SEIZED Part 6: A Steamy New Adult Romantic Suspense Thriller (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (3 page)

Blake

I go directly from the precinct to my car, and sit there for a while, trying to calm down. Full-blown anger is raging through me.  Anger and fear. IA is clearly out for blood. My blood. Schmitt attacked every word I said. He turned everything around. He almost suggested I planned this from the start.

Whether it’s luck or coincidence, Gary came in right when he needed to, and saved my ass. Now I need to clear my head and consider my options. With these guys gunning for me, I can either wait for them bring the pain, or I can do something and solve this problem myself. Finding Carrie and April is the only option. I’m sure Jessup Lee or Neon—or both of them, for that matter—can lead me to her.

I turn the key and gun the engine. It’s time to find out exactly what Jessup Lee is up to. But this time, I won’t engage. I’ll just follow him around and see where it takes me. I take my usual route to Caliber. If I’m lucky, he’s there, and I’ll be able to catch him on his way out. The last time I followed him, I learned he does a round of daily visits to his properties. If my hunch is correct, the place he’s going could lead me straight to Carrie.

I’m driving dangerously fast, but everything depends on reaching Jessup in time. I’m not going to be able to make a move or involve the NYPD until I know for sure. There’s only one way to prove Jessup is involved, and that’s to see it with my own eyes.

Motorists are cramping my style with their snail’s pace driving. If Jessup’s following his routine, I’m going to miss him unless I can pass these people. Too bad I don’t have a squad car today—there’s nothing better than sirens to move the casual drivers out of the way. Somehow, space opens up, and I’m able to gun the engine. I maneuver my way through several cars to eventually turn onto the block where Caliber is located. Shit. Shit. Shit! I thump the steering wheel. No limousine. I’ve missed Jessup. Now what? I pull over for a second.

The hands-free unit connected to my phone chimes. Ryan’s name comes up on the screen.

“Ryan,” I answer. “Tell me you’ve got something on Jessup? I’ve just missed him. I need to find out where he is. Can you help me out?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Hold on. I’ll log in.”

I hear the sounds of tapping and a couple of beeps as Ryan check the system in the precinct. We have access to global tracking satellite information. It means we can keep an eye on all long-term suspects, using their phones. Jessup has been on the NYPD hit list for years. There are boundaries, of course. Each search has to be warranted so Ryan is taking a serious risk by helping me today.

“I got him, Blake. Where are you?”

“Parked outside Caliber.”

“Perfect! He just left twenty minutes ago. He’s on the New Jersey turnpike. If you hurry, you can catch him.”

With that I take off, using the horn as freely as most New Yorkers, and muscling my way into the line at the traffic lights.

“Can you stay on the phone?” I ask, hoping he’s got good news for me.

“Sure,” he says. “And boy do I have an update. Jessup and Neon have been meeting regularly. More often than you think. They have a connection through some of his subsidiary businesses. But it’s more than that, Blake.”

“What do you mean?” I ask impatiently.

“Jessup is connected to an insider at our precinct. I can’t tell you on your phone. It may not be secure. But it’s not looking good. Your hunch may have been right from the start.”

“So Neon and Jessup are up to something. Do we know what?”

“It could be business or pleasure,” Ryan says. “Jessup is just the sort of high-flyer Neon likes to hook her talons into. But then again, he’s a shrewd little man. I can’t be certain on the nature of their relationship. You need to find out. If I were a betting man, I’d say he’s on his way to visit her now. Have you got his vehicle in sight yet?”

“Seriously, Ryan. He’s got a twenty-minute head start on me. I’m going as fast as I can.”

My hands are tense, gripping the wheel as I swing down the final street that takes me to the Turnpike. “What’s his position?”

“He’s stationery, at a traffic light about ten blocks off the bridge.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding for blocks. “I’m going to make it.” I say, my adrenaline pumping as I get in the fast lane on-ramp. “Thanks for your help, Ryan. Keep me updated if he deviates, but you know where I’ll be now. I’ll find out what I can about Jessup and Neon. Who knows what’ll happen when I get there. Can you stay near your phone? I may have to call in the troops.”

