Do better, Gabi. “Sorry. At my apartment, I think somebody Tasered us and drugged us. We’re chained up.” Gabi listened. No traffic noises, no people shouting or laughing or talking.
The chains jangled as Gabi rubbed her aching head. “No one knows where we are—or even that he’s got us.” The FBI thought they’d caught the perp. How long before anyone called Gabi? Oh dear God. Fear spiraled outward. No rescue. No hope. Her hands closed into fists as she fought for control.
“Easy, girlfriend, easy.” Jessica slid closer.
Not alone. She had someone depending on her. I can’t lose it. “Sorry,” Gabi whispered. Heart hammering, she mentally edged back from the chasm. After a second, she turned and leaned against the wall of the van, facing the other woman. “We’re kind of in trouble.”
Hands clenched into fists, the blonde stared around the van, her face white. Then her chin lifted. “I reserve the right to yell about you and Z later. For now, tell me what’s going on.”
Despite the ice creeping up her spine, Gabi almost managed a smile. Trust Z not to have a wimpy girlfriend. “It’s like this…”
As Gabrielle talked, Jessica tried various ways to get out of the handcuffs. No deal. By the time Gabrielle finished the story, Jessica wanted to kill Z, dead as a doornail. That’s why he’d come down on her so hard for her brattiness. Why he’d kept gagging her. And why… “He tried to keep me out of the club completely,” she said slowly.
“I bet.” Gabrielle shook her head. “Anyway, the only thing he feels for me is sympathy. I’m sorry that he couldn’t tell you.” She grimaced. “Marcus was furious when he found out.”
“But if you’re with the FBI and a decoy, then someone will rescue us.” Hope bubbled up. She could almost hear the good guys sneaking up on the van right now.
“No. God, this is so screwed up. My backup, Dickhead, treated me like a slut and kept getting nastier. Last night, someone told him they’d caught the kidnapper, so he figured the assignment was over and came on to me.” Gabrielle shuddered.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Name-calling was done. Groping happened.”
“And?”
“And I broke his nose. He left.”
Outrage burned through Jessica. “Your protector abandoned you?”
Gabrielle shrugged. “Well, supposedly they’d caught the bad guy. Not.”
“So no one knows we’ve even been kidnapped.” Oh God. Jessica’s fingernails dug holes in her palms. “I don’t suppose you have any wonderful FBI skills?”
Gabrielle gave a bitter laugh. “I’m a social worker, not an agent. I volunteered because I’d played in BDSM clubs—years ago.”
“You’re not an agent?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t believe he got you too,” Gabrielle whispered. “He’ll s-sell us.” Her face was white enough to match her scar, shivers shook her constantly, and she looked right on the edge.
“You okay?”
“I’ve had so many nightmares of this. And now it has happened.” Gabrielle stared at her hands, breathing way too fast.
Jessica remembered how a few members had laughed at the bratty trainee’s punishments. Except she wasn’t a brat at all. For a month, this poor woman had played decoy, hoping to be kidnapped. Jessica shook her head, sympathy overwhelming her fear. Time for me to shoulder a little of the burden.
She considered options, then slid as far as the chain would let her. She bumped her arm companionably against the woman’s shoulder. “Hey, if two brats can’t figure out how to get out of this, who can?”
Gabrielle stiffened and stared at her in disbelief.
Jessica gave her a level look and tilted her head in the way Z did when he challenged her to try something new.
Gabrielle’s shoulders straightened. “Oh. Okay.” Her eyes cleared. “Get out of here? Sure. We’ll just do that little thing.”
“You bet.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Jessica waited a beat. “Guess I won’t get to knock you on your ass when this is over, huh?”
This time Gabrielle actually chuckled. “No wonder Z adores you.”
Jessica stared.
“Oh, please. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, how he treats you.” Gabrielle gave her a derisive sniff. “Personally I thought you were a real bitch, but if you believed I’d poached on your man—and that he’d actually look twice at me—I might have come across all pissy too. But get over it. The man loves you.”
