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“Still as impatient as ever, Special Agent. No need to get your panties in a twist.” An evil chuckle. “Yeah, come to momma. A-ha! Here it is.”
Raven’s triumphant sneer made him smirk. Freakin’ woman was relentless when she sunk her teeth into catching a bad guy.
“The dude’s name is MJ Becker. Here’s the info on where he lives.”
The name wasn’t familiar, and the address meant nothing to him.
“Have you secured the eyes in the sky yet?”
Her snort was an affirmative. It was easy enough for her to hack into the city’s traffic cameras.
He squinted as he watched the van take a sharp right. “Does it look like that’s where he’s headed?”
“Nope. He’s going in the opposite direction. If I had to guess, which, of course, I don’t, I’d say he’s heading for a deserted industrial complex just outside the city that’s in his name.”
“Is there an alternative route to get me there before him?”
“Not faster, but you should get there about the same time. At least he won’t see you coming.” The sound of Raven’s fingers clicking over her keyboard came through the phone. “There. I’ve alerted the local PD on what’s going down, so you’ll have backup. I’m afraid they’ll get there about ten minutes after you do. Think you can hold on until then?” She snickered.
He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll do my best not to kill him before the cops get there. No promises.”
“Just out of curiosity, you wouldn’t know who they kidnapped, would you?”
Should he confess who she was? After all, she was a bit of a celebrity. Not that he imagined for one minute Raven wouldn’t keep the information to herself. But keeping in mind that more information was best made him tell her. “Yeah, she’s a famous screenwriter by the name of Amata Lamont.”
Raven whistled. “Damn! I just watched an entertainment show interview on TV with her. How in the hell did you see her getting kidnapped?”
See, here was a perfect example of his suspicions about those interfering psychics wiping people’s minds. What a pain in the ass. He knew damn good and well Raven had met Amata a couple of times in the last few months when she worked with the Akurns to help reverse the chaos they’d created when invading Earth. Guess he should be grateful they didn’t wipe his memories. At least he didn’t think they did.
“I, ah, they asked me to be a consultant in the newest movie they’re doing. I got there just in time to see her forced into the back of the van in handcuffs. Good thing I was late, eh?” He couldn’t keep out the phony ring in his chuckle.
“You’re so full of shit, Stygian.” She blew out a breath. “Okay, keep your secrets. I see your boy has arrived at his destination.”
Thank God Raven kept an eye on the van.
“He’s pulling up to unit 19-B. Alright, go get ’em, Special Agent Stygian. I’ll keep a watch out until the PD gets there.”
The ride wasn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes, if Amata were to guess. When the back of the van swung open, she tensed. Her first instinct was to tell her captor to go to hell, but common sense kicked in. Trying to escape from somebody in a small area wasn’t likely. Besides, her wrists were throbbing from being bound by the metal handcuffs, and her knees stung where she’d scraped them getting in. She eyed the steadily held gun as she scooted to the end of the van, swung her legs over, and hopped down. With one look at the hooded figure, she followed her captor and glanced around to see if she recognized where she was.
The three-story stark building had an air of neglect. The cracked concrete of the surrounding walkway was choked with weeds, and most of the windows were boarded up. Splashes of graffiti adorned the walls.
Her heart sank. Doubtful anyone would hear her screams.
“Stop right there.”
The mechanized filter of her kidnapper’s voice made her grimace. She hunched when the person walked around her and opened the metal door. The smell of urine and steaming feces mixed with stale air, making her cough.
“Don’t worry, Princess. You won’t have to endure the stench for too long.” The gun barely moved when he used it to wave her inside. “Go to the end of the hall and into the last door on your right.”
Amata tensed her shoulders and took small steps, peeking at the rooms she passed.
Most of the doors were closed, but some were open. Those open rooms were bare except for trash and discarded scraps of clothes. One room was obviously the building’s latrine for the squatters staying there.
She held her breath until she passed it. It didn’t help, the stench was overwhelming.
“Right, right, right? Yes, yes. We’re almost there.”
Amata’s eyebrows rose at the singsong litany from the kidnapper behind her.
