Hero Book 3 - The Battle: Military Romance, Page 3

  One touch to the keyboard, and Leighton's face appeared on both screens. My heart stumbled, and every muscle in my body tensed. It wasn't only fear for her safety that was making me react like this. I needed her more than I'd let myself acknowledge before. It was almost painful to reach out and turn the monitors off.

  As the screens went dark, I heard a car pulling up to the house. Positioning myself in the kitchen doorway, I heard Tommy Multon come inside.

  “Tawny?” he called.

  There really wasn't a point to me trying to hide. I needed answers. I stepped out into the living room and flicked on the dining room light at the same time. “Who's Tawny? Your cat?”

  He stood there for nearly half a minute, gaping at me with his eyes so wide that they would've been laughable if it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation.

  “My, my girlfriend,” Tommy finally stammered. “She'll be here any minute.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And you're hoping the threat of your girlfriend, Tawny, will be enough to frighten me away?”

  He remained frozen as I crossed the room and switched on the computer monitors to reveal Leighton's picture.

  “How about you answer a few simple questions so Tawny doesn't have to see you soil your pants?”

  Tommy managed a head nod.

  “Obviously, you bribed a bouncer to let you photograph Leighton Machus at Diabolique the other night. What I want to know is if you noticed anything unusual?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed and I could see that his brain had started working. “Are you a cop? Don't you need a warrant?”

  I stepped across the room, crowding right into his space. “I'm much more efficient than the police because I don’t bother with a search warrant. Collecting evidence isn't my thing. I'm not interested in that. I just want to find out about Leighton.”

  “I don't know anything about what happened to her.” He inched away, but miscalculated where his own living room door was and ended up flat against the wall.

  “But you do, Tommy. Because I never said something happened to Leighton. And these pictures are proof that you were among one of the last people to see her,” I said.

  “What do you want?” His voice shook and I was actually a bit surprised he hadn't pissed his pants yet.

  “Paris Lockhart. I'm assuming you were also photographing her. She's a big fan of paparazzi.” I didn't bother to hide my dislike.

  Tommy gave a strangled little laugh. “I photographed a lot of Paris Lockhart that night. Help yourself.” He gestured toward his computer.

  I kept an eye on him while I scrolled through his photographs, clicking on a series taken in a dark back hallway. The whole torrid seduction played out in the shutter stops of Tommy Multon's digital camera.

  Paris leading the temporary bodyguard down the dim hallway, unzipping his pants, kneeling down...Paris' dress above her waist, graphic close ups of her bare ass. Her bent against the far wall, the bodyguard's hands on her hips, and finally a big finish that must have stained her dress beyond dry cleaning.

  Way more than I ever wanted to see of either of them.

  It was clear that Paris and my substitute both had solid alibis. The time stamp for the whole ordeal was past three in the morning, and embarrassingly short. Leighton dropped out of the rest of the photographs at the same time, leaving me to wonder if she'd seen what Paris had been doing and decided to take advantage of the situation to get some freedom. That would've been a perfect time for her to have been taken.

  “You some kind of trust-fund girl junkie?” Tommy asked. “I've got video of your girl too. I took stills from it. Bodyguard on rich girl, very sexy niche.”

  I swung around and caught Tommy's throat between my forearm and the wall. “You were closer when you guessed I was a cop. Now you're going to take me through these photographs in chronological order so I can see the whole party in progression through the night.”

  The expression on Tommy's face suggested he was wishing he'd never heard of Paris or Leighton. He took a seat at his computer and fiddled with some of the settings to give us things in the right order. We scrolled through the first few hundred photographs quickly since they'd been taken before Leighton had arrived.

  “I dunno, man, people move around, come and go. It was a party, man,” Tommy said as we hit the right timeframe and I made him slow down. “A good one.”

  Something caught my eye and I grabbed the keyboard, moving back to find the picture I wanted.

  Shit.

  “If it was such a good party, why does the bartender leave early?” I asked.

  Two more passes confirmed it beyond any doubt. The only other person to disappear at the same time as Leighton was the bartender. As Tommy zoomed in, cleaned up the shot, and printed the bartender's picture for me, my phone rang.

  Devlin didn't bother with a greeting, which was fine by me. The quicker we got to it, the quicker Leighton would be home where she belonged.

  With me.

  “The only person at the club my network can't identify is the bartender,” Devlin said. “He filled in last minute for the regular bartender.”

  I scowled. “And let me guess, the regular one got mugged on his way to work, leaving him injured enough that he couldn't do his job. And no one really knows the guy who stepped in, only that he was in the right place at the right time.”

  “Exactly,” Devlin agreed. “I'm guessing that means you're already on that track.”

  “I am.” I took the picture Tommy handed me and headed for the door. I could almost feel the relief behind me. “I'm following up on it.”

  “I'll call you if I learn anything new.” Devlin ended the call.

  I climbed into the front seat and went through my options, none of which I liked.

  The cops might be able to identify the man if he had a record, but there was always the chance the man was clean. If this was done by a professional, chances were, the guy had been selected for that very reason.

