Rock Star: The Deal (Book 3 of a Bad Boy Romance) (8 page)

I pulled away without answering the phone and it stopped ringing.

W
hen the phone
rang again I hesitated before picking it up.

“Why are there two FBI agents in your car?”

How the hell did he know that?

“Listen, I’ve given you the money, just let Meghan go.”

“I said no FBI or she would die. I see they have snipers on the money.”

“Look. Take me. If you really want to make more money, take me. I’m worth much more than three million dollars.”

“Brave, maybe stupid. I like it.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

“Let out the two FBI agents, then we will talk some more. Oh, and lose the earpiece and camera.” He then hung up.

I pulled the car over. I spun around. “Get out. He knows.”

“We’ve been instructed to—”

“Get out!” I yelled. They stumbled out of the car, slammed the doors and I drove away.

“Chase, what are you doing?” Agent Wakefield shouted over the mic in my ear.

“He already knew about your men and the surveillance equipment. I’m done. I’m doing this my way now.”

The last thing I heard was the agent protesting. I removed the earpiece and tossed it out the window, followed by the button that had the recording device. I knew the risks were high, but there was no way on earth we were going to get out of this for just three million. Someone had to have been in on this. How else could they have known about the men in the car, the snipers and the surveillance? I kept driving for another ten minutes before the phone rang again.

“Go west on Carlton Highway. There you will see a red pickup truck near a convenience store. You have five minutes…”

I hit the accelerator hard. The car lurched forward and I felt myself being pressed firmly back into my seat. I imagined agent Wakefield was probably yelling at his officers to follow me. To find out where I was going. To make sure that they didn’t lose sight of me. But all I could think about was: If this car breaks down on me Meghan is screwed. What if I don’t get to the truck in time? What will they do to her?

I could see a smaller town. I was getting closer to a four-way stop. I glanced around for signs of the convenience store with a red truck parked outside. I blasted through the four-way stop, not giving any thought to the fact that I could have died right there and then. I heard tires squealing and horns being honked. Several people had dived back on to the sidewalk to stay out of the way.

There was only two minutes left. Not enough time! What the heck was this person playing at?

Stores were flying by, a blur in my peripheral vision. I swerved to miss a woman coming across the street with a stroller. This was beyond dangerous, it was insane.

Were the FBI following me? I glanced up at the sky as I had seen a chopper. Was that theirs? What would happen when I got there? The FBI wouldn’t know where I was. They could kill both of us. Chase, this was the stupidest idea you have ever had to date, I thought to myself.

Come on. Where the hell is this store? I was now out of the town. I started to think that maybe it was back there. Perhaps down one of the roads. Convenience store. Where the hell are you?

Then I saw it. A red truck parked outside a 7-Eleven. Relief washed over me. I glanced at the clock. Five minutes had passed. I was over by a few minutes. Shoot!

The phone rang again.

“You are going to need to be faster than that if you want to see her alive. Now get out of the car, get into the truck. There is a set of keys in there. Head north on Highway 18 towards an old auto junkyard called Joe Farlan’s Wreckers. You’ll see it on the right-hand side. You have ten minutes…”

What was the deal with this guy making me rush? I was flustered as I jumped out of the car and got into the red truck. It smelled bad. The seats were torn up. Old cigarette butts were on the floor and a half drunk cup of coffee sat in the holding tray.

The truck roared to life and I backed out. I nearly hit a guy on a motorbike as I tore out of there. My eyes scanned the horizon as I burst over a rise in the road that merged onto Highway 18. For the second time I nearly ran a car off the road. I heard the driver shout some obscenity and then it became a blur like the trees that were passing me. Acting out of sheer desperation I floored it, keeping both eyes on the road but occasionally glancing at the clock.

Had the FBI moved in on the money? By the sounds of it, he wouldn’t be getting the money. That was both good and bad. Though maybe now I could help. Maybe I would see Meghan.

I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead. I was in dismay at the thought of crashing or driving past the junkyard that I was supposed to find somewhere down this road. I kept scanning and praying a quiet prayer to God, that if I made it out of this alive, I would give up this business. I had just about enough of dealing with crazies. The money was good, and initially the fame was a beautiful thing. But it had started to take its toll. Now this? It was too much.

Six minutes into the drive I saw it. It was a dirty, rusty sign that read Joe Farlan’s Wreckers. I yanked the wheel hard and turned off onto the small winding road that led up to a farmhouse. Anxiously I looked around, wondering if this was where they had kept her. My eyes were on the house. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror to see who was coming up behind me.

I
was a bundle of anxiety
. Not only did we have one kidnapped celebrity, now we had two. My hand was shaking so much that I dropped my coffee and it spilled all over my desk. It went all over the paperwork and map that I had set up inside the FBI command center.

“Does anyone have a bead on where he is?”

“We’ve found the car, but he’s not around.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Find him and find him fast. We lose him, we are screwed.”

All I could think about was sitting in front of a panel of my supervisors in Washington telling them how I had screwed this up. I would end up doing paperwork until the end of my career.

“He couldn’t have gone far. I want recordings from the convenience store. Anything that can show us what vehicle he has swapped into.”

“Why do you think he changed vehicles?”

“I’m not even going to answer that dumb ass question.”

