Breaking the Rules (60 page)

“Yeah, yeah,” Izzy said, “I got that, bro.”

“I just didn’t want you making any stupid virgin jokes, because I’m being serious here.”

There was definitely something that could’ve been said there, about stupid virgins, but Izzy let it slide. “I, um, fully recognize your seriossitude.”

“I thought I’d flip out after,” Dan continued, “like, holy Christ, what have I done? But …” He shook his head. “I just … I want her in my life.”

And okay. That was a very future-tense statement. It didn’t sound as if Dan was planning his own funeral just yet. Maybe … he just wanted to talk.

“You really don’t have to knock her up to do that, man,” Izzy pointed out. “I mean, she kinda married you.”

“I know,” Dan said. “But I want it all. I want a family and … Jesus, I’m turning into Jenk.”

“Maybe you’re turning into me,” Izzy suggested. “It’s far more likely, considering you’ve got a shitload of my blood in your veins.”

Dan laughed. “Yeah, no, Zanella, see, Jenk’s married to the love of his life and—” He stopped himself. Looked at Izzy.

Who looked back at him like,
and …
?

For once, Dan was speechless.

“For me, it was love at first sight,” Izzy told him, as long as it was true confession time, “that was completely cemented when your sister started to talk. Every day I love her even more—it’s crazy.” He glanced at Dan again. “And you’ll note that
I’m
not afraid to use the L-word, unlike some pussies, one of whom might be sitting next to me in this very car.”

“I’m not afraid to say it,” Dan scoffed, but he was smiling, too. “I love Jenni. See? Unlike some douches who say it, and then have to make sure everyone knows
they’re
not a pussy
because
they’ve said it.”

Izzy glanced over at him. “It’s scary as shit, huh?”

“Hell, yeah.” Dan paused. “If those assholes hurt them …”

“Why don’t you dig into my bag and see what you can make that’ll give us some flash and bang,” Izzy suggested, still trying to distract.

And Dan was about to do just that, when Izzy’s cell phone beeped from its place, front and center, in the cup holder between them. Dan picked it up.

“Signal’s cut,” he announced.

“On purpose?” Izzy asked, which was stupid, because how would Dan know? “Use Eden’s phone to call Jenk and Lindsey and ask.”

“Already on it,” Dan said, but then said, “Whoa, you’re getting a text. From me.
Arrived,
” he read.
“I love you.”

Izzy glanced over, and as he met Dan’s eyes, he knew that the other SEAL was thinking the same thing he was. That that
I love you
was terribly final sounding. That Eden thought they were going to die.

And
that
kind of thinking wasn’t going to help any of them. So Izzy swallowed past the lump in his throat, and tried to change the gloom-and-doom mood by saying, “I love you, too, man.”

But Dan didn’t take the bait. He didn’t roll his eyes or
Zanella don’t be an asshole
him, the way he would’ve done in the past. Instead, he just kind of nodded and said, “Eden can’t let them find my phone.”

“She knows,” Izzy said. “She’ll ditch it.”

“She better.”

“She’s Eden,” Izzy said, trying to feel as confident as he sounded. “She’ll get the job done.”

It wasn’t easy to lie, naked, in a puddle of his own vomit.

But Ben knew that he had to do it, if he was going to continue to convince his kidnappers that he was not only unable to respond to their questions, but unable to move or otherwise put up a fight.

He’d made himself lie still, even when the bald cop from the mall—who wasn’t a cop after all—told Ben that they were going out to find Eden.

Find was better than kill, and the man had already threatened to kill Ben’s sister, in an attempt to force him to reveal Neesha’s location.

“I don’t know where Neesha is!”

Ben had said it, over and over and
over
after waking up here, head pounding, on the floor of this hot little empty room. With its too-high-to-reach drop ceiling and the in-the-wall air conditioner chugging ineffectually away, with the single door leading out to who knows where, Ben could have been anywhere in Las Vegas or outside of the city, for that matter.

And the men who had grabbed him from the courtyard of Eden’s apartment complex made it very clear that where he was didn’t matter. It was who he was with and what they wanted from him that counted.

