The Law of Motion (Law Series) (35 page)

             
"Gladly," Myles chuckled, gripping my shoulder and marching me toward the side of the barn. "You'll love this," he snorted, and I could see where he was leading me.

             
It looked like a storm shelter, or a bomb shelter from the fifties. Steps led down to what was once a door and was now a steel barred gate. It was a fucking jail cell underground. I remembered a time when I couldn't even step near a basement or anything undergroun
d

thanks to Garci
a

but I eventually lost that sick feeling that came with associating things like that with my time in Cuba.

             
Myles unlocked the gate and shoved me inside. Inside were three more cells, all wrapped in steel bars. They were just barely big enough for the cots, the toilets, and the sinks that filled them. In fact, it looked like the jail from an old western movie, where the town drunk went to sleep it off for the night.

             
I shook my head as Myles slammed and locked my cell. I looked back to Myles, who was staring me down. I could remember with complete clarity Juan’s words, and for a minute I could see why he called him the mean man: a lack of compassion, an evil smirk, and a love for watching others' fear.

             
"What?" I sneered.

             
"You have a pretty tight body to have had a kid." he stated, tilting his head at me. Then coasting up and down my body. “It make’s me wonder if…other things are just as tight.”

             
My stomach lurched as I tried to keep from vomiting, I narrowed my eyes at him. I gripped the bars on my cage door, locking on his eyes between them. “Look at me that way again, and I’ll peel the skin of your dick with a potato peeler, and tie it all in a nice little knot at the end to hold your piss.”

             
Myles winced for just a second at the visual, but then huffed a laugh. "That would be convenient."

             
"Go away, Myles," I cautioned sitting down on the cot. This asshole was making it harder to wait for my calvary.

             
Myles laughed, his head falling back as he left, locking the main gate on his way out. I heard his steps ascend up, only to fade away once he hit the grass. Thankfully, he left the light on.

             
Crickets chirped loudly through the main door at the top of the stairs. It had been a long few hours, and my short nap was filled with dreams that were both scary and erotic. I dreamed of dungeons, of sadistic people that couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and I dreamed of long, slow kisses and murmurs of naughty things coming from a velvet voice. Dreams of strong arms and groping, calloused hands had woken me up with a need for Adrian so large, it almost brought tears to my eyes. I wanted his warmth wrapped around me, and I wanted to breathe in that perfect smell of hi
m

fresh cut grass, clean soap, and that hint of gunpowder that kept him dangerous. I needed him to tell me that he was there, that he would never let anyone hurt me again.

             
Terry ran hurriedly down the stairs, a worried Kris following behind him. I didn't see Zoe, but I did see Myles walking in with paper lunch bags, tossing one on the table in front of the guard that slept outside of my cell, instantly waking him up, before he tossed a bag to me.

             
From the look on Terry’s face, I was pretty sure David wasn’t able to find the boys. I kept my face unreadable as I glanced up at him after shifting thorough the contents of the bag. A turkey sandwich, chips, an orange, and a can of soda.

             
"Something wrong?" I asked sitting the food on the bench bed behind me, and Kris smirked slightly, shaking his head at me.

             
“Eat.” He assured jerking his head to the bag, letting me know that the food was safe.

             
"How'd you do it?" Terry seethed, his temper barely under control. "How'd you get those boys away?"

             
"No idea what you're talking about," I muttered around a bite of sandwich. I shrugged and blinked innocently up at him.

             
It was Myles that moved first, slamming his hands against the bars of my cell. "David's dead, bitch."

             
"Oh?" I huffed in false surprise around another bite. "Sorry about that. Was it suicide? I couldn’t imagine someone like him had much to live for."

             
Kris had to rub his face in order to hide his smile.

             
"No, it wasn't
fucking
suicide," Terry sneered from behind a still panting Myles. "They found his car wrapped around a tree!"

             
"Drunk driving." I concluded, shooting a glance over to Kris, who snorted softly, as he watched everything with rapt attention. Both Myles and Terry shook their heads. "I take it the boys weren't in this car," I stated, not even bothering to give them my full attention.

             
"No, he was alone," Terry answered. "Tell me how you did it."

             
"
You
let them get away," I accused, pointing at them with a potato chip in my hands. "Hell, they may still be wandering in the woods."

             
"Oh no," Terry chuckled, pointing a finger at me. "I'm not fucking stupid... I know for a fact that you wouldn't just set two toddlers loose in the woods. No fucking way. You were meeting someone."

             
"How could I meet anyone, Terry?" I sighed, rolling my eyes up at him. "No one knew where you took me. No one followed us. You said so yourself."

             
"Who were those people at the station, Alyssa?" he yelled.

             
"Friends...family...police..." I took another bite, looking up at them all, but my gaze fell to a very frustrated Terry. "Have you asked for the money yet? I'm curious as to what they say."

             
"Funny you should ask," he said, pulling out a cell phone. "I was just about to make the call. Wanna listen in?"

             
"Sure," I sputtered around the last bite of my sandwich. "Tell them ‘hello’."

             
My nonchalance was killing Myles. In fact, Terry stopped him from opening my cell door. This was something that was safer for him than for me, because I wasn’t handcuffed anymore.

