Taken - Before her very Eyes (11 page)

“Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. How many
times have they told you, never play with guns?” Dean made sure the chamber was
empty then dropped the magazine into his pocket and placed the gun in his
waistband at his back.

The sound of a car door closing
made Dean jump, which in turn caused the pain in his stomach to re-ignite.
Could the taxi driver have called the cops? Dean hoped not, but the other
option was even worse.

Quickly he replaced the drawer
and hurried as fast as his body would allow across the living room to the big
picture window. After pulling the drapes back an inch, he spotted Gavin’s car
sitting in the driveway.

What’s he doing home right now?
Dean huddled in the corner of the living room, next to the front door, hoping
to make his escape if Gavin headed for the kitchen or the upstairs.

It wasn’t until Dean spotted the
flashing red control box mounted behind the desk that he realized exactly why
Gavin was home. It must be some kind of security alarm, motion sensor by the
look of it. How could he have been so stupid? Sure Gavin would have an alarm
installed in his house, but why not have it call the cops? Why have it alert
only him?

Dean backed further into the
corner and felt the bulge of the gun in his back. The cold steel had never felt
so good as it did now. Quickly he removed the magazine from his pocket and
quietly snapped it into the gun. He knew exactly why Gavin didn’t alert the
cops. He couldn’t afford them finding a gun in his possession and sending him
back to prison.

Dean listened as Gavin opened the
front door, then watched his shadow move slowly along the far wall as he
cautiously entered his own home. Dean prayed that he wasn’t armed, because he’d
hate to take a bullet so soon after taking a knife to the stomach.

Gavin’s shadow was moving closer,
getting near the corner of the living room and Dean felt the blood pulsating
under the newly stitched hole in his stomach. He had always marvelled at the
stories that Summer recounted of being a police officer. How cool and collected
she remained during confrontations, but he knew he’d never make a very good
cop. The rush of adrenaline was too much for him and he knew he could never get
used to it. Some people thrived on the rush, but not him. Especially not right
now.

“The police are on their way. I
suggest you hurry and get the fuck out of my house before they arrive!” Gavin
stuck his shaved head around the corner, scanning the room from the far side,
where the desk was located, all the way to the corner where Dean was pointing
the gun at his head.

“Then I suggest you call the cops
and tell them it’s a false alarm, otherwise they’ll take your gun and toss your
ass in prison.”

Gavin let out his breath and
closed his dark eyes, allowing the redness in his cheeks to drain away, leaving
only the dark glow of his natural bronze colour behind. He actually looked
relieved to see Dean hiding in the corner of his living room.

“What the fuck are you doing in
here?” Gavin said as the vein on his forehead continued to pulse with each syllable.
“And where the fuck did you get that gun?”

“Don’t play stupid with me,
Gavin. It’s your gun.” Dean waved him into the room, still training the gun on
his head. “You know exactly where it was hidden.”

“Will you put that fucking thing
away! You know I’m not allowed to have a gun in my possession.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The
cops?”

“They’re not coming.” Gavin
walked across the room and stood before his desk. “How fucking stupid do I
look?”

“Stupid enough to have a gun in
your house while on probation.”

“So, what? I feel better knowing
that I have protection against break-ins.”

“It’s working very well, now
isn’t it?”

“Dean, will you please put that
fucking thing away. Look at you. You’re barely able to stand. The last thing I
want is for you to accidentally shoot me. Hell, I didn’t do eight years of hard
time just to get shot by you.”

“Sit over there.” Dean pointed
the gun to the corner chair as he walked to the desk and propped himself on the
corner. “Who took Sabrina?”

There was a look of confusion on
Gavin’s face and Dean didn’t think he was acting.

“What are you talking about?
Sabrina’s probably with Summer, or that old lady she gets to sit for her.”

Dean stared long and hard into
Gavin’s eyes. Although they were the same colour, there was something different.
Something untrustworthy about the way they looked through you. “You know as
well as I do that Sabrina’s been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped? What the fuck’s wrong
with you? You think I’d kidnap your daughter. You’re totally fucked up! How
dare you break into my house then have the balls to accuse me of something like
that!”

