Jailbait (26 page)

It’s hard to see the color drain from his face thanks to layers of spray tanner, but it hits him and he recoils, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure.”
 

Someone walks through the hall. I turn, and see a half-naked woman looking out from behind a wall. She’s not the girl from the restaurant. Chastity or whatever her name was. “What’s going on, Olson?”
 

“Business,” he says and clears his throat. “You need to leave.”
 

She pouts and stomps her bare foot, glaring at me. “You’re going to give up this, for that?” Her hands slide over her obviously fake beach ball sized tits.
 

“I would in a heartbeat,” Olson says quietly. “Bros before hoes and all. Leave.”
 

I shake my head and let out a breath, crossing the foyer to the living room. I sink down on the couch, digging my phone from my purse. I call Grayson for the hundredth time and get his voicemail. I open his texts and try to see his location, but “location not available” reads across the screen.
 

It takes a few minutes for Ms. Plastic Tits to pack up and leave. Olson puts on pants but no shirt, and joins me, sitting across from me on a lounge chair.
 

“What’s going on?”
 

I get up, pacing back and forth. “You said Grayson was caught up in a motorcycle club drug war. What clubs? What drug war?”
 

“Ahhh. I knew you’d see him for the criminal that he is.” He gives me a nod and raises his eyebrows. “And you realized that walking away was a mistake. I guess I can take you back, Pepper, but only if you beg.”
 

“Goddammit, Olson!” I whip around and stare daggers at him. “Can’t you take anything fucking seriously?”
 

This time the shock is obvious. “Fine. Okay. Sorry, Pepper.”
 

“Tell me what you know about Grayson. Now.”
 

He gets up, talking while he looks through his desk. “He was arrested several times. Various charges. First was for possession of weed.” He comes back and puts a folder on the coffee table. “It’s all there.”
 

I grab it and start leafing through. Some of this I already know from last night. And some of this is new. Grayson’s nineteen-year-old mug shot stops me in my tracks. He looks exactly the same as the day he left, and is even wearing the same shirt. I remember it specifically because it was one I got him for his birthday. It was trendy and designer, way different than the plaid button-ups he always wore. I could tell he didn’t like it, knew his friends laughed and called him whipped, but he wore it anyway. Just for me.
 

“The clubs,” I say and close the folder. “What do you know about them?”
 

“Not much,” he admits. “Just that Grayson was rumored to run with this California club called The Jackals.”
 

“He did,” I say and Olson stiffens.
 

“They’re ruthless, from what I found out. Starting fights that end in death, usually for the other person. And Grayson used to take part in those fights.”
 

I nod, and open the folder again. Tears fill my eyes as I run my finger over the most recent black and white mug shot of Gray. I will see him again. “If someone wronged them, what would they do?”
 

“I’m not sure,” he says carefully. “Is everything okay, Pepper?”
 

“No,” I say, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “It’s not.”
 

Olson swallows and leans forward. “Are you in danger?”
 

I shake my head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I get hit with a wave of nausea. I close my eyes and lean back, swallowing the bile that burns in my throat. “Grayson’s gone.” I don’t know why I blurted that out to Olson of all people.
 

“What do you mean? He left you?”
 

“No. I went to his house and can tell there was a fight. Someone wrote, ‘you’re a dead man, King’ on the wall. And I found a needle in the kitchen and a few drops of blood.”
 

Olson’s jaw slowly drops. He covers it with his hand and stands. “Did you call the police?”
 

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I should. Gray doesn’t think they can help.”
 

“What other choice do you have, Pepper?”
 

“I don’t know. But this club…if they took him—drugged him and took him—don’t you think it’s for a reason? They could have shot him and moved on, right?”
 

“Uh, maybe?” He rubs his temple. “The guy who told me about this said to stay away. He said I shouldn’t even confront Grayson about it. Because they’re bad news. So I guess I’d say yeah, it’s for a reason. They’re not the kidnap-threaten-and-release type.”
 

