Page 34

33

WORM

W orm and his teammates are making good time on their way back to base. They’d stopped for gas and to stretch their legs about an hour ago. Virus is now driving with Worm riding shotgun. They’re drawing closer to Jacksonville when Hack’s phone begins to ring. Worm turns down the radio so the man can hear whoever is on the phone.

“Smith,” Hack answers, pausing to listen. A second later, “What?” Hack’s voice is raised and laced with concern. “When did she receive it?”

Worm wonders what is going on, but he doesn’t want to pry. If Hack needs anything he will let the team know. “Have her forward it to me, I’ll start working on it. Yeah, we are still on the road, but we are nearly home. I can run off cell service until I can get home. Tell Emma to calm down. I’m sure everything is fine.” Hack ends the call and reaches for his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asks. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Wallace,” Hack replies while typing away on his computer.

“Wallace?” Virus questions. “I thought he’d be a little preoccupied.” They all chuckle. The man is on his honeymoon, after all.

“Emma is freaking out. She got a weird text from Allison, and now she isn’t answering her phone,” Hack informs us. “I’m sure everything is okay, but I’m going to look into it for them and help relieve her worries.”

“What kind of text?” Worm demands, more forcefully than he intended, concern creeping in. He wrestles his phone out of his back pocket. If Allison is in some kind of trouble, she’s a long fucking way away. It would take hours to get to her if she needs them. He shoots her a text.

Hey, sugar, is your day going okay?

He doesn’t want to alarm her if nothing is wrong, but he needs to hear from her to know she’s alright.

“She sent a screenshot of her Uber driver information,” Hack says, his phone pinging again. He takes a thoughtful look at his phone.

“Did she say why she was sending it?” Worm asks, trying, unsuccessfully, not to let the panic that is beginning in his belly to rise and overwhelm him. “Maybe she does that whenever she uses one?” Hack is deep into whatever he’s doing on his phone and not answering.

“If that’s the case, why would Emma be worried about her sending it?” Lisa wonders. “There is obviously something different about this or Emma wouldn’t be worrying about it while on her honeymoon.”

This is true. Emma has been planning the perfect wedding for over a year. She isn’t the type to get worked up over nothing. The nagging feeling that something is wrong is getting worse. The hair on the back of his neck is rising. Allison is in trouble.

He pulls up Allison’s contact information and calls her since she hasn’t answered his text. While the phone is ringing, he checks his messaging app. The text he’d sent her is showing delivered but not read. The phone rings for the fourth time when it connects. Hope swells for one brief second before he gets the recorded message letting him know he’s reached her voice mail.

“Hey, sugar, it’s me. Just checking on you. I thought you were going to call when you got home. Call me.” He ends the call and turns around to peer at Hack over his shoulder.

“Hack, how long is this going to take? You know, for you to track her phone and get Emma the answers she needs?” Hack glances up from his laptop.

“I have no idea, but I’ll update everyone as soon as I know something.”

Worm sighs. He understands it’s the best his friend can give him. Hack is one of the best computer experts around. If he can’t find the information, he knows who to contact to find it out, but that isn’t relieving Worm’s concerns in the least.

Worm needs to be patient, which is something he’s never had an issue with before, but now, he can’t find his calm. Even when his family had been falling apart or while out on a dangerous mission, he has never been worried or torn up inside.

Allison is different. She is important, not only to Emma, but to him, too. Please let this all be a misunderstanding . Worm knows in his gut it isn’t. Something is terribly wrong.

Allison

Rough hands grab her, throwing her around like she is a sack of potatoes. Allison is suddenly upside down over someone’s shoulder. She groans, her stomach rolling and her head throbbing. Where the hell is she? Who is carrying her?

Although disoriented and confused, she can tell they are going down some stairs. Minutes later, she is dropped unceremoniously onto a lumpy surface. She moans again, feeling like she is going to be sick.

Rolling her head to the side, she forces her eyes to open. A single bare bulb is hanging from the ceiling. The light is very bright. It hurts her eyes badly. The pain and dizziness are intense. Her nausea increases, and she leans over the side of the bed.