             
"What's the matter, Myles? You miss being behind bars that bad? Mourning the loss of your
cellmate
?" I sneered as he called me every name in the book.

             
They all froze like deer in headlights just staring at me. Kris bit the inside of his cheek as he leaned against the wall behind Myles and Terry, who were gaping like fish out of water.

             
"You know, you can blame yourselves for David’s death technically. If you had checked your facts you would have saved yourself
so
much trouble," I sighed, scooting up on my cot so that I could lean against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. "Taking my Juan was a huge mistake. Huge. I'm a P.I. there isn’t much that me or my team miss."

             
"She's lying," Myles yelled, turning to Terry. "There's more to it than that. David didn't run into a tree by accident... I'm telling you, guys!"

             
"Shut up!" Terry snapped at him. "I'm calling now."

             
I wasn't sure who he was calling, Paul or Adrian, but I did hope it was Adrian, because he would know to play along. Juan would have gotten my note to him, I was certain. Terry put the phone on speaker, and we all held our breath as it rang.

             
“Gravity,” A tiny mousy like voice piped a greeting. It wasn’t her normal cheerful one, so something told me that Tink knew exactly who was calling.

             
Terry huffed impatiently, “Put on Adrian Harris.”

             
I could hear Tink in the background, just as impatient.  

             
"Harris," Adrian snapped on the phone, and I couldn't help but smile, because he sounded beautiful and frustrated, tired and angr
y

a combination that was the epitome of sexy when it came to him. All coming through the phone with one word said, I totally swooned over my own boyfriend.

             
"Hey, baby!" I called out, wearing a smile ten miles wide, because it pissed Terry off something fierce.

             
"Shut her up," he demanded, and Myles dove into action, opening my cell and yanking me up to press a dirty hand to my mouth.

             
"Alyssa?" Adrian called, a hint of relief and joy in his voice.

             
I took my elbow and shoved it into Myles’s side, before cracking his index finger back making a delightful crunch. I called over his scream of pain as he kneeled in front of me my hand shifting to an unbroken finger. “Hi honey! How’s your day going?”

             
The cage that separated the cells from the exit was still closed, but one of them had to come in to get this asshole out, and I could barely hear my guy over the sound of Terry ordering Kris to do just that.

             
“No way man, so she can break my fingers too.” Kris protested.

             
Terry gestured to my gun that was in his waistband. “Shoot her if you have to.”

             
“Yeah, killing her will get the money.” Kris snapped back sarcastically.

             
That threat worried Adrian. “Honey, are you alright?”

             
“I’m fine, just teaching Myles how to keep his hands to himself.” I grunted snapping another finger back making him scream.

             
Terry didn’t care. “Maim her idiot, or
I’ll
take care of her, and then
you
.” That did it. Kris pulled my own gun on me as he unlocked the cage. The safety was still on, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. His eyes begged me to cooperate, as he entered the cell door. I jerked my hands up in a frustrated surrender as he pulled Myles up by his arm trying not to smile. “Come on man.”

             
“Stop attacking your captors, Honeyface.” Adrian cautioned amused yet worried for my safety.

             
"Well, now you have proof of life, asshole," he said over the phone. "She fucked up, Harris," he told him. "She was supposed to come alone, not to mention she just fucked up Myles’s hand."

             
"And you were supposed to bring those boys," Adrian countered as Kris locked my cell back and then the cage behind him, "…but you didn't." He said the last three words in a singing sigh, and at that point, I knew he'd gotten my note. He was totally playing these guys.

             
"I assume you've got them now," Terry growled, rolling his eyes.

             
"Oh, I do," my boyfriend said, "and I have a message for Myles."

             
"What's that, motherfucker?" Myles yelled, like his voice wouldn't carry, trying to fix his fingers.

             
"I will personally see to it that you die," Adrian stated, his voice menacing, and I knew he meant every word.

             
"Who the fuck are
you
?" Terry demanded, shaking his head looking at me.

             
"People you should have never fucked with," he replied. "Now, give me your demands for the return of Alyssa, and I'll think it over."

             
Good boy!
I mentally fist punched the air, because that was exactly what I'd wanted him to do. Terry thought he was in control, thought he was surrounded by protection; but he didn't know protection and he damn well didn't know control.

             
"Thirty million," Terry demanded, looking a little nervous, but he maintained his composure. "Thirty million, and you'll get her back."

             
It’s a good thing that we weren’t planning on paying this asshole. Because that was definitely the ransom of an heiress, and I wasn’t an heiress by far, financially or otherwise. Adrian sniffed over the phone, like he was thinking about it. "We'll see...but know this... If one hair is out of place on her head, if there is one bruise on her, if she has a
fucking paper cut
, I will see to it that you suffer. It will be long, slow, and very, very fucking painful. I shit you not."

             
I bit my lip to keep from laughing, because I was sure I already had a bruise, and Terry's wide eyed glance at my face showed it.

             
"Call me back in twenty-four hours with the time and place, and you'll have your answer," Adrian ordered over the speaker. "And one day, Alyssa...I'll do it again. I did it when we met, and I'll do it again. Warn them if you want, Honeyface. It won't fucking matter." With that said, he ended the call.