Zero: A protective hero romantic suspense, page 23
Her fingers cut into my shoulder like blades, and I wince. “Hurry up. Quit stalling.”
As if to emphasize how serious she is, she presses the gun into the back of my head. “If Zero shows up before we get out of here. I. Will. Kill. You.”
27
ZERO
Morgan’s long auburn hair and her gold dress shimmers in the dim lighting of the restaurant as she walks away from me. This isn’t over, we aren’t over, but I’ll give her a few minutes to cool off before going upstairs.
I’m a jackass and should have just answered her questions. While I didn’t lie and I can’t tell her everything about my job, I could have given her something.
The call with Boris was a bust. No surprise, he used voice distortion technology as well as a complex relay system so that there was no way to detect if Boris is a man or woman and where the call originated.
I finish the rest of my appetizer and ask for our food to be sent up to the room, and before I step into the elevator, my phone rings. It’s Griffin.
“Yeah.” I slide away from the elevator and find a quiet spot in the lobby.
“Remember the pots and pans in Morgan’s place? I realized where I’ve seen something similar before.”
My body tenses, eager for him to get to the point. “Where?”
“It most probably means nothing, I can’t make sense of it, and it isn’t quite the same—”
“Griffin, fucking say it.”
“Some things never change. Still an impatient bastard.” He chuckles. “When I was at Hazel’s place in the woods, she had a whole bunch of plants on the porch. I mean like way too many, and there’s something about the way they were laid out in Morgan’s apartment. The pans spaced evenly. One up against the wall, then the next about a foot out and so on…”
He’s right; I’m not seeing the significance but maybe there’s more. “Yeah, go on.”
“The pattern’s the same. I don’t have a picture of Hazel’s porch but I’d swear it is. Pots and pans ran the length of a windowsill and then down on the porch around the house. It’s the same pattern. I even asked Cora and she agrees.”
Griffin and Cora met Hazel many months ago when they needed a place to regroup for a few hours. I’m not questioning what they remember—there may be similarities in the use of pots and pans—but Hazel? I’m not getting the connection to Morgan? Why would Hazel break into Morgan’s place and do that? Randy’s a much better fit for the crime even if that doesn’t make much sense either.
“Zero, you still there, man?”
“Yeah. I don’t see how this helps. Randy’s more than likely behind this.”
Hazel isn’t well, there’s no doubt about that. Her outburst, trashing the room, that first night she came to stay with me, her attempts to keep tabs on me, and the toothpicks. Her mental health will always need extra attention given her past.
“Yeah, most probably. It’s just that…you said Hazel was in Florida, staying with you. Did she and Morgan meet?”
“Yeah, but…” Even as I reject the notion, the night Hazel grabbed my face in front of Morgan bangs around in the back of my mind. “Shit, what if…”
“What?”
“Hazel did something….I don’t want to get into it and the specifics don’t matter, but it was strange. At the time, I chalked it up to her paranoia and insecurities but it fits if she sees Morgan as a real threat. And if so, Hazel could’ve broken into Morgan’s place to screw with her head. It’s a bit out of left field but if she’s playing mind games it fits better than Randy.”
I cringe at memories of how our captor not only loved to control our bodies but also our minds. Hazel had a good teacher for that shit.
“Yeah. She might have wanted to scare Morgan away from you.” Griffin’s tone is matter-of-fact but I’m buzzing, insides alive with how this feels more and more likely by the second. “From the little I know of her, she likes you. I’d even say, Hazel thinks she’s in love with you.”
My body locks. Muscles frozen and breath still. I’m surprised how quickly Griffin zeroed in on something that I’m only now realizing.
Hazel was threatened by Morgan, saw her as competition.
“Do you think she’d hurt Morgan?”
A chill seizes my lungs at the thought, but I quickly dismiss it. “No. She’s harmless. Hazel’s been subjected to too much violence to resort to it. I mean, she’s volatile and can fly off the handle and throw shit, destroy things, but she’d never hurt anyone.”
“Where is she now?”
“She went back home. No.” I fight to get my thoughts straight, think clearly. “She was going to see her doctor and most likely, Dr. Meier would have admitted her for a short stay.”
“Can you check in on her? Find out if she did break into Morgan’s apartment?”
“Yes, let me make a call.” I hit the button for the elevator. “I gotta go but thanks, bro.”
“Yeah. Let me know if you need anything.”
Once on the floor to our room, I pull up Dr. Meier’s emergency contact information and make the call. Within a matter of minutes, I learn that the doctor hasn’t seen or heard from Hazel since we last talked.
My next call is to Hazel, and it goes to voicemail. I leave a quick message, asking her to call me, that I’m just checking in. I even lay it on and tell her that I miss her.
It’s underhanded, but there’s no point in mentioning her doctor or the break-in, no matter how much I hate lies. I need to hear her voice and gauge her state of mind before anything else.
If she thinks I’m upset with her, she won’t call back and I’m hoping the emotion in my voice does the trick.
Insides racing with the urgent need to lay eyes on Morgan and settle things with Hazel once and for all, I tap the hotel keycard against the lock of our room. Before the door is fully open, I can sense something’s wrong. It’s eerily quiet and Morgan…
I can’t feel her presence. She isn’t here.
