Unbreakable Hearts (23 page)

“Mr. Hightower,” he said.

“And to whom may I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Just your friendly, local photographer.”

“Ah. I see. So, I guess since you think you’ve ‘got me,’ I should be asking what it is you want.”

Smooth motherfucker. Oz wanted to reach through the phone and wrap a hand around the asshole’s neck
and squeeze, that’s what he wanted.

“
I want to make a trade.”

He could hear the surprise
in Hightower’s voice when he answered, “Oh?”

“The girl for the pictures,” Oz instructed. When Hightower didn’t say anything, Oz checked to make sure he was still on the l
ine. “Hello?” He felt the sweat forming on his brow, knowing his question was damned risky.

“
And to what girl would you be referring?” Hightower asked cooly.

“Tilly M
axwell. I know you have her. You tell me where I can find her, I destroy the pictures.”

Hightower laughed. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

Bingo. Hightower hadn’t denied having her and Oz prayed they weren’t being led on a bootless errand. He hated that he was bargaining for Tilly’s life with mere pictures almost as much as he hated what he was about to say.

“You
have my word. You don’t deliver, I send the pictures to the police. Plain and simple, Mr. Hightower.”

The line again went silent. Oz thought of the
thousands of business calls in which Hightower had negotiated over the years and knew that he’d probably used silence as a form of intimidation to coax the other party into caving.
Not this time, asshole.
Oz could play it just as cool and wait it out even though he wanted to go Pacquiáo on the guy.

“Well, t
hat
is
pretty plain and simple.” Oz heard the jerk chuckle, which made him grit his teeth so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised had he busted a couple molars. “How about I bring the girl to you?” Hightower countered.

Hell no.
He wasn’t giving Hightower the upper hand here. So again, Oz did something that he hated doing, but he did it nonetheless. He hung up.

“Goddamn it!” he yelled knowing
he was putting Tilly’s life on the line. Oh, God, if this led to her being hurt, he’d never forgive himself. “Fuck!”

“Hang in there, son,” Hank said
while Gunner nodded at him from where he stood.

Oz
knew that if this asshole had Tilly, these guys would put their lives on the line to get her back without question. It was part of the job but he also knew they’d do it for him. He focused on that rather than the fact that he wanted to jack shit up.

A mi
nute later when the phone rang, Oz answered. “I’m in charge here, asshole. You don’t like it, you can sit your ass in prison for the next ten years. Your choice.”

He h
eard Hightower chuckle darkly then say, “I’ll call you back,” and the line went dead.

“Fuck!” Oz yelled
again, squeezing the phone in his hand then placing it carefully on Hank’s desk because what he really wanted to do was throw the son of a bitch against the wall.

Hank’s cell phone rang just then. “Yeah?” he answered. He spoke for a minute t
hen after hanging up informed them that Hightower was on the move and Quaid and Brock were on his tail using the GPS as they went.

“Let’
s go,” Oz said going to the safe and grabbing his Ruger putting it in his shoulder holster as Gunner and Hank did the same with their weapons.

As
they went through the lobby, Abby hollered at Hank. “You’ve got a call on line three, Mr. Murphy.”

“Take a message,” Hank replied.

“But it’s the mayor,” Abby stated with a frown.

“I said take a goddamned message, Abby,” Hank returned and they were out the door.

At any other time Oz would’ve gotten a chuckle at the fact that Hank had put the hateful secretary in her place, but now that shit was trivial he realized as they got in Hank’s Escalade. Getting Tilly back was his priority now. Screw everything else.

As Gunner drove,
Hank sat in the passenger seat and opened the GPS tracker app on his cell phone. “Gotcha,” he muttered. “Call Brock and let him know we’re dialed in,” he told Oz.

Oz made the call and listened while Brock told him they didn’t have a visual but were following Hightower’s car with the signal. “We’re on it too,”
Oz informed him.

“Give me the phone,” Hank said, reaching in the back to take Oz’s phone from him.
“Brock? You and Quaid let us know when you know the destination. We’re about ten minutes behind.” He hung up, handing Oz back his phone and they rode in silence for the next thirty minutes.

Oz stared blindly out the window praying that Tilly was okay
and wondering when Hightower would call back. It barely registered that they were in the Holland Tunnel until his phone rang. “Yeah?”

