Finding Monica, page 23
When Pid pulled out his phone, he realized that his hands were shaking. He hit Mustang’s name and waited for his friend to pick up.
“Hey, what’s up?” Mustang asked.
“Is Monica with Elodie?” Pid asked, knowing he was panicking, but not able to stop himself.
“No. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find her. She’s gone. And my glass door is shattered. Someone took her.” The last three words were almost whispered, as if by saying them out loud, it would make them true. But Pid knew in his gut that’s what had happened.
“I’m on my way,” Mustang said, and Pid had never been as grateful for his team leader and friend as he was right that second. “What do you see? Was she hurt? Do you see any evidence of blood?”
Pid almost stopped breathing. Shit—he hadn’t even thought about that. His gaze flew over her bedroom, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not when he saw no evidence that Monica had been injured in whatever altercation had happened there. “None in her room. Hang on.”
He struggled to focus. He’d been in the worst situations that anyone could imagine. He had to think on his feet all the time while doing his job. Many times, plans A and B turned into plans D, E, or F. And he’d always been able to pivot without any issues. But right now, Pid felt as if he were walking through a thick fog, trying to see more than five feet in front of him but not having any luck.
He stood at the edge of his living area and eyed the room. He looked for anything out of place. It was frustrating as hell when he didn’t spot anything other than his broken door.
“No blood,” Pid told Mustang. “The knives are all still in the block and nothing’s knocked over. It’s as if someone broke the door, walked in calmly, somehow subdued Monica, and walked out the way he came, cool as a cucumber and without disturbing anything else.”
“Shit,” Mustang muttered.
“What?” Pid asked, torn between wanting to know what his friend was thinking and absolutely not wanting to know.
“Could this be Bull?”
The four words made the hair on the back of Pid’s neck stand up. “Fuck.”
“I’m calling Huttner,” Mustang said.
Pid nodded, not even caring that Mustang couldn’t see him.
“Stay calm,” Mustang ordered. “I’m already on my way. We’re gonna find her.”
Pid didn’t respond.
“Pid?”
“Yeah?” he replied, already on the move toward his front door.
“Did you hear me? We’re gonna find her.”
“I heard you.”
“Call Midas and Slate. After I talk to the commander, I’ll call the others. Okay?”
“Okay,” Pid said, his mind racing about where Bull could have taken her.
“Later.”
Pid clicked off the phone as he walked out his front door, not even bothering to lock it behind him. If someone wanted to go into his house and take shit, let them. The most important thing in his life had already been stolen.
He strode toward his minivan, hating that it wasn’t a faster, sleeker sports car that would get him to where he needed to be faster.
As he sat, he clicked on a name in his contact list. It wasn’t Midas. Or Slate.
“Baker,” the man’s deep voice said through the phone connection.
“Bull’s got Monica,” Pid said in lieu of a greeting.
“What?” Baker asked.
Pid supposed he couldn’t blame the man for being confused. It wasn’t as if they talked a lot. And this was the first time Pid had ever called him, even though he’d had his number since he’d assisted with Elodie’s situation.
“I came home and the back door’s shattered, just like it was in Algeria. Monica’s nowhere to be found. Bull’s got her. I know it.”
“Fuck,” Baker said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m about to head north, toward you,” Pid said. There was no way he could just hang around his house waiting for Mustang to get there. He needed to be doing something. And since Baker was the only person who knew Bull, really knew him, that was who he needed.
“No,” Baker barked.
Pid tensed. If Baker refused to help, he was going to lose his shit.
“I’ll come to you,” Baker continued. “If I—” His words cut off abruptly. “Hang on, my other line is ringing.”
Pid wanted to yell. Wanted to tell the former SEAL that if he took another call while Monica’s life was in danger, he was an asshole, but he didn’t get the chance before the line went silent. He sat in his vehicle and stewed. His adrenaline was so high, his entire body was shaking. He’d never felt like this before in his life. Ever.
He heard a click and then Baker was back.
“That was him. You’re right. He’s got your woman.”
Pid’s hold on his phone tightened so hard, he was afraid he was going to shatter the thing. “Where is he?” he asked. “And what does he want with Mo?”
“He doesn’t want her,” Baker bit out. “He wants me. She’s bait.”
Pid didn’t know whether to be horrified or relieved.
“I’m on my way to you.”
“It’s gonna take too long to get here from the North Shore,” Pid said.
“No, it won’t. Trust me.”
It was ironic that Baker used those words. And for the first time, Pid understood exactly how annoying they were. You couldn’t just tell someone to trust you and have them immediately do so. He’d been saying the same thing to Monica ever since he met her, and now he had an idea how she must’ve felt. Pid was just as incapable of trusting her life to someone else, even a fellow SEAL like Baker, as Monica was of instantly trusting him for the same reason. It was a sobering thought. He prayed he’d have a chance to tell her that he understood how she’d felt every time he said those words.