Shit, did I piss her off so much that she left?
The room is lit up, bright enough to land a 747, and it looks like a tornado touched down. Some of my clothes are strewn across the bed and floor, and the bed is a mess like someone tore off the comforter and sheets. Something thin and gold peeks out from under the blanket on the floor.
I kneel and pull out a shoe. Morgan’s gold high heel. I whip back the comforter, searching for the other one but find nothing. Then I dash to the bathroom, seeing that most of her things are gone.
A bottle of perfume lies cracked on the marble floor, the floral scent permeating the small space. A bloody hand towel lies on the floor. Shit, is this Morgan’s blood? Is she hurt?
Crazy with worry, I dash back into the bedroom and notice a piece of paper on the picnic table next to a smear of blood, as if someone tried to wipe it away in a hurry.
Dear Zero,
I don’t think we’re going to work out.
I had to leave and don’t want to ever see you again.
If you care for me, please don’t follow me. Leave me alone.
Morgan
The handwriting is more a scribble than anything else, and I read the short note countless times, unable to comprehend the meaning. It looks like Morgan’s handwriting but more rushed and what the note says…
The ringing of my phone snaps me out of my daze, and I answer the call, glad to be wrenched from the mental loop of hell.
Tommie doesn’t wait for a greeting, her tone upbeat and all business. “Hey, I heard the meeting with Van went well. I wanted to talk about the specs for—”
Frantic and impatient, I cut her off. “Morgan’s gone.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
I explain the state of our hotel room, the blood, and the letter, and she follows my account with a barrage of useless questions, or at least that’s what it feels like to me. I’m unable to track her train of thought.
Morgan left me. Why?
Tommie’s terse, no-nonsense tone cuts through my agony. “What happened tonight?”
“What?” I slump onto the bench and rest an elbow on the tabletop.
“Zero, you said you met for dinner and that was the last time you saw her.”
“Yeah.”
“What did you talk about? How did she seem?”
“She was angry. No, not angry, more frustrated. With me.”
“About what?”
“My work. About not opening up, not texting her, wanting to protect her. She wanted me to trust her, give her space… Fuck.” My voice cracks and the realization that she’s gone rips at my insides. “She left me.”
“Hey, let’s not jump to any conclusions.” The sound of something slamming filters through the phone line. “Hang on a sec.” Then the sound of her voice muffles as if she’s covering the phone and she rattles on to someone else, then she’s back. “Listen, I’m on my way over. Is her luggage there?”
I spring to my feet, grateful one of us is thinking clearly and that I have something to do and rush to the closet. “No. Only my bag. Hers is gone.”
“Okay. I’m going to hang up now and get started on a few things. In the meantime, does she have a best friend?”
“Lorna.”
“Okay, call Lorna. If Morgan was upset and left, she might have called her.”
Once more buoyed by action, I nod. “Good idea.”
As soon as Tommie hangs up, I dial Lorna. She answers on the third ring, and the loud bass and chatter in the background indicates she’s at the Lounge. The conversation is brief and chilly. Lorna hasn’t heard from Morgan and has no missed calls or texts.
Once she heard Morgan was gone, Lorna tore into me for letting this happen. It’s clear she isn’t a fan, but I promise to keep her posted and she do the same if Morgan contacts her. While there are no new leads, I’m happy to end the call.
Tommie arrives only seconds after, spends a minute examining the room, and pulls out her laptop. “We’re going to tap into the hotel security cameras.”
“Yes.” I slap my forehead and drop onto the bench beside her. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”
I wasted all this time staring into space when I could have been figuring out where Morgan went.
“Hey, go easy on yourself. You’re too close to this. You care about her.” She squeezes my hand and then orders me to hack into the hotel security system.
I’m better, more focused, when busy, and Tommie knows this, so I’m grateful she’s here. This kind of loss is a blow I’ve never experienced before, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get Morgan back.
While I’m busy, she pulls out another laptop and does the same, hacking into the cameras she spotted just outside the hotel and nearby.
Within minutes I’ve located the footage from our floor and start searching for when Morgan would have come upstairs. Watching the timecode as I fast forward on the screen, I find her fairly quickly and hit play.
We sit silently watching as Morgan enters our room, then Tommie speeds up the recording about ten minutes until Morgan appears again. Shaking, she walks out of the hotel room with a gun to her head.
“Oh no.” Tommie curls a hand into a fist.
I harshly run a hand down my face. “Jesus Christ.”
On the video, Hazel, expression sharp and stone cold, leads Morgan down the hallway with the gun pressing into her skull, and Hazel’s other hand wheels Morgan’s suitcase behind her. Fuck, this is why Hazel never went home. Shit, why didn’t I see this coming?
The recording has no sound, but Hazel’s mouth moves fast and furious like she’s giving orders. Morgan nods, features blank, and when they reach the elevator, she pushes the down button.
“What did she do just there?” Tommie freezes the frame and plays it back as we watch Hazel quickly disappear out of view for only seconds, and when she returns, she’s without the suitcase.
