Taken (29 page)

Evan got back to San Francisco in record time. He’d borrowed a sexy red convertible from the Peppermill parking lot for his trip home. Not for the first time he thought about how perfect Jenny would look in the front seat. She needed to loosen up a little, let her beautiful brown hair blow in the breeze, smile the way she used to, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, as if there were nothing but possibilities before her. No limitations. No rules. No big brother trying to make her feel guilty.

Jenny was the only woman he’d ever known who had almost made him believe that life could be good. For those few months, she’d shown him another side of the world, the light side. She’d accepted him as if he were just like any other guy on that college campus. She’d believed in him like no one had ever believed in him. She
TA K E N

253

hadn’t thought he was a worthless piece of shit, as his own mother had told him over and over again.

Jenny had looked at him as if he were her hero, a damned white knight in shining armor. Until Nick had gotten into her head, confused her, told her lies, made it all seem worse than it was. So what if he’d made some money off those stupid rich kids. They could well afford to lose every dime, and could always go running back to their daddies and their big, deep pockets of endless cash.

But Nick had made it sound like he was some threat to society. That he might even hurt her — his sweet Jenny.

No, he would never hurt her. He’d stayed away for a long time. Kept her out of his world. He wouldn’t take her back until it was time, until he could show her that he was the best of the best. He would shower her with presents. He would pamper her. He would have the family he deserved.

She might be angry about what he’d done to Nick, but he would talk her around. He would make her see that she didn’t need a big brother; she needed him. Together they would conquer the world. She wouldn’t have to go to that silly salon, spend all her time on her feet, cutting hair, looking like an old lady by the end of a long Saturday.

He’d make sure she had pedicures and manicures and massages. He’d treat her like his queen. He smiled at the thought, imagining them ruling the world.

Jenny had always worked too hard. She and Nick certainly had that work ethic in common. Not that Nick was doing much work now. He was too busy chasing his tail.

Nick and Kayla were playing right into his hands.

Kayla must have learned about Lisa Palmer from her grandmother. He’d suspected the old broad knew more than she was saying. His instincts about people were al-254

Barbara Freethy

ways on the money. He should have played Charlotte for more information, instead of letting himself get side-tracked. . . .

He never should have agreed to work with anyone, especially not with someone who thought she was calling the shots, who thought she was smarter than he was — as if that were remotely possible. For the meantime he would let things ride. When it suited him to end their arrangement, he would.

His cell phone rang, and he answered it with one simple word: “What?”

“Did you get it?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t believe she had it.”

“I can’t believe I spent two weeks chasing down fruit-less leads in Nate’s family. I’m done following your suggestions.”

“You’re not through yet,” she reminded him. “And there are others talking now. That old bitch Charlotte is stirring people up.”

“She can’t stop us.”

“What about her granddaughter and her friend?”

“Not a problem.”

“I disagree. They’ve outlived their usefulness, Evan.

And they’re distracting you. I want them gone.”

“I told you to leave Nick and Kayla to me. They won’t get in the way again.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Charlotte knelt in the dark confessional, seeing the shadow of the priest through the small window panel. He waited for her to go on. “It has been . . .” She hesitated before continu-TA K E N

255

ing. “It has been a very long time since my last confession.”

“And to what sins do you wish to confess?” he asked in a deep baritone that held the wisdom of his faith and probably his years.

She had known that the monsignor was hearing confessions today, which was why she had come. The monsignor wasn’t just anyone; he was Johnny’s half brother, born to Johnny’s mother and another man. Marcus Serrano was younger than Johnny by seventeen years, and he had to be in his late fifties now. He’d been at St. Basil’s the past twenty years, and she doubted anyone there knew he was Johnny Blandino’s half brother. They didn’t share a last name, and they certainly didn’t share the same values. She’d never spoken to Marcus, never made any attempt to contact him, to ask any questions, not since Johnny had gone to jail.

She truly had left the past behind . . . until now.

“I have lied,” she said. “But before I tell you more, I need to ask you a question. I need to know if it’s you, Marcus Serrano.”

She waited for what seemed like an interminable length of time.

“Why do you need to know?” he asked in a low voice.

“Because it’s me, Charlotte Cunningham. I dated your brother, Johnny, a long time ago. We took you to the park with us a few times. We bought you mocha-fudge ice cream. It was your favorite.”

The priest cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“I have come to ask you a question about Johnny. I couldn’t risk speaking to you anywhere in public. I think someone is watching me.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

256

Barbara Freethy

“Is Johnny alive? Did he make it to shore? Has he been in hiding all these years?”

“Why would you ask me these questions?” he countered. “He was presumed dead many years ago.”

“I understand that, but no body was ever found.” She drew in a deep breath. “I need to know if Johnny is behind what’s happening now, if he’s come back after all these years to reclaim what was his.”

“What’s happening now?”

“Someone stole his watch, the pocket watch he treasured so much. And the watches belonging to the other men — someone is looking for them. I believe they are after the missing money and perhaps some of Johnny’s other secrets.”

“And you know these other secrets?”

Charlotte was almost afraid to answer. But he was a priest. She could trust him, couldn’t she? “I know a few things,” she said. “But I worry that someone knows more, someone who wants more.”

“The treasure,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” she said. “Johnny loved you so much. I thought he might have told you something, might have wanted to make things easier for you and your mother. I thought if he had come back, you might be the one person he felt he could trust. As a priest, you would keep his confessions.”

“I would,” he agreed.

“Can you tell me if he’s alive?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said after a moment. “You said it yourself. I’m a priest. What is said to me remains with me.”

Her heart sank. “It’s just that I really need to know.”

“All things are revealed when they should be.”