Where did they get these rookies from? The FBI Academy was churning them out like there was no tomorrow. Long gone were the days when the FBI was considered the elite. We were now a joke. We had seen more people die because of us. More people captured because we had screwed things up than most of the local police departments’ blunders.

I only had six months left until I retired. I wanted to go out on a high note. Not be the laughingstock of the organization. This was meant to be it. When I got word that a celebrity had been taken, I knew this was my ticket. My last chance to prove my worth. To show that the last sixteen years hadn’t been for nothing. I would swoop in and save the day. Now it looked like I had egg on my face. I was going to hear about this for years to come.

“I want you to block off the roads in a twenty-mile radius. No one goes in or out.”

“That’s going to be a little hard to pull together.”

“Do it. Or go get another job.”

Agents were scrambling inside the command center to get out and look as if they were busy, even if they hadn’t been given a task. I knew that. That’s exactly what I had done when I was a rookie.

“Get a chopper in the air. I want someone searching for any vehicle that is traveling above the speed limit.”

“That is about everyone.”

“Just do it. And what about the money? Anyone moved in on it?”

“No,” a voice came over my headset.

“Well, go pick it up. Make sure you keep me informed if anyone sees anything.”

* * *

I
shuffled
around in the seat as the truck bumped its way down the old dusty road. I passed a graveyard of cars. They were stacked three high. Were the kidnappers here? Did they own this property?

I knew I was on my own now. There was no FBI following me. All ties had been cut. I must have been out of my mind. Ernie had told me many times about these kind of situations. I had seen another chopper in the sky. By now they would have had a whole army out looking for him. This kidnapper was smart not to go and get the money. But someone was behind this, pulling the strings. I tried to think of all the people I had wronged or let go. Could any of them pull this off? Sure that crazy bitch from Atlanta was in on this, but she couldn’t have pulled this off by herself. Who was the guy? Her boyfriend?

I hoped Meghan was OK. These folks weren’t idiots. They had planned this out to a tee. I stopped the vehicle just short of the porch. The phone rang again.

* * *

“
T
here is
a black truck parked inside the barn. Pull inside, get in the vehicle and put the straw bag over your head. You are now going to go on a long ride. If you make any sound or attempt to hurt the person who is going to drive you. If you try to alert police to where you are. She will die, and I will make it a painful death. Do you understand?

“I got it.”

His words chilled me. Who was going to drive me? Was it him? Was it her? I could imagine the things that crazy woman wanted to do to me after I had got her put away. Cautiously I got out of the truck, looking around to see if there was anyone else watching me. I approached a large barn. I pulled back the doors and went inside, closing them behind me. At the far end of the barn was a black truck. I kept my eyes peeled for anyone who might strike me. Slowly I approached the truck, and got in. On the seat was a straw bag. I hesitated before placing it over my head. The moment I did, I could barely see a thing. I sat there waiting. It seemed like I had been there twenty minutes but it was probably only ten.

Then I heard the truck door open.

“Turn around. Put your hands behind your back.”

It was a woman’s voice. I complied and I felt my wrists being tied. I then heard them shut the driver’s side door. They opened the passenger door and proceeded to tie up my feet. They then pushed me down so I would be out of view.

“Don’t do anything heroic, or the girl and you will die.”

A few minutes later the truck roared to life and we pulled out.

* * *

I
was beginning
to lose hope. When I awoke, I looked around. I was back inside the underground cell. The last thing I remembered was kicking the large guy in the face and racing up. Then it all went dark. My head hurt real bad. I reached up and felt a big welt on the back of my head.

The light in the room was flickering on and off. I could still feel air coming through the vents. But no one else was inside the bunker with me. What an idiot I had been to think that I could escape from them. How many were in on this? I wanted to get out of there so bad. I felt grimy and badly in need of a shower. The thought of Duke watching me as I showered, as he did each time I went to the bathroom, was sick.

No one was coming to save me. If I was going to get out of this, I would have to do it of my own accord. Whatever was going down that morning, it was big. Maybe if I had let him take me out, I would have been returned. That spark of hope lingered for but a few seconds before I realized that couldn’t have been it. They hadn’t spoken to me about being exchanged.

If it killed me, I wasn’t going to die in this dirty hole in the ground. When they returned I wouldn’t make the mistake I did last time. I would tie up one of them and demand to be given keys to a truck. I would hold one of them hostage. Maybe the boy? He was young enough. I didn’t want to have to do it as it wasn’t the kid’s fault his mother was a lunatic. But I needed to get out and fast.

My eyes scanned the room for anything I could use as a weapon. There was the ham radio. It was too large. There were no tools on the worktable. There was a metal shelf. Then I saw it. It was an ashtray on the table. It was made of glass. It was filled with old cigarette butts. If I could just convince the kid to steal the key to my chain, I could overpower him and then use the ashtray. I could smash it and take a shard of it and hold it to his throat. They would have to let me go. It was insane. The kid had been nothing but nice to me. But now it was my only option. The ashtray was heavy, easy to lift and would shatter on this concrete floor.

When I heard the wood being shifted, I sat back on the couch and pretended I was asleep. I heard the sound of boots coming down the stairs. I kept my eyes closed.

“Move it.”

Something fell at my feet.

“Meet your new roommate.”

I eased my eyes open, pretending that I was waking up. In front of me was someone on their knees. Duke took a hold of the bag over the person’s head and removed it.

Chase?