“She must have stashed the bag in the stairwell.” My voice is flat, devoid of emotion, and it feels as if my body is the same. Cold and lifeless.
The two women, one I love and the other I once helped, disappear into the elevator, and the world fuzzes into static. My brain struggles to keep focus as darkness creeps in around the edges.
28
ZERO
The private jet lands on the tarmac in Destin to a light drizzle, and I itch to keep moving, get to Morgan. The night was long and the wait nearly killed me.
From video footage of outside security cameras along the street and businesses, Tommie and I tracked the pair from our hotel to Penn Station, but then lost them.
Fortunately, Hazel eventually returned my text about two hours after that, and with Tommie’s guidance, I briefly mentioned my concern that she wasn’t home and hadn’t talked to Dr. Meier.
I didn’t want to get into any of that but Tommie pointed out, if I didn’t say something and Hazel somehow knew I’d talked to her doctor, I’d lose her trust and she’d cut off all communication.
As expected, she ignored the topic of her doctor and her home and I used the opportunity to tell her things were over with Morgan and that I wanted to make things right with her. She could have called me a liar and seen through the ruse, but Tommie pointed out that I was giving Hazel what she wants—my attention.
Luckily, she fell for it, no questions asked, and agreed to meet me. Surprisingly, she was in Destin—it isn’t clear why she left New York. Although, if abducting Morgan was planned ahead of time, Destin was her home base for the past little while and it would make sense that she has things set up there.
But the burning question is where?
I wanted to see her right away, in the middle of the night, but Hazel insisted on meeting in the morning.
At first light, I took a private jet from LaGuardia to Destin, and while Tommie wanted to come with me, I insisted she stay. We had no idea what Hazel had planned and if something went down in New York, I needed the HC crew ready.
Of course, true to Tommie’s nature, she only agreed to stay once she’d contacted Destin PD for back up. I didn’t need them—I can handle Hazel—but I lost the battle when Griffin and Van got involved. It was either the local authorities or a full team from HC.
Elvis is at the airport when I land, and he mutely grabs one of the suitcases, concern radiating from his tall, lanky frame. The meeting with Hazel is in an hour, but she still has yet to confirm the location.
Once on the road, the tension and silence grow as Elvis fidgets in his seat, eyes glued to the cars ahead and it’s barely a minute more before he can no longer keep quiet.
“I’ve got to tell you something. Something I should have told you sooner.”
I press send on a text to the HC group, letting them know I’ve arrived safely. “What is it?”
“Hazel’s dangerous.”
“Why do you say that?” I carefully watch how his features tense and contort as he wrestles with his agitation and something close to remorse
“That time you had me take her home from the club…” He spares me a quick glance and the brewing fear in his gaze causes my gut to pitch.
“Go on.”
“She…ah, she tried to kidnap me, or shit, I don’t know.” He lifts one hand from the wheel and forcefully runs his fingers through his hair. “Whatever it was, it was fucked-up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know I sound insane.” His fake chuckle rankles my nerves. “She didn’t want me to take her home. Said she had some friends and asked if I’d mind taking her to them. I figured, no problem.”
Elvis licks his lips and tightens his grip on the leather steering wheel. The boy’s nervous and while I want to shout at him to stop the damn truck and spit out whatever it is he has to say, I can sense the pressure he’s battling. How difficult this is for him.
But what’s driving it is less clear. Is he worried about how I’ll react or is his turmoil from having to relive this tale?
“When we got there, two guys approached the car. Scary looking dudes and I can’t explain it, but I just knew they were there for me.”
His gaze briefly connects with mine, and terror rolls off him, palpable and potent like the stench of fear a predator thrives on.
“She had her door open, seat belt unbuckled, and I was…I was still behind the wheel and I…I just fucking tore out of there. I’m sorry. Hazel was thrown from the car, and I felt bad. I never want to hurt a girl. I almost stopped the car to make sure she was all right, but…I couldn’t. I didn’t.”
“Elvis, pull over.” My command, harsh and unforgiving, does the trick, and he snaps out of the nightmare.
Without hesitation, he guides the car to the shoulder, well away from the interstate and slides the vehicle into park. He stares ahead, trance-like, and I tap his arm softly, wordlessly steering him to look at me.
Careful to hold no judgement or blame, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
I remember the bruise on Hazel’s cheek after the night at the club. When I’d asked her about it, she’d quickly dismissed it as clumsiness. Her failed attempt at abducting Elvis was the cause and she easily lied to me. I never suspected a thing.
“She’s your friend. You hardly know me, and I didn’t want to lose this job. I figured if I told you and she said I was lying, it’d be her word against mine… If you had to choose…”
I nod, understanding but livid, not at Elvis but at myself, for not seeing this sooner and only now realizing just how fooled or blind I was to Hazel.
“Okay. Okay. Anything else? Did you recognize the guys?”
“Never seen them before, and I can’t say for sure but it felt like the three of them had done this before.”
“How so?”
“They didn’t need to talk. She didn’t text or call anybody while with me, but when we pulled up and the guys came out, it was like everyone but me knew what the fuck was going on.”
