Authors: Sarah Hoss
Chapter 17
Grant paced back and forth in front of the motel room, uneasy about what was going to take place today. Ramsey had landed that morning, bringing with him everything Grant had asked for. He felt better having one more man on his side. Besides, he never had any intention of giving these men any more money, but he was going to see them go to jail and get Keltie back. He rolled the plan over and over in his head, trying to make sure there were no loopholes so that nothing would go wrong.
He should have called the police and had this done and over with, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
He rolled his neck to ease the tension then tilted his head to the sky. He brought up images of Abigail, needing a distraction. He remembered sitting with her at the restaurant. They had a great time getting to know each other. He loved the way she laughed. Not just because her laugh was contagious and something she did with her whole face. No. Her laugh wasn’t fake.
Abigail was everything he had hoped she would be. The months they’d been talking, he had created this woman in his mind and he was afraid the real Abigail wouldn’t add up. But she did, and his heart was glad.
On the flight over here, she had plagued his mind, and he’d been nervous. Nervous to meet her because he hoped she was someone he could get to know and nervous because she had the shield he’d been searching for all along.
Abigail was beautiful, smart, and they shared the same interests. Dinner had been great. They’d barely touched their food for never having a lull in conversation. That was important to him. He wanted someone he could talk to.
He reached into his back pocket and slid out his cell phone. Why hadn’t she called him? Peering in through the window, he saw Graham and Christina sitting at the table discussing details. Malcolm exited the restroom having just showered and waved to him. He waved back.
A gentle wind blew and he found the fresh air soothing, common and reliable in this unpredictable world. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Abigail’s number and dialed it. Orchestra music serenaded him. Kicking at the parking block, he stopped when the ringing stopped.
His heart lightened. “Abigail, it’s Grant.”
No answer.
“Abigail?”
“Grant?”
Something was wrong. He noticed a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Are you okay? You sound funny?”
He heard Abigail say no, before there was a moment of silence.
“Abigail,” he hollered, anticipation gripping him.
Please let her answer. Please let her be all right.
“Abigail, answer me.”
“Abigail is busy at the moment,” a man’s voice said over the phone.
Grant turned and punched the door, anger ripping through him in waves.
Not Abigail.
Malcolm opened the door, dressed only in his jeans and shoes.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
Grant pointed to the phone, whispering. “They have Abigail.” His blood began to boil.
Malcolm placed his hand over the bottom of the phone to block his voice. “Do you recognize a voice?”
Grant shook his head.
“Place the cell on ‘speaker.’ Maybe I can tell who the man is.”
“Put Abigail on the phone,” Grant demanded. There was something about the voice that tugged at the back of his mind. As if he should recognize the bastard who had Abigail.
“I don’t think so, Mr. MacFie. You are in no place to demand anything from me.”
Malcolm touched his arm. Shock etched across his face. “It’s the boss, the man who took Keltie.”
“Is Abigail all right?”
An impatient sigh. “For now.”
“Why do you have her? She isn’t a part of this.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.
You
made her a part of this.”
“If you hurt her, I swear—”
“You will not be threatening me.” The bastard sounded annoyed. “Now, I want my money, and I want it now. I’m done playing games with Malcolm. His little scheme is taking too long. His wife isn’t looking so good.”
“You fucking bastard,” Malcolm screamed. He ran his hands through his hair, gripped it, and pulled as he growled out his anger.
“Ah, there you are. I knew you would be listening in. This ends tonight. You will meet my men at the loading docks behind the abandoned warehouse on Sixth and Perkin’s street. Ten o’clock. If you’re late, I will kill Malcolm’s wife. If you don’t show or bring the police, I will kill Grant’s woman.”
“So help me, when I get my hands on you,” Grant snarled.
“You won’t. But I have wondered why you never asked me how I got Abigail.”
Both men glanced at each other.
“How?” But as he said it, Grant knew. John. He was the one who drove her, and he wasn’t here now. “John.”
“Aye, he’s been working for me all along. You see, it’s all about control, and I am always in control.” There was a pause, and for a moment, Grant thought the call had ended. “I’m looking forward to this, Chief Grant MacFie.”
Grant flexed and unflexed his hands, anger pouring through his veins like molten lava, red hot and thick.
“You will meet me as I stated earlier and there better be no screw-ups. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the lasses.”
The phone went silent, and Grant pulled it away from his head to stare at the front as if all the answers were written there.
“Grant, I’m so sorry.” Malcolm placed his hand on Grant’s arm. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Coming out of his stupor, Grant peered at his cousin. “Aye, I know.” Grant placed the phone in his pocket, then walked over and leaned against the motel wall. Abigail. What had he done, getting her involved in this? He hadn’t meant to. Everything had seemed so innocent. Yet, he had never truly had full knowledge of what was going on. If Malcolm had just been honest with him in the first place, none of this would have happened. He wanted badly to be angry and Malcolm. To walk over and punch him in the face, but he couldn’t. He knew his cousin too well and knew he never meant for any of this to happen either. Instead, he turned and punched the motel wall. Blood began to ooze from the scratched knuckles and he ignored the burst of pain.
Malcolm came to stand next to him.
“There is something, though, that just doesn’t seem to add up. Why all of this? What is the real motive here? This could have been taken care of so easily.” He turned and stared at his cousin. “I don’t get it.”
Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. We’d best get started.”
Chapter 18
The wind blew gently through Grant’s hair, and he took a moment to breath. Outwardly, he suspected he looked as if he was made of steel, but inwardly, he was nervous. Never in his life had he been a part of something so crazy, so dangerous, so . . .
His thoughts had been running wild ever since he hung up the phone with the ‘boss.’ So many questions. Who was he? What was this about? How would this turn out?