“So why would they take Grayson?” I ask out loud, not talking to Olson specifically. Then it hits me. The picture I posted to Instagram at the zoo. The photos of the two of us together at my father’s wake and funeral. It’s easy to see that Grayson and I are a couple. It’s easy to see that I care about him.
 

And it’s obvious I have money.
 

“Pepper,” Olson starts and comes over to me. “Look, I know things between us didn’t work out like I hoped, and for some reason you’d rather be with someone with a criminal record and no job.”

I glare at him.
 

“What I’m trying to say is…I care about you, Pepper. And I have to accept that your heart belongs to him. But even so, I don’t want you to get hurt. Getting mixed up in this…that’s a good way to get hurt.”
 

“I don’t want to get hurt either.” My eyelids come down, shutting out the light. I just lost my father.
 
I can’t lose Grayson too. My phone rings, and I jump.
 

“That’s him! That’s his ringtone.” I scramble up, tripping over the rug, and grab my purse.
 

“You know it’s not him,” Olson says gravely. “You won’t be talking to him.”
 

In the back of my mind, I know. I’ve seen enough episodes of Law & Order to know the kidnapper is calling with a demand, and all I’ll get is a few seconds of listening to Grayson scream in pain before the phone is taken away.
 

My heart is beating so fast it hurts. I answer the call and push the phone against my ear.
 

“Hello?”

“Pepper,” Grayson says and his voice brings instant tears to my eyes.
 

I clutch my chest. “Gray! Oh my God. Where are you? Are you okay?”
 

“Pepper, listen to me, don’t—”

The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoes through the phone. “Hello, Pepper,” a deep voice coos. I can hear Grayson getting hit over and over in the background.
 

“Please!” I cry. “Stop!”

Olson moves over and puts his face close to the phone, listening. The man on the phone laughs. “I’ll stop. Eventually.”
 

“Let me talk to him!”
 

“Not right now, princess. But I’ll tell you what you can do if you want to see your lover boy again.”
 

“What? I’ll do anything!”
 

“No cops. No security. Come alone. Three million,” he says. “You have three hours. And if I so much as smell bacon, he’s dead.”
 

And then the phone goes dead.

Chapter Twenty-two

Grayson
 

“Idiot,” I say and spit blood onto the floor. I’m tied up, hands above my head, strung on the rafters of an old warehouse. Fisher’s been taking out his anger on me for the last few hours, throwing punches, and then threatening me. He’s weak, as I remind him over and over. He had to drug me to get me here, after all. “You didn’t even tell her where to bring the money.”
 

Fisher’s eyes flash, and he stops himself at the last minute from throwing my phone. He needs it to call Pepper again.
 

“Go ahead,” I urge. “Call her back and say you’re a shitty excuse for a kidnapper and forgot to tell her when and where to bring the ransom.” I shake my head, refusing to let myself acknowledge the pain. Or how fucking terrified I am.
 

Not for myself, but for Pepper. I don’t want her to come within a hundred yards of this place…wherever the hell I am. I don’t want her to give a penny to this asshole in front of me.
 

I should never have come back. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess and Pepper wouldn’t be in danger.
 

“That’s assuming she’ll even pay. There’s a good chance she won’t,” I go on. Blood drips from my forehead into my eyes. I blink it away. The warehouse is dim, with scattered lamps hanging above us. The floor is gritty and boxes are lined up in uneven stacks. I get the feeling this place isn’t used for legal business.
 

Along with the Jackals who brought me here, a few members of the scythe-bearing club are here. They take their turn beating me, giving the usual threats you’d expect to hear in a B-movie.
 

“She’ll pay,” Fisher says. “And when she brings that money, I’m going to throw her down and fuck her ass on top of it.”
 

“Touch her and I’ll kill you!” I pull against the ropes on my wrist. “Touch her and it’ll be the last fucking thing you do!”
 

Fisher laughs, stepping closer, but staying out of reach. “And what are you going to do about it? There’s nothing you can do.” He lights a cigarette. “Except watch as I destroy her tight little cunt with my big cock.”
 

