I jog up and down the street, looking around and still don't see anything. I turn back to my car when I notice something shiny lying under a white Toyota parked near the curb. Moving over to it, my eyes widen and a dark anger flows through me when I recognize what it is. Holly's phone.
I pick it up and look at it. Any doubts that I had about her being kidnapped are gone in a flash. I know that they took her. And by they – I'm relatively certain it was Trujillo and his son Armando. Given everything that is going on and what she told me has happened, it's the only thing that makes any sense.
Which means there is a man I need to see. Now. Not tomorrow morning.
Climbing back into my car, I find the address I'm looking for. I whip into the long circular driveway and pull to a stop near the steps leading to the front door. Getting out quickly, I take the steps two at a time until I'm at the door, banging on it.
A moment later, the door opens, and I find myself standing before a smaller Hispanic woman.
“Yes?” she asks.
“I need to see Michael Gallagher,” I say.
“Mr. Gallagher doesn’t take guests this late,” she says.
“I don't care,” I say. “Tell him this is about Holly and that he better see me now.”
She looks at me dumbfounded, uncertainty written on her face. But then she nods and closes the door, leaving me to wait on the porch. A couple of minutes later, a tall, younger man opens the door. He looks me up-and-down, the look of condescension on his face plain as day. This must be Ian.
“What?” he sneers at me.
“I need to see your father.”
He shrugs. “He's not in.”
“I'm not in the fucking mood,” I say. “You open the door and take me to him or I'm going to kick it in and drag him out here by his fucking hair. You got me?”
“Really?” Ian sneers again. “You turn up on our doorstep and make threats like that?”
“It's not a threat,” I say. “Just letting you know what's going to happen.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” he says and stars to shut the door.
I lunge forward and drive my shoulder into the door. I feel it hit Ian and knock him backwards. He ends up on his ass on the foyer floor. Indignant, he gets to his feet, his face red, nostrils flaring.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he howls.
“Where is your father.”
“I'm going to call the cops,” he says.
“No, you're not,” I say. “You do that, they're going to find out about your pal, Gabriel Trujillo. And that's the last thing you want, I'd be willing to bet. Because if they find out about your business dealings with the head of a notorious cartel, that would be very bad for your business prospects, wouldn't it?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Ian asks, his eyes wide.
“Let him in,” a voice echoes down the corridor.
Without waiting for Ian to reply or escort me, I turn and walk down the hallway. I come to an office where I see a large man, thick through the shoulders and chest, with iron gray hair and dark eyes. Michael Gallagher. Holly's father.
I step into the office and he turns to face me. “And you are?”
“My name is Brayden,” I say. “And I'm Holly's husband.”
He laughs. “You're what?”
“Husband,” I say. “We met in Vegas recently, hit it off, had a great time, and got married. Ergo, her husband.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ian says from his position in the doorway.
Michael drains the last of the liquor in his tumbler and pours himself a refill, not offering me a drink.
“Interesting,” Michael says. “Because she has a fiancé already.”
“Uh huh,” I say. “You mean, the man you're selling her off to in order to clear your debt with a drug cartel? Is that her fiancé?”
A shadow of fear crosses his face and for the first time, I see hesitation in his eyes. “Who in the hell are you?”
“Like I said, I'm Holly's husband,” I say. “And I'm the man who's going to, against my better judgment, save your ass.”
“What are you talking about?” Ian asks.
“Did you know that Trujillo’s kid just kidnapped your daughter?”
Michael looks at me and though I see a flicker of surprise in his eyes, I see nothing else. It's like he knew it was going to happen. But then again, maybe he did.
“Kidnapped her?” Michael asks, feigning concern.
I nod. “I was on the phone with her when it happened,” I say. “On the street just outside your house, actually.”
“I don't think what you heard was a kidnapping,” Michael says. “I think it was an elopement.”
“Is that what you're calling it?”
He nods. “Holly's always been a willful girl. Stubborn. Headstrong,” he says. “She doesn't always see the bigger picture and sometimes can be selfish.”
“And because she's not playing ball with you and won't marry this guy to save your ass, you greenlighted him to take her.”
“It sounds really crass when you say it,” Michael says.
“But, no less true.”
He sighs. “I don't like it, Brayden,” he says. “I tried to convince her that it didn't have to be this way. But, she wouldn't listen.”
“She never listens,” Ian chimes in.
“Maybe it's you two who don't fucking listen,” I snap. “She told you she didn't want to marry this guy. That she wanted nothing to do with your dirty business dealings.”
“She owes me,” Michael hisses, a light of fury burning in his eyes. “And she's my daughter, which means I can do with her as I see fit. Who the fuck do you think you are to question that?”
“I'm the man who loves her,” I say.
“Well, isn't that sweet,” Ian says. “But, it's too late. As we speak, she's on her way to Mexico.”
Michael nods. “Which means, married or not, you're not going to be able to do shit about this,” he says. “Mainly because you're never going to see her again.”
I stare at the two of them, my face etched with disgust for the two of them. “What in the hell is wrong with the two of you?” I ask. “She's your daughter. Your sister. How the fuck can you do this to her?”
“It's business,” Michael replies softly. “I did what I had to do to survive.”
“Did you ever stop to think that if it comes to selling your own daughter, maybe you don't deserve to survive?”
“I don't recall asking your opinion,” Michael snaps. “Now, get the fuck out of my house.”
“Actually,” I say. “This isn't over. You're going to call Trujillo –”
“The hell I am,” he says. “The slate has been wiped clean. We're done.”
“No, you're not,” I say. “I have a man in my employ who is very good at turning over a person's life and finding all of the things they try to keep hidden. I already have him documenting the paper trail between you and Trujillo. Tying you both – actually, all three of you – together nice and tight.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael asks.
“You're going to call Trujillo,” I say. “And you're going to arrange a meet.”
“Bullshit,” Ian says. “You're full of shit. Dad, this guy is bluffing.”
“Am I?” I ask. “Ask yourselves this – if I'm bluffing, how in the hell did I even know about your business dealings with Trujillo in the first place? How am I standing here in your house with this information?”
I see the two men share an uneasy glance. Obviously, that point of logic struck close to home.
“What do you want?” Michael asks.
“You're going to call Trujillo and set a meeting,” I say. “If you don't, I will instruct my man to release everything he's found to the police, the FBI, and the DEA. I'm sure they'll have a lot of questions for you.”
“What's to stop me from killing you and keeping your man from doing shit?” Michael asks, his voice cold.
I smirk at him. “You didn't really think that I'd walk in here without insurance, did you?”
“Dad, he's lying.”
“You want to gamble the rest of your lives on that?” I ask.
Michael looks at his son and then back at me uncertainly. I see the fear in his eyes and the glass trembling in his hand. He's nervous. Good. He should be.
“Make the call,” I say.
“Fine,” he replies. “I'll get back to you with the details.”
“No,” I say. “Make the call – now.”