The Silent Sounds of Chaos (20 page)

HE WAS LOST in oblivion. Surrounded by blurs of color, bound to an empty existence where thought and focus and worry were but distant memories floating away on a warm breeze, Finn was free. There was nowhere he had to be, no pain of another’s to feel, just … calm, peaceful freedom.

He floated for hours, days, months—time no longer mattered. There was no need to rush here. Finn had forgotten how much he loved the drop into nothing. It had been a rare thing for him to indulge in the high, not wanting to end up like his mother, but now he wondered why he’d ever turned a cold shoulder.

This was the escape he craved, from his past, his present, and certainly the bloody future awaiting him. It gave him total awareness of his soul, of the soft cotton against his chest, the cool piece of steel in his pocket, the oils starting to coat unwashed hair, even the sound of traffic and chirping birds as they echoed in his ears.

Pressure against his chest made him stir, trying to pull him out of unconsciousness. He couldn’t break through the surface of his daze. He didn’t
want
to break through. A roaring in his ears had him turning his head side to side, trying to determine the source of the noise, force it to be quiet and let him enjoy his peaceful ride into the void. Still, fragments of conversation trickled in, angrily spoken demands he didn’t understand.

I expect … You owe me … I will kill … You knew what would happen if you …Not such a good girl anymore…

A man’s voice, muffled as though being heard through a wall. A man’s voice talking about Snow.

Snow. It came back to Finn then—his purpose, his destiny, his reason for leaving home. He was supposed to save her, not become the person he hated most in the world.

Debts have to be paid
. The man was speaking again. But who was he talking to?

Iron Creek … Estates
.

A different interruption into his drug-fueled haze. A young woman’s voice, whispering to him slowly. Snow’s voice, interrupted by breathy gasps.

Even in his state of twilight, Finn zeroed in on Snow. Yes, he could feel her now. Groggy. Exhausted and weak. Struggling to reach out to him as they both slowly awoke from their stupor.
Iron Creek Estates?
he repeated, trying to understand.
Is that where you are?

He’s … talking to someone … wants payment … one way or another … to meet him at … Estates.

Are you there now? In the house I saw? Did you try to escape?

…House?
Her response was unsure, and so quiet he could barely hear her.
Finn? I’m so tired.

Stay with me, Snow.
Snow?
he called to her when she didn’t answer, and again, his voice growing louder as hers lowered. Finally, after long and painful moments wondering where she went, he heard her once more.

Please help me, Finn
.

The plea jolted Finn awake. He leapt to his feet in one fluid motion, head swiveling to either side when he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Some kind of room—bed in the corner, bathroom along the same wall, scratched-up dresser with his leather jacket tossed on top, TV playing an old sitcom rerun.

Finally his gaze landed on Joe sitting in an ugly orange chair, watching TV. “Where are we?”

“Crossed the border a few hours ago,” he answered plainly, eyes never leaving the television. “I was tired of drivin’ your ass around, figured I’d get a room and let you sleep off whatever the fuck you took.”

“Took?” Finn ran a hand through his hair, thinking back to the last thing he remembered. Talking to Snow, feeling what she felt as she ran—trying to escape, he could only assume—then … warmth. It all happened so quickly. He didn’t take anything. Not that he could remember, anyway.

“What happened?”

“You tell me, kid.” Joe took a drink from a bottle on the floor next to him, then used it to gesture at Finn. “You passed out, about took us out on the middle of the highway, not to mention the other cars. Tossed your ass in the backseat once I got us off the road, then took over. So, here we wait.”

Perplexed, Finn sat on the edge of the bed, half tempted to grab the bottle and down it in three long swallows. He resisted only because he refused to be like his mother and solve all of life’s problems with a drink.

“I didn’t take anything,” he managed to say around his bewilderment. “I … Maybe I’m getting sick.”

“You were mumbling something in your sleep. Iron Creek Estates.” Joe waited a beat, then added, “Something you want to tell me?”

Instead of answering, Finn pulled out his phone. “Iron Creek Estates,” he repeated to himself beneath his breath. The few words Snow was able to utter spoke volumes. While he didn’t know who all was involved or what house she was in, it didn’t matter, because he knew where she was.

Typing in the neighborhood name, Finn frantically searched for the setting, checking all of Georgia, foot tapping impatiently. When the map finally zeroed in on the location, he frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Finn shot an irritated glance over at Joe before returning his attention to his phone, convinced he was doing something wrong. But, no, every search engine he checked told him there was no Iron Creek Estates in Georgia.

He knew he’d heard her correctly. Snow’s voice was distinctive, always clear and present in his mind. And, thanks to his strengthening connection with her, he also knew her abductor, whoever he was, had some kind of issue with her father. Probably money, he figured, but another quick online search would hopefully reveal more about her family, and maybe what they had to do with the location where Snow was being held. Surely by this point the cops—and therefore the news stations—knew something, if Snow’s father had been brought into negotiations.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jumping to his feet, Finn scanned an article, then another, scrolling through black words on a white screen until they all blurred together.

Nothing. There was nothing on a ransom, on any demands being made to Snow’s family. Only an update on her kidnapping informing the public the search was still on, a call for help in finding the men responsible, and a picture to remind anyone watching who to look for.

“That mother fucker didn’t tell the cops.”

“Who didn’t tell the cops what?” At Joe’s wary question, Finn spun around and all but launched the phone at him. Joe caught the phone and spent a minute scrolling. “What is this? There’s nothin’ there.”

“Exactly.” Feeling vindicated, Finn began to pace. “There’s nothing there about Snow’s parents, which means whoever this asshole is who took her, he’s talking to them on the side and cops haven’t been brought in. And all this time she thought her family was good.”