At the moment, she was probably scared to death, and there was no telling what a psychopath like Shane Beyer might be doing to her right this second.
“He wants me,” Baker repeated, bringing Pid back to the present with a jerk. “He’s hated me since I wrote him up and he got kicked out of the Navy after the subsequent eval. This is a game to him.”
“This isn’t a game,” Pid growled.
“No, it fucking is not,” Baker agreed. “I’ll be there in an hour. Be ready to go.”
“Go where?”
“To get your woman back.”
Monica came to a couple of times, but each time she did, Shane injected her again and she fell back into unconsciousness.
When she woke up a third time, she slowly realized they were on a boat. If she’d been given the chance, she’d have told Shane that she suffered from seasickness. Not that he’d have cared. It was probably a good thing she’d been drugged, otherwise the boat would have been puke central from the moment she got on.
Shane didn’t drug her again when he realized she was awake. He simply smiled and asked how she was feeling. As if he was a friendly neighbor, looking out for her well-being.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious or where they were, but when she asked, Shane didn’t reply. All Monica knew was that it was dark, she was scared, and she had a very bad feeling about how this was going to go for her…especially when Shane didn’t pull into a marina. He stopped the boat, hopped out, and held out his hand. “Time to go.”
Monica didn’t move from where she was lying in the bottom of the boat. She thought for a second about grabbing hold of the steering wheel, or helm, or whatever it was called on a boat, but Shane laughed.
“Don’t even think about it. Now come on, before I lose my temper. I have a very important meeting to get to.”
With no other ideas, Monica stood—and almost fell flat on her face. She reached out with a hand and caught herself on the side of the wheelhouse. The boat was small, but by the looks of the large engine on the back, it was powerful.
She tried to see something on the shore, but everything was pitch-black. There weren’t any lights. No sign that anyone was nearby who might be able to help her.
“Now, bitch!”
The change in his voice was startling. As if he was two different people. Without a choice, Monica walked toward him. As soon as she was within reach, he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her toward him.
She would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for his hold. The second she stepped onto the shore, she yelped in pain. Whatever she’d stepped on hurt. Bad.
Shane laughed again. “I forgot you don’t have shoes on. You have two choices.”
Monica was sick of him saying that. She never liked any of the choices he gave her.
“You can walk, or I can carry you.”
“I’ll walk,” she said immediately, not wanting this guy’s hands on her. Besides, if she walked, she might have a chance to get away at some point.
He smirked. “Right. Then let’s go.” He released her arm and turned his back, walking inland.
Monica took another step, and winced. Then another, crying out as a particularly sharp rock pierced the tender skin of her instep. There was no way she could walk on whatever rocks were under her without shoes. And there was zero chance she’d be able to make a run for it.
Shane turned back. “Change your mind?” he sneered.
“Where are we? Why can’t you just leave me on the boat and go to your meeting without me?” she asked.
He stalked back toward her, but Monica refused to cower. “We’re on Hawaii. The island, not the state, in case you were confused. The ground beneath your feet is lava. It’s sharp as fuck when it hardens and cools. Kilauea started erupting again recently. Gave me the best idea. But, in order to put my plans in motion, I needed bait. And you, my dear, are that bait. No offense.”
Monica stared at the man in confusion.
“I was going to grab one of the other women, but you and I have unfinished business. You got away from me once. I couldn’t let it happen again. That would make me look bad.” He laughed again, a sound that grated on Monica’s nerves…and let her know that something definitely wasn’t right in the man’s head.
“Now, we don’t have a lot of time to get to our rendezvous point. I’ve already called my friend, and I know he’ll do whatever it takes to get here as fast as he can.”
Then Shane moved, coming at her so fast, Monica didn’t have a chance to retreat. Not that she’d be able to with the incredibly sharp lava under her feet.
He grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked her toward him. He moved his hold to her biceps and squeezed so hard, Monica knew she would have a nasty bruise. That was the least of her worries.
“Don’t even think about trying to get away. There’s nowhere to go, and the lava is flowing even faster and more widespread than it was a few years ago. There’s no one around here, all the houses were overtaken by the lava from Kilauea. We’re completely alone. The last thing you’d want is to find yourself in the dark, surrounded by lava, right?” Then he laughed again. “Now get on my back,” Shane ordered.
Monica wanted to say no. Wanted to protest, to fight him, something. But he had the upper hand and they both knew it.
Feeling more frightened than she could ever remember being, even around her father, Monica awkwardly hopped onto Shane’s back. It was so dark, there weren’t any lights no matter which direction she looked. It almost felt as if they were on a different planet. A deserted one.
After clicking on a light he’d strapped around his head, he put his hands on her ass, which made her skin crawl, and headed off into the darkness.
Monica closed her eyes and prayed whoever he was going to meet in the middle of this literal hell might help her. But if he, or she, was someone Shane worked with, someone just as amoral and evil as he was, she was in deep shit.