“It’s Doug. I’m following Hightower right now.
I’m gonna get Tilly. Just wanted to let you know in case you guys were wanting in on it. I was gonna do this on my own but all I’ve got is my RG-14 and thought maybe I might need some backup.”

Goddamn it
. He didn’t want the little weasel getting in their way. “Fall back, Doug. We’re on his tail too.”

“I got this. I’m heading east on the Long Island Expressway. Where’re you guys?”

“We just exited the Holland Tunnel. W
hy the fuck are you on the LIE?” Oz asked.

“Because I’m following Hightower.
This ain’t rocket science, you know. Man, maybe I should apply at your security place. Sounds like you guys could use some help.” Doug snorted.

Wait. What the fuck was going on? “You’re sure it’s Hightower?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I saw him come out of his office building and get into his car. Then I followed him.”

Oz held the phone away from his mouth and told Hank what Doug had said. “What kind of car is he driving?”
he said into the phone.

“W
hite Lamborghini.”

“Hank, call Brock and see if they’ve gotten a visual on Hightower ye
t,” Oz said. “Doug, hang on a sec.”

Wanting to keep an eye on the tracker on his phone, Hank took Gunner’s phone and made the call. After asking Brock about the
car, he told Oz, “Black Lexus.”

Oz felt the blood drain from his face.
What the hell was going on? “Hank, Doug says Hightower’s in a white Lamborghini.”

He heard Hank telling Brock they needed to get a visual on the driver. “Hang on, Oz.”

“Doug, where are you now?” Oz asked into his phone.

“Near Brentwood
,” Doug answered.

“
Brock said the Mercedes just stopped at Newport Plaza and only a short, middle-aged woman got out,” Hank informed him.

“Fuck!” Oz roared. “Doug, stay on the line. Gunner, turn around!”

Chapter 21

Graham kept an eye on the yellow PT Cruiser following him knowing it must be the photographer. As he drove, he played a little game with the guy, weaving in and out of traffic with his Lambo smoothly and laughing when the guy couldn’t make the same smooth moves.
Idiot. Well, it was now time to call his bluff and let him know he was on to him. He picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d called earlier.

“Well, Mr. Photographer. I see that your Cruiser isn’t on pa
r with my Lambo. You know, you’re not very good at tailing someone.” Graham chuckled.

“
It’s not like it’s that hard to tail someone. I
wanted
you to know I was following you,” the guy replied.

Cocky little SOB.
Graham could hear someone talking in the background, but since he couldn’t see anyone else in the car with the photographer he figured it must be the radio.

“And that you did. Good thing there’s so much traffic or I could definitely leave you in the dust.”

“I’m sure you could. Exactly where are we headed?”

Graham laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Shutterbug. And what kind of a deal are you wanting to make once we get there?”

“I want the girl.”

Graham laughed again. “And you’ll just hand over the pictures, right? How do I know you don’t have copies and won’t try using them against me anyway?”

“I won’t. Again, y
ou have my word.”

“
Hm. I have your word. And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want, Mr. Hightower. All I want is Ms. Maxwell.”

“This woman must mean a lot to you, Mr. Cameraman. And I see the tables have turned. Now who has the upper hand?”

Graham hea
rd the guy curse which made him chuckle. He hung up then eyed the Glock in his passenger seat. This idiot had no idea who he was dealing with.

***

“Fucking hell,” Oz spit out. Hightower was one cool fucking customer. “Let me talk to him,” he said to Hank, who’d been talking to Doug while Oz had spoken to Hightower. And hadn’t things just gotten even messier. “Doug, stay with him, but whatever you do, do
not
get out of your car once you stop. Or if there’s a driveway do not follow him. Stay on the road and wait for us to get there. Do you understand?”

“I’m not an idiot.
I’m
not the one who was going the wrong way.” He snickered. “I think I can handle things. I want to get Tilly back. She’s mine, you know,” Doug clued him in.

Good God.
Not only was the guy looking to get his head blown off he was delusional on top of that.

“We’ll let her decide that. Just, please, don’t do anyt
hing until we get there, understand?”

“I’ll do what I have to do,” Doug said and hung up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oz hissed out. “That dumbass is gonna screw everything up!” His blood pressure went through the roof as he let out a string of curses.