He tucked in his shirttail that wasn’t untucked to begin with and fiddled with his belt that had nothing wrong with it. He wondered for a brief moment if this was how boxers felt before a fight or soldiers felt before going into war. That moment of uncertainty.
He stood in the parking lot of the warehouse and waited. Graham and Ramsey were stationed out of sight with guns poised and ready. Christina was also out of sight with the phone ready and a gun of her own, just in case. She’d been hunting enough in Scotland to be of use here in the fight. He prayed they wouldn’t need her. There were enough women involved in this as it was.
Malcolm walked up with the briefcase, set it on the ground between the two of them, and waited.
Grant glanced over at Malcolm, then placed a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. “Is your head on straight?”
“Aye.”
“Good, because I need you and I know when they bring Keltie out, that it will be hard to stay focused.”
Malcolm kicked a pebble. “Don’t worry about me.”
A regular door to the left of the massive warehouse door opened and two men exited.
“Follow us.”
They turned and walked back in through the door.
Grant glanced at Malcolm. Tapping his leg three times, he bent and picked up the briefcase and proceeded to the door. The signal had been given.
Inside, the open space smelled of cardboard boxes and dust. Shelf after shelf sat in rows about ten feet high. It wasn’t a large warehouse as Grant would have thought, but still big enough to hide a number of people. He searched the entire room trying to spot anything important. Mainly, Keltie and Abigail.
The two men that led the way into the building had disappeared but now returned. The one on the left held Abigail by the arm, her hands having been tied together in the front. A gag was placed over her mouth and a gun was held to her side making his heart lurch. He hated seeing her like this and knowing it was his fault she was here made his heart sink.
The man to the right, he recognized. John had Keltie cradled in his arms. A third man approached from the office in the corner bringing a chair. John placed Keltie onto the cushioned seat. She appeared to be well taken care of, but it was obvious she was weak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malcolm stiffen.
Grant surveyed the men again. Three-to-two weren’t the best odds. After placing Keltie on the chair, John approached. After taking the gun out of Malcolm’s waistband, he then came to Grant. Their eyes met and never wavered from each other as John searched him. He returned to stand next to Keltie.
Grant took a few steps closer. He wanted to see for himself that Abigail was unharmed. The bald man standing next to Abigail put his hand up, and he stopped. A door shut from somewhere in the back and he glanced around. Turning to Malcolm, he scrunched his eyebrows in questions and received a shrug in response. A man entered from between rows five and six to come stand near the group. He must be the boss. The arrogance that radiated off of him filled the room.
“Welcome, Grant and Malcolm.”
“We’re here with the money. Let the lasses go,” Grant demanded.
“Tsk, tsk, in such a hurry.”
Grant shook his head in annoyance. The last thing he wanted to do was stand here and shoot the shit with this man.
He ignored the man and focused his attention on Abigail. “Starshine, are you all right?”
She nodded.
Then he glanced at Keltie. “Keltie, did they harm you?”
“No. I’m okay, just weak.”
Grant heard Malcolm blow out a breath and leaned over. “It will be over soon, cousin,” he whispered.
The boss waved to the men to walk forward. John picked Keltie up and carried her. The sound of the footfall echoed throughout the warehouse.
Grant felt relief weaken his knees. The closer Abigail got, he could see that she was indeed fine. John walked up to Malcolm and placed her in his arms.
Grant watched as the two held each other and was thankful for the moment. As soon as this was over, they would take Keltie straight to the hospital and have her checked out.
He turned his attention to the boss then schooled his features before he could give away his shock. He couldn’t tell before in the poor lighting but he knew this man. The black hair was longer than he remembered and he sported a nice scar on the left and right sides of his face. A Glasgow Grin, it was called.
Fuck!
Memories of the past flooded him.
“So, you remember me? Good.”
The three men surrounding him stood at attention with their hands behind their backs. All were dressed in jeans and black T-shirts and there was something so movie like about the whole situation that made him smile. Leave it to this man to have a dramatic flair. He was just as over the top as his sister had been.
“Aye, I remember you,” Grant said, “though I don’t really care to do so.”
“You wound me.” The man placed his hand over his heart.
“All right, Aiden, let’s get this over with.” He picked up the briefcase and held it out. “Here.”
“First, Malcolm, take the ladies outside. You were right, they aren’t a part of this.”
Abigail turned to him.
Fear etched itself across her face, and he wished with all of his heart that he could erase it. If he did nothing else in his future, he would spend it making this up to her.
“It’ll be all right. Go on outside, and I’ll be along shortly.”
“What if you aren’t?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head against his chest.
“I will.”
He placed his hands on each side of her face and kissed her fully on the mouth.
“Go on now,” Grant urged firmly.
Grant watched for a moment as they started to walk away. When they were halfway to the door, he turned his attention to Aiden.
“What do you want? Hmm, you have the money.” Grant waited a moment then turned to go.
The sound of a gun being cocked stopped him.
“I don’t think so.” He motioned toward his men. “Grab him.”
As the men approached, he took a few steps back but was caught up short when they grabbed him. He struggled, trying to break free. The one on his left punched him in the face, then threw another punch to his stomach, doubling him over and momentarily taking his breath away.
A plain gray Sudan pulled forward and he was thrown into the back seat. Through the front window, Grant could see Abigail, Malcolm, and Keltie near the door off to the side of the main warehouse door.
“No . . .” he cried.
“Grant . . .” Abigail screamed in unison with him.
The car sped off as the door in front of them opened and he watched through the side windows as they passed by the people he cared about. Abigail was running toward the car as Malcolm ran through the door carrying his wife. Sitting her in a chair outside, he reached for the gun in his waistband but came up empty. He watched all of this from the back seat of a speeding car and he kept watching until they were out of sight.
He closed his fists and let go of the breath he was holding.
What now?