Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) (20 page)

“‘Help him’ as in ‘help me?’ Or ‘help
him
?’” Ian asked
for clarification.

The officer shook the evidence bag in his hand. “I understood
it as ‘help
him.
’ As in help Brody Evans. That’s all I got as the medics
pulled up and took over.”

“All right. Thanks, officer.”

The man nodded then went back to his paperwork. Ian turned to
Webb and was about to ask something when a nurse opened the door leading to the
treatment area. “Detective?”

Webb approached the woman. “Yes?”

“The doctor wants to send the patient up to surgery, but he’s
awake and won’t leave until he talks to a police officer. You have to hurry.”

She held the door open for the man, but when Ian began to
follow, she tried to stop him. “Sir, you can’t—”

“Yes, he can,” Webb told her over his shoulder. “He’s with
me.”

Ian was glad the detective intervened, because there was no
way he wasn’t going to talk to the injured man, and he would’ve raised hell if
he had to. When they entered the trauma room, the man was lying on a gurney
with two nurses and a doctor doing everything they could to keep him alive.
They were attaching the portable monitors and IV bags to the stretcher for
transport. His hips and legs were covered with a white sheet, and a pressure
bandage was taped over his wound. IV tubes and monitor wires snaked from
various parts of his body to whatever they were connected to. Beeps came from
several devices, indicating the man was still alive.

When the detective stepped forward, one of the nurses said to
him, “According to his Navy dog tags, his name is Russell Adams. You need to
make it quick, we have to get him to surgery.”

Upon hearing his name, Adams opened his eyes. Webb stood near
the head of the gurney where he could be seen. “My name is Detective Webb,
Russell. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Y-yes.” The injured man’s voice was raspy and filled with
pain. “H-help him.”

“Help who? Brody Evans?”

Adams weakly nodded and then swallowed several times trying
to gather moisture in his mouth to speak. “Kid-kid. . .nap.”

Webb’s eyes went to Ian’s in alarm and then back to Adams.
“Kidnapped? He was kidnapped?”

“Y-yes.”

Several monitors began blaring at once as Adams gasped for
air. The doctor and nurses pushed the two men out of the way to get to their
patient. Using his foot, the doctor unlocked the gurney and began rolling it
toward the door. “We have to get him to surgery now, or we’ll lose him.”

Adams’ hand shot out to weakly grab Ian’s arm. “Fire. . .f-fire. . .m-man.”

The staff raced the gurney to the elevator as Ian and Webb
stared after them. “Fireman?” the detective asked. “What the hell did he mean
by that?”

Ian shook his head and then led the way back to the waiting
room. “I have no fucking clue, but you bet your ass I’m going to find out.”

While they had been in the trauma room, Boomer and Marco had
arrived and joined Devon. The three men stopped talking when Ian approached.
“Do any of you know what this guy meant when he said a fireman kidnapped
Brody?”

“Fuck!” The curse was spat out by both Boomer and Marco, but
it was the latter who scrambled to explain. “Fancy’s brother-in-law, Corey
Maguire, he’s a fireman. It’s got to be him. I knew something about that guy
didn’t sit right with me, but why the fuck would he kidnap Brody?”

“I don’t know, but it’s time to pay Fancy a visit, and she
better not be involved in this. . .whatever
this
fucking is.”

Fancy’s jaw dropped as she pulled into the parking lot and
saw two patrol cars and a crime scene unit. Sal was standing with one of the
uniformed officers and the relief she felt when she saw he was okay was brief.
What
the hell had happened this time?
It couldn’t be another vandalism, not with
this much of a response.

Her gut clenched as she parked and hurried over to find out
what happened. “Sal—”

He held up a hand, stopping her from asking the question on
the tip of her tongue. “It’s Russell, Fancy. The homeless veteran. He was
assaulted sometime last night, back there.”

She gasped. “Oh my God! Is he okay? What. . .who. . .”

The female officer hung up the cell phone she’d been talking
on and stepped toward her. “Are you Fancy Maguire?”

“Yes, I’m Fancy. What—”

“I need you to stay here, ma’am. There’s a detective on the
way to speak to you.”

Fancy was confused as she glanced around trying to make sense
of what was happening. “To me? But I wasn’t even here. I don’t even know what’s
going on. Is Russell okay?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” the officer replied. “All I do know is
they’re taking him to surgery, and Detective Webb wants to speak to you
specifically and told me to wait with you.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. It was almost as if they
thought she was the person who had hurt the homeless veteran. She’d never hurt
a fly. Pulling her phone out of her purse, she called the one person she needed
right now—Brody. She groaned inwardly when the call went to voicemail. He was
probably still on that detail which had started in the wee morning hours. Not
wanting to worry him until she could actually speak to him or had more information,
she hung up without leaving a message.

