Hearts Racing (9 page)

She gave him one more meaningful look—he found this one a bit harder to translate—then said goodnight and headed back into her room, where she closed her door to the bathroom. Buck heard her settle into bed. That body of hers. Settling into bed. Oh, man.

Yeah. A lot of weird things were going on here.

Chapter 15

Faith couldn’t shake it. That feeling something weird was going on. The guns. LeMond not wanting to talk to Buck. Last night it had seemed like LeMond was just busy, but he was nowhere to be seen in the morning. Usually he liked to give the riders a pep talk before they headed out on the bike, but today he was like a whisper in a wind tunnel. The guys all completed their morning WOD—looking strong and balanced, if she did say so herself—and then ate some lunch and began preparing for a training ride. They hung around to see if LeMond would show up but finally just decided to get their ride in without a pep talk.

Now it was the afternoon lull when the facility was quiet. Faith reviewed materials for the next day’s workout and planned accordingly. Then she went for a stroll.

The guys who arrived the day before were roving about, doing maintenance work on the facility. One was using a lawn mower. Another used a string trimmer to clear weeds. The rest were monkeying with the gate, oiling it or something. She went to see what they were up to.

They looked at one another as if not sure whether they should be allowing her to see what they were doing, but in the end, they just nodded and went on with their work. They were installing a new keypad with what looked like a thumb scanner. A video camera went up as well, giving a wide view of the gate and the road to it.

Why all the security, she wondered. Well, she guessed if you’re hiding a shitload of guns in your basement, you want to know who’s knocking on the front door. She felt self-conscious now, like she was being added to some kind of investigation list just by knowing the guns were there and by seeing all this going on. She had to talk to LeMond today or leave on her own. She could get back to New Lyon somehow.

The sound of car tires on the road drew her eye, and her skin went cold. Her joints all went solid and her insides dropped. She felt like they were falling. Like her body was falling without her.

The car coming down the road was Barker’s. Oh Jesus. Oh god. What would he say? How much did he know? What if he found out about the guns? She didn’t even know how she would explain these men working on the gate.

The men looked around nervously, too. One reached a hand for a toolbox nearby, lifted a top tool tray out of it, and then kept his hand inside. Another—the man working on the keypad—gave him a head shake, and the first removed his hand.

Barker drove up, smiling, the car window already rolled down halfway. Well, that was something at least. She forced a smile onto her face.

“Do you see,
ma chérie
?” he asked out the window. “Do you see how good I am? I found you!”

“You did,” she agreed, forcing a bigger smile. She held out her hand to the car window and he took and kissed it. He was growing some kind of mustache, and the hairs poked the back of her hand.

“I know you’ve been missing me, so I decided to pop in and say hello. Why don’t you show me around?” he said.

The Miami guys looked nervous, but what was she supposed to do? So she showed Barker where to park his car. Thank God the gate had been open. If he’d arrived at a locked gate, he might have thought she was living in a compound of some kind—a cult of suspicious cyclists. Well, was she? She looked around at the stout buildings. If she tried hard to think about what the word “compound” meant to her, yeah, this was kind of a compound.

It’d be best to keep the tour short. She’d just show Barker the gym area where she worked and that would probably be enough. He’d go back to New Lyon and grow his mustache and continue to be insufferable. Then, one day, she’d be married to him. Brother, she thought. Michael. Keep that in your mind. All of this is for my brother and family.

As she led Barker into the gym, she saw a couple of the Miami guys crossing the parking area heading for the basement. Play it cool, she told herself, play it cool. Barker just wants to show that he knows more than you think. It’s a power thing. Take it easy.

“Do you know how I found you,
ma chérie
?” he asked. He was like a child with a secret. He couldn’t wait to tell her how clever he was.

“No?”

“Your phone!” he said. She’d never seen him so pleased with himself. “I have access to all kinds of data now, you know, and the phones record their position. It was a simple matter to ask for your exact location, and then I just looked on a map!”

She forced a laugh. “You are very resourceful.”

Obviously he’d shown enough pride even for his sense of grace. “Well, you know, I try,” he said. Then, as an afterthought: “Oh! I thought you might like to know—I checked in with your brother. He’s doing quite well. He’s been lifting weights and is quite strong, I’m told.”

