“Armando would never,” he says. “He's kind of intense, I'll give you that. But, he's a good kid. I think you'd find that you two would have a lot in common if you stopped being so damn stubborn and hardheaded about this. Open your mind, Holly. And do what's right by this family.”
“You mean give up my life to do right by you.”
“You owe me, girl,” he sneers. “I raised you. Gave you the best of everything in life and never asked for a goddamn thing in return. And now, when I have one thing I need you to do for me, you act like a spoiled, entitled bitch about it. That's not going to work, Holly. You owe me this.”
I stare at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I can't believe he just said that. And yet, given all I've gone through with him lately, I guess I can. He's apparently okay with making up excuses for domestic abuse now. Great. Wonderful.
He lets out a long breath and seems to realize that he's crossed a line. That he's gone too far. I can see that he is trying to reel it back in. When he looks at me, he gives me a sad smile, one designed to drum up some sympathy from me.
Yeah, I'm a little short on that right now.
He sighs and runs a hand through his steel gray hair. “Holly, time is a luxury we don't have much of right now, I'm afraid,” he says. “Trujillo is getting anxious. I think he senses your reluctance and wants an answer sooner rather than later.”
“I'm not going to give you an answer tonight, Dad.”
“When, then?” he presses me. “When are you going to answer?”
I pace the living room and then stop, standing in front of the fireplace. I let the heat from the fire warm my bones as I try to control the anger sparking inside of me.
“I'll answer you when I have one to give you,” I say.
“Could you be more specific?”
“No, not really,” I say.
“Holly –”
I sigh loudly and turn on him. “I don't like being forced into anything, you should know that,” I snap. “Especially something as life altering as this.”
“I need to know though, honey,” he says. “Otherwise – otherwise, I don't know what's going to happen to me. If I don't come through for Trujillo, I really don't know what he's going to do to me.”
“And did this not cross your mind before you got into bed with a goddamn gunrunning, drug lord?”
My father's eyes narrow as he looks at me. “I told you I didn't know who he was when I accepted his help,” he sneers. “And I had to accept his help to keep this family afloat. To keep giving you the life of goddamn privilege you seemed to enjoy so fucking much.”
“You mean, to keep you afloat and let you keep living that lavish lifestyle you love so fucking much, dad?” I snap back. “I really resent your implication that you got into this mess for me.”
“I pretty much did,” he says, the heat in his voice returning. “And now I’m asking that you help me out for a change.”
“What time are you going to be at your office tomorrow?”
“Seven, why?”
“Just asking,” I say. “Look, I’m tired. I need to go home and get some rest.”
“Holly, I’m going to need an answer.”
“And you’ll get one,” I say. “Be patient, Dad.”
“Like I said earlier, time and patience aren’t things we have the luxury of right now.”
“I'll keep it in mind.”
I grab my purse and head out of the living room. My father is calling to me as I cross the foyer, but I ignore him. Opening the front door, I step outside, slamming it shut behind me and start to head up the driveway. I had to park on the street since the driveway is being repaved. The only problem now is that it’s a bit of a hike back to my car.
As I walk down the sidewalk, I pull my phone out of my purse and turn it on. It takes a moment, but it powers up and as soon as it’s ready to place a call, I punch in Brayden's number. He picks it up on the first ring.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm just leaving my dad's now,” I say. “He's going to be in the office at seven tomorrow morning, and knowing him like I do, he's not going to have a meeting until well after nine, if at all.”
“I'll be there waiting for him at six forty-five then,” I respond.
As I walk, I notice a black BMW parked at the curb a few houses away. It looks very familiar to me and sends a cold chill through my veins.
I strain my eyes, trying to see if I can make out if there's a figure behind the wheel, but the windows are tinted too dark to see anything clearly. Everything had happened so fast the other night with Armando, that I didn't get the best look at the car they'd thrown me into, but I would have sworn it looked just like the one sitting at the curb ahead of me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I shake my head, telling myself that I'm being paranoid. Not that I can really be blamed, given everything going on – and oh yeah, the fact that my father is in bed with the head of a goddamn drug cartel.
“Yeah,” I say. “I just – I still don’t know why you’re doing this, Brayden.”
“I already explained myself.”
“But really, you don’t have to get involved,” I say, still eyeballing the BMW as I draw closer to it. “I feel bad for dragging you into this mess. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. And I’m the one who needs to sort it out.”
“Don’t feel bad, and don’t apologize. Also, while you’re at it, stop worrying about that,” Brayden replies. “Whether you like it or not, I'm involved because I care about you, Holly.”
“I care about you too,” I say softly.
“Are you almost to your car?” he asks. “How far away from your dad's place did you park?”
As I draw even with the BMW, the interior light goes on as the doors open and three men step out – one is Armando's driver, the man who had come to fetch me from the restroom the other night.
“Mr. Trujillo would like to see you,” the big, bald man says. “Come with us.”
The other two men are no smaller or less intimidating than the driver. And I can tell they are all carrying guns beneath their suit jackets. I quickly scan the neighborhood around me, urgently hoping that someone is in a window, looking down at the street, seeing what's happening. Desperately hoping that they call the police.
I back away from the three men and hear Brayden's voice in my ear.
“Holly?”
It's only then I realize I'm still holding my phone to my ear. One of the men reaches me, yanking the phone out of my hand and throws it to the ground. Then the second man is on me. I struggle and thrash, trying to break free from their grip, but can't get loose. They drag me toward the car and I fight them every step of the way, screaming bloody murder as we go.
“Brayden!” I cry out.
The man on my right slaps me across the face. “Shut up, bitch,” he hisses at me.
“Fuck you!”
The second man slaps me across the other side of my face. “Shut your fucking mouth, puta.”
My head is spinning and I'm literally seeing stars from the blows I've taken. My head lolls to the side and my body feels limp. I continue to struggle, but it's half-hearted. They've beaten most of the fight out of me already. Like a sack of dirty laundry, the two men dump me into the back seat of the car. I'm dimly aware of the three of them climbing in and the car pulling away from the curb, speeding off quickly.
I don't know where we're going, but I'm sure it's not going to be good.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brayden
“Great, thank you,” I say. “I'll see you soon.”
I hang up the phone and pull the car to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. I jump out and quickly start looking around but see nothing. After I'd heard what I believe was Holly being kidnapped, I'd called Adam on my way to her father's house. He had been able to triangulate her cellphone coordinates, which led me to this location.