And they hit him and they kicked him, and he still couldn’t tell them where Neesha was, because he honestly and gratefully didn’t know. And finally, when the bald cop said that unless Ben told him—immediately—where the girl was, he was going to go and kill Eden, Ben had lied and said that if he did that, he’d be screwed, because only Eden knew where Neesha was hiding.

Which wasn’t true, but he would have said anything to keep his sister safe.

And then he made himself shake and he made himself throw up, right on the bald cop’s boots.

Which had gotten him another kick, but he let himself flop back from it, as if he’d fainted.

The bald cop—who wasn’t a cop—was cursing and shouting at him, “Tell us where Neesha is!”

But Ben didn’t move.

It was then that he thought they were testing him, because two of them grabbed him and pulled him away from the mess that he’d made, and started taking off his clothes. They weren’t very gentle—so much so that after they pulled off his T-shirt, his head bounced against the cheap tile floor so hard that he saw stars beneath his closed eyelids.

But he still didn’t fight them, didn’t speak, didn’t move. Not even when they yanked off his boots and stripped his jeans and briefs from him so that he was buck naked.

He almost gave himself away at that point, because there was no way he was going to lie there and let himself get raped without fighting back.

But no one touched him, other than to grab him by the ankles and straighten his legs—a move that shifted him completely onto his back—and to roughly push his hair out of his face.

It was then he heard the unmistakable sound of a digital camera.

The pervs were taking pictures of him naked.

Someone—the photographer, apparently—said, “Turn him over.”

Again the hands that touched him were impersonal and not at all gentle. The camera clicked and whirred, clicked and whirred.

And then someone tossed something—his shorts and his jeans—over Ben’s bare butt, and even though the message was clear—he could get himself dressed now—he still didn’t move because he wanted them to think he was helpless.

“I wonder if he speaks Korean,” one of the men said.

Another laughed. “Yeah, that’s where I was thinking he’d be going. Good old Mr. Kim. Poor kid.”

“Maybe there’ll be a bidding war. Maybe he’ll end up in Turkey, instead.”

“Could happen. The boss is the only guy I know who can turn a profit from a threat.”

One of the voices faded. “Provided Jake gets his ass in gear and finds the girl.”

The remaining man called after him. “If he doesn’t? Boss is going to ship
him
off to Korea or Turkey, too.”

And Ben almost opened his eyes as he realized what they were saying.

But then the last guard left, too, closing the door behind him with a solid-sounding thunk as a bolt fell into place.

Ben did open his eyes then, looking around cautiously to see if there were cameras watching him. But if there were, they were invisible, and he sat up, and then stood up and looked around.

Shit, if he put his pants back on, they’d know that he’d moved. He held his briefs up to cover himself as he explored the windowless room, searching for a way out.

They’d taken his picture, because they were going to ship him out of the country, and sell him to the highest bidder.

And his solid faith that, wherever he was, Eden and Dan and Izzy and Jenn would come after him, shifted and stirred and cracked with doubt.

Not that they wouldn’t come for him. Ben believed that, absolutely.

But he now was afraid that they wouldn’t come quickly enough.

And once he disappeared, the way Neesha had, from her family, all those years ago? They might never find him.

Neesha sat on the sofa in Eden Gillman’s living room with the gun that Ben’s brother Danny had given her on the cushion beside her.

It was heavy.

She’d held it in both hands, aimed at the door, for quite a long time after Izzy and Danny had gone out the window. But the muscles
in her arms and shoulders had started to shake, so she’d finally put it down.

Aim for the chest
, Dan had told her,
for the largest body mass. And don’t just pull the trigger once. Keep on pulling it, steadying yourself with your left hand. You got that?

She’d nodded.

Leave the light on in the entryway, light off in the living room; that way, if he comes in, you’ll see him clearly and he won’t see you
.

Another nod.

He probably won’t just come walking in the door. He’ll push it open and he’ll poke his head around the frame, really quickly at first. Don’t take the bait. Hold your fire. He’ll come in along one of the sides of the door, weapon leading. Again, wait until you have a clear, close shot of his chest—until you can’t possibly miss
.

Neesha had nodded.

You gonna be okay?

It was a good question, and one she managed to avoid answering.