“Oh! I, uh . . . Thank you. That’s nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. Shall we see some more of the facility?”

“Yes, of course.” She showed Barker her gym: the stacks of bumper plates, the racks of bars, the boxes for jumping on.

He was complementary, and, thanks to having taken CrossFit classes himself, knew more or less what he was looking at. “Someone must really have some money to outfit you like this. Who was it you said you were training again?”

“That would be me,” Miguel said. She hadn’t heard him come in, but there he was in the doorway, looking like the textbook’s definition of smooth businessman. He strode across the floor with his hand out to shake, and Barker took it. “You must me Monsieur Barker. Mademoiselle Racing has told us so much about you. I am Miguel Costilla.”

Barker glowed under Miguel’s gaze. He appeared pleased to be properly greeted, and if anyone knew how to greet a person properly, it was Miguel. “Oh,” Barker said. “
Bon soir
, monsieur Costilla. How nice to make your acquaintance.”

“I understand you two are to be married.” Miguel smiled. Two of his Miami men came in. One was carrying a tray with tea cups on it.

“Yes, we are to be married. Mademoiselle is quite happy,” Barker was saying, distracted by watching them enter.

Miguel raised his eyebrows in a pleased expression. “Ah! Here are my associates. May I offer you an espresso, Monsieur Barker?”

Espresso? Faith thought. She hadn’t seen an espresso machine anywhere.

“
Mais oui
,” Barker said.

But as he reached a hand out to take a cup, the Miami guy, quick as a flash, grabbed the arm. The other man darted around Miguel and grabbed Barker’s other arm.

Barker grunted with surprise. “What’s the meaning of this?” His arms were being held away from his body as he was patted down.

“I do apologize, monsieur,” Miguel said, sounding as though he truly did feel the situation was unfortunate. “I am sorry to say that we will have to detain you here for a while. You will not be hurt.”

Faith couldn’t believe this. Miguel was going to ruin everything! “Miguel! You can’t grab him like this. People know him!”

“Do not worry, my dear. It is unfortunate, but we cannot let him return to New Lyon just now. As I said, he will not be harmed.”

The Miami guys finished patting Barker down and handed his cell phone to Miguel, who nodded and slipped it into a pocket. He waved at the men, and they marched Barker out the gym door.

“I demand to know the meaning of this!” Barker called over his shoulder, causing one of the men to tug him and force him forward again. “Faith, you bitch! What the hell is going on here?” He continued to yell as they walked him across the parking area.

Miguel turned to Faith. “I understand that you have seen some . . . things.”

No use lying about it. She’d definitely seen some things. Racks and racks of things. She nodded.

“I must tell you that for your own safety I have not been completely honest with you about my intentions. But I will make everything clear. We will wait for the riders to return and then we will gather and talk. Ah, here they are now.”

The familiar sound of cycling shoes clicking out of bike pedals and panting breaths that signified the return of the riders came from outside the gym door. Faith ran out, half expecting Miguel to grab her, stop her, but he didn’t.

Outside the door Buck was off his bike. He started to greet her, saying, “Hey, was that—” But she cut him off by grabbing him and holding him tight. She’d meant to run out and tell him what was happening, but when she saw him, she just wanted to be held by him. He was sweaty, but she didn’t care.

He squeezed her back, and she found her voice. She let him go.

“It’s awful,” she said. “Everything is awful. Barker is here, and Miguel’s guys grabbed him. He’ll go back to New Lyon. Tell them everything. And my brother will be ex—” She couldn’t bear to say it. Executed. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t say the word. Executed. She could think it but not say it. Thinking it was fear, but saying it would make it
real
.

She had to see what was happening to Barker. He might be a controlling sociopath asshole, but he was also her fiancé. She left Buck and crossed the parking area to the double doors leading to the basement, expecting to find them closed and locked. But they stood open. Miguel was inside, along with the two Miami guys who still held Barker. Should she call them henchmen now? What were they? Not riders. Thugs? They muscled a protesting Barker into a chair and secured him to a nearby metal shelf with a pair of zip ties. The shelves were bolted to the floor and wall. He wouldn’t be pulling loose from them anytime soon.

Barker was still shouting things like “I demand to know the meaning of this!” and “You are making a grave mistake!” and Miguel was attempting to calm him.

