Seduced by Sunday
Page 73
Val grabbed those words and pulled them deep inside. He couldn’t lose hope, not now . . . not when they were close to all the answers.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After hours of staring at Val’s phone and willing it to ring, when Meg’s phone buzzed, she jumped. Without looking at the screen, she answered, fully intending to blow off whoever it was to pine by a phone that wasn’t ringing. “Yeah,” she answered . . . short and clipped.
There was a pause, a little static, then laughter.
“Hello?”
When her greeting met with silence, she pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen. Number unknown.
Meg heard a moan . . . a female moan. “Gabi?” The skin on Meg’s arms prickled and her heart thumped in her chest.
The weak voice was impossible to hear. “M-Meg?”
On the landline for Val’s phone, there was a device ready to record, but not on Meg’s cell. She had no recourse to trace or record. All she could do was talk. “Gabi, dear God. Are you OK?”
“It hurts, Meg. He won’t make it stop.” Gabi’s voice cracked and she started to weep.
“Where are you?”
“Please . . .” There was a shifting of the phone and Gabi’s voice drifted farther away. “Please, Alonzo. I need it.”
“Gabi, where are you?” Meg heard the frantic tone of her own voice.
“Yes . . . yes . . .” Gabi’s tone shifted from crazed to relief.
“No!” Meg yelled into the phone. “Don’t, Gabi. It’s poison. Stop it!” She was screaming now. “You bastard. Stop!”
Gabi was still there, in the distance. “Thank you . . .” She repeated the words over and over.
“You sick bastard. Pick up the phone you ball-less prick.”
Carol ran into Val’s office with one of the security team right behind her. Meg lifted a hand, noticed how much it shook. “What do you want? I know you’re still there.”
Meg turned away from Val’s employees and plugged her open ear.
Alonzo’s voice was stone cold, his words held a threat. “Step out onto the veranda, Miss Rosenthal.”
Wasting little time, Meg ran to the French doors of Val’s outdoor office space. She stayed to the shadows, in case someone was close enough to take target practice. “Where is Gabi?”
He paused. “Red suits you.”
Meg looked at her red silk shirt, then stepped a little farther outside. The ocean was steps away, but free of any large vessels. A few sailboats drifted a good mile from the shore, but she couldn’t rule out if Alonzo and Gabi were on board one.
People were gathering behind her and talking, rushing around. Meg ignored all of them and kept the monster holding Gabi hostage talking. “I think an orange jumpsuit will work fine with your complexion.”
“Tsk, Miss Rosenthal. No need to be hostile. Tell your boyfriend I need my shipments onto his charter within the hour.”
“Shipments, what are you talking about?” The wine? Was he talking about his stupid wine?
“You don’t have the right to ask questions. One hour. You will accompany the captain when he leaves.”
“So you can hold two of us hostage? I don’t think so.”
The phone shifted again. “What’s that, sweetheart . . . you want more? Anything for my bride.”
“Stop! You’ll kill her.”
Behind Meg, someone gasped.
“Why would I kill my wife? She’s much more valuable to me alive than dead.”
Wife? Bride?
“One hour, Miss Rosenthal. I have eyes everywhere on Masini’s pathetic attempt at a private island. You and you alone with my shipments. Or poor Gabriella will have an unfortunate accident. I don’t think she can tread water for long in her current state.”
“You’re sick,” Meg cried.
A hand grasped Meg’s shoulder. She turned to find Val staring at her.
“One hour.”
Val yanked the phone from her hand, a string of Italian spewed from his lips, his eyes narrowed as he repeated Alonzo’s name. He drew short of throwing the phone against the wall and pulled Meg close.
“She’s alive,” Meg said with a whimper. Barely.
“You spoke with her?”
Meg nodded, looked beyond Val to the employees who had gathered. “Make them all leave,” she whispered.
Rick pushed through as Val dispersed the crowd.
When only the three of them were left, she told them about the call, about Gabi. “Alonzo said his shipments need to be on your charter within the hour. What shipments? Is he talking about the wine?”
Val and Rick exchanged glances.
“What?”
“Heroin, raw heroin is lining the crates,” Rick informed her.
“Drugs? Seriously? Alonzo is running drugs?” Meg asked.
“Afraid so.”
“Well, he wants them back. If we don’t start moving that wine onto your boat, someone is going to clue him in. Gabi didn’t sound like she could take another hit without it killing her.” Meg stood and started for the door.
“Wait, we need a plan. Following Alonzo’s orders is playing into his hands.”
“He had me step outside and proceeded to tell me the color of my shirt. Either the man can see us or has someone close by watching for him. Come up with a plan as we pack your charter with wine. We’re already ten minutes into the hour.”
Rick held up his hand and stopped her. “The minute we load that boat, we become drug runners.”
