Ache For Me Read online

  ~*~

  Carter came home to an empty house. He'd specifically asked that Camryn stay home, yet here he was alone. After calming his heart, his brain broke through the fog, and he checked his phone. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sank into his favorite chair. She'd done what she wanted to do—against his wishes—but she'd gone straight to a safe place and stayed there. He was at once proud and scared shitless but made himself stay in the house and wait for her return instead of fetching her himself and tucking her away once more.

  Needing something to do until his errant woman returned, he decided to bake. Hidden depths, he had them. He laughed aloud. While it wasn't something he advertised, he could make a mean pan of brownies. Gathering all the required ingredients and the necessary bowls, he almost missed his phone buzzing on the counter with Camryn's gorgeous face on the screen. “Hi, Lark.”

  Instead of Camryn's cheerful voice, a rough, raspy one said, “If you want her back, you'll pay.”

  His blood turned to ice. “What?”

  “You heard me. No police, no hulking brother-in-law. Come to the club tonight with eight million, and you can have her back.”

  He wanted to throw up, but forced himself to say, “There's no way I can come up with that much this time of night.”

  The garbled voice let out a long breath. “You have until this time tomorrow, or you'll get her back in pieces.”

  Holy fuck. “Please don't hurt her.” He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I'll give you more money if you can promise not to harm in any way.”

  “Eight million,” the voice reiterated. “She'll remain unharmed, but the money better show up, Jamieson.”

  “The club.” His voice was shaking when he asked, “How do I get you the money? How do I get her home?”

  “This time tomorrow. You'll know.” The call cut abruptly, and Carter had to stop himself from throwing up before he could do anything. If the kidnapper were smart, he'd turned Cam's phone off after the call, leaving it behind. That didn't mean it was useless, though. It was a new one on their joint plan so he could track it easily, even if it just gave the last known location. He looked at the identical phone in his own hand. Contemplating for about half a second not calling the police, he rejected the thought just as quickly. There was no way he wasn't calling Chris about this. He dialed his friend, giving him all the information he had.

  After the talk with Chris who promised to loop in Tiffany and a contact in the FBI, he called Charles and Carolyn Everett. Forcing the words out was hard enough, admitting he couldn't keep the woman he loved safe and couldn't promise she would come home made him crazy. This was the fourth Everett kidnapped in the last few years, so Carolyn was soothing him by the end of the conversation, assuring him Camryn would come home whole and unharmed. Unsure of whether anyone was watching them, they'd decided to all stay at their own homes. No one had millions in cash lying around, though, and if they had to get money to drop—even if the kidnapper was apprehended afterward—they would have to figure something out in the morning. He silently thanked Caleb when he was able to head to the home gym and beat the shit out of a heavy bag. As helpless as he was, he felt like punching and kicking something.

  Chapter Twelve

  “The last place her phone pinged was Dance With Me,” Tiffany told Brandon.

  He nodded to her after she confirmed what they'd all assumed. He couldn't believe he was standing here, another Everett involved in a criminal act, a kidnapping no less. “Great. Now, tell me something we don't already know.” Tiffany was the queen of research, he readily admitted that, and although they all suspected the kidnapper had taken Camryn to the club, the bigger question was who had taken her. The second question was what kind of resistance he and his team would meet when they went to rescue her. He needed Tiffany and that logical, puzzle-solving brain of hers to lay it out for them before anyone went off book.

  Tiffany's pretty pink mouth screwed up into a scowl. “I'm not fucking magic, Brandon.”

  He held in the laugh that would only piss her off more but still egged her on, “You are magic, woman. Now, prove it.”

  “How the hell does Robin put up with your ass?” she asked as she typed on her laptop.

  Who knew what she was looking for with the lack of information they had about Camryn's kidnapping, but he knew she'd take whatever she had and make it into what they needed. “I have no idea,” he answered truthfully.

  “Me, either.” Tiffany's answer was quick and terse as she concentrated on her screen. A few minutes later her phone rang, and she grabbed it like a woman possessed. After a quick conversation, she turned blue eyes on him. “That was Chris. Today was a busy one in Aylesford.” She filled him in on the days events for Aylesford PD and went on to say, “He has a contact in the FBI, Randi Kavanaugh, headed our way. Evidently, there might be something else going on under our noses.”

