Grab Page 9

  “Evelyn Torres?”

  “You had a date with her off Tinder last Valentine’s Day? That was the last time she was seen, and we’re just trying to determine what happened to her,” Ryan said smoothly.

  Joey Royal went white and sat in the first available chair. “Really? I had no idea. I thought she just hated me.”

  Jordan asked the follow up. “So you remember her?”

  “Yeah, she was a knockout. I thought she got one of her friends to call and get her out of the date because she never answered any of my texts after that night.”

  “Can you tell us about it?” Jordan prodded.

  “Sure. Um, do y’all want some water or something?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, I took her out to dinner and was planning on a nightclub afterward, but she got a call during dinner.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Her brother had some sort of emergency, I think, but she didn’t give me a name. She just said her brother had something happen and she needed to go.” His anguish was apparent. “She was really nice. I tried to ask her out again, but she never answered or returned my texts, so I just assumed it was a ruse.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  He shook his head, and Jordan and Ryan rose to leave.

  “Thanks for your time, Mr. Royal.”

  Back at the office, Jordan was surprised to find everyone in the reception area, discussing Mia’s case. He’d assumed they all had their own cases to work. Gratitude welled up in him when he realized Mia’s life was important to them, as well.

  Ryan pulled up a chair, sitting in it backward. “What’s doin’?”

  “Evelyn’s mother married Dwayne Bishop when Evelyn was fourteen. Michael Bishop was one of two sons. He and Evelyn appear to have been close friends after the marriage, and we’re thinking maybe he wanted more from the relationship.” Miriam’s voice was careful as she munched on a saltine cracker.

  Jordan scoffed. “You don’t say. If that’s who this is, which it sounds like, he had some sort of sick obsession with her.”

  Quinten spoke from the corner. “It looks to me like he was obsessed with her, and so he kidnapped her. I bet that went south, and Evelyn may be dead. When that happened, Mikey snapped and started taking strangers who looked like her. You need to be careful with this one. His sense of reality has snapped. He may be thinking Misty and Mia are Evelyn.”

  Jordan felt sick. He refused to believe Mia was dead, although it wasn’t looking good for her. “But there aren’t any bodies, so he may be keeping them all alive somewhere?” He couldn’t stop the hopeful note to his voice, even though he knew the odds were slim that Evelyn and Misty were alive. But Michael Bishop hadn’t had Mia long, so she very well could be.

  “Not any that have been found,” Simon agreed. “But he may have them at his home, wherever that is.”

  “I think I have that.” Evan was buried in his laptop in the corner, fingers tapping away on keys. “Good old Facebook. He’s all over it.” Another click, and Evan groaned. “He’s got himself in a relationship with Evelyn.” Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, he shoved it at Jordan. “Here’s an address.”

  Jordan reached for the paper, and with it a semblance of control slipped back into him. For the first time since Mia had been grabbed, he felt like he was on the right track, not just stumbling around blindly following breadcrumbs.

  A strange calm flowed into him. The guys at Pierce Securities were following through for him. That was a good thing. Calling on his training, he put on his game face.

  “Nothing crazy, Jordan,” Simon warned. “You are back on US soil and have been trained as a Private Investigator, not a vigilante.”

  Jordan nodded, fulling intending to disregard Simon’s wishes. He knew what and where he was. But Mia’s life was at stake, and he wasn’t about to tread lightly.

  Mother. Fucker.

  Michael Bishop lived six blocks away from him. As Ryan pulled in across the street from the building, Jordan stared, mystified. She’d been in his fucking neighborhood the entire time and he hadn’t had a god-damned clue.

  Checking his extra magazines, he made sure they were in his left pocket before he double-checked his Colt 1911. Jordan ignored the pain in his hand as he curled it around the weapon. Used to be, he could shoot with his left hand as well as his right. Now, he just had to be sure his right hand was available to shoot.