Noticing the time on the screen of the phone, she turned to
the cop again. “Officer, is it okay if Sal gets the bakery ready for business?
I can call in another employee to help him.”

When the other woman nodded her assent, Sal told Fancy, “I’ll
call Jamie from inside. Don’t worry, I’ll get everything set up.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

Her employee took one last look at the back of the lot, where
several crime scene techs were searching the area in a grid-like fashion,
before shaking his head sadly and heading to the front door of the shop. Fancy
knew how he felt. While she didn’t know Russell Adams well—he wasn’t a very
talkative man—he was very friendly and polite, and didn’t deserve to be
assaulted by anyone. She prayed he was okay and realized she didn’t know if he
had any family who needed to be contacted. Maybe Brody would be able to help
located them.

By the time several vehicles pulled into the parking lot, led
by a typical looking, unmarked police car, Fancy was no closer to figuring out
what was going on. The most likely scenario she could come up with was her
vandal had come to do some more damage, and Russell had tried to stop him.
After the vehicles had parked, she was surprised to see Ian, Devon, Marco, and
Boomer climb out of them, along with a tall, black man with a shoulder holster
on and a gold shield clipped to his belt.

Her gut clenched at their grim expressions, and she hurried
to meet them. “Oh, my God. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Ian’s eyes narrowed as he snarled. “You tell us. Where did
your brother-in-law take him and why?”

Huh?
“Corey?” Fancy shook her head in confusion.
“What’s he got to do with Russell? I thought Russell was at the hospital about
to go into surgery.”

“I’m not talking about Adams! Where’s Brody?”

Now she was really confused and getting more so by the
second. “He’s working, isn’t he? He told me he was doing a detail very early
this morning with Boo. . .” Her words trailed off as she realized
Boomer was here and not with Brody. Fear began to flow through her body causing
her to pale and tremble. “W-what’s going on? Someone, please tell me what’s
going on because I have no idea—”

Marco’s glare softened as he held up his hand to cut her off.
“Ian, I think she’s telling the truth. She has no clue that Corey kidnapped
Brody.”

“What! What do you mean Corey kidnapped Brody? Th-that’s
crazy.”

The detective stepped forward. “Let me start at the
beginning, since we’re just making you more confused at this point. My name is
Detective Isaac Webb. A patrol officer on a routine check of your business for
vandalism found Russell Adams on the ground back there.” He pointed to the far
end of the lot where the techs were still working. “He’d been stabbed in the
chest but was still alive. While the officer was trying to administer first
aid, Adams handed him a business card. Brody Evans’s business card, and said we
had to help him. We didn’t get any more from Adams until they were just about
to take him up to surgery. He said that a fireman had kidnapped Evans. Now, do
you have any idea why your brother-in-law would kidnap Evans and where he would
take him?”

Fancy shook her head vehemently. She was frightened because Brody
was missing, but there was no way Corey could be involved in it. “That’s crazy!
Corey kidnapping Brody? Why would Russell say something like that? I’ve known
Corey for ten years, Detective, and there is no way he would kidnap Brody or
anyone else. C-can’t you track Brody’s phone or something to find him?”

“We tried,” Boomer explained. “There’s no signal coming from
it or Corey’s. We need to take a look at your security camera video. There may
be something on it to help us and confirm or refute Corey being involved.”

“Yes. . .sure, of course. Come into the shop.”

On trembling legs, she led the way into the bakery and back
to her office. With five large men in there with her, it was like being inside
a gym locker. Boomer sat at her desk, and after her computer had booted up, his
fingers flew across the keyboard. Four video feeds popped up on the monitor,
but they weren’t moving. The pictures showed the empty parking lot, the alley
behind the shop, and the front entrance.

“Shit,” Boomer said. “The feeds were turned off at just after
seven last night. Nothing has recorded since then.” He glanced at Fancy before
meeting Ian’s glare. “Maguire has keys to the place and insisted we show him
how the system worked in case Fancy had trouble. She okayed it.” He turned back
to Fancy. “Does anyone else here know how to get into the system to disable the
cameras besides you and Corey?”

“No, no one.” Of course she’d given Corey the keys and
passwords to the security system, never thinking he would do anything to harm
her business—or Brody. She didn’t want to believe he had done what they were
saying he’d done, but the evidence was beginning to pile up, circumstantial as
it all was at the moment. “I-I don’t. . .I can’t. . .why
would Corey do this?”

