear, but Nic’s hollering echoes. The little bit of light filtering in through dirty, broken windows shows the place to be empty—empty of people, empty of equipment, entirely empty of stuff. Though probably not empty of vermin, if the smell of rat piss is any indication. The idea of Natalie anywhere near this place twists my gut into a knot.
No time for that now. I stick to the shadows near the door we came through, concealed by one narrow entry wall. Not the best vantage point, but without climbing some rusty-ass metal stairs, it’s the best I can do. I scan the room as Nic keeps on walking.
“I know you’re here, you brainless sonuvabitch,” yells Nic, standing in the middle of the floor, stretching his arms out wide, spinning a slow circle. “She’s not the one you’re after. You want something, you come to me, you?—”
“Oh my God, shut up.”
The echo makes it impossible to tell where the voice is coming from.
“Get the fuck out here,” says Nic. The hard, bossy note in his voice is having a predictable effect on me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Something to think about later when we don’t have a kidnapper to kill.
Or catch. Whatever. At the moment, I’m feeling pretty flexible about that.
The metal stairs creak. Nic must have spotted him before I did. I take aim, tracking his progress across the floor as he finally makes his way to Nic. He keeps his hands at his sides, but the flash of metal in his hand makes my blood go cold.
“Are you alone?” asks Barry.
“Are you?” asks Nic.
His brother jerks his shoulder, the gun catching the light with the action. “You mean your little whore? Yeah, I got her.”
Nic’s whole body twitches at the word “whore.”
Come on, baby, don’t lose it now.
“You ignored my note. Did you bring the money?”
“No.”
“What the fuck, Nic? You really think?—”
“Shut up, Barry. You let Natalie go, then you and me, we’ll drive straight to the bank.”
“Right now?”
“Right this minute.”
A taut silence.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” sneers Nic. His voice is heavy and mean. Like he’s barely hanging on here. “Where is she?”
“Oh, relax. She’s fine. A bit tied up at the moment is all. You know how it is with women.”
