Blindsided (Sentinel Securities) (17 page)

After disconnecting the call he stared at the phone for a minute. Whatever happened had to have come after the phone call to Gladys…there wasn’t time for anything else between the time of the call and when she’d come down to tell him about the answering machine message. He rolled his thumb over the received calls icon on his phone screen and a frown instantly marred his face.

“What is it?” Stone asked, watching his expression darken.

He looked at the number on the received calls list and his senses pricked uneasily. The number wasn’t one he recognised…and yet there was something familiar about it. “I’ve seen this number before…I need the files.” He moved across to the office and dug out the file they’d been compiling over the last few weeks relating to the client and the case. He rummaged through the paperwork until he found what he was looking for. Slowly straightening he looked up at Mac standing inside the doorway waiting.

“So? You wanna
’
fill us in?”

No. He really didn’t.
His mind was racing as he tried to make some kind of sense out of it all, while his ego refused to accept what the implications of it all meant. Reluctantly he managed to form the words he was still unable to believe. “The number belongs to Declan Cruz.”

His friends silence told him exactly what he was thinking and his heart sank even lower. “You think her and Cruz are working together?”

“No.”

“She’s taken the
USB
. She was demanding we go in there and save the guy—
they have a kid together,
” Mac pointed out.

Nash ground his teeth together and clenched his jaw against the suggestion. There was
no way
she went back to that loser.
No way
on God’s green earth
. But the evidence was stacking up against her for something…he just wasn’t sure what exactly…yet.

****

Brie’s hands felt sweaty and she was feeling clammy. She didn’t have time to give into her fear—there would be time for that later. All she knew was she had to make that meeting before the deadline. Nothing else mattered.

She touched the plastic bag in her pocket to reassure herself it was still there and stared blindly out the window. She wasn’t sure where they were headed, but judging by the increasing size and value of the houses they were now driving by, she took a wild stab in the dark and guessed that this was Aristotle’s home address. 

The driveway was lined with sculptured bushes and the grounds were immaculate. Water fountains and large statues adorned the garden and had Brie not felt like throwing up with nerves—she would have loved to take a stroll through them.  She pushed an image of Lucy from her mind and blinked back tears.
Hand over the stupid formula, make sure Lucy was safe,
she repeated the mantra in her head and focused on breathing calmly. She saw the driver glance at her through the rear view mirror and pulled herself together.

As they pulled to a stop in front of the house, a rather large, bulldog looking man in a suit appeared and opened the taxi door and indicated she should go inside and that he would take care of the fare.

“I’ve asked the driver to wait,” she protested.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She sent one last glance over her shoulder at the taxi before walking up the three marble steps and into an elaborate foyer. Ahead of her was a wide staircase leading up to a second storey floor. White marble and gold, featured largely in the décor but Brie wasn’t really thinking about designers, she was more concerned about the well groomed Greek man who was now walking towards her from a room on her right.

“Thank you for coming,” he said in a deep and slightly accented voice.

Was he serious? Like she had a choice.

“Would you like something to drink?”

The complete absurdity of this entire conversation should have been laughable—only it wasn’t. There was something cold and brutally controlled about him and a chill went up her spine as he pinned her with his hard stare. 
She was standing here talking to a man who had no qualms about threatening the life of a child.

“I’d just like to get this over with and go home.”

“Please, let’s go into my study where we can conduct our transaction a little more comfortably.”

“I really just need to give you this,” she said handing him the plastic bag—practically shoving it into his hand in her hurry to get the hell out of the place.

“I need to ensure you have brought me the correct information, before you leave.”

She hated this. Hated it.
Everything about this entire situation was wrong. It went against everything she’d ever learned about keeping herself out of dangerous situations. You didn’t go into strangers homes, you didn’t go anywhere without telling someone where you were…and she was pretty damn sure you didn’t willingly agree to meet up with a man who thought nothing of using extortion in his everyday business dealings. But what choice did she have? He knew where her child was.

She could not afford to stuff this up.

“We need to find out where Cruz called her from and where the hell she went.”

“Gee, I’m glad it’s not something complicated…should be pretty easy to pin down a location based on a needle in a hay stack!” Gracie muttered.

“I might be able to narrow it down a little bit for you,” Casper said coming into the room. All eyes turned to the usually quiet man, expectantly. “Just heard from a source they’ve identified a body that was found last night in bushland west of the city.”

“Let me guess,” Mac snarled. “Cruz.”

“Man, how do you even
get
this info, Casper—you don’t talk!” Gracie asked staring at Casper perplexed.

The big man gave an offhand shrug. “Maybe if you spent less time talkin’ and more time listening, you’d pick up some useful info
,
too.”

“Yeah but how—”

“Can we focus on the job at hand
ladies?
” Mac snapped.

“It’s just weird that’s all,” Gracie grumbled, sending a frown across at Casper.

“So I guess we can safely say your woman hasn’t run off with her ex,” Mac said briskly.

“I guess not,” Nash bit back, trying to keep a lid on his emotions.

“Okay, so I guess we can also rule out the Three
of
Swords snatchin’ her. Which means the last person to have any contact with Cruz, was Demetriou,” Nick summarized what they were all thinking, quietly. 

“Makes sense,” Mac sighed, and swore softly. “Damn it—this has been one huge
clusterfuck
from the very beginning!”

