Lost Hart, page 14
Heath merely nodded. He understood what Chase was feeling and knew better than to push any further. “I called Brock and Rex. They’ll be here before noon.”
Chase’s head bobbed, and he grabbed his toiletry bag. “Gonna use your bathroom.”
He didn’t wait for Heath to squawk and simply walked over to Heath’s room and headed into the bathroom. He needed to shower. To get his head back in the game.
He kind of hoped Stacey would stay in her room so he could do some more digging on the dark web. He didn’t really want to do that with her just pacing the suite, glancing over his shoulder.
If she knew just what could be happening to her son, she might not ever recover.
That was something Chase was struggling to deal with himself. He didn’t need both of them with those thoughts. She needed to stay positive and hopeful, leave the grimness and despair to him.
“You want me to come wash your back for you, big brother?” Heath called after him just before he closed the bathroom door. He could hear his brother snickering even as he turned on the hot water.
A goof he might be, but when push came to shove and they were at war, there wasn’t anyone he’d rather have in his corner or on his six than Heath.
The knock on the hotel room door made Stacey jump where she sat on the couch. She’d been on edge all morning.
Goosebumps raced along her arms beneath her hoodie. She grabbed the folded blanket from where Chase had cleaned up the pullout bed, and she draped it over her legs.
Heath had ordered room service, but Stacey couldn’t stomach the thought of food. Not with her little boy out there somewhere probably cold, starving and afraid.
Chase placed a mug of coffee in her hands, but she’d only held on to it, absorbing the heat. It’d gone cold before she took a sip. She was too busy staring out the window, watching the raindrops dribble down the glass.
Her baby was out there somewhere, and she had no idea how to find him.
Heath was up from his spot at the dining table and opening the door. Several male voices and a female voice grew louder as they all entered the room.
She recognized Aaron and Colton from last night, but the woman and the other man, she had no clue who they were. The woman regarding her with sympathy was short—like possibly not even five feet tall. She had a blonde pixie cut and hawk-like amber eyes. She also had an edge to her that even the astronauts on the space station could probably see.
Aaron was the first to speak. “We brought reinforcements.”
“I’m Richelle,” the blonde said, walking over to where Stacey remained on the couch. She sat down beside her.
The men had already wandered over to where Chase had taken root at the dining room table on his laptop.
What was he doing on his laptop?
They’d mentioned the dark web.
What was he looking for?
Did he know more about Connor’s whereabouts than he was letting on?
“A couple of years back, my daughter, Mallory, was kidnapped,” Richelle said, drawing Stacey’s attention away from Chase. “It was right under our noses, too. She was thirteen, and we were all at a music festival at a community park for Independence Day.” Richelle’s hands knit together in her lap, and she stared straight ahead as she spoke.
Richelle seemed to keep her emotions and feelings close to her chest. It was probably easier to keep her gaze focused on the centerpiece of fake flowers on the coffee table than on Stacey’s tired, terrified eyes and be forced to show her vulnerabilities to a stranger.
Richelle cleared her throat and continued. “I had rebuffed a man who turned out to be a very dangerous person. He was also the ex of a client I was trying to help with her divorce. I had no idea he was the same man who’d attacked me in the elevator. He found out I was his wife’s attorney, and he went after my daughter in retaliation. I mean, there’s more to the story, but that’s for another day.” She waved her hand dismissively. “They got her back, though. Heath, Rex, Aaron, Colton—they got Mallory back. She’s safe. She’s happy. She’s … alive.” She reached for Stacey’s hand and took it in hers, though Stacey could tell the act of touching a stranger wasn’t in Richelle’s comfort zone. “She needed some therapy afterward and still doesn’t like to go anywhere alone, even during the day, but she’s okay. And your son will be, too. I know what you’re feeling right now. The helplessness, the fury, the terror. I know it all.”
“He’s only four,” Stacey said, her throat painfully tight and the words a beast to get out. “He’s so little. So sweet. He makes friends with everyone.”
God, would things have gone differently if she’d taught her son to be more afraid of strangers? Should she instill the fear of God in her kids to be wary of anyone that speaks to them? Even if she was right there.
Stranger danger was real. And Connor knew about it. But it all seemed so harmless at the time.
It’d been a woman and not a man, which disarmed Stacey.
Stacey had been right there. She’d been with Connor the entire time, which made her think nobody would dare take her child while she was right there, too. So her defenses were down.
He was in the vehicle and it was broad daylight with other people around. Of course she didn’t think anyone would be ballsy enough to try and take her child.
How naïve and ignorant could she be?
She’d gone over that afternoon a trillion times in her head, and even though she’d been ambushed and drugged, she still couldn’t stop haranguing herself. Somehow Connor being taken was her fault. He was with her. She was his mother, and she was supposed to protect him, and she’d failed.
Would he ever trust her again?
Would he run to her with his booboos? Would her kiss on a scraped knee continue to numb the pain like it had yesterday? Or would he look at her differently? Not see her as the protector, the fixer, the safety net of love, warmth and security that she’d worked her whole damn life as a mother to build for her children.
