Revealing Silver (14 page)

Marisol cried out, releasing her. At the first hint of freedom, Remy bolted in the opposite direction of the door, racing for the bathroom. She barreled through a waiter, cringing at the scene she was making. No way around it. She had to get away. If Isaac found out, he’d read her the riot act, but she’d deal with that bridge when she got to it.

Flat-handing the door to the kitchen, Remy ignored the shouts from behind her and aimed straight for the back exit. She twisted out of the way when an unsuspecting busboy rounded a corner with a tray full of dirty dishes, then had to use the purse she still held to knock away the groping hands of a beer-bellied cook.

More shouts followed her into the alleyway. Remy whipped her head around to see Cruz standing at the mouth, blocking her way to the street. She pivoted in the opposite direction, running as hard as she could toward the chain-link fence separating it from the next lot. Six feet away, she threw the clutch over the top. It left her hands in time to leap onto the fence, and she clambered upward, toes barely catching in the holes before she was grabbing higher and higher.

The fence shook when Cruz reached it and tried to follow. Remy vaulted over the top, landing with a jolt on the other side. Her ankle protested, and her head was oddly light, but she pushed onward, scooping up the purse from the littered asphalt as she ran by it. Voices spilled into the alley behind her as staff came through the door she’d left open. More filtered from ahead.

She focused on the path in front of her. Looking back would slow her down. Worse, it might lose her precious seconds of spotting a new enemy to block her way. The trick to a successful escape was never stopping. A lifetime of experience had taught her that.

At the street, she didn’t even slow down. She veered away from the restaurant, darting between a pair of parked cars and into the busy street. A Jeep slammed on its brakes. Its bumper came within inches of hitting her side. Clearing the next lane with a double-time sprint, she raced around the corner, her heart pounding in rhythm with her feet.

Two blocks later, she was still running.

At four, she got lucky and spotted a bus getting ready to pull away from a stop. She had to pound on the glass door to get the driver’s attention, but within moments, she was collapsed in a seat, bent over as she tried to catch her breath.

Marisol had followed Isaac to find her. She didn’t know about the hotel.

Safety. For at least a few hours. Until Remy figured out what the hell to do next.

The department was in chaos. His initial relief for the emergency call that pulled him away from the awkwardness of Olivia’s breakfast disappeared in a flurry, one that barely reached his chest and scurried around like a puppy on crack.

“What are you doing here, Kahl?”

Kahl was a five-foot-nothing blonde who looked like she belonged in a Beverly Hills mansion rather than a police station. Hard to believe he’d met her the same night he’d met Olivia.

“I’m still the lead on the storage facility arsons. They called me in.”

“Wait.” He halted at the edge of the room. The captain’s door was ajar, ready for him to step in and find out what was going on. “This emergency has to do with that? Was there another fire?”

“Not that I know of.”

He hoped she was wrong. Because the more he thought about why Kahl would be brought in, the less he liked it.

Captain Stotko sat behind his desk, the phone glued to his ear. Unlike some of his predecessors, he’d come up through the ranks in LAPD, working his way through Vice and then Homicide to land in his current position of authority. At forty-two, he was still fit enough to work the streets if he chose. Isaac knew from the occasional sparring match at the gym that the barrel chest was a wall of muscle and the small-ham-sized fists unrelenting. The man rarely smiled, his salt-and-pepper hair lending an even greater air of authority. When Stotko had gotten divorced two years ago, nobody had been surprised. Isaac imagined he was as dour and intense in his personal life as he was in his professional.

At their appearances in the doorway, he gestured toward the empty chairs in front of him, wrapping up his call. “Good, I’m glad you’re both here. I only want to have to answer your questions once.”

“What’s this about, Captain?”

“Gabriel de los Rios is out.”

Isaac blinked. “Out? What do you mean, he’s out? The judge denied bail. When did that get overturned?”

“It didn’t. He escaped.”

His stomach dropped. Of all the things that could’ve gone wrong, escape was at the bottom of his list of worries. The few times they’d managed to get their hands on Gabriel, he’d used his legal team to get free within hours. He pulled strings with those in the upper echelon of the L.A. political machine to ensure he stayed out. Breaking out wasn’t his usual modus operandi.

He almost asked if Stotko was sure, but curbed the query at the last moment. Of course, he was sure. Stotko didn’t make mistakes like this, and he was one of the most honest men in the department. But he was also one of the most savvy, which begged the question, “Why call us in instead of telling us over the phone?”

Stotko nodded in approval. “Because it’s not public knowledge. We’re keeping this as contained as possible, so he doesn’t end up even further ahead of us than he already is.”

It helped that Stotko recognized the perils of trusting too many people. What didn’t help was realizing who was missing from the meeting.