Next up?
Some serious anger management courses for real. He rubbed a hand over his face then gave Doug’s number to Hank so they could track his phone. Next, he called Brock and did the same.

“Got him,” Hank said.

“Think we could add another fucking phone to this godforsaken excursion we’ve got going on here?” Oz spit out, still pissed at everyone and everything. He just wanted to get Tilly back safe and sound. Was that too fucking much to ask?

H
e knew Gunner was going as fast as he could, but he wished he’d go faster. When they finally hit the LIE, Hank told them that Doug’s phone had stayed put for the past ten minutes somewhere around Southampton.

“
About twenty more minutes and we’re there,” Hank reported.

Oz called Jeff to let him know
where they were heading. Jeff said he’d call it in and just as Oz hung up, Doug called.

“I got him!” he
said. He proceeded to give Oz the address and describe the surroundings a little.

“Doug, get the fuck out of there!” Oz said.

“I got this! Wait. He’s getting out of his car. I’ll call you back.” And the line went dead.

***

Graham had to laugh at the boldness the man in the Cruiser was showing. He’d followed Graham up the long, winding drive right to Zim’s house and now sat in his car not thirty feet away.

“Dumb fuck,” Graham muttered to himself as he grabbed his Glock from the passenger seat. Holding the gun to his side, he walked toward the stupid
, yellow car noticing the guy’s eyes go saucer big when he got a load of the gun. Graham tapped on the window with the muzzle.

“I’m not opening the window!” the guy yelled
as he scrambled trying to grab something out of the glove box. Then he got brave or stupid, take your pick, as he aimed a revolver at Graham. “I’m not leaving until you hand over Tilly. I’ve got friends holding on to the rest of your pictures and if they don’t hear from me within the next thirty minutes, I told them to take them to the police,” he shouted through the glass.

Out of patience, Graham held his gun to the window and smiled as he watched the look of consternation on the guy
’s face right before he fired.

***

Tilly jumped up when she heard the front door open then close. Now all she could do was wait and pray for courage at what she had planned.

S
he’d finally figured out who her kidnapper was: Graham Hightower, one of New York City’s most successful businessmen. She remembered seeing him in the paper years before, touted as bachelor of the year or something like that. She also vaguely recalled Quinn gushing over the guy when they were in college when he’d been showcased in
People
as one of the sexiest men alive.

The night before
when she’d searched the bathroom, she’d found something she might be able to use to get out of there, and she’d been waiting for Hightower to show up so she could escape. She didn’t allow herself to think of what would happen if it didn’t work. She only knew she had to stay focused and hope it worked.

“Stay strong, throw
, swing then run,” she whispered to herself over and over as she picked up what she’d found in the bathroom then waited for the bedroom door to open.

She
now heard Hightower holler, “Honey, I’m home!” which made her want to vomit. Holding the bottle in her hand, she grabbed the heavy dresser drawer she’d removed pulling it close and positioned herself behind the bedroom door waiting for him to come inside. Then she waited. And waited. And waited some more. She could hear him talking on his phone and thought she heard him mention the name Moretti. She’d heard of the Morettis and knew they were Mafia, so wasn’t that just great. This guy was freaking bad news all the way around. God.

W
hen she finally heard footsteps coming toward her door, she tensed, her hands clutching the bottle ready for him to come into the room. Sweat ran down her sides as she lived a year in a minute. Then she heard his phone ring and he answered, stepping away from her door.

“Fuck!” she whisper-hissed then covered her mouth, not able to help the hysterical chuckle that came out when she thought that Jeff would’ve be
en so proud of her use of bad language. She shook her head and rolled her eyes snorting at herself knowing she’d reached the edge of insanity. When she heard Hightower coming toward the door again she pushed her hysteria down, ready to take him out as she heard him turning the lock.

“So, how’s my little wom—Jesus!” Hightower cried out as Tilly splashed the drain cleaner in his
face trying to get his eyes as best she could. Then she turned and picked up the drawer and slammed it into his head making him fall to the floor.

She didn’
t hang around to see if she’d knocked him out, but ran out the door and down the hallway in the direction from which she thought she’d heard him come. And what do you know, she’d gone the right way. She came to the front door and grabbing the handle, yanked on it hard. But the door stayed closed.