“What choice do we have?” Val asked. “He has my sister.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After hours of staring at Val’s phone and willing it to ring, when Meg’s phone buzzed, she jumped. Without looking at the screen, she answered, fully intending to blow off whoever it was to pine by a phone that wasn’t ringing. “Yeah,” she answered . . . short and clipped.
There was a pause, a little static, then laughter.
“Hello?”
When her greeting met with silence, she pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen. Number unknown.
Meg heard a moan . . . a female moan. “Gabi?” The skin on Meg’s arms prickled and her heart thumped in her chest.
The weak voice was impossible to hear. “M-Meg?”
On the landline for Val’s phone, there was a device ready to record, but not on Meg’s cell. She had no recourse to trace or record. All she could do was talk. “Gabi, dear God. Are you OK?”
“It hurts, Meg. He won’t make it stop.” Gabi’s voice cracked and she started to weep.
“Where are you?”
“Please . . .” There was a shifting of the phone and Gabi’s voice drifted farther away. “Please, Alonzo. I need it.”
“Gabi, where are you?” Meg heard the frantic tone of her own voice.
“Yes . . . yes . . .” Gabi’s tone shifted from crazed to relief.
“No!” Meg yelled into the phone. “Don’t, Gabi. It’s poison. Stop it!” She was screaming now. “You bastard. Stop!”
Gabi was still there, in the distance. “Thank you . . .” She repeated the words over and over.
“You sick bastard. Pick up the phone you ball-less prick.”
Carol ran into Val’s office with one of the security team right behind her. Meg lifted a hand, noticed how much it shook. “What do you want? I know you’re still there.”
Meg turned away from Val’s employees and plugged her open ear.
Alonzo’s voice was stone cold, his words held a threat. “Step out onto the veranda, Miss Rosenthal.”
Wasting little time, Meg ran to the French doors of Val’s outdoor office space. She stayed to the shadows, in case someone was close enough to take target practice. “Where is Gabi?”
He paused. “Red suits you.”
Meg looked at her red silk shirt, then stepped a little farther outside. The ocean was steps away, but free of any large vessels. A few sailboats drifted a good mile from the shore, but she couldn’t rule out if Alonzo and Gabi were on board one.
People were gathering behind her and talking, rushing around. Meg ignored all of them and kept the monster holding Gabi hostage talking. “I think an orange jumpsuit will work fine with your complexion.”
“Tsk, Miss Rosenthal. No need to be hostile. Tell your boyfriend I need my shipments onto his charter within the hour.”
“Shipments, what are you talking about?” The wine? Was he talking about his stupid wine?
“You don’t have the right to ask questions. One hour. You will accompany the captain when he leaves.”
“So you can hold two of us hostage? I don’t think so.”
The phone shifted again. “What’s that, sweetheart . . . you want more? Anything for my bride.”
“Stop! You’ll kill her.”
Behind Meg, someone gasped.
“Why would I kill my wife? She’s much more valuable to me alive than dead.”
Wife? Bride?
“One hour, Miss Rosenthal. I have eyes everywhere on Masini’s pathetic attempt at a private island. You and you alone with my shipments. Or poor Gabriella will have an unfortunate accident. I don’t think she can tread water for long in her current state.”
“You’re sick,” Meg cried.
A hand grasped Meg’s shoulder. She turned to find Val staring at her.
“One hour.”
Val yanked the phone from her hand, a string of Italian spewed from his lips, his eyes narrowed as he repeated Alonzo’s name. He drew short of throwing the phone against the wall and pulled Meg close.
“She’s alive,” Meg said with a whimper. Barely.
“You spoke with her?”
Meg nodded, looked beyond Val to the employees who had gathered. “Make them all leave,” she whispered.
Rick pushed through as Val dispersed the crowd.
When only the three of them were left, she told them about the call, about Gabi. “Alonzo said his shipments need to be on your charter within the hour. What shipments? Is he talking about the wine?”
Val and Rick exchanged glances.
“What?”
“Heroin, raw heroin is lining the crates,” Rick informed her.
“Drugs? Seriously? Alonzo is running drugs?” Meg asked.
“Afraid so.”
“Well, he wants them back. If we don’t start moving that wine onto your boat, someone is going to clue him in. Gabi didn’t sound like she could take another hit without it killing her.” Meg stood and started for the door.
“Wait, we need a plan. Following Alonzo’s orders is playing into his hands.”
“He had me step outside and proceeded to tell me the color of my shirt. Either the man can see us or has someone close by watching for him. Come up with a plan as we pack your charter with wine. We’re already ten minutes into the hour.”
Rick held up his hand and stopped her. “The minute we load that boat, we become drug runners.”
“What choice do we have?” Val asked. “He has my sister.”