After all, she was mother and father to them, so she’d been extra vigilant in making sure her children knew she would go to the ends of the earth to take care of them. She would take a bullet, run into a burning building and jump in front of a bus for her kids.
Richelle dropped her voice down low. “Whatever you need, we’re here.”
Need?
She needed her son.
She needed her baby back.
She needed Connor in her arms, with his dirty fingernails, rocks in his pockets and unruly mop-top.
She needed the missing piece of her heart.
A man clearing his throat had all the women lifting their heads.
“So we’ve made contact again with Impervious,” Chase said. “Guy isn’t stupid though. He’s going to be wondering if I’m five-oh.”
“Which is where I come in,” the man Stacey didn’t recognize said. He stepped forward and offered Stacey his hand. “I’m Liam, Richelle’s husband.” Chocolate-brown eyes sparkled at her as he squeezed her hand. His smile was heartfelt and genuine, but she could also sense his sympathy for her, as well.
Until her horrible choice in husbands, Stacey liked to think of herself as a good judge of character, and she could tell Liam had a lot of character and a big heart.
Chase nodded and grunted. “We’re going to deck Liam out in—”
“Perv attire,” Liam said with a goofy smile. “Have to go shopping though. Nothing in my closet is pervy.”
“There are no stereotypical pervs,” Colton said. “People you least expect to be molesters can be. CEOs, cops, doctors, mailmen.”
Stacey’s stomach twisted into a tight knot, and all the heat left her face.
“Shit,” Colton said, taking in Stacey’s reaction. “What I mean is … we’re using Liam as a stand-in perv because he’s—”
“Less obvious and threatening,” Richelle finished. “He doesn’t scream muscles, military and mayhem.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we can find something.”
Liam’s expression of mock irritation only lasted for a second before he shrugged. “If you think so, dear.”
“Aaron and Colton are going to go do a bit of recon,” Heath said.
Chase nodded again. “That’s right. I was able to find a back door that provided me with Impervious’s IP address. Not that that means he is where the IP address says he is. He’s undoubtedly using an anonymous VPN and has it rerouted a hundred times. But it’s a start. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I hacked into his emails.”
Stacey whipped her gaze to Chase. He didn’t sleep?
Had he climbed out of bed while she slept and gone back onto his computer? He must have.
He was doing everything he could to help get her son back.
Chase shook his head slightly at her and then continued. “There was mention of The Glossy Gem Motel, which is on the edge of the industrial park, right by the water.”
“Colton and I will go scope the hotel out, pretend we need a room or something,” Aaron said, tugging on his short, rusty scruff. “Can’t do a ton in the daylight.”
Liam glanced out the window, which was covered in raindrops. “Good thing it’s February and the weather is disgusting. Won’t be daylight for long. Won’t be a lot of lookie-loos either.”
“So you guys don’t need us for anything specific,” Richelle asked.
Aaron shook his head. “No. Not until tonight.”
“That’s right,” Chase said. “With Liam posing as Chimbo the pedophile, we’ll send two teams, one with Liam to the Satin Lounge and another to the motel. They’re like four blocks from each other, so we’ll park the vehicles in between the two and leave Stacey and Richelle in the truck. You’ll stay in the vehicle and be ready to drive when we bring Connor to you. He may need medical attention; we don’t know.”
Dread swirled like a whirlpool in her stomach.
“Should we bring Mark or Emmett?” Liam asked. “Or Riley or Will? They’re all doctors.”
Aaron shook his head again. “No. Colton was an army medic. He’ll be enough until we assess the kid and decide if he needs to be taken to a hospital. But he’ll want to see his mother, which is why we’ll bring you both.”
Shuddering at the idea of her baby needing medical attention because of what these monsters may or may not have done to him, Stacey released herself from Richelle, wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock back and forth.
“Hey, hey,” Richelle said, wrapping her arms around Stacey’s shoulders. “We’re going to get him back. It’s going to be okay.” An idea seemed to spark inside her, and she sat up straight, untangled herself from Stacey and stood up. She approached Chase. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Stacey wasn’t paying attention to Chase and Richelle, but she knew they ducked into the corner kitchenette and were murmuring.
Stacey just continued to rock back and forth, watching the rain fall and a few seagulls get caught on a gust of wind.
Richelle returned and sat back down beside her. “I’d like you to come with me for a little bit. I think you could use the distraction and something to channel all these fears and the anger.” Her voice was low but not low enough, and Heath perked up from where he stood talking to Colton and Aaron.
“Are you going to The Rage Room?”
Richelle glanced at him. “Moms only.”
Stacey didn’t want to go anywhere right now. She just wanted her little boy back. She didn’t care about anything else. Her feelings, her heart, they didn’t matter. All that mattered was Connor and getting him back in one piece.
“I can’t,” Stacey said with a headshake. “I can’t go anywhere.”
Richelle squeezed her hand. “It will help.”
Nothing would help.
Connor was out there somewhere in the city, scared, hungry and cold. Every minute they spent doing something else, besides looking for him, was a minute her son could be getting hurt or abused. Was another minute for the traffickers to move him farther away, off their radar and possibly gone for good.