Her thoughts turned to Stuart as they trudged farther and farther inland. She wondered what he’d thought when he came home and she wasn’t there and his door was shattered. Would he be able to figure out who took her? Maybe…but the more depressing thought was that it was unlikely he’d be able to find her. Why would he ever think to look on a different Hawaiian island, in the middle of a lava flow?
It was clear she was on her own. She’d have to figure out a way to escape.
She had to survive—because she’d been given an amazing gift. And she hadn’t realized it until this moment.
Stuart was one of the good guys. One of the best. He was nothing at all like her father. Nothing like her dad’s military friends. Nothing like the evil man currently using her, a stranger, to get revenge on someone else.
She’d seen a few psychologists over the years, and they’d all told her exactly what Stuart had—she was letting her experiences as a child rule her life as an adult. But she’d refused to truly believe them. They hadn’t suffered what she had. They could never understand.
But as she was carried over a frickin’ lava field, everything they’d ever tried to impart finally sank in.
Life was short. Damn short. She could spend it closed off and bitter over the rough hand she’d been dealt…or she could make a conscious decision to be happy. To not let her father rule her life any more than he already had. To this day, she was giving him the power he’d always wanted.
Stuart had told her she could trust him time and time again, and she’d blown off his words. But now that she was in the hands of a madman, a man exactly like her father, she realized the one man she’d refused to trust—despite his patience, kindness, and generosity—was her best chance of being saved.
She had a lot of regrets about her life, but not trusting Stuart was right there at the top.
No. Stuart wasn’t anything like her father. And everyone she’d met because of him was just as honorable. Just as kind. Being in the military didn’t make someone a monster. She’d painted all soldiers and sailors with the same tainted brush. It sucked that it had taken something like this happening to make her realize how much she loved Stuart.
And that she truly did trust him.
Monica had no idea how this would end, but she hoped she’d have a chance to see Stuart one more time. To tell him how much she cared about him. That she knew he was a good man, and she trusted him with everything in her.
Closing her eyes, she held onto her kidnapper and prayed whatever he had planned, for her and for his mysterious friend, didn’t end in both their deaths.
Shane “Bull” Beyer smiled as he walked over the barren landscape. He’d waited years for this moment. He replayed his short phone call with his former team leader in his head. Meat had been pissed; it was easy to hear it in his voice. Said that if Bull hurt Monica, there’d be hell to pay.
Bull had laughed. Meat wasn’t in charge anymore. He no longer had the power to order him around; nothing he said could change what Bull was going to do. There was little doubt the asshole would do exactly as he’d been ordered and come to the coordinates Bull had given him. Meat was a pussy and a pushover. Always had been.
Even when they were on missions back in the day, Meat refused to hurt women or children. Bull had argued with him more than once, swearing the dumb bitches were just as deadly as the men. Meat hadn’t listened.
But he was listening now.
Thanks to Monica, Meat would join them soon for a little chat. Of course, Bull didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear anything Meat had to say. No. He just wanted to kill his former team leader, then get rid of the bitch. The lava would cover his tracks and vaporize the bodies.
And Bull would disappear once more, free to live off the money he’d amassed throughout the last decade.
Smiling wider, almost giddy knowing revenge was finally within reach, Bull walked faster. The bitch was heavier than she looked for someone so short, but he was getting close to the rendezvous point. He’d picked an area that had been decimated a few years ago by the lava flow. Completely deserted, with zero chance anyone would interrupt.
Not only that…the lava was headed for the same area it had overtaken before.
Bull laughed out loud this time and felt the woman on his back stiffen. Good. He hoped she was scared to death. She was a means to an end, collateral damage, and he felt no remorse whatsoever for what was about to happen. Her death was Meat’s fault. Everything was his fault. If he’d been a better man, a smarter man all those years ago, and had seen Bull for what he was—an asset to the Navy and a damn good SEAL—none of this would’ve happened.
Anticipation flowed through Bull’s veins. He couldn’t wait to see Baker “Meat” Rawlins again. Then watch as he died a slow, painful death.
Chapter Eighteen
Pid paced his yard while his team did their best to try to figure out where Bull would take Monica. Commander Huttner was pulling all the strings he could to track the man down. He’d apparently arrived in Hawaii using another one of his aliases. No one had known he was here. Which was fucking embarrassing. The United States Navy was supposed to be the best of the best, and yet they couldn’t track down one man? It was bad enough it took so long to figure out who was causing so many problems for so many years. But the fact that it had turned out to be one their own? A man they’d spent a large amount of money and time training? It was like a punch to the gut.
But Pid didn’t care about any of that, all he cared about was finding Monica. It had been fifty-three and a half minutes exactly since he’d spoken to Baker, and he hadn’t heard another word from the man. There was no way he’d be able to get to his house in an hour unless—
His thoughts were broken off when a very familiar sound reached his ears. Even though it was dark, he looked up at the sky as the light from a helicopter got closer and closer. It wasn’t a military chopper, but rather one that took tourists up for aerial tours of the island.