  “What the actual fuck?” he spat. Why would the Feds want in on a kidnapping that wasn't even three hours old?

  “Hey, I don't know. I do know we have a regular soap opera with Theo's will, what with Leanne Graves, Simon, and Camryn Everett, so that's where I am right now.”

  “Delmonico questioned them.” He couldn't believe he was defending Chris Delmonico, but he trusted the man to question a suspect.

  “Of course he did. He's perplexed because he genuinely doesn't think Simon or Leanne killed Theo, but he's out of suspects.” She paused. “Unless, of course, Richardson was dealing in drugs or women or something we haven't discovered yet.”

  “That's always a possibility...” he trailed off. The possibility was there, but he doubted Tiffany would've missed it. “What else did Delmonico say?”

  “Nothing we didn't already know. Holding her for ransom could just as easily be aimed at Carter Jamieson, so I'm looking into his clients. He has a hell of a winning record, so it's not a long list.”

  He knew Jamieson hadn't lost many cases. It was something he'd banked on a few years ago when he'd screwed with Katerina Nemecek's life at the behest of his former step-sister, and he still hated himself for the things he'd done. He sighed. He was trying to be less of an asshole. At least most of the time. “Good. Keep doing what you're doing, and tell me what I can do to help you.”

  Her eyes widened almost comically. “Did you just offer to help me?”

  “Give me something now, or I'll retract the offer.” Damn, he must really be an ass. They needed to find Camryn Everett before the woman became the second dead body in a few weeks. He smiled, then started to count down, “Three, two—”

  “I need you to contact NYPD and see if there is anything up with Gavin and Iris Albright,” she cut in before he got down to one. “Camryn didn't think they would have any reason to wish her harm, but she made him look bad in more ways than one. No matter what she says about the couple, a married director cheating with the leading lady in his show who then quits and forces him to use the understudy for the remainder of the run does not leave a good impression. She could've very easily caused him to lose investors or subsequent jobs.”

  She knew a hell of a lot more about Broadway than he did. “Okay, then.” He crossed the room to his desk to follow her directions. He was on the phone with a detective in Manhattan when a striking brunette walked through the door. He couldn't hear her conversation with Tiffany but assumed this was their FBI contact. He waited for the NYPD detective to tell him nothing about the Albrights before he hung up, barely resisting the urge to slam the receiver into the cradle, and turned to the two women across the room.

  “Why are the Feds involved?” His voice was sharp, and he almost apologized at the slight jump the agent had in reaction to his tone. “Not that we don't want help, but what now?”

  “Forgive him. We've had a bunch of shit going on around here lately,” Tiffany put in.

  “And that would be why I'm here,” the other woman replied. “Randi Kavanaugh, but you already knew that. We have a mutual friend and a mutual interest in this town.
”

  “Why?” Brandon found himself saying before he thought. “What's so interesting aside from our frequent kidnappings of rich people?”

  Her laugh was smooth. “That is a contributing factor, all right.” She crossed to him, her long legs accentuated with slim fitting dark pants and short, high heeled boots. “We want to find Camryn Everett as much as you do, and we all think she's in the same place. Accept our help.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “I wasn't about to tell you to shove it. You have a team here?”

  “They're around.”

  Her answer was elusive, but he expected nothing less from a Fed. “So, what's the plan?”

  ~*~

  “I'd pay eighty million if I could have her back now,” Carter murmured to Walker.

  His brother gave him a sad look. “I know.”

  Carter slumped in his chair. “Thanks for coming to me.” He didn't want to be alone, so he'd called his youngest brother and closest friend. “I couldn't sit here and think about all the things that could be happening to her.”

  “If anyone understands, you know I do,” Walker repeated before taking a bite of brownie. “If I had eighty million I'd give it to you.”

  “God. I failed her.” He stood then, the need to move propelling him across the room and back again. “Fuck. If they wanted money, they could just take her diamond.”