Chase stepped around the chair and Heath and held out his hand for her, not saying a word.
She took his hand, and he pulled her to standing, allowing him to lead her to her bedroom.
“I can’t go,” she said. “Not when my son is out there somewhere. I should be knocking on doors, putting up posters or something.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead, his hard body a welcome comfort and one she sorely needed. A chill had sunk into her bones from the moment she woke up, and she hadn’t been able to get rid of it. Chase’s warmth was helping.
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
“There’s nothing you can do but wait and let us do our jobs. It will help. Richelle has been through something similar with her daughter, so lean on her. She asked to come when she heard what happened,” he said.
She gripped the back of his shirt and held on. “I can’t.”
“You need to do something, Stacey. I have more to do here, and the guys are going to go and do more recon. We need to know more. How much security are we dealing with? How smart are these guys? How heavily armed are they? How many other kids there might be.”
She gasped and pulled away to look at him.
His pressed-together lips and the darkness behind his eyes said that the chances of Connor being alone were slim. After all, Impervious had said dolls. As in plural.
She hadn’t even thought of the possibility of there being other kids.
Dear God. There were other parents out there going through what she was going through. Feeling what she was feeling.
Helpless. Hopeless. Useless.
Like their heart had been ripped from their chest. Their lungs sawed out with a rusty blade, making a deep breath damn near impossible.
“Go with Richelle and Heath,” he encouraged, gazing down at her. “I’ll have more news and a better idea of the next step by then.”
With dread swirling inside her and very little hope left to cling to, she tightened her grasp on his shirt and fought back the rush of tears that made her throat ache and the back of her eyes burn. “Promise me you’ll bring him back—and the other children, too. Promise me, Chase. I couldn’t go on knowing my son was out there and what might be happening to him. I couldn’t live.”
“I promise,” he said, brushing her hair off her face. “I will get you back your son.”
Chapter 16
“So you put the gear on, pick your weapon and smash the shit out of stuff,” Richelle said, handing Stacey a pair of safety goggles. “Best way to get the rage, the hurt, the pent-up energy and aggression out without maiming anyone.
“Plus, Luna makes art and mosaics and stuff out of the broken dishes, so you’re helping contribute to her medium,” Richelle added. She held out the protective gloves.
Stacey glanced at Heath. “You’ve been here before?”
“When I was working for Richelle’s client. Came here with Richelle’s daughter.” He turned to Richelle. “How is Mallory?”
“Still stubborn as hell, but she’s doing well, thanks. Asks about you.”
Stacey wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the surfer-haired beefcake blush before, but he did, adding in a cheesy grin just for good measure. “She’s a good kid.”
“With a major crush on a man nearly twice her age,” Richelle said with an eye roll.
“Perhaps in another lifetime,” Heath said, raking his fingers through his tresses. His whole demeanor had shifted since Richelle had told him he wasn’t invited to The Rage Room. He’d been quieter. More serious. She knew Heath loved Connor, and Connor loved Heath, so it had to be taking its toll on the blond teddy bear just like it was on the rest of them. His lips lifted up briefly on one side. “Tell her that any man lucky enough to date her will have to deal with me if he breaks her heart.”
Richelle’s smile was knowing and almost coy. “You and an army of her father’s friends.”
A woman with a shock of pink hair, tattoos on her arms and piercings came out of the room behind the Plexiglas. “All set.”
“Thanks, Luna,” Richelle said with a smile. She turned to Stacey. “What’s your weapon of choice? I highly recommend the crowbar. Packs one hell of a wallop.”
“I’m partial to the metal baseball bat myself,” Luna chimed in. “Can’t go wrong with the nine iron either.”
Stacey let her eyes roam the wall of weapons. They all looked like they would effectively torture a microwave into giving up all its plans for world domination. But her gaze kept falling on the long, black, L-shaped tire iron.
“Sometimes one just speaks to you,” Luna said gently.
The tire iron was speaking to Stacey. Images of her taking the iron to the face of the woman from the dollar store flashed into her mind. Of shattering the kneecaps, then skull of the man who was driving the getaway car. She picked the weapon off the wall, pulled the goggles down over her eyes, the gloves onto her hands and stepped into the room.
Before she closed the door behind her, Luna said, “Nothing is off limits. Just get it all out. This is meant to be cathartic.”
“How long do we have?” Richelle asked Luna quietly.
“Long as you need,” Luna said. “I put a closed for private event sign on the door, so nobody will bother you. Take all the time you need.” She rested a cool, delicate hand on Stacey’s shoulder before heading back down the hallway.
Richelle appeared beside Stacey. “I know you didn’t want to come. I understand. I get it. But you’re not doing any of them any good being there right now. Particularly Chase, who needs to focus on getting more information.”
Stacey swallowed past the harsh lump at the back of her throat and nodded, her fingers gripping the tire iron until her knuckles ached.
Heath held the heavy acrylic glass door open for her, and she stepped into the room filled with small appliances, dishes, lamps, vases and various office electronics.
A squat mustard yellow vase in the corner, not more than a few inches high, drew her eye, and she slowly wandered over to it.