Dean grimaced as he slid back
onto the desk, knocking the stack of books to the floor. “I know you’re behind
this. You didn’t think I’d figure it out.”

“Come on, Dean, you’re not making
sense right now. Look at you, you’re bleeding and it looks like your pants were
borrowed from some menstruating bitch. What the fuck happened to you?”

“Seth Millar.”

Gavin shrugged his shoulders, but
couldn’t keep from swallowing.

“The cops conveniently picked him
up last night, only hours after that fucker, John Scott had been jailed.”

“So?”

“So, he’s a friend of yours isn’t
he?”

Gavin nodded. “An acquaintance,
that’s all.”

“And he just happened to get
arrested only hours after they pull that piece of shit, John Scott off the
streets.”

“Coincidences happen.”

“So tell me, why would your
friend want to harm John Scott?”

Gavin leaned forward, staring
down at his clenched hands. His clean shaven cheeks were moving fast as he
chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Listen. I fucking did it for
you. Seth Millar owes me everything. I met him when he was a junky and I got
him off the shit. He’s been waiting to pay me back anyway he could, so when I
heard that the cops had picked up Summer’s attacker, I gave him a call.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that I owed you a
great deal for helping me out after prison, when nobody else would. I told him
what that fucker did to Summer and he was more than willing to do it.”

“So you did this for Summer? For
the person who’d put you behind bars in the first place.”

Gavin nodded. “For her and for
you. How many times have you said you’d like to kill that fucker?”

“A lot.” Dean saw the gun tremble
slightly. “But I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t you? Cause I know that if
it were me, I’d want fucking front row seats for the event. I’d want to watch
the fucker snivel and beg for his life before I blew his fucking head right off
his shoulders.”

Dean shook his head. He thought
of Sabrina’s kidnapper and knew he would have no trouble pulling the trigger
for her.

“Tell me who’s behind Sabrina’s
kidnapping.”

“Honestly, I have no fucking
clue. Maybe it’s John Scott’s partner? You said there was someone else involved
in that crash. Maybe they’re working together?”

Dean glared at Gavin who slid
back, settling into the chair. It was almost impossible to tell if Gavin was
telling the truth or not. His face seldom gave away anything more than general
dislike for most people.

“He was waiting on the street
when I dropped Sabrina off.” Dean slid back onto the desk and lowered the gun.
“Then he stabbed me and took off with my car and Sabrina.”

“Then maybe it was just a
jacking?” Gavin glanced up and met Dean’s gaze. “Maybe he’s dropped her
somewhere?”

Dean shook his head. He knew by
the look in the kidnappers eyes that it had all been well planned out.
Everything from the opening line about Summer’s pregnancy right down to the way
he’d stuck the knife inside his belly. “If only it was just about the car. I
could care less what he did to my Mercedes.”

“Listen. I’m here for you. Even though
you broke into my pad and made a mess out of my living room, I’m still here for
you. Whatever you need, just ask. I’ve already put the hurt on that fucker in
jail, but I can ask around and see if anybody’s heard about Sabrina.”

Dean stood and gave Gavin a
questioning look. “You still have connections?”

“After eight years in prison I’ve
got better fucking connections than I had before your wife sent me away.”

Dean waved the gun back in
Gavin’s direction. “It was your own fault that you went to prison, not
Summer’s.”

“I know.” Gavin stood and paced
the floor. “I was into some pretty messed up shit back then and I guess I got a
little sloppy.”

“And now?”

There was a slight smirk to
Gavin’s mouth before he answered. “Let’s just say I know how to keep my hands
clean.”

Dean held the gun up. “This is
keeping it clean?”

“Not a single fingerprint of mine
is on that gun. But yours are all over it.” Gavin walked across the room to the
corner bar and set two glasses up, filling them with brandy. “You can borrow it
if you want. You never know when it might come in handy.”

Dean ran his finger over the
trigger. If he’d had this with him this morning, Sabrina would be fine right
now. He’d have shot that bastard down and would never have let him leave with
Sabrina. Feeling a little more relaxed, he set the gun down on the desk beside
him and watched as Gavin carefully carried the two glasses of brandy back to
the desk.

