Treasured by Thursday
Page 90
She remembered this. How could she have ever forgotten?
The rush, the heat . . . then the next to nothing. How much of this would she remember? She attempted to keep her eyes open and take in what was going on around her. A nagging voice in her head told her to stay aware, keep alert.
Another part told her to just feel. The floating and the power to forget everything would only last so long. Then the pain would return.
Unlike the crash she’d experienced at the hands of Alonzo, she knew this one would be harder.
Gabi wasn’t sure how she’d managed to be slumped on the floor of a nearly empty living room, but the men who took her were kneeling beside her talking. “How much did you give her?”
“We have at least an hour.”
The handsome one placed a hand on her cheek and slapped it. Where’s the pain?
“You’ve caused me so much trouble, Mrs. Picano. If you’d left my money alone, none of this would have had to happen.”
She closed her eyes, opened them when his palm slapped her again. “Not my money,” she mumbled.
“No. It’s mine.”
His hand hadn’t left her face as he stared at her.
“You can have it. I don’t, don’t . . . don’t want it.” Sleepy. She closed her eyes and heard the man switch languages.
She recognized the words but didn’t process them.
Sleep was a much better option.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andrew handed Hunter the phone as he walked in the door. “It’s Neil.”
“Gabi’s missing,” he told his friend.
“I know.”
Hunter lifted the receiver to his ear. “Is my father alive?” he asked Neil without saying hello.
“He’s not here. Your friend is banged up. Probably be able to sleep off most of it. Sounds like a couple of men ambushed him, knocked him around, and then jacked him on something that got him talking. He directed his attackers here, they slapped him with more drugs, then left. He remembers it being light when they jumped him.”
“Last night?”
“Must be.”
“So the men who have my dad could be the same ones that have Gabi.”
Neil was silent for a moment. “Yes. We do have Gabi on GPS, Blackwell.”
“What?” For the first time in an hour, hope flared. “You have what?”
“GPS . . . inside her necklace. It must have took a hit, because it’s spotty, but Dennis is working with the data coming in.”
He heard the police walking into the house and Solomon talking to them.
“The police are here.”
Another long pause. “Tell them what they need to know. I have a couple of friends I’m calling within the department. Time is critical right now.”
Hunter hated the thought of cooperating with the criminals, but Gabi’s kidnapper had made it clear he didn’t want the police involved. “He said no cops.”
“That was before he publically kidnapped Gabi. He changed the rules, Blackwell.”
Hunter’s voice broke with his next words. “He has my wife, Neil.”
“He needs her for the money, needs her to assure his own freedom. He won’t kill her.”
Hunter squeezed is eyes shut. Hearing his deepest fears said aloud gutted him.
Dennis walked into the living room, paused, then waved Hunter toward him. “I think I have her.”
“What?” Hunter lowered the phone and followed Dennis downstairs.
The police were close behind.
One of the cops whistled as they walked into the wine cellar recently converted into the command post of surveillance.
Three of the monitors were full screens, all of them frozen. Dennis sat and started clicking as he spoke.
Hunter put the phone on speaker. “You hearing all this, Neil?”
“I am.”
Dennis rolled the first screen.
Hunter watched as he saw Gabi jump into the passenger seat of the Maserati and Connor peel out of the garage.
They crashed on Sunset, Gabi had said.
Dennis pointed at the screen. “Notice how Connor is constantly looking out the back window?”
“He saw someone behind him,” Delgado observed.
“Probably.”
It appeared that Connor had racked up a dozen moving violations as they approached Sunset.
Hunter heard the phone ring on the recording.
“This is me calling him . . . letting him know that you and Solomon were fine and the call was a setup.”
Gabi was tossed around when Connor swung the car around.
Hold on, were the last words before it appeared someone hit the car from behind. An explosion of white filled the frame.
“Airbags,” Dennis said.
Hunter was relieved to hear Gabi’s shaken voice call Connor’s name.
Connor was muttering, but Hunter couldn’t make out what he said. The camera was knocked out of place, not giving them a shot of Gabi’s face, but Hunter saw her attempt to reach Connor with her broken arm. He could hear her breathing heavily as she called his name.
The door to the car opened and a male face filled the frame.
Dennis froze the frame, looked behind him to the cops. “That’s our guy.”
“Keep rolling,” Hunter said.
The man in the frame used Gabi’s name. Rolled his r’s in a slow, seductive way.
Do I know you?
Her captor simply smiled.
They all heard Gabi offer a gasp and then a sigh.
When he lifted her from the car, she was limp.
“What did he do to her?”
“Chloroform, drugs . . . hard to tell,” Dennis said matter-of-factly.