“I realize this may seem unnecessary and cruel, sir, but I am afraid we cannot trust you at the moment,” Miguel said. “We will have to detain you for a short time.”

Barker’s face was nearly purple with rage. “Detain me? How dare you! Do you know who I am?” Flecks of spittle flew from his lips as he shouted. He strained to move his hands, but they didn’t budge. “Undo these at once! You—”

Barker stopped mid-sentence when he saw Faith standing at the door.

“You!” he screamed. “You stupid whore, this is all your fault! I should have known you’d never make a proper wife, coming from such a family.” He spit on the floor. “Well, you can fucking forget it,
ma chérie
! You may have the looks of a trophy, but you are a burden, do you hear me? A burden! And I’ll tell you another thing, you dumb cu—”

Miguel’s slap to Barker’s face sounded like a rifle shot in the basement. It bounced off the rectangular room’s cement-block walls and cascaded over itself, sounding almost like some sort of digital effect. Barker’s mouth hung open, and his head rocked back with the force of the blow. He goggled at Miguel, his eyes looking as though they wanted to pop directly out of his face like ripe grapes.

Miguel’s face, too, bore the heat of rage now, but he contained it, directed it—rode it like a stallion. “Compose yourself,
seño
r!” he hissed. “You embarrass us all.” Barker looked around the room and into the stony faces of the Miami henchmen, who looked to Faith like they wanted to do a bit more than just deliver an open-hand slap. Barker looked at Faith; tears were leaking out of her eyes. She saw no trace of remorse in his face. If anything, he looked smug. Faith realized then what kind of husband he would have been. Cruel. Petty. Brutal.

“Now listen to me,
señor
,” Miguel continued, controlled and smooth as ever. “As I have said, I regret that we must keep you here against your will, although now that I have seen how you speak to Señorita Racing when you are angry, I know what kind of man you are. A small one, I think. I am glad for her that you have dissolved your engagement. But if you can compose yourself and act with dignity, you have my word that your stay here will be as comfortable as it can be. Do you understand?”

Barker nodded. His face had lost some of the purple color of his indignant rage, and Faith could make out the red outlines of Miguel’s fingers.

“Good,” Miguel said. He turned to Faith. “Would you like to say anything?” 

Faith had a memory of being at her childhood best friend’s mother’s funeral. The priest was asking her friend if she’d like to say anything at the service, and her friend didn’t know whether or not she should. “Well,” the priest said, “in my experience, if you don’t know for sure that you absolutely must say something, you probably shouldn’t.”

Faith felt like that now. What could she say to this tiny man who’d hurt her, taken her gym from her? She didn’t have any love for him. He’d just made himself her only hope, so she’d clung to him. He’d never even bothered to give her a ring. At least now she wouldn’t have to sleep with him. She’d been dreading that. But what would happen to her brother?

In the end she just shook her head. She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized someone was standing beside her. She looked up to find Buck’s face, his features performing the symphony of emotions that should be in a man’s face in such a turbulent situation. He was concerned, angry, supportive, and ready to comfort her, hold her—ready to try to understand her.

“Oh, very nice,” Barker said. “You’ve been busy down here, I see—” Miguel raised his hand slightly as a warning, and Barker shut up.

When he was quiet again, Miguel nodded his satisfaction. He straightened, adjusted his coat, and then continued. “Now we will take our leave,
señor
. My men will make this space more comfortable for you.”

Faith wondered what they would do about the guns. Would Barker use one of those if he got loose? They were out of his reach, and Barker looked pretty well attached to the shelf, but still . . . Did he have the guts to shoot people? Maybe, if he was mad enough. If someone made him feel small, he would certainly strike out to make himself feel big.

Miguel nodded then gave a significant look to his men. They got busy taking rifles off the racks, checking that they weren’t loaded. Presumably they were going to move them somewhere. Faith turned to go and saw that the riders were all standing around. Everyone had seen what happened.

“Why don’t you all shower?” Miguel asked. “We will have something to eat and I will share a few things with you.”

The riders nodded. The twins had grim looks on their faces. Jose said a few quiet words in Spanish that Faith thought sounded along the lines of “okay, let’s move along.” Buck headed up with them to shower.