Stepping out of the office, a grim-faced Detective Webb
pulled his cell phone out. The only thing Fancy heard him say into it was “ABP”
and her brother-in-law’s name. Light-headed, she swayed on her feet, and Boomer
jumped up, maneuvering the chair in front of him as Marco grabbed her arms to
steady her. Settling her into the now-vacated chair, Brody’s best friend
squatted before her. “Sweetheart, where would Corey take him? We’ve already
sent a patrol car to his apartment, and neither Corey nor Brody’s trucks are
there, and they aren’t at Brody’s house either. Does Corey own any other
property or hang out somewhere secluded on a regular basis?”

“No. I can’t think of any place, and he only owns his
apartment as far as I know. M-maybe some of the guys at his firehouse might
have an idea.” Her tear-filled gaze met Marco’s worried one. “You don’t think
he’d. . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words “hurt” or
“kill”. . .she had to keep thinking this was all a mistake, and Brody
and Corey would suddenly appear. They’d all laugh about the misunderstanding,
and everything would be all right. But Fancy was coming to realize that was a dream
and the reality was a nightmare. Why would Corey kidnap Brody and what was his
eventual goal?

* * *

A white mist floated through the darkness of Brody’s mind. He
was about to reach for it when the shock of cold water thrown in his face
jerked him awake. As he sputtered and caught his breath, he found his arms were
restrained behind him and his ankles were shackled to the legs of the wooden
chair he was sitting on. That comprehension was enough to shake the last of the
cobwebs from his mind.

“Wake the fuck up, you fucking pervert!”

“Shout a little louder,” Brody roared at Corey. “I don’t
think the fucking neighbors heard you that time.”

The fireman punched him in the jaw, almost tipping him over.
Pain shot through him, but he ignored it, trying to take in his surroundings
and figure out how to get free. Tugging on his hands, he realized there was
more than one pair of handcuffs on his wrists.
Shit.
He could have
easily popped the chain links on one pair. They’d practiced doing that all the
time in the SEALs, having competitions on who could get out the fastest. But
the extra set made it impossible to twist them to the correct angle. The
bastard had done his homework.

“Don’t worry about the neighbors, there aren’t any for miles.
No one to interrupt our fun.”

The man walked behind Brody as the geek glared at him. Why
had he never seen the craziness in Corey’s eyes before? The guy was fucking
certifiable. Glancing around, it was easy to see they were in a garden shed,
but where was beyond him. There were no windows so he had no concept of what
time it was or how long he’d been out. Around him, there were assorted tools, a
lawn mower, and. . .
fuck him!
His chair was sitting inside a
plastic kiddie pool, and from behind him, he heard the sound of a faucet being
turned on.
This can’t be fucking good!

Turning his head, he saw Corey pulling a hose over and
throwing the end into the pool. Water quickly covered the bottom and began to
rise up the sides. To his left, he spotted something that made his blood
chill—a car battery with jumper cables. As Jake would say, fuck a fucking duck!

Brody struggled to get free from his bonds. But between the
extra care that had been taken to ensure he couldn’t escape and the fact that
he was still weak from the drugs he’d been given, his fight was useless. He
doubted he could talk his way out of this, but he didn’t have many alternatives
at the moment. “Listen, my guess is this is because you don’t want me dating
Fancy, is that it?”

“She’s too good for the likes of you. All you want to do is
abuse her. Just like my perverted brother. Taking her to fucking sex clubs. How
does it feel to be tied up?
Huh
? Is this what you do to her, you fucking
pervert?” Spittle shot from Corey’s mouth, hitting Brody in the face. “I saved
her from Patrick, and now, I’m going to save her from you. Maybe then she’ll
realize what a real man is like.”

Oh, fuck!
Brody stared daggers at the man. “You cut
the brake line on Patrick’s truck, didn’t you? And made it look like it had
been hit by a rock. You caused the accident that killed your brother and put
Fancy in a coma!”

Corey punched him in the face again, and Brody tasted blood
on top of his fury. “She wasn’t supposed to be with him! It was an accident!
How was I to know her car wouldn’t start that morning? But this time, she’s
safe. Nothing will happen to her. And after you’re gone, then I’ll be there for
her—just like before. But this time, I’ll make sure she sees I’m the right man
for her.”

Yeah, certifiable was too mild a word for this guy, but right
now is not the time to think of a better one. It’s time to fuck that duck
again!