I heard muffled screams in the background, and an evil smile crept across my face. Abbot's weapons of choice were really sharp knifes, and I was certain the point of his favorite one rested on the driver’s throat. Abbot could find anyone if I asked, but nothing came without a price. I didn't pay monetarily. The cost was merging my current life with my past, something I never intended on doing.
"I'll be there."
"I'd like to kill him where he sits, filthy piece of shit," he said to the man as if I weren’t on the line then hung up the phone.
I grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and traveled to a warehouse on the east side. I parked in the back and composed myself. I hadn't seen some of the people inside since I left for Columbia. What a fucking reunion.
Abbot wasn't stupid enough to conduct business in the open warehouse but rather preferred the basement. I walked to the corner of the room and found the inconspicuous door that led to the stairs below. I clenched my hands into fists and tried to get ahold of myself. I wanted to beat the stupid fuck senseless, but I had a goaclass="underline" to find out who he worked for and where they took the woman who stole my heart. When she was taken, they subsequently took away the last ounce of love I had left. If something happened to her, I would swear off all emotions for the rest of my fucking life. I'd take it as a sign that I wasn't meant for love, that maybe life had a different path for me. I hoped it wasn't a vicious one.
When I entered, Abbot put the knife to the bottom of the man's chin until drops of blood dripped on the floor. Then he smiled, stood, and greeted me with a hug.
"Welcome home, brother. Sorry the circumstances are fucked." Abbot kicked the driver in the side, causing him to double over. A small part of me felt sorry for the man, and the other piece, the one that was slowly becoming numb to emotion, didn't give two shits.
Jerking a handful of hair in his fist, Abbot moved the man's head and leaned into his ear.
"Now. You can either answer the questions you'll be asked, or you can fucking die. Simple, really. I'd really like to add another mark to my wall, so don’t test me."
The scary thing was, Abbot wasn't kidding. He placed the knife under the cloth that was wrapped around the man's mouth, and nicked his cheek but left the blindfold on. I couldn't be seen or noticed by anyone. I needed to stay completely anonymous. This face was one everyone seemed to recognize these days.
I watched the blood stream down the man's face, then cleared my throat and spoke.
"Who are you working with?"
"I'm not sure." His voice was raspy, and he was struggling to speak.
"Give him some fucking water. Jesus," I said.
"Pieces of shit aren't given the special treatment. He can drink water if he makes it out alive. Gotta give the fuck something to look forward to," Abbot said.
I exhaled deeply.
It wasn't worth arguing about right now.
I shook my head at him, and he smiled, of course.
"Do you know where they were taking her?" I asked.
"No. The man that hired me knew she would be in London, and I was to make sure she was at the train station that night. I don't know how he knew she would be at your parents’ house. I had to send a text when we left. I didn't ask questions. I did as instructed."
"You said a man. Who?"
"He calls himself Jester. I don't fucking know anything else," the driver said.
"Watch it," Abbot interrupted.
"I know they were bringing her to the airport. That's it. I don’t know anything else. I swear on my life," he said.
"The airport? Which airport?"
"Don't know. They were adamant about getting her there in time. Something about a plane leaving for the states."
"Fuck," I yelled. "The fucking states? This isn't a random kidnapping."
Abbot squeezed my shoulder. "Told you she wasn't here. I would have found her by now. I know all the slave runners, kidnappers, all those filthy fucks."
I moved his hand from my shoulder and shot him a look.
"I know that look. Don't go dark on me, F. If anyone will find her, I know you will," Abbot said.
"Don't kill him, but keep watch. I may need him later," I said. Before I walked up the stairs, I turned around and gave Abbot a nod. He knew it was my thank you.
"Come visit me if you get bored. Might need your help," I said then climbed the steps two at a time.
"Might take you up on that. Like to get my hands on a semi-automatic," he said, and the men around the room all smiled. Bastards love their knifes, but guns, oh God. They'd be even more deadly with those, but I knew they had them. Guns were easy to find on the black market.
Once inside the car I called Mum, Luke, and let them know I was taking a private plane back to Vegas as soon as possible. She wasn't here, but no matter where she was, I would find her.
She had better be alive and well, and no one better have fucked her. Jennifer Downs was mine, claimed, and if anyone ruined what was mine, I would end their life.
Twenty-eight
Time was elastic, a rubber band that stretched and would eventually snap. I hoped.
The minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and I had no idea how long I'd been in the pits of my own personal hell, surrounded by whores. My bastard, the man that brought me food and clean clothes, slowly grew on me. He never spoke, but seemed to care if I ate and had clean clothes, even though they were barely anything. Maybe it was my mind fucking with me, or he was protecting me in some weird-ass way, but my thoughts seemed to betray me lately. I wondered if anyone was searching for me, or if I would be found. The look on Finnley's face as I screamed his name… nightmarish.
The droning music, while it could have driven someone else crazy, became nothing more than nuance for me. A torture tactic used to drive people insane by playing the same song over and over again until they couldn't stand it anymore, didn't seem to work on me. My attitude about everything became bring it bitch.
After a few days of lashing out against my bastard, I was deemed unfit to be around others. I asked too many questions but never received any answers. I couldn't be trusted to play nice so I was secluded to a room with a dirty mattress and a bathroom. My keeper would let me out of the confines of the filthy walls once a day to stand in the cage in the middle of the room where the men of the underground sex trade ran rampant. They talked about taking my virginity. Why the fuck did they think I was a virgin? Oh wait, because Finnley lied to everyone. Only three people knew I was no longer a virgin. I supposed I was the last virgin left in Vegas, or so they thought, so everyone wanted me.
I hoped the rest of my days wouldn't be the same as the others. To ensure that didn't happen, I began saying whatever I wanted, which caused my bastard to bind my mouth before throwing me in the cage. Apparently, I said things that pissed people off. Who knew? The more they silenced me, the angrier I became, until I was hollow and robotic. I was a little automaton dressed in sleazy clothes.
The door clicked open, and I sat on the bed staring at my feet. I no longer felt the need to look at my bastard. He did the same thing every day. Put the tray on the table and walked out of the room. When the man didn't leave, I looked up at him, and realized it wasn't the same guy.
He snarled at me, and something about him seemed familiar. I recognized him.
"You. I know you."
"You don't know me, bitch."
I thought back, and after a few moments, it came to me.
"Yes, you're the..." Oh God, no. "You're the taxi driver."
I was two notches away from a nervous breakdown. My adrenaline spiked.
"One of the reasons I was late to Simon & Fitch," I mumbled.
I didn't notice the other man in the corner until he laughed. I zeroed in on him.