She supposed he meant that statement to be comfort-TA K E N

257

ing, but it wasn’t. She’d had to believe Johnny was dead; it was the only way she’d gotten through the years. But now she wondered.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

“Perhaps you can tell me more about the trouble you’re in.”

Charlotte hesitated, not sure if it was wise to say anything more. She’d kept her own counsel for so long, it was difficult to trust anyone else. “It’s all right. But if you do see Johnny or can get a message to him — if he’s alive, that is — I still don’t know . . .” She tried to gather her thoughts together. “Tell him that if he has anything left to protect, he should do it. Before it’s too late. Oh, and tell him that I kept the two things apart as he asked, just in case.”

“What two things?”

“He’ll know what I mean.” She paused. Marcus’s answers had set her nerves on edge. If Johnny were dead, wouldn’t he have said so? “Can’t you just tell me if he’s alive?”

“I’m sorry.” The window between them closed, and she let out a breath. She said a silent prayer, not sure God would listen to her. She hadn’t always acted in his honor in the past, but maybe he’d forgiven her for being young and stupid and in love. Not that any of those traits excused her actions.

She pressed her hands together and murmured, “Dear Lord, please help me to do the right things now. Please help me to make all this right. And watch over Kayla, Lord. She’s an innocent girl. Protect her. Keep her safe.

That’s really the most important thing.” She made the sign of the cross and got to her feet.

When she left the confessional, she noticed that the
258

Barbara Freethy

door to the center booth where the priest sat was open, but they were supposed to be holding confession for another hour.

Was it a coincidence? Or had she just made another mistake by opening a door to the past that should have stayed closed?

Kayla smelled smoke. Was someone cooking? But it wasn’t barbecue. It smelled more like gas. She blinked, wondering why she couldn’t move. Was she asleep? Was this one of those dreams where you couldn’t get out, couldn’t scream, couldn’t move? She tried to fight the weight holding her down. Her eyes were so heavy. They wouldn’t open.

“Kayla.”

She heard Nick’s voice, but he sounded far away, as if he were in a tunnel or underwater. How could he be underwater? They were . . . Where were they? Why couldn’t she remember?

They were in Reno. Nick got hit over the head. They had made incredible love to each other all night long.

Wait, that was yesterday, wasn’t it? Why was her head so fuzzy? Why couldn’t she think?

“Kayla, wake up. For God’s sake, wake up. We have to get out of here.”

He sounded so impatient, so determined. But that was Nick. Always in a hurry. He was so strong, so confident.

She knew he could do anything he put his mind to. Whenever she thought she couldn’t take another step, Nick inspired her to try harder. He’d pulled her out of the hole she’d fallen into when Evan disappeared. Together they were going to beat Evan. They were going to take him down. She would get her life back.

TA K E N

259

“Kayla, dammit. If you can hear me, open your eyes.

Or squeeze my hand. I can feel your pulse. I know you’re breathing. But just barely.”

She heard the panic in his voice. He sounded scared.

Why was he scared?

She felt his hand closing around hers. His warmth seeped into her body, making her realize how cold she felt. She squeezed his hand, wanting to take in more of his heat, wanting to reassure him that she was all right.

But was she all right?

Other images flashed through her brain. The mountains, the road, the speed. Everything was going by too fast. She’d begged Nick to stop and then they’d gone over the side. . . .

Her eyes flew open. She stared into Nick’s worried face.

“Thank God,” he murmured.

“Are we alive?”

He tried to smile, but she saw the fear. “We are alive, but we have to get out of the car as soon as possible.” He was speaking calmly, but there was an urgent note in his voice. “First you have to tell me if anything hurts. Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

She tried wiggling her toes. She felt a pain in her ankle. “My ankle hurts.”

“Okay. Anything else? What about your back or your neck or your head?”

“I don’t think so.” She realized then that the air bag was crushing her, and something heavy seemed to be on top of that. “What’s on top of me?”

“We crashed into a tree. It smashed in the door. Can you move at all? Don’t try if anything hurts.”

She tried to push herself up and out of the seat, but she
260

Barbara Freethy

made it only about six inches and then sank back down.

“I’m stuck.”

“I’m going to go outside and try to get the door off of you,” he said. “All right?” He stroked her head with his hand. “We’re going to be okay.”

“You’re scared.”

“No, not me. I’m never scared.”

She thought he was lying, but she played along. “Okay then, Superman, why don’t you see if you can rip that door off?”

“No sweat.”

As he got out of the car on the driver’s side, the smell of gas grew stronger. And there was some smoke coming from the hood of the car. Kayla realized then where his fear was coming from. If the car caught fire, she’d be trapped. Her pulse began to race as she finally became fully aware of the situation.
Oh, God,
she prayed,
please
get me out of here.

Nick swore as he yanked at the door and nothing happened. He pulled away a large branch from the side of the door. She felt the pressure on her ease slightly. She gave another wiggle and was able to move a bit more out of the seat.

“That helped, Nick. Whatever you did, do it again,”

she yelled.

“I’m going to stick this branch in through the window,” he told her. “Try to get some leverage. Okay?”

She nodded. The window was already shattered, and she realized there was glass all over her sweater. Maybe she was cut. She was starting to feel twinges of pain on her face. Well, it didn’t matter. She had to get out of the car; she’d deal with her injuries later.

Nick pushed on the branch. The door groaned. The car
TA K E N

261

slid a few inches forward. She realized they were on the side of the hill. A tree had stopped their forward motion, but if the car shifted a bit more to the left they’d slide farther down the mountain. She tried not to think about it.

Nick grunted with his effort, but he still had no luck. The smoke coming out of the hood was getting darker, thicker.

“It’s no good,” she cried as Nick paused to catch his breath. “The car is on fire, isn’t it?”

“No.”

She could see the lie in his eyes. “You have to go, Nick. You have to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you, Kayla.”