“Of course buddy. Drive safe.”

“Thanks Ryan.”

I hang up and plant my hands back on the wheel. I just need to keep Ryan on the guy and he’ll tell me where Jessup ends up. For once, it’s my good luck the traffic is so heavy. I may not have caught him otherwise. This leaves me too much time to think. My mind is unsettled and distracted. There’s so much on the line right now. I’m worried about April, obsessed over Carrie, wondering about Jessup and Neon, and still reeling from the IA interview.

I need help getting myself together. This traffic jam is the perfect opportunity. I punch in my sponsor Mark’s number.

“Hello,” he answers.

“Hey Mark. It’s Blake.”

“Blake. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Got time for a quick program call?”

“Of course. I’ve always got time for you. How are things progressing?”

“It’s been one hell of a tough time. I was suspended. I’m being investigated because of a strange turn of events. The fear is very real, Mark.”

“Does it relate to the woman you’re seeing?” He asks.

That’s when I feel my throat start to close. “Yes. And she’s gone missing too.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t know, Mark. My life is in chaos right now. I’m out looking for her now.”

“Do you have the desire to drink?”

“No, no. I’m scared of what I’ll do if Carrie gets hurt.  With her on my mind, the possibility of being kicked off the force doesn’t even register.”

“You’ve got a lot happening at once, Blake. Go easy on yourself.”

“I just don’t know what to do. Every option seems bad.”

“Fear is normal, Blake. It’s healthy, especially for you now. You’re at a turning point. but don’t let it get in the way of hope. Keep doing what you feel is the next right thing. That’s all any of us can do.”

“But what if the next right thing is a mistake?” I blurt out, feeling unsure of everything.

“Blake, you have a choice. You can step back or keep going. If she’s the woman you love, it
is
right to do everything in your power to make sure she’s safe. But check your motives first. Is it love that’s driving you, or is it ego? If it’s about winning, the next action may not be the next right thing. If it’s about revenge, again, you may be taking the wrong road.”

Just hearing the calm in his voice talks me down. I have a choice. I don’t need to panic. I take a second to think.

“Mark I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. I would…I’d do anything for her. I can’t bear thinking about her out there somewhere in pain.”

I find myself thinking of what George asked me earlier today. It feels bizarre, yet somehow perfectly synchronistic.

“I think you have your answer, Blake. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You may be suspended, but who can hold it against you for looking. As soon as you find her, let the authorities take over. Be there for her, don’t worry about being the hero.”

We wrap up and end the call. I feel better about everything. There is a tragic possibility she and April may already be gone. Carrie may never want to see me again. I don’t care about any of that; only that I love her. I love her enough to risk everything. I’ll keep looking for her until she’s found.

Ten minutes later, I get to the end of the bridge. I’m biding my time. Jessup may have had his driver stop somewhere, because a few minutes after I get off the bridge, I see his limo. His car is about five vehicles ahead of mine. The windows are too tinted to see anyone. I can only hope Jessup in the vehicle. If he’s off to the same place as last time, I’m in luck. If he’s running errands, or out for a drive, well at least I would have gotten my program call into Mark. And I’m ready for anything. I took the time to bring the pistol I have licensed in my name with me.

Carrie

As Jessup pulls up to April, I wrestle with what to do about the man in the vehicle who has stopped in front of me. It feels surreal. The cold air cuts at my arms as I stand there, feeling nearly naked on the street. The shoes they gave me cut into my heels. I can’t see clearly. I’m scared, so scared, and I don’t know what to do. I look left and right, hoping there’s someone I can call for help. There’s no one else around, except for the three of us—me, April and the security guard who’s gesturing for us both to get down to the street and approach the awaiting cars, so we can try sell our bodies to the drivers.