“Yep,” Gracie agreed. “Kinda feels like the old days, doesn’t it.”

“This is why we don’t get mixed up in dodgy shit,” Nick snapped. “Everything gets complicated.”

“Well if you’d just handed the damn
USB
over to the freakin client the way I wanted too—none of this would have happened,” Mac pointed out with a low rumble.

“If you’d just screened the client before we rushed in to accept the damn job—this also wouldn’t have happened,” Stone pointed out.

“Can we save the blame game till later? We need to find Brie,” Nash snapped.

“I think you better prepare yourself mate. This may not end well,” Gracie cautioned.

“Are you guys gonna’ sit here and hold a committee meeting or are you gonna’ help me
find
her?” He was not going to allow himself to think of what could have already happened to her.

“Where do you think he took her?” Nick asked.

“I think we should check his office in the city and his house. They’d be two of the most secure locations I’d pick if I were him,” Gracie threw in.

“I agree. I say we split up and cover both places,” Nash was already heading for his bike. “I’ll take his house. Whoever’s comin’ with me, I’ll meet ya there.” He didn’t wait to see who followed—pulling his helmet on his head and starting the bike, the sound echoing like a roar of thunder.

The ride seemed to drag on relentlessly—despite his reaching speeds that weren’t meant to be used on freeways. The whole trip he tried to formulate a plan of attack if he found her…but all he wanted to do was find her and hold onto her—not exactly a detailed plan…but at the moment it worked.

Damn Mac and his endless need to grow their business.
Christ—give the guy a company and he suddenly turns into Donald bloody Trump.
They needed a serious intervention—and soon.

He came to the street where Demetriou lived in his massive mansion built, not entirely on the foundation of hard work as he’d like people to believe. Behind him a car came to a stop a few minutes later and Gracie climbed out. They left for the house on foot—making their way around to the rear of the property. Setting up a vantage point, the two men surveyed the house and grounds for some sign of Brie.

Gracie had his eye jammed onto the high powered telescopic lens of his rifle as he methodically swept across the building, trying to gain a glimpse into any window or doorway available.

“Anything?” Nash asked, looking through his own pair of binoculars without much luck.

“Nothing. I reckon we’re gonna’ have to get in closer. There’s a crap load of security down there…trust us to pick the one guy who actually looks like he knows what he’s doing when it comes to installing the right gear,” Gracie said.

“Wait. I see something,” Nash said as a movement of shadow passed by a window on the lower floor and he quickly directed Gracie to where he was looking. For a minute a flood of relief flowed through him as he caught a glimpse of Brie through the window—but that moment lasted only long enough to see a giant of a man grab her from behind and into a choke hold.

****

  Her hands ached from where they were tied together.
This was not how it was supposed to end.
The thought kept echoing through her brain on an endless loop. For a few minutes she utter despair washed over her—until something inside snapped, almost like a mental slap across the face. She realised she needed to get herself under control.

No!
She wasn’t going to die—damn it! She wanted to see her baby again. An image of Lucy popped into her mind and a fierce longing seeped through her. She would not just lay here and wait to die.

She looked around the dark interior. An eerie red glow filled the boot each time the driver hit the brakes
,
but she waited for it and quickly used the light to search the dark space around her. She struggled against the ropes that tied her hands firmly behind her back. If she could just get one hand free she could at least defend herself. The ropes burned her wrists as they rubbed at the delicate skin. She ignored the pain and continued to pull and wriggle and yank her hand free. Each time the car hit a pothole, her cheek would smash against the floor of the boot and Brie found herself gritting her teeth—bracing for each bump. She tried not to think about how small this confined space was—she’d never experienced claustrophobia before, but without any break lights on the darkness that surrounded her became almost viscous and she forced herself to take a long, slow breath to starve off a panic attack.   

For a moment her spirits lifted as her hand seemed to slide a little further loose from the rope, but as she strained and panted in an effort to pull against her binds she realised it was no good…no matter how hard she tugged she couldn’t get her hand free.

A sob escaped as the car hit another deep rut in the road, banging her face against the course carpet below her cheek. She was exhausted from her efforts to squirm free of the ropes that held her and the constant battering her body was taking as the car bounced and sped its way, God only knew where. All she knew was at some point they’d left the freeway—the sound of smooth bitumen beneath the tyres had long ago been replaced by rougher roads until even they too vanished and the sound of gravel hitting the underside of the vehicle as the driver navigated a rough, obviously neglected dirt road replaced it.

This scared her more than she cared to admit. It was obvious they were taking her somewhere far away from the city—it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why, and a new wave of terror washed over her, making her head feel light and her skin clammy. They were going to kill her and leave her body someplace remote—unlikely to ever be found.

She cried for the daughter that she would never see grow up, and who would never have closure if she simply vanished. Brie would become a missing person and her daughter would always be left wondering what had happened to her. The thought send a howl of rage through her body. What kind of monsters could do that to another human being? How dare they kill her off because she became an inconvenience to them!

The fight awoke inside her once more at the complete injustice of it all. Demetriou would not get away with this! Somehow she would make that bastard pay for this—she didn’t have a clue how—but she was not going to lie down and make this easy for him. With a renewed desperation, she continued straining against the ties and forced herself to ignore the warm, sticky sensation of blood that had smeared from her wrists down onto her hands.