  How the hell was I supposed to find one man in LA with nothing but a grainy head shot?

  My best bet was to head down toward the club and see if I could find anything.

  I knew I still had a couple hours before anything down there opened, but I didn't want to go back to the house. I'd never be able to sit still, let alone sleep, and the thought of knowing Devlin was there, worrying, just made things worse. So, I drove to the club, parked in the closest parking garage and took as good of a nap as I could get.

  When my phone alarm went off, I climbed out of the car, stretched out my stiff muscles and then made my way down the street. Devlin had gotten the club's security footage sent to me on the plane, so I already knew their cameras wouldn't tell me anything, not even with this new lead. I hoped the other cameras along the street might show something.

  The copy center had nothing but a sale on tag board. The pawn shop had only an obstructed view of the front door of the nightclub, and I already knew Leighton hadn't used it. The gentleman's club had raunchy coverage of the night club's back alley, but after thirty minutes of watching their 'dancers' engaging in some extra-curricular activities, I still had nothing. The last business with a view of the club had a blinking neon sign in the shape of an all-seeing eye.

  I hoped it was a good sign, but I wasn't feeling very positive as I walked inside.

  The scent of incense made me sneeze and as I did, a woman draped in glittery robes emerged from a back room.

  She motioned for me to sit at a brocade covered table. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you.” I forced myself to keep my tone polite. “I'm really only interested in seeing your security camera footage. From here, you must have a view of the night club's back exit, right?”

  “My dear.” The Tarot Card reader patted my hand and tried to sneak a peek at the lines on my palm. “I have no need of security cameras if I can see the future.”

  Right.

  My mouth tightened. “Let me give you another 'if.' If you want to stay in business, a cash business, you need to make sure you have footage of your customers.”

  She pushed back the thick black hair that I suspected was a wig. Her eyes were shrewd. “If I did have a security camera, there would have to be a reason why you wanted to see it.”

  “Shouldn't you already know that?” I raised an eyebrow.

  The old woman glared at me. “The gift doesn't work like that.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. “A woman went missing from that nightclub two nights ago.”

  The Tarot Card reader held her hand up to stop me before I could give her a description of Leighton. A heavy emerald ring winked in the low lights. “I have seen the woman you speak of. Her of the flame-colored curls. She was taken by a cloud of white.”

  What the fuck?

  “Just show me the tape.” The words were curt, edged by the surge of hope that went through me.

  The woman shrugged and opened up a lacquered cabinet to her right. The ancient security tapes took a long time to cue, but she found the moment. Leighton's bright curls were visible coming out of the back exit. A burly shadow pushed up behind her and she disappeared behind a white van. The rented van then sped away.

  One precise punch with her emerald-endowed finger and the Tarot Card reader paused the tape. “And there, dear, is the license plate number you were about to ask for.”

  “Amazing, you can anticipate the future.” I wrote the number down.

  “The rental company has a fleur-de-lis logo.” She didn't seem perturbed by my sarcasm.

  “And why are you being so helpful now?” I asked.

  She gave me a soft smile. “I may or may not be able to see the future, but I can certainly see how much you care for this young woman.”

  I came away f
rom the rental company knowing two things: they had been bribed an astronomical amount to turn off the low jack system on the white van that had taken Leighton, and it was easier to get information by paying for it than it was to beat it out of someone or threaten them with jail. Especially if cost was no object.

  Devlin brought the cash personally.

  Then he didn't want to leave. From the looks the rental guys were giving him, he scared them more than I did. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but it was entertaining to watch.

  Devlin leaned slightly over the counter to look at the computer screen and the guy on the other side edged away. Devlin didn't even seem to notice.

  “That's a huge industrial park.” He looked back at me. “I'll come with you. You'll need help finding her.”

  Hell no.

  “I'm not going to find her only to tell her I got you killed,” I said, shaking my head. “She already blames me for Ian re-enlisting in the army. She'd have my balls if something happened to you.”

  He studied me for a moment, and I wondered if I'd crossed a line. Then he nodded. “You're right, she would.”

  He left without arguing, which surprised me, but then I caught a parting glimpse of his face. Shit. Everything Devlin had been holding back showed in that one brief moment and I knew that losing his granddaughter would kill him.

  Getting the clerk to loan me a GPS unit was easy, as was following the directions. I parked several yards away from where the GPS said the van was and climbed out. I looked around, squinting into the sunlight as I tried to decide what to take with me. The night vision goggles probably wouldn't be necessary. I checked my gun again, just to be on the safe side.

  I eyed the sniper rifle. The chances of me needing it were slim, but I preferred to err on the side of caution. I pulled it out, putting it together with an ease that surprised me. It took me only a few seconds and then I had it slung across my back. I sincerely hoped I didn't need either weapon, but I would do what I had to do to get Leighton back.

  Once I was ready, I started toward the place where the GPS said the van would be. I felt myself slipping into the cold place I'd gone as a soldier, the place I needed to be to find and rescue Leighton.

