Page 39 of Soul of Discretion

McKenzie sighed. “He disappeared from a service station off the Gardiner Expressway on his way to Mrs Teeman’s. It appears he’d stopped to get gas. The hire car was found, half full of fuel but not yet paid for. The garage alerted the local police and they contacted us.” He hesitated. “We found no blood or anything at the scene. I think Mr Bridgeworth was fine when he was no doubt bundled into a vehicle. We’re checking CCTV now but we’re not hopeful. These guys knew what they were doing and the chances the incident was recorded are slim.”

Nick knew high-profile cases had alerts attached. No doubt, Simon’s name was one of them. But Simon had been missing since yesterday afternoon and anything could have happened to him by now.

Bile rose in Nick’s throat at the thought of Simon in the hands of the same men who’d murdered Jack. Nick forced the possibility of Simon’s death from his thoughts. He needed to get back to Toronto immediately and save his man.

****

Simon woke woozily, pain radiating through his body. He tried to focus, but the blood gumming his eyes up refused to cooperate. He coughed, then cried out at the pain that radiated through his right side.

Shit, these bastards had really done a number on him. Between the punches to his face and head, and the slamming torso blows, his body was on fire.

He took a couple of shallow breaths, squinting around at his surroundings. He was tied to a chair in a dark room, which smelt musty and reeked of sweat and shit. He still couldn’t see much, but he was determined to try to remember as much as he could. For when Nick rescued him. It kept Simon going, and that was all he had right now. Hope.

The door squeaked open and Simon looked toward it, seeing the vague figure of the man who’d been tormenting him since this ordeal had started.

Anthony Baronne appeared to take great pleasure inflicting pain.

“If you’re here to beat me again, my answer isn’t going to be any different.” Simon spat out mouthfuls of blood through broken skin. Thank God his teeth were still intact. How long they’d remain that way, he had no idea.

“I don’t know where your fucking drugs are, I have no idea where Jack hid them, and to be honest, I don’t know why it’s so important to you anyway. Surely you bastards have more in your damned hideaway?”

Anthony Baronne moved over to Simon, stroking fingers through his matted and sticky hair. “This is a special batch,” he whispered. “We want it back. Have you never wanted something so badly that you’d do anything to have it?” He jerked Simon’s head back sharply, causing his eyes to flood with tears. “I’m sure you have, Mr High and Mighty Lord Stoneham. You must have the ability to buy anything you want.”

Simon tried to laugh past the dryness in his throat. He’d not had a drop of anything to drink since getting here God knows when.

“Is this a class thing?” he countered. “Because if it is, you do know there’s a website you can go on and buy yourself a title—”

His words were cut off by the slap to his left cheek and his head reared back.

“You think you are funny?” The silky voice by his ear was scary as hell. “I’ll show you funny, my friend. See how funny it is when your fingers are removed one by one, much like I did with your stupid employee. He put up a good fight too.” Anthony’s fingers trailed across Simon’s cheek. “I hope you are as brave as Jack. It will be fun trying to break you.”

A mobile phone rang, and Simon sighed in relief as Anthony moved away, talking softly.

He waited, senses dulled, pain flaring through his bruised and broken body. Anthony was soon back and Simon geared himself for what might come.

“It looks as if you have a reprieve, my friend. My father needs me, so I must go. It will give you a little more time to reflect on things, to find the answer I seek. I will be back later. Don’t miss me too much.” The soft chuckle Anthony made was jarring but Simon was only too glad as the psycho’s footsteps moved away and the door closed.

There was silence. Simon let out a breath and tried to once again get out of the bonds securing him to his chair.

He didn’t think he had much time left.