“Let’s drink a toast.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t
feel much like drinking. Not right now.”

“It’ll do you good.” Gavin forced
the glass into his hand. “Take the edge off that stitch job those butchers
did.”

Dean reluctantly raised his glass,
wondering if he should mix the Percocet and alcohol together.

“To working together to find
Sabrina.”

Gavin downed his glass while Dean
reluctantly sipped from his.

“And to brothers.”

The ticking of the clock on the
far wall of Chief Dickson’s office was beginning to drive Summer mad. She knew
with each second that passed they were coming closer to the deadline to release
John Scott. It wasn’t the fact that she had to release a guilty person and
allow him to roam free; it was the fact she had to trust in a perfect stranger
to keep his half of the deal and set Sabrina free. But could she just let John
Scott wander away into the city without having Sabrina at least within arms
reach. That was the question that kept nagging away at her stomach. She didn’t
know if she could follow through with the demands.

“So,” Chief Dickson said,
unplugging Summer’s cell phone from the charger and sliding it across the desk.
“Have you made your decision?”

After looking Nate in the eyes,
Summer nodded. “For the record, it’s not him. Not the man who harmed me.”

There was definitely sadness in
the chief’s eyes. Sadness and anger at what they were about to do. “Well,
that’s good enough reason for me to release him. We’ll make it official at nine
forty-five and set him free at ten, but don’t worry. He won’t get far. We’ve
got his mug shots, his fingerprints and a DNA sample thanks to the spilled
blood during the fight in his cell.”

Nate gave her a reassuring smile.
“And I can guarantee he won’t get far. Once the kidnapper releases Sabrina,
I’ll be all over that piece of shit. I only hope that the kidnapper and John
Scott are together so I can have twice as much fun.”

Chief Dickson leaned forward on
the desk and tented his fingers. “Now, Nate. I strictly forbid you from getting
involved in the take down of the two suspects—”

“What!” Nate shot out of his
chair, sending it flying back across the white tiled floor. “What are you
saying? You don’t want me there because I might get a little physical with
them.”

“I know damn well that you’ll do
everything you can to inflict harm on them both, and not that I disagree with
your tactics, I’m thinking about your own welfare. I don’t want you stuck
behind a desk for a year while the SIU decides if you went past police protocol
and nearly killed them. So that’s why I’m restricting you to only monitor the
situation.”

“Monitor. That’s bullshit!” Nate
slammed his hand on the chief’s desk, rattling the family photo and sending the
name plate falling face down. “Who’s going to be there to stop them, Jones?”

“Jones,” Chief Dickson said,
righting his name plate and giving Nate a stern glare. “Or whoever is able. But
your job is to keep an eye on the situation and if things get bad, then and only
then, are you allowed into the mix.”

Finally Nate smiled and Summer
knew no matter what happened he’d get his licks in the fight. Ever since that
night he left her side to chase the hit and run driver into the woods, Nate,
although he’d never admit it, felt a hundred percent liable for what had
happened to her. Summer could see it in his eyes every time she looked his way.
He’d never been the same since the day John Scott had thrown her life into the
shitter and for Nate’s sake, she hoped he’d get a chance to make things right.

“But the ransom note only
specified to release John Scott and hand him my phone at exactly ten o’clock.
How will we know that the kidnapper has released Sabrina?” Summer swallowed
hard, trying to hold back the tears which were burning to escape. “And how will
we know that she’s still…”

“She’ll be fine.” Chief Dickson
glanced at his family photo on his desk. “Trust me, she’ll—”

“I know what you’re up to,” Grimshaw
said, barging into the office. “And don’t think I’m going to let you release my
prisoner.”

“Your prisoner?” Chief Dickson
said. “This is my station and I’m the one calling the shots here.”

“Not for long. I’ve contacted my
superior and notified him about the situation here and what I suspect is being
planned. Now, I don’t know what normally goes on in this little city, but it
won’t fly with the big boys.”