When Isaac pulled out his phone, Stotko frowned. “What are you doing?”

“We’re not the only two involved in the case.”

“Put that down, McGuire. I’m not risking a leak that’ll make the manhunt harder than it has to be.”

“And I’m not risking Detective Wright getting caught out.” Ignoring Kahl’s curious stare, he hit Olivia’s number and waited for her to pick up. The phone didn’t even ring. It went straight to voice mail. He clenched his teeth as he listened to her calm voice instruct him to leave a message. “Call me as soon as you get this. The same second, understand? It’s important.” He caught Stotko’s sullen glare at his defiance. “There’s a problem with Stacy’s case. A huge one. Call me.”

“Detective Wright’s superiors will inform her about what’s going on,” Stotko said once he’d hung up.

“Except she’s out in the field, and she’s not answering.”

“He wouldn’t go after a cop, not with so much on the line.”

“Really? He was willing to break out. Something tells me he doesn’t give a damn about that line anymore.” Isaac rose and marched to the door.

“I’m not done here.”

“Kahl can fill me in on what I missed when I get back.” He yanked the door open. “Anything comes up while I’m out, call me.”

Stotko’s angry shouts followed after him as he half-ran for the stairs. Isaac maintained his composure until he reached the sanctuary of the stairwell, at which point he snarled in frustration and pulled out his phone again.

Something had lit a fire under Gabriel, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Olivia’s most recent visit. The man was certifiable when it came to the Silver Maiden. There was no telling what he was capable of. Olivia needed to be warned to watch her back, but if she wasn’t going to pay attention to her phone, he had to do everything he could to get the message to her.

Nathan didn’t pick up, either.

Considering the way things had been between the two of them over the past week, Isaac might have dismissed his failure to answer as a passive-aggressive attempt to tell Isaac to leave him alone. The problem with that logic was he’d left Nathan with Olivia, in the throes of a brand-spanking-new dedication to getting Remy back. When he’d talked about the warehouse, he’d seemed like the old Nathan, the one who’d rediscovered his zest for life, his hunger for the hunt. Isaac had been grateful for the call that pulled him away. Watching Olivia lean on Nathan for help in dealing with the damn coins all morning would’ve been torture.

Knowing they were probably at the warehouse together right now brought all those feelings of sick jealousy back.

He sped through the streets, alternately trying to get through to either one of them. Nobody answered. A call to Olivia’s boss confirmed she hadn’t gone in yet, just as calls to Nathan’s apartment rang on and on without end. His anxiety spiked the closer he got to the warehouse. Especially when he saw Olivia’s Sequoia parked on the street.

Isaac parked behind it and looked around. No sign of either of them. Two men in grease-stained overalls loitered on the sidewalk. He had his badge out and ready as he approached them.

“Have you seen the owner of this vehicle?” he asked, gesturing to the SUV.

The older of the pair shook his head. “It’s been chaos around here today, though. Lots of people coming and going. I can’t even keep track of all the trucks.”

“Are you sure? There’d be two of them. A woman, tall with red hair, and a man, taller than me, dark hair, glasses.”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway.”

Pocketing his badge, Isaac jogged to the far end of the lot. He’d given Olivia his only set of keys. He sincerely hoped she hadn’t locked the doors behind her.

The handle gave at the first turn, opening into a dim, dust-ridden void. Morning sunlight slashed across the concrete floor, tiny motes he disturbed upon entering dancing in the visible rays. The building was silent. Not even the sounds of traffic permeated the thick walls. As he took a careful step inside, the sense of stepping into a tomb that had only just been unearthed sent an array of goose bumps down the back of his neck.

“Olivia?” he called out.

The metallic echo of his voice slithered back to answer him.

He focused on the floor, scanning for prints to guide him to wherever she might have gone. He picked up on the familiar tread of Nathan’s, but it was smudged by others as well as long sweeps of something thin. Crouching down gave him a better vantage, though it did nothing to make him feel better. The smudges were additional footprints, different from the ones beneath them. Upon closer examination, the swipes looked like the heel of a shoe dragging through the dust.

His gun was in his hands before he’d fully straightened. He refused to think of the possibilities of what might have occurred. He had to concentrate. Olivia might be hurt somewhere. Whoever had arrived after her and Nathan could still be around. Any of a thousand scenarios could have taken place. Could still take place.

Concentrate.

He followed the trail to the end of the warehouse, stopping at a metal door. Rust flaked from its edges where a seal had recently been broken, but when he reached to push it open and explore behind it, his hand froze.

The dust was disturbed on the floor here, too, but not just by footprints.

That was blood. Someone had put up a hell of a fight.

And lost.