Her cell phone rang now. She could tell from the number that it was Danny. She answered with her left hand, her right resting on the grip of the gun.

“Yes.”

“I’m just checking in on you,” Dan said. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “You, um, have—I don’t know—any questions?”

“May I move the couch so that I can hide behind it?” That way, when Todd came in, she’d be able to let him get
really
close. And she could brace the gun on the back of the thing. “I don’t have to move it much to get back there.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. Knock yourself out. Whatever you want to do, to feel more secure. You go ahead and do it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“We’re getting close,” he told her. “It’s all going to be over soon. I’ll call you again, in a bit.”

They both said good-bye, and Neesha hung up the phone the way Dan had showed her before he’d left.

She moved the couch—just a little. Just enough to squeeze behind it. And she took the gun back there and practiced peeking over the top, gun aimed at the door.

Whatever you want to do, to feel more secure—you go ahead and do it
, he’d told her.

After all that she’d been through, Neesha wasn’t sure she’d ever feel completely safe, not ever again. Although, at the same time?

She found herself almost hoping that Todd
would
come in.

“Come on. Move it.” The man with the hat—Nathan was his name—held out his hand in an impatient offer to help Eden down from the back of the van.

But she made herself recoil from him, shaking her head in a very strong but silent,
No, I don’t want you to touch me
. She turned around, onto her hands and knees, as if she were going to climb down that way, Dan’s cell phone concealed in the palm of her right hand.

Please God, please God …

“She said she was feeling dizzy.” Jenn dared to speak despite their previous order to be silent. She also moved closer as if to try to help Eden. “Can you get her some water?”

“I want to see Ben,” Eden chimed in. “Do you have the bag with the insulin?” She’d insisted that they take it when they left her apartment—when they’d left Danny unconscious on the floor and Neesha hiding in the sofa. The man with the hat had carried the bag out to the van, but he didn’t have it with him now. Maybe he’d go and get it from the front …

But Jake had had enough. “Let’s go,” he said as he grabbed Eden by the back waistband of her shorts.

Eden screamed and shot a wild look at Jenn, fearing that he’d pull her too far from the van. Jenn moved quickly and grabbed both of
Eden’s arms, which both slowed her down and pulled Jenn out of the van with her.

The additional weight proved too much for Jake, who had his weapon in his other hand, and Eden and Jenn both went down into a heap on what appeared to be concrete. It was. It was some kind of landing strip, with a warehouse-type structure nearby.

“Get off me!” Eden cried, even as she pulled Jenn more completely on top of her. “I can’t breathe!”

Jenn played along beautifully. “My knee! My knee!” she sobbed. “I think I just broke my knee!”

And Eden did it. She scrambled toward the van, as if trying to crawl out from beneath Jenn, flailing both her legs and arms—and tossing the cell phone into the darkness beneath the van’s chassis.

It was then that the world slowed down into a series of nanoseconds that seemed to take forever, as Jake turned away in disgust, as Nathan, with his hat, reached down and grabbed Jenn by the wrist, pulling her up and onto her feet.

And as neither of their captors said, “Hey, what the hell did that bitch just throw beneath the van?” or “What was that scraping sound?”

In fact, neither of them said anything at all that wasn’t a four-letter word or a plea for help to whatever twisted god that killers and kidnappers believed in.

Eden pushed herself up onto her hands and her knees as Jenn wiped her eyes and her nose and said, “No, wait, I’m okay—I think I’m okay. I can walk. I’m okay.”

And they were good—or at least as good as they could be as they were marched at gunpoint into that warehouse, here on the edge of an airfield, in the middle of nowhere.

The phone rang.

Izzy’s phone. The one he hadn’t been able to use for quite some time, because it was holding open the line to Eden and Jenn.

It wasn’t Jenk or Lindsey, because Jenk was already talking to Dan. Jenk was confirming that the signal from the cell phone Eden had been using had stopped moving. He was verifying the directions they should take to arrive at the same location.

And he was reassuring Danny that everything was going to be okay—that he and Lindsey and Jay Lopez were on their way. If everything went
just
right, they’d travel most of the way via helo, and arrive in two and a half hours.