“Snow?” Joe repeated after a moment’s hesitation. “Your girl’s name is Snow?”

Finn paused mid-step, only now realizing her name had slipped out. Too late to take it back, he figured, and pushed on. “It’s a nickname because she likes princesses. And that’s not the point. The point is that her father clearly is trying to handle this on his own. Maybe it’s a deal gone bad or he pissed off the wrong person, I don’t know. I don’t know what he does that would have him involved with these people. But I do know that if I don’t get to her soon, this guy might take it a step further. I have to get to her, now.”

Joe watched as the younger man grabbed a pen and pad of paper on the nightstand next to the bed and started drawing a rough sketch of what looked like the inside of a house. Finn was so wrapped up in his drawing he didn’t notice Joe pull out his cell phone, subtly press a button, then another, keeping his arm down at his side as he said, “So, you have to get to her … at Iron Creek Estates.”

“Right.”

“Because even though the cops and the news have no idea where she is, you do.”

Finn looked up from his drawing, hearing the suspicion in Joe’s voice. “Right,” he said again, slowly this time.

“How do you
know
she’s there? How do you know this guy wants something from her father? You didn’t know anything yesterday, and all of a sudden you now have an exact location. You ain’t left my side since we left and you been out cold for hours. But now you know where this girl is.”

Joe stood and crossed his arms. “I don’t buy it. There’s somethin’ you’re not telling me. Especially since you said she was in Atlanta, and now you’re sayin’ she’s in Iron Creek Estates. There ain’t a neighborhood like that anywhere in near Atlanta. I checked. You’re up to somethin’.”

“Atlanta was before I knew exactly where she was,” Finn shot back, seeing the debate quickly sliding from his control. “I needed a place to start. Plan’s changed.”

“Oh, no,” Joe drawled, fingers tapping against his biceps, “I think this was your plan all along. Just took me a little long to catch on is all.”

They engaged in a standoff, one knowing there was more to the truth than being told, the other refusing to reveal anything further. Finn’s mind raced with ways to overtake the older, stronger, much more brutal man, each idea coming up short.

He couldn’t tell Joe how he knew where Snow was, just as he couldn’t quite figure out what “plan” Joe thought he had secretly cooked up. There was just one purpose to this trip—avenge Snow. And if he wanted to do just that, he’d have to ditch Charlie’s chosen henchman.

The only problem was, Joe was standing between him and the door. There was no way out of this room.

But he refused to show fear or any sort of trepidation. Straightening his shoulders, Finn took a step forward and kept his glare even. “Get out of my way, Joe.”

“Not until you tell me what exactly your game is here.” Joe’s stance shifted threateningly—feet braced, shoulders set, chin held high. “All that mutterin’ in your sleep, sayin’ things you shouldn’t be sayin’ if you wanted to keep things secret. You blew it at Iron Creek Estates. You and me both know that only means one thing. You better start talking right fucking now.”

“And if I don’t?” Finn crossed his arms as well, then lifted a brow when there was a sharp knock at the door. “Saved by the bell,” he said sarcastically, but Joe didn’t seem fazed.

“You sure about that, kid?”

Finn watched Joe walk backward to the door, keeping a wary eye on him as he let their guest in. As soon as he saw who was on the other side of the door, Finn’s heart thumped painfully in his chest, his stomach clutching and bile burning in his throat. He didn’t, couldn’t, speak as the man entered, his lanky frame filling the doorway, a black shadow against the brilliant afternoon sun.

The visitor stepped inside, letting the light reveal the sharp angles of his thin face, the dark hue of greasy, slicked-back brown hair, the jaunt of bony shoulders padded by an oversized beige windbreaker. Through round glasses peered predatory eyes, zeroing in on the young man next to the bed who instantly remembered his name.

But Finn wouldn’t let his expression, his stance, show how much his body was trembling on the inside.

“You remember ‘ole DU, don’t ya, kid?”

Childhood memories flooded through Finn, too many years remembering what had been done to him, what others had let happen. His breath caught in his chest at the visions swimming behind his eyes. Yes, he remembered ‘ole DU, the man who rarely went by his given name of Duane and preferred the nickname. Finn shuddered internally, knowing what those letters stood for.

Still, he made damn sure his voice was smooth when he replied, “Sure. One of Ma’s dickhead meal tickets.”

He’d expected his opponent to snap back, launch into a fight. That would have been welcome. Something he could easily handle. Finn wasn’t prepared for the slow smirk that crossed DU’s face, nor could he look away from those long, callused hands as they slid down to grip his belt buckle, fingers tapping on the jeans just below. A suggestion, a warning—a promise that threatened to suck the courage out of Finn even as he fought to maintain his façade.

How humiliating it was to know that after all these years, he was just the scared little boy trapped in his room, another one of his mother’s dealers pissed off she didn’t have the cash and taking payment however he saw fit.

Payment
. It hit him then, something Snow had whispered to him before she faded away followed by her abductor’s claim.

Debts have to be paid.

His eyes moved from DU’s hands to Joe’s knowing glower. “I didn’t pass out,” he whispered, trying to piece things together but only getting as far as that one fact. “You did something to me … How … Why?”

DU took a step forward, enough to close the door, as Joe replied, “You really do have balls of steel, kid. You had me going for a while there, actin’ like you were playing hero to some long-lost friend. I knew somethin’ was up, knew it for sure when you let it slip who your little suspects were.”

Finn’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall what was said. When Joe shifted, his eyes were drawn to the pictures inked on his arms. And then he remembered telling Joe who took Snow—a man with tattoos and another with dark, slicked-back hair.

“Where is she?” An animalistic rage drew Finn closer. “What the fuck is going on?”