  Ryan was in the passenger seat, checking his gear. They’d both changed at his apartment, Ryan having his gear in his truck. They wore tactical vests with built-in body armor and enough pockets to hold extra magazines, restraints, rope, the battery packs to power lights, radios, and Ryan’s night-vision scope, flash-bang grenades, smoke grenades, first aid kit, and Jordan’s halligan tool in case they needed to break in. It was probably overkill, but they were ready for anything.

  As Jordan snuck around the side of the house to use the lock-pick kit on the door presumably leading to the garage, he briefly thought of the shit storm he and Ryan were about to rain down. They weren’t calling the cops in, although Simon was probably going to. But he couldn’t wait around an hour for Detective Hollerman to get there. Mia might not have an hour.

  Opening the door, Jordan found it was, in fact, a garage. No cars, only boxes piled up along the edges, a washer and dryer, and the biggest pile of laundry he’d ever seen. Especially for one guy.

  Odd.

  He found the breaker box and tossed them all, blanketing the house in darkness.

  Checking his watch, Jordan had twenty seconds before Ryan threw the flash bangs. Stealthily creeping to the pile of clothes, he shined his flashlight over it.

  Ho-ly fuck.

  He pressed the button on his neck that operated the radio. “I found Evelyn, maybe Misty.”

  A pair of terrified brown eyes blinked at him from the pile of clothes. She was draped over another body. He didn’t know who it was—Evelyn or Misty—but he could tell it wasn’t Mia.

  “Ten seconds, dude,” was all Ryan said. Focus on the mission: get Mike. Help would happen afterward.

  “I’ll be back. We’re here to help you.” The eyes blinked back at him rapidly in acknowledgement, and Jordan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was coming.

  Reluctantly leaving the women in the pile of clothes, Jordan’s heart started pounding as he pulled the smoke grenades out of his pocket. When his timer clicked, he pounded in the door to the house with his foot, tossing the smoke canisters while Ryan set off the flash bangs, both of them yelling like lunatics.

  Dropping to the ground and rolling for the nearest cover he could find, Jordan got inside the house and realized it was, in fact, occupied.

  Screams had erupted from a room not too far away, and Jordan felt his bowels loosen at the sound of his Mia’s voice. His hair stood up on end, even while he told himself if she was screaming, she was alive. He would get her out of here.

  Steeling his resolve, Jordan took a breath while reminding himself he was trained for this and shouldn’t be thinking—he should be reacting. They were supposed to be throwing the perp off, disorientating him. Ryan was still yelling obscenities about sick, motherfucking psychopaths as Jordan saw movement off to the side of him.

  Finally focused, he watched the man stick to the shadows in the inky room as he moved. As soon as Jordan heard the tell-tale click, he moved to draw fire. He needed an excuse to make this fucker dead.

  But Mia’s voice froze both of them.

  “He’s got a gun! He’s a sick, twisted motherfucker! His name is Mike and I’m not the first woman he’s taken! He keeps talking about the others, but I don’t know what he’s done with them!” Jordan listened with a clarity that shook him. Mia was giving her testimony in case she didn’t make it out of here alive. Fucker had done that to her; he had made her think she wouldn’t survive this.

  The shadow moved quickly back to where Mia was yelling, as if to quiet her, and Jordan foll
owed, racing to overtake him before he made it into the room.

  “Shut up, Evelyn,” Shadow Man, who Jordan presumed was Mike, whispered. Quinten’s words about the perp’s sense of reality being skewed flew through Jordan’s mind.

  “I’m not Evelyn!” Mia was screaming, and when Jordan saw her, he allowed his personal feelings to merge with his military training. He no longer cared he was on US soil, where laws were upheld and citizens protected. Seeing Mia tied to that bed was enough to make him snap.

  Holding up his .45, Jordan aimed carefully. Over the neon dots of the scope, Mike pointed his gun at Mia at pointblank range and closed his eyes, a look of determination slashed across his face. Without giving him a chance to shoot, Jordan fired, hitting Mike square in the chest, watching the bloom of darkness spread across his t-shirt.

  He dropped everything and rushed to Mia’s side. “Shhh, baby. You’re alright now,” he cooed while getting his k-bar out to cut her restraints.