Over and over, she heaves, losing the contents of her stomach. When the nausea subsides, she rolls onto her back, taking a few moments to recover. Feeling slightly better, she looks around at her surroundings.

The small room appears to be old and run down. The walls are made of cement blocks. The paint is peeling in several places. It smells dank and musty. Is this a basement ? She pushes against the old, thin mattress forcing herself to sit up.

Dizziness and nausea hit her again. Closing her eyes, she presses a hand to her head. She winces when she touches the large knot on her head. What the hell happened?

She leans against the headboard, trying to collect her thoughts. The last thing she remembers is being with Russell in her room at the hotel where Emma had gotten married. Slowly her memory returns.

She’d flown back to San Diego to meet with an informant, but the Uber driver had been taking her somewhere else. Realization hits. She’s been abducted, but where is she?

She looks around the room again. The spare furniture is old and worn. Everything is made from cheap materials. The floor is rough cement. She doesn’t feel too bad about throwing up all over it, now.

Oddly, there are no windows in the room. She attempts to get off the bed when the door opens. A well-dressed man enters the room, wearing a form fitting mask over his face. His expensive attire is out of place in this rundown dump.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he comments, closing the door. His voice sounds vaguely familiar, but in her disoriented state, she can’t remember where she’s heard it before.

His gaze assesses her from head to toe and back again. His features and hair are hidden from view. All she can see are his cold, calculating eyes peering at her through the mask.

“Who are you?” Allison asks, her voice raspy. Her mouth and throat are dry. She can’t remember when she ate or drank last. She’d been traveling all day, then she’d been abducted. How long have I been out?

“It is in your best interest to not know who I am.” The man tilts his head to the side briefly, then strolls over to take a seat on the edge of the bed. A sound of disgust escapes him when he notices her vomit on the floor. He moves to the single chair in the room, near the door.

“I hit my head pretty hard. Perhaps you should take me to a hospital,” Allison states, anger in her voice.

“Oh, we can’t have that, Ms. Simpson,” the man replies. “I’ll have my personal physician come by and check you in a bit, but first, we must talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Now let me go,” Allison demands. The man clucks his tongue.

“No, I don’t think so. You see, prying women who stick their nose in where it doesn’t belong don’t deserve to be free.” Allison swallows hard. What the hell does this man plan to do with me?

“Why are you holding me here?”

“You’ve been looking into things you shouldn’t be,” he answers. “I can’t have you revealing our operation.”

“Your operation?” Her tone is full of derision. “You mean your human trafficking ring? Where you sell kids into sexual slavery? That operation?” The man shrugs his shoulders, nonchalantly as if they are discussing the color of the sky.

“Ms. Simpson, it is in your best interest to let this go.”

“I’ll never stop!” Allison shouts. “Those children don’t deserve what you’re doing to them. I will uncover who you are and anyone else who is behind this atrocity and bring you all to justice.” Allison is shaking in her anger at this man and the evil he is doing.

In two long strides, he reaches her, grabbing her upper arms roughly. “There are serious consequences for those who interfere with our business,” he growls, shaking her violently.

“Someone will come looking for me,” Allison threatens even though she isn’t sure that is true. She doesn’t even know for sure if Emma got her text.

“No one is going to be looking for you, Ms. Simpson,” the masked man drawls, pulling her phone from his pocket. “I’ve made sure to respond to the frantic texts from your cousin and boyfriend. I even had a female friend of mine answer when 911 called back after you’d been disconnected. She explained how it had all been your friends playing a prank on you. How easily they believed her.” He flicks some lint from his suit coat.

“Be assured, no one is coming for you. Now, I’m going to give you a few days to think things over. You will come around to my way of thinking. If not…well I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”

He releases her abruptly with a shove, causing her to fall backward, landing hard on her ass. He leaves, slamming the door behind him. The distinctive click of the lock echoes in the small space.

What the hell am I going to do? Tears fill her eyes. She can’t give up her task of helping those missing kids, but is she willing to die to help them? Last week the answer would have been a resounding yes, but Russell’s handsome face flashes before her. Loss and regret washes over her. Will she ever see him again?