Rage flows through me and I give the ropes another yank. Dust falls down on me, and the boards creak. “I swear to God,” I threaten. “You so much as lay a finger on Pepper and I’ll cut off your dick and shove it down your throat.”
 

He takes a long drag on his cigarette, coming closer. I pull on the ropes again and feel the rafter weaken even more. Fisher takes the cigarette out of his mouth and presses the burning end to my chest. I clench my jaw, refusing to so much as grunt in pain. It just pisses Fisher off and he hits me. The inside of my cheek busts open against my teeth, and I spit blood in his face.
 

He balls his fists, ready to hit me again, when another man comes in.
 

“We getting our money?” he asks. Fisher steps back and I laugh.
 

“The dumb fuck didn’t tell her where to bring it,” I say. “So no, you’re not getting your money.”
 

The man, who’s wearing a reaper scythe patch, crosses his arms. “Then how we gonna get it?” he asks.

“We’ll get it,” Fisher says. “So shut your mouth.”
 

“How? If you didn’t tell her where, we ain’t getting it.” He throws his hands in the air. “I knew your pathetic club would mess shit up.”
 

“We’ll get it,” Fisher yells.

“Doesn’t seem like it. Give me the phone. I’ll handle this like I should have from the start.”

“This is my operation,” Fisher says.
 

“Not anymore,” the other man interjects, and the two men lunge at each other. Great, now whatever alliance that’s going between the Jackals and the reaper-club is going to go out the window over this fight. I pull on the rafter again while everyone is distracted. If I can get out of here, I’ll go to Pepper. Tell her I’m safe…but that I have to leave. I can’t stay and put her in danger.
 

More dust and wood rain down on me. Fisher and that other guy are on the floor, rolling around in a full-out brawl. Members from both clubs gather round, and after a minute, try to break up the fight with little success.
 

Then my phone rings and everyone freezes. Fisher answers, and the place gets so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
 

“Pepper, sweetheart,” he says, looking right into my eyes as he talks. “So nice of you to call. We were just talking about you.”
 

“Don’t do it, Pepper!” I yell. “Don’t give him anything!” Two Jackal members come over. One hits me and another stuffs a rag into my mouth, muffling my voice. I can’t hear what Fisher is saying over the sound of my own face being hit. I think he gave her the address to this place.

“No cops. I see a cop, he’s dead. Oh, he’s alive,” Fisher tells her. “Wanna hear him scream? Or Maybe I’ll start cutting off pieces and send ‘em to you. I’ll start with your favorite one.” He snickers to himself. “Fine. Thirty seconds.”
 

He comes over, puts the phone on speaker, and shoves it in my face.
 

“Pepper,” I say, spitting the rag out. “Don’t do this, Pepper.”
 

“Grayson,” she says and her voice is everything. “It’s okay. I’ll bring the money. Get you back. And we can go on that vacation just like we talked about. Remember? I’ll take you down to Mexico and it’ll be okay. I love you, Grayson. It’s—”

Fisher hangs up. “Awww, so full of hope,” he sneers and rubs his dick through his jeans. “I bet she tastes as sweet as she sounds.”

His words get little reaction out of me, because I’m concentrating on what Pepper said. We never talked about Mexico. What is she trying to tell me? Bringing the money…what we talked about…take me down.

Take down.
 

We talked about getting enough info to the cops for them to take down the club. Giving them the dirt I know about past dealing isn’t enough to arrest anyone. But walking in to this, into them holding someone hostage and demanding ransom, is. It’s enough to arrest every fucking one of them in this room.
 

Pepper is a motherfucking genius.
 

Chapter Twenty-three

Pepper

“Ms. Davenwood?”

I blink and turn to the FBI agent who is sitting at the dining room table in my father’s penthouse. Two black suitcases are in front of her, packed full of hundred dollar bills.
 

“Yes?”
 

“It’s almost time.”
 

I nod, and go with her into the bathroom so she can tape a wire to my chest. We’ve gone over everything in detail. It’s not like how it is in the movies. The police can’t come running the second things go bad. Undercover agents have driven by the warehouse. There’s one way in and out, and the only windows are high up on the second story.