  The knots around her wrists and ankles were tied tight, and her flesh had swollen around the coarse rope, red and raw, bleeding in some places. Jordan cursed under his breath.

  “Jordan?” Mia whispered, and when he looked at her, he could see her eyes were wide, although he couldn’t see expressions in the darkness, but her voice held a dreamlike quality he didn’t like. Shock. No telling how long she’d been in shock.

  “I’m here, baby,” he tried to reassure her but knew this was futile. Ryan flipped the breakers from the garage and walked back into the room where they were.

  “Misty’s still alive in there. I called Hollerman. He’s pissed, but coming. I’m going to go see what I can do for her.” Ryan strode from the room with purpose, and Jordan finished cutting Mia’s bindings before crawling up into the bed next to her.

  “Are you hurt anywhere?” He was afraid to ask the obvious but needed to know if she needed medical attention. By the looks of it, she did. This was not the Mia he knew, exhausted but still with an ever-ready smile.

  This Mia was listless, close to giving up.

  This Mia stiffened when he took her in his arms.

  This Mia had had her spirit trampled.

  He could only pray it wasn’t broken.

  After a barrage of tests at the hospital, complete with a statement to the police, which Jordan couldn’t be present for—he was too busy giving one of his own—he was finally allowed to take Mia home after the promise of more visits from the police for his involvement in the episode. He wasn’t convinced he was in the clear, but he was more focused on what he could do for Mia.

  She wasn’t doing so well.

  She hadn’t spoken to him at all, only nodding answers to his questions. “Can I take you home with me?” Nod. “Do you want something to eat first?” Shake of her head. “Are you cold? Is that why you’re shaking?” Nod.

  When he carried her limp but conscious body up to his apartment, she stiffened when they got into view of her apartment door but relaxed marginally when Jordan turned to his own door.

  He carried her inside and immediately went to the bathroom. “How about a shower? I’ll get it going for you, okay?” Helplessly, he started the shower and got her some towels out of the cupboard. “I’ll bring you some clothes? Do you want long pants?” He was asking questions to get answers from her because her staring into space was scaring him. He got the shock thing, he’d seen it a lot in victims he’d worked with, but not in anybody he knew, cared for.

  Getting her some sweat pants and a long sleeved shirt, he cranked the A/C down so she wouldn’t sweat to death but understood her need for coverage. He hadn’t been privy to the test results but felt confident the asshole had raped her.

  He stretched his arm into the bathroom to offer her privacy, trying to set the clothes on the countertop, but her hand clutched at his wrist and yanked. When he pulled his head around the door, she was still sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, beseeching him with her eyes. Her body hunched in on itself, as if she were hiding from everything, and Jordan stifled the urge to cuddle her into his bed.

  “You need help?” Nod. “Okay. Hang on another second, okay?” Nod. Still not wanting to freak her out, he went to his room and put on some swim trunks, a lame attempt at making himself as non-threatening as possible. Then he went back into the bathroom to shower his girl.

  Wordlessly, he undressed her and carried her under the water, efficiently, yet gently washing her skin. He shampooed her hair, twice, enjoying the slick bubbles as he lathered it and coiled it on top of her head, watching her shoulders slump as she relaxed while he massaged her scalp. At least he could do this. He moved down from her head, and while her hair was rinsing, Jordan massaged her shoulders and neck until Mia was limp. Then he made sure she was rinsed completely and carried her out of the shower to dry her off and dress her.

  Bundling her in the bed, Jordan changed into gym shorts and a t-shirt and looked at her. She was watching him, eyes at half-mast. “Do you need anything else?” Nod. “What?”

  To his surprise, she gestured to her side and pulled back the covers for him to crawl in behind her, again with that pleading look. He tried to assuage it with a reassuring smile before he crawled in and curved his body around hers. Maybe after a good night’s rest, she would be able to talk to him.

  Her body relaxed in his arms, and her softness made him realize he’d finally found what he needed.

  That peace was broken three hours later with Mia’s piercing shrieks as she batted at his face and shoulders.

  “I’M NOT EVELYN! I’M NOT EVELYN! I’M NOT EVELYN!”