Soft breath fanned across her ear, and she recognized the smell of Nathan’s skin. His voice kept her still, two simple words that warned her not to twitch. “Don’t move.”

Olivia’s head was killing her, her back hurt, her throat was sore, and she thought one eye might be swollen shut. She had a million questions, including the all important
where the hell are we and what the hell happened
.

Nothing blocked her vision, though, and she tried to take in as much of her surroundings as possible. The walls were close, as was the ceiling, and the floor felt cool against her cheek. She was pretty sure they were moving. It was difficult to tell at first because there were no windows, and the sense of movement could have been the result of her muddled and scrambled brain. But then whatever they were in—one of the delivery trucks maybe—hit a hole in the road and her head thumped painfully against the floor. She sucked her breath in sharply, wincing as a wave of nausea passed through her. She couldn’t even brace herself and protect her pounding head, since her hands were tied behind her back, and her feet were trussed together.

Olivia tried to concentrate on breathing, hoping to distract herself from the pain threatening to split her skull open. Or maybe her skull had already been split open. The sticky warmth on the side of her head must have been blood. Who had gotten the drop on them? Other than Isaac, who had even known they were going to be the warehouse? Olivia hadn’t yet reported they were searching the building in relation to several cases, not wanting police swarming the area while they were trying to look for any signs from Remy. It would be too difficult to explain what they were searching for, or why Nathan was present, or how any potential evidence found wouldn’t necessarily link Remy to the cases in a bad way.

Nathan didn’t have anybody to tell. Isaac’s natural trust issues meant he didn’t reveal information to anybody, even people on his team, unless he absolutely had to. So how had anybody known to find them there? And who had the motivation to bash their heads in and kidnap them? None of this was making sense. Was their kidnapper in the back of the truck with them? Was that why Nathan told her not to move?

Inhale. Exhale. Calm, steady, even breathing. It didn’t help her headache, but it did force back the rising tide of fear. Until she realized the bulky jewelry box wasn’t in her pocket. The person responsible for knocking her out must have taken it, and that thought more than any other made her stomach clench in absolute dread. Somebody had the coin. It didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter why. Somebody who wasn’t her had the coin, and she needed to get it back. Nothing else mattered. Not Nathan’s warning to keep still, not the moving truck, not the fact that her weapon was missing too. She pushed that frantic urge to find her coin down, but it was paramount in her thoughts.

And Isaac.

Where was Isaac? Did he even know they were gone? Was he aware they’d been taken from the warehouse? Or was he dealing with his own emergency, too caught up in work and bad feelings to worry about what Olivia and Nathan were up to? She thought of the tension between them during breakfast, frustrated tears pricking the back of her eyes. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t even realize they were missing until the next morning—assuming it wasn’t the next morning already. She had no way to calculate how much time had passed, no way to even see what time of day it was. She only knew it wasn’t dark outside because of the light filtering through rivet holes on the floor, but twenty-four hours could have passed easily.

Even if Isaac realized they were gone—a mighty big if considering the situation—how would he even know where to find them? They were traveling in an unknown direction, in a semitruck, and no matter what direction they went to leave L.A., they’d be on one of the most heavily trafficked corridors in the country. He’d have to organize a roadblock somehow, but if the kidnapper caught wind of it at all, it would be an easy thing to exit the freeway and turn around, take surface streets, or pick a new freeway and a new direction. It was all enough to make a girl feel perfectly hopeless.

But she didn’t. Not quite yet. She still had Nathan—who might have fared better than she had in the fight—and the coin was still nearby. She’d been in sticky situations before. Her job would be to stay alive and buy Isaac as much time as possible. She had no doubt once Isaac realized they went into the warehouse and never emerged, he would leave no stone unturned. He’d search for her all the way to the pits of hell, if necessary.

“Are you okay? Blink once for no.”

Olivia blinked twice.

“Just follow my lead.”

That’s what she thought Nathan said, at any rate. The words were just small puffs of air against her ear, his mouth barely moving to give them any depth. She risked moving her head slightly and realized the reason his face was so close to hers. He was tied down as well, his hands pulled behind his back in an identical position. Sure, she’d follow his lead. But where did he think he was going? It looked like neither one of them would be moving for a very long time.

Olivia lowered her head once again, pressing her ear against the floor, listening to the steady
thump-thump-thump
of the tires hitting the road. She began counting each one, hoping it would serve the dual purpose of giving her an idea of how far they were traveling as well as keeping her awake. She definitely didn’t want to pass out again. She couldn’t stand the thought of slipping away into darkness and waking up to discover she was alone. After she got over a thousand, she lost track and started over again. The second time she made it almost to five thousand, but was distracted by her stomach growling. Olivia welcomed the uncomfortable cramp of hunger, relieved to feel something besides her headache or fear.