  “And do what?” Walker asked. “That's probably the easiest diamond in the world to track. They couldn't sell it.” He sipped his coffee, cool and collected. Part of Carter hated his brother for his ability to be calm while another reminded him he'd called Walker because he was unflappable. “We'll get her back, Cart. I promise.”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “How? How can you promise she's still alive? How can you promise me he'll give her back? How can you promise she won't hate me for not keeping her safe?”

  “She's alive. We'll get her back, whole and healthy, her love for you intact. How can I promise that? Because I know it, and you need to hear it.”

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked. “After Jade...” he didn't finish the thought, unwilling to talk about his brother's dead wife.

  “What happened to Jade was awful, but an accident,” Walker reminded him. “I'm here to support you, not talk about my tragic past.”

  “If you were plotting a book, it wouldn't work out that way,” Carter pointed out.

  Walker shook his head. “I write thrillers, not romances. Your story is not a thriller.”

  He hoped that was the case. “Could've fooled me.”

  “You asked me to be here to support you.” Walker's mouth was turned down in a frown, his scruffy face tight. “I'm doing a shit job.”

  Carter dropped onto the couch then, the worry bearing down like a physical weight. “You're here, just like I asked. I'm making myself insane.”

  “We all love her.”

  “Not like I do.” He stood again, unable to be still. “I'll die without her.”

  “Then we just have to make sure she comes home.”

  He wasn't a fatalist, but he could barely breathe knowing she was somewhere against her will. “I need to do something.”

  Walker studied him for a moment. “Did you call Tanner?”

  Their brother was an FBI Agent specializing in missing persons. It was almost impossible to get Tanner on the phone, and today was no exception. Carter wasn't above using every bit of influence he had at his disposal, but leaving a message for Tanner wouldn't make Cam turn up any faster. “I couldn't get him, but Chris has a friend at the Bureau he called in.” He paused, an idea forming. He needed to help. “Can you play a little Richard Castle to my untrained, non-detective, non-female Detective Beckett?”

  “You want to plot our way out of this kidnapping?”

  Carter shrugged. “What else were you planning on doing while you babysat me?”

  “Why not?” He leaned forward then, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What do we know?”

  ~*~

  Camryn's mouth felt like she'd been sucking on a gym sock, she had a splitting headache, and her shoulders were on fire, her arms immobile behind her. She forced her eyes open, but the darkness didn't dissipate. Where am I? Her ankles were taped, her wrists tight behind her back. It was pitch black wherever she was, and she didn't remember anything after walking out the door of the studio. She'd been tired, chugged a bottle of water, got into her car, and then... Nothing. My water had to be drugged. Her heart beat a fast tattoo, and she fought to keep her breathing even. Would she live to see Carter again? If only I'd stayed home like he asked. God, if you're listening, I promise to always obey Carter if you get me out of this. No, scratch that. Even if I do get out of this, that's too much to promise. She gave herself an internal shake. No. I will make it home. Carter's birthday is next week, and we have a wedding to plan, a life to live.

  Camryn groaned, the sound loud in her ears. Forcing herself to stop bargaining with a higher power and pay attention to her surroundings, she noticed the smell of rubber and gas or oil around her and the scratch of rough carpeting beneath. Lying on her side as she was, she figured she was in the trunk of a parked vehicle. She didn't know how long she'd been knocked out, had no idea how far from Tyler she was, or where she was aside from hogtied in the trunk of a car. Panic clawed up her chest. Who had her, where were they taking her, what would they do when they got there? She swallowed, willing the bile burning her throat back down. Carter and her family would find her. She had to believe that.

  Kidnapping, an Everett family tradition. She sucked in a breath of musty, acrid air. Remembering a television episode she'd seen long ago, she shimmied toward what she hoped was the front of the trunk, so she could run her fingers along the edge. “There should be a latch, or a pulley, or something,” she whispered to herself as she felt around, praying she would find it before whoever had taken her came back. What she'd do once it was open, she wasn't sure, but she had to try.

  She scratched and tore at whatever she could reach to no avail, certain she'd ripped her nails and bloodied her fingers. She'd long since given into the tears that had threatened, the salty wetness dripping into her right ear as she lay on the floor of the trunk. She quieted when she heard muffled voices approaching. The words were indiscernible, but she could hear enough to know it was a man and a woman arguing but their voices faded quickly. It was enough to tell her she was in a parking lot