My fate seems inevitable. It’s sickening. The drugs don’t help either. They flow through my bloodstream, making things feel like a bad horror movie. I wish with all my soul I could call out
“
cut
”
and make everything okay, but the pressure is on. In less than a minute, I’m going to need to say something to the guy in this car. I need to ask him to be my first john. I’m about to request money for sex, and I just can’t begin to imagine how to do it.

I’m more interested in what’s going on with April. I look over to see what she’s doing. I can’t hear much, and the lights of Jessup’s limo in front of April are blinding, so I can’t see well either. I can make out their outlines standing near the long car, but it seems he’s speaking to her, and she’s not responding. It’s confusing. The drugs they gave me don’t help at all—they make me dizzy and disoriented.

My breath is raw in my throat. I hear a wheezing sound, as if I’m having an asthma attack. All I can hear is the sound of it wrenching at my windpipes. The fear is choking me. I wonder for a second if I’m overdosing. Is this how I’m going to die? Choking on the edge of the road, my death unreported because I’m just a hooker, a nobody who doesn’t matter?

The thoughts flood my mind as I lean forward to place my hand on the edge of the car for support. I hope he doesn’t think that I’m making a move. Talking to someone I don’t know about money and sex is not something I want to do. I’m just trying to stop myself from vomiting or falling over at this point.

An impatient whistle from security reminds me of the client I’m supposed to be propositioning. I can’t see him through the window or hear what he’s saying. All I can focus on is
not
falling over. This is what it must feel like to be insane. For a second I seriously consider sitting down on the pavement and throwing up. Maybe I should throw a tantrum—roll around on the ground like a two-year-old does when they’re trapped indoors and want to run around outside.

It’s not sanity that stops me from dropping to the ground in protest, but the worry that they’ll physically hurt me as punishment. I pinch my arm. If April and I are going to survive this, I need to snap out of my haze and look out for April now. I pull back from the car for a second, shake my head against the drugs’ effect, and try to focus on what’s happening with her.

So far she’s made it down to the curb. She’s face to face with Jessup, and is standing there like she’s waiting for something. She doesn’t look scared; she looks wasted.  I’m shocked at how small her thighs have become in the outline of her shadow. I hurt for her. Drugs or not, the longstanding bond between us is deeper than anyone will ever understand.

Jessup is wearing an expensive pin-stripe suit. The man is repulsive. He’s acting as if it’s nothing to discover his niece working the streets. It’s ludicrous to think he’s been party to this, but it’s undeniable now. He’s standing right there, in the flesh, looking as coiffured and smug as usual. I scan every inch of him from the slick clothing to the well-cut hair. He looks like he’s ready to attend a charity ball. The only thing that’s way off is the black eye he has. It looks painful. That, and he’s standing on a curb with hookers in the middle of New Jersey!

As he speaks to April, those wide nostrils of his are flaring. I want to turn away in disgust. I force myself to close my mouth and look down submissively. There’s nothing to be gained from gawking, but I nearly drop my bag when he moves closer to April and hugs her.
What?
I watch in almost complete disbelief as he pulls off to the side, in a manner that’s way too friendly for an uncle, and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She doesn’t even flinch; she settles into his lecherous hold without protest.

I must be too obvious as I stare. He turns and looks at me like he’s about to say something, but looks at April again.

“Turn around, little one,” he says.

I watch in horror as she executes a tired little pirouette while he peruses every inch of her body with his eyes. It’s disgusting and degrading, but she does it.

Jessup looks back at me triumphantly. He wants me to see that how completely he owns her.

“I’ve got to make sure the merchandise is in top form. Don’t I, Carrie? And you’re not looking so bad yourself, are you?”

His tone is malicious. I can’t help feeling sick. He’s openly checking me out, and I feel like my clothes are transparent as he stares at me from head to toe.

“You’re getting everything you deserve, Carrie James. You were a little bitch from the moment I met you. Looking down at us all. I saw you judging me at the funeral; thinking you’re better than our family. Now look at you, just a common whore on the street. You’re nothing!”