A knot in the pit of Jessica’s stomach disappeared, and her eyes pooled. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“You know, I feel better. I’m still terrified, but…better. I’m so happy I could even…scream.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jessica let out an earsplitting scream, and Gabrielle followed suit.
As the back door of the van rolled up, Jessica’s eyes watered at the sudden blast of daylight.
“The bitches are awake, Cesar.”
“Good.” Another man’s voice. “It’s almost time to leave.”
Chapter Twenty
Unable to sleep, Marcus had risen at dawn and tried to prepare questions for a witness in his next court case. Useless. He couldn’t concentrate. He picked up the phone in his home office and punched in Gabi’s number. Still no answer.
Damn the little sub, walking out of the club without even a good-bye or have a nice life or anything. Damn Celine too. After handing him his drink and saying Gabi was using the restroom, she’d started in with her “you’re my master” bullshit. She probably wouldn’t pull that again, since he’d called over some doms and told them she was looking for a master.
Finally freed up, he’d gone to find his missing sub, only to discover she’d left.
He rubbed his face wearily. He’d almost called Z to demand Gabi’s address, but showing up at her home might screw up the FBI investigation. She’d best get her pretty ass out of bed and answer her phone.
Why had she left like that?
Maybe, with her assignment concluded, she figured they were done with each other. She’d be wrong.
Hands laced behind his head, he leaned back in his office chair. Smiling, he remembered how she’d blown out the candle for wax play. Little brat. He needed to convince her to remain another week—and stay here with him. If he could win a jury over, you’d think he could argue a case for himself. Or he might could wrangle some vacation time from the DA and visit Miami.
No, sugar, we’re not done.
When his phone rang, he picked it up, anticipation rising. No one would call him this early, except maybe a repentant trainee. “Hello.”
“Marcus, is Gabrielle with you?” Z’s voice.
Disappointment gave way to concern. “No, she isn’t. Why?”
“She’s not answering her phone, neither is her backup from last night. The agent coming on duty says she’s not in her apartment, but her car’s in the parking lot.”
Marcus was on his feet with no memory of standing. He forced a breath. Get the facts, Atherton, before going off half-cocked. “Maybe she and the agent went for a walk?”
“Apparently the next man would get notified of their location.”
A cold hand squeezed Marcus’s spine at the implication. “Are you at her place?”
“On my way. Galen and Vance are there.”
“Give me the address.”
Twenty minutes later, Marcus pulled in to the parking lot of Gabi’s apartment complex. Three-story building, dull brown, no landscaping. It hurt him to think of her living here. He squinted at the numbers on the doors and spotted hers.
A light rain spattered against him as he ran across the lot. He veered around a small Taurus parked in the fire lane and took the steps two at a time.
Gabi’s apartment stood open, a man in a dark suit blocking the door. “Let him in,” Z called from inside.
Marcus pushed past the man.
Vance and another man were in the living space. Z stood in the tiny kitchen area, his face drawn with exhaustion. “Marcus.”
“News?” Marcus asked.
“Nothing good.” Z kneaded his neck. “That’s Jessica’s car in front. Unlocked. Her purse is in it. Her phone too. She’s not answering at home.”
Marcus stared at him. “Both of them are missing?”
Galen stepped out of the bedroom. He carefully used his foot to push a cat back and closed the door behind him. He nodded to Marcus and spoke to everyone. “I called in. The tracking devices are operating, but they’re worthless. Both Gabrielle’s shoes and purse are still in her car.”
“No chance you’ve made a mistake?” Marcus asked.
Galen gave a bitter glance at a set of keys on the kitchen table. “Vance found Gabi’s apartment keys on the sidewalk by the steps.”
The fury rising in Marcus’s veins was matched by sheer fear. Where are you, Gabi?
* * *
“You gonna scream again, bitch? We’re in the middle of a swamp—won’t do you much good.” In a tank top and jeans, a repulsive man with pitted skin and stringy black hair stepped up into the van, rocking it with his weight. Gabi saw the gang tattoos covering his arms and almost panicked again.