Hunter fisted his hands.
The rush, the heat . . . then the next to nothing. How much of this would she remember? She attempted to keep her eyes open and take in what was going on around her. A nagging voice in her head told her to stay aware, keep alert.
Another part told her to just feel. The floating and the power to forget everything would only last so long. Then the pain would return.
Unlike the crash she’d experienced at the hands of Alonzo, she knew this one would be harder.
Gabi wasn’t sure how she’d managed to be slumped on the floor of a nearly empty living room, but the men who took her were kneeling beside her talking. “How much did you give her?”
“We have at least an hour.”
The handsome one placed a hand on her cheek and slapped it. Where’s the pain?
“You’ve caused me so much trouble, Mrs. Picano. If you’d left my money alone, none of this would have had to happen.”
She closed her eyes, opened them when his palm slapped her again. “Not my money,” she mumbled.
“No. It’s mine.”
His hand hadn’t left her face as he stared at her.
“You can have it. I don’t, don’t . . . don’t want it.” Sleepy. She closed her eyes and heard the man switch languages.
She recognized the words but didn’t process them.
Sleep was a much better option.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andrew handed Hunter the phone as he walked in the door. “It’s Neil.”
“Gabi’s missing,” he told his friend.
“I know.”
Hunter lifted the receiver to his ear. “Is my father alive?” he asked Neil without saying hello.
“He’s not here. Your friend is banged up. Probably be able to sleep off most of it. Sounds like a couple of men ambushed him, knocked him around, and then jacked him on something that got him talking. He directed his attackers here, they slapped him with more drugs, then left. He remembers it being light when they jumped him.”
“Last night?”
“Must be.”
“So the men who have my dad could be the same ones that have Gabi.”
Neil was silent for a moment. “Yes. We do have Gabi on GPS, Blackwell.”
“What?” For the first time in an hour, hope flared. “You have what?”
“GPS . . . inside her necklace. It must have took a hit, because it’s spotty, but Dennis is working with the data coming in.”
He heard the police walking into the house and Solomon talking to them.
“The police are here.”
Another long pause. “Tell them what they need to know. I have a couple of friends I’m calling within the department. Time is critical right now.”
Hunter hated the thought of cooperating with the criminals, but Gabi’s kidnapper had made it clear he didn’t want the police involved. “He said no cops.”
“That was before he publically kidnapped Gabi. He changed the rules, Blackwell.”
Hunter’s voice broke with his next words. “He has my wife, Neil.”
“He needs her for the money, needs her to assure his own freedom. He won’t kill her.”
Hunter squeezed is eyes shut. Hearing his deepest fears said aloud gutted him.
Dennis walked into the living room, paused, then waved Hunter toward him. “I think I have her.”
“What?” Hunter lowered the phone and followed Dennis downstairs.
The police were close behind.
One of the cops whistled as they walked into the wine cellar recently converted into the command post of surveillance.
Three of the monitors were full screens, all of them frozen. Dennis sat and started clicking as he spoke.
Hunter put the phone on speaker. “You hearing all this, Neil?”
“I am.”
Dennis rolled the first screen.
Hunter watched as he saw Gabi jump into the passenger seat of the Maserati and Connor peel out of the garage.
They crashed on Sunset, Gabi had said.
Dennis pointed at the screen. “Notice how Connor is constantly looking out the back window?”
“He saw someone behind him,” Delgado observed.
“Probably.”
It appeared that Connor had racked up a dozen moving violations as they approached Sunset.
Hunter heard the phone ring on the recording.
“This is me calling him . . . letting him know that you and Solomon were fine and the call was a setup.”
Gabi was tossed around when Connor swung the car around.
Hold on, were the last words before it appeared someone hit the car from behind. An explosion of white filled the frame.
“Airbags,” Dennis said.
Hunter was relieved to hear Gabi’s shaken voice call Connor’s name.
Connor was muttering, but Hunter couldn’t make out what he said. The camera was knocked out of place, not giving them a shot of Gabi’s face, but Hunter saw her attempt to reach Connor with her broken arm. He could hear her breathing heavily as she called his name.
The door to the car opened and a male face filled the frame.
Dennis froze the frame, looked behind him to the cops. “That’s our guy.”
“Keep rolling,” Hunter said.
The man in the frame used Gabi’s name. Rolled his r’s in a slow, seductive way.
Do I know you?
Her captor simply smiled.
They all heard Gabi offer a gasp and then a sigh.
When he lifted her from the car, she was limp.
“What did he do to her?”
“Chloroform, drugs . . . hard to tell,” Dennis said matter-of-factly.
Hunter fisted his hands.