  “Shhhh, Mia, I know you’re not her. You’re Mia Reyes, you’re my neighbor, you’re safe, I promise. Wake up, please.” He spoke softly, trying not to scare her further, but knew it was futile. He grasped her shoulders, and Mia’s body stiffened at his touch, making him want to kill the bastard all over again. But he gritted his teeth against the violence and forced a calm into his voice. “Shhh… You’re safe, Mia. You’re with me, Jordan.”

  “Jordan? Jordan can’t find me.”

  “I did find you, Mia. I did.”

  And so it went.

  Three weeks later, Jordan was on administrative leave from Pierce Securities, pending an investigation, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Sure, he’d started out acting like a brat. Jordan could acknowledge that. He’d been so cocky about his skills with the Marines, he’d been pissed when he had to start from scratch at the security firm. But in retrospect, it was all part of the way things worked. Simon didn’t know him from Adam, only that he was Evan’s brother. So, he’d been given some simple jobs to start out with, which he’d fucked up, and that hadn’t earned him any points. Even so, when things got tough, the entire office had shuffled around and helped him find Mia. That was something his brothers in the Marines would have done, without question. And it made him feel like he was part of something again.

  And now it was threatened. If the DA decided to press charges against him, he’d lose his PI license, his job, and probably go to jail to boot.

  But he couldn’t worry about that. There were much more important things on his mind. Like Mia.

  Just being inside their apartment building was hard on Mia. She hadn’t said as much. In fact, she hadn’t spoken much at all, but he could tell. Her eyes never strayed far from the door, and she was antsy and couldn’t relax.

  Jordan desperately wanted her to open up to him, but at the same time, he was afraid of what she would say. She’d seen enough violence, and he didn’t want her to think he was the same caliber as the man who’d kept her tied to his bed, and it was hard to tamp down the rage that boiled to the surface every time he thought of it. So he’d called his brother, who had given him the keys to his building.

  Jordan had moved him and Mia to Evan’s old apartment.

  He and Paige had recently bought a house together, so Evan had only been renting out the downstairs part, a small curio shop full of touristy Austin shit. Upstairs was a nice place, a certa
in step up for Jordan and Mia from their previous apartments.

  Mia was noncommittal about the whole thing, only nodding her agreement when he’d posed the question.

  Their days were spent watching movies, listening to music, or reading, although he noticed Mia had a rather strong reaction to the suggestion of a romance novel and absolutely refused to let him read anything to her.

  The good thing about her not talking much was she didn’t complain at all about his cooking skills, or lack thereof. Sort of wishing he could sample the baking skills she’d said she had prior to the incident, he bought everything he thought she might need, leaving them all out on the corner of the countertop in the kitchen, just in case she saw them and felt inspired.

  So far, nothing.

  Mia was an impression of her old self. She still wore the same clothes, fixed her hair the same way, smelled the same. But her smile was non-existent. If it was there, it was a ghost of the gleaming smile she used to flash at him. He hadn’t heard her laugh once. That sort of stuff would have to take time.

  “Let’s go out tonight,” Jordan offered after coming out of the shower to find her on Facebook, shutting down her page.

  She swiveled in her chair, eye squinting suspiciously. “Why?”

  To get out from these walls, I’m sick of staring at them, he thought to himself, but outwardly, he simply shrugged and smiled. “Why not? I think we deserve a night out.”

  Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her arms and legs, effectively closing Jordan off. “I mean, why are you being so nice to me, Jordan? Why don’t you just move on and go back to your job?”

  Jordan took the two steps toward her and crouched next to her knees. “Number one, I don’t have a job at the moment. I’m under investigation for my actions. It’s not really kosher for civilians to go all urban warfare and start lobbing grenades into residences. I crossed a line.” He didn’t touch her much at all, except when they were sleeping. But now, he clutched her shoulders, desperate for her to understand. “I would have ripped apart the hounds of hell to get you out of there, so don’t worry about it.” She looked guilty and Jordan would be damned if she would carry that burden with everything else. “Hounds of hell, Babe…” he murmured.