“Oh, God!
Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!
Please!”
She saw the deadbolt and reached for the thumbturn twisting it then threw the door open, running out onto the porch and down the steps. She saw Doug’s car in the drive and ran to it, pounding on his passenger window. “Doug! Doug! Let me in!” she yelled until she realized he wasn’t answering. She stepped back and a horrified look appeared on her face when she saw him slumped in his seat, his jacket soaked in blood and she screamed.

Hearing a groan, she turned to look back at the house and saw Hightower stumbling out the door, his own face covered in blood from the blow she’d given him with t
he drawer. She took off like a shot down the drive, her bare feet digging into the snow as she went. She heard a shot and felt what she assumed was a bullet whiz past her head. He was shooting at her! She turned and saw him, arm raised and pointing a gun in her direction. And she ran for her life.

***

“There!” Oz said, pointing to a driveway with a brick mailbox to the side of it, just like the one Doug had described, the same numbers in the address. Gunner turned in then floored it. Thank God, they were finally there. And could this fucking driveway be any longer? There were so many twists and turns that Gunner had to slow down several times especially with the snow, but when it straightened out, he NASCAR’d it to make up for lost time.

They flew around one particularly sharp curve almost sliding off the road when Oz heard Gunner mutter, “Fuck.”

Oz bent down in the back seat to see more clearly out the windshield and saw Tilly running toward them. Oh, Jesus. He threw his door open and flung himself out before Gunner could stop the Escalade. After rolling a few times, Oz came up on his feet and sprinted toward her. Then he heard the gunshot. Holy fuck. Hightower was in a staggering run behind her and firing at her. Oz was about twenty yards away from her when he slowed to pull his gun out of the holster yelling, “Tilly, drop down!” 

“John!” she screamed as she kept running toward him.

“Tilly! Drop down! Stop! Get down!” But she kept running to him not doing what he was telling her to do. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? “Tilly!”

There was another shot and
he finally saw her drop but not of her own volition. Oh, Christ, she’d been hit!

Oz didn’t know who was yelling, but his ears were blasted with the sound of it, as he ran forward firing his Ruger, shooting off nine rounds right into Hightower’s che
st. When the guy collapsed and Oz finally made it to him, standing over him, he realized he’d been the one yelling because he was still screaming as he emptied his magazine, his last bullet, right between Hightower’s eyes.

He then turned and ran back to Tilly who lay like a delicate flower in the snow, her blood staining it crimson. Dropping to his knees beside her, his eyes filled with tears and he wanted to scream again.
“Oh, God, no. Please, God, please don’t take her,” he cried, letting his head drop back as he stared up at the sky begging, the fresh snow that’d begun falling dropping its tiny flakes on his face as he pleaded for the life of the woman he loved.

Hank and Gunner ra
n up kneeling down next to them as they began to assess how bad Tilly’s injuries were.

Oz felt something brush his knee and he looked down to see teal eyes gazing back at him. “Hey,” Tilly said. “Guess I should learn to listen, huh?” She smiled sweetly up at him as she raised her left hand toward him.

“Right shoulder. It’s a through and through,” Hank said, the relief clear in his voice. “Ambulance is on its way.” He and Gunner got up and went to check on Hightower then walked back to the Escalade waiting outside of it for the paramedics to come.

Oz took
Tilly’s hand, kissing her palm then held it against his cheek. “Thank God. Oh, thank God,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes for a few seconds trying to get himself together. When he opened them, he saw that tears trailed down the sides of her face, her teal eyes glimmering brightly back at him. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, running his thumbs over the sides of her cheeks and wiping her tears away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I love you.”

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. “God, I love you too.”

***

“I heard he’s the worst patient ever,” Tilly said with a giggle. She’d had surgery to close up her wounds and was doing great now. It was her second day in the hospital and she was due to check out in the morning.

Oz, Quinn,
Jeff and Brock were in her hospital room laughing with her about Doug who was two rooms down from her. He’d been shot in the side of his neck, the bullet barely missing his jugular. He’d lost a lot of blood, but his surgery had gone well and he was now heading for a full recovery. They couldn’t help but laugh about his antics especially since Tilly’s nurses kept coming into her room shaking their heads and proceeding to let her in on all he’d been saying to them.

“I heard he asked one of th
e nurses out by using the line, ‘Wanna play doctor, nurse?’” Jeff said and everyone groaned.