  It was in an industrial park, just like Devlin had said, and it was huge. Fortunately, whoever had been driving the van hadn't been the most intelligent of criminals. It took me all of a minute for me to find a set of heavy footprints in the dust.

  I followed the prints cautiously, keeping my eyes out for anyone who might be lurking about. I reached the door without incident and paused a moment, debating whether or not to un-holster my gun. I decided to go without it for the moment, relying on my reflexes to be fast enough to draw if I needed.

  I opened the door cautiously and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I slipped inside and let the door close quietly behind me. I scanned the interior, keeping my eyes and ears poised to catch the slightest movement, the softest sound. Empty, I concluded. At least on this level.

  I looked for a door. I had two choices. Up or down. With either stairwell, I'd risk picking wrong and alerting the kidnappers to my presence and my location. I'd been a Medical Officer in Special Forces, but I'd picked up enough psychology over the past couple years to have a decent understanding of how people worked.

  I just had to figure out if the kidnapper would want to take Leighton upstairs or down. The basement, I decided. Leighton wasn't the sort of woman to take something like this without a fight. She'd be loud, cussing and screaming up a storm. The kidnapper wouldn’t want to risk anyone hearing her, so he would've taken her downstairs.

  And it was a he, I was sure. The boot prints in the dust were male – or a bigger woman than I'd ever seen. I was going with a male kidnapper.

  There it was, almost directly across from me, a door that said 'Basement Access.' I stayed cautious, but didn't go slow as I crossed the space. Even as I opened the basement door, I heard the heavy whoosh of air swing toward my head.

  Fuck.

  I jumped back just as the bartender burst through the doorway, swinging. I managed to dodge the first one, but another punch glanced off my chin and, for one terrifying moment, the world spun. I fought the vertigo, clinging to the idea of Leighton being within reach and the world managed to right itself. I saw another fist coming and spun around, sliding down as I swung my leg out, sweeping the bartender's legs out from underneath him.

  The man landed with a thump, cursing up a storm. I managed to get to him without getting dizzy and drew my gun as I did it. The silencer made the weight slightly different, but it didn't matter as I pressed the muzzle over his heart.

  “Where is she?” I kept my voice low.

  The man glared up at me, lips pressed tightly together.

  “I've killed better men than you,” I said quietly. “I didn't enjoy doing it, and I won't enjoy killing you.” I let him see the truth of it on my face. “But I will do it. Slowly.”

  The bartender's eyes widened and I knew he understood that I would do what I said.

  “Where is she?” I asked again.

  There was only the slightest hesitation and then I saw him make a decision. He jerked his head back toward the stairs. “End of the hall.”

  For a minute, I considered still shooting him for what he'd done. But I was a soldier, not a murderer. I slammed the butt of my gun into his temple and his eyes rolled back. I grabbed his belt, yanked it out of his pants and used it to bind his hands and ankles. He wouldn't be comfortable when he woke up, but, hopefully, Leighton and I would be long gone before that. I’d let the police worry about him.

  I started for the door again, keeping my gun in hand this time. I pushed the door open, flattening myself against the wall as I counted to ten. Nothing. I slowly crept around until I was heading down the stairs and into a long, narrow hallway.

  The door at the end of the hall seemed like it was a thousand miles away, but I didn't rush, no matter how much I wanted to. For all I knew, he'd sent me down here into a trap. If that was the case, I would go back and shoot him.

  The door didn't have any windows, so I had no clue what I was getting myself into, but I didn't care. If Leighton wasn't in there, someone who knew where she was would be.

  I opened the door a crack and listened. No one yanked the door open; no attack came.

  But I did hear something else. Something that threatened to tear my heart out of my chest.

  A whimper.

  Fuck it.

  I pushed the door open and saw Leighton on the cold concrete floor. I rushed toward her, almost dropping my gun before I managed to stuff it back in my holster. She made me forget everything, even my training. All I saw was her.

  I dropped to my knees next to her. She was half-bound to a chair, her wrists raw and bloodied. Everything about her was bloody. Her curls were matted, her face swollen. I swore vilely.

  “Haze?” Her voice was slurred, but I knew it wasn't from alcohol. I'd sounded like that before.

  “Yeah, sweetheart, it's me.” The endearment slipped out, but I didn't try to take it back. “Hold still. I have to cut you free and I don't want to do any more damage.”

  I pulled my pocket knife out and cut through the ropes, barely taking the time to put the knife back before I pulled her into my arms, trying to be as gentle as possible.

  “I've got you, baby. I'm here. You're safe,” I said as I cradled her in my arms. I didn't care what the future had in store. I wasn't letting her go.

  Chapter 5

  Haze

  As I lowered her into the passenger's seat, her head lolled to the side. I eased the door closed, not wanting to wake her if she was sleeping. When I climbed into the driver's seat, however, I realized she was already awake.

  “No hospital.”

  I didn't look at her as I started the car. “You're hurt. I'm taking you straight to the ER.”