His words cut through the haze of drugs and obliterates the hope I have left. It hurts. If he’s saying he did this to us for some unexplainable sentiment he felt more than a year ago, he’s sicker than I thought. Even coming from him, it hurts. I hate him. But right now, I hate myself too. There’s nothing to say in response. I take his insults in silence and wince as my potential john in the red car shouts out a profanity-laced rebuke. His car   speeds off in a squeal, no doubt off to find a girl who’s more willing.

For a moment, I feel a tinge of rejection. Here I am standing on the street, and I can’t even summon the courage to remember it’s not my choice to be here. I should be rejoicing that I didn’t have to subject myself to such degradation. But I’m not. I look down at the skin sticking out from the top of my cheap stockings, shame washing over me, drowning every smart, awesome thing Carrie James once would have said.

I’m also reeling from Jessup’s assertions. After I had taken up martial arts, I would never take insults like this from anyone. I would overreact and get angry. At the very least, I’d stand up for myself. Now fate has brought me back full circle for the second time. It has re-victimized me, landing me back where I was at sixteen—in a position of weakness.

I want to scream and cry. I want to throw something at the window of the limo and run. I know these desires are useless, and would only bring me more grief, with no one of character around to save me from these low-lives. And worse, Jessup is here. Not only is this evil man likely to set his security detail on me, I’ll never make it far in this state. Again I’m powerless. For a moment, the fear and anger seeps to the surface of my skin, twisting my face and sending acid to my gut. Tempting me to lash out. Then logic takes back over and I say nothing.

Jessup seems disappointed not to have garnered a response from me. He turns away, obviously deciding to ignore me. I see the back of his head and notice how every hair sits exactly in place. It’s gelled down and parted to perfection. This man is an obsessed psychopath. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s behind this whole terrible operation. Jessup Lee, with his stationery warehouse and his nightclub. He’s fronting this scary ride of organized crime. He’s the evil genius behind it all. Neon is just a pawn. April and I are disposable pieces of shit. We are nothing to him. This man who calls himself an uncle while giving to charities, is at heart the worst type of criminal.

Everything I’ve learned from Sarah’s diary and Blake’s investigation comes together in my mind like a giant puzzle. Somehow, we’ve been pulled into the web of a master criminal. My desire for justice fires up, reigniting the rage. I need to be smart. If I pretend I don’t know anything, there’s still a chance I’ll be allowed to live.

It all comes down to what I do now. I stand on the road, smile vacantly and wave at April. She’s out of it, weak as she stands by his side. I follow suit. I straighten my stance, making out as if I’m about to start talking to the man in the most recent car that pulled up. Jessup seems satisfied. He gives April one more slap on the butt.

“Girls, get your asses out there and hustle! There’s only one way to stay warm around here, and you’re not doing it now.”

He laughs, and I hear another icy cackle chime in. We all turn in the direction of the sound. It’s Neon Lips, standing seductively in the doorway of a building close by. It looks like a brothel. There are signs and posters that say ‘Massages’, and a neon light on a billboard, with words I can’t make out because it’s missing a few letters. She gestures to Jessup, calling him over. He leaves April and makes his way up the pavement like a snake to a charmer.              I watch with interest as she summons him closer with a crooked finger. This woman has more power than any of us know. Jessup may be backing the whole thing but Neon seems to have him firmly under her thumb. He steps up to her and I’m fascinated—she curls her arm into his and presses her leather-clad body up against his expensive suit.

With one hand on his face, she plunges those brilliant orange lips directly on to his in a sloppy joining of mouths. It produces an audible grunt from Jessup. His arms move possessively around her, taking back control as he deepens the kiss, hands moving through her hair. There’s no doubt now that Neon and Jessup are in partnership.

I feel a little nauseous. I look over at April. She’s still in her drugged-up daze. How incredibly heartbreaking it must be to know that her uncle cares so little, he’s willing to kidnap her and force her into prostitution. There are no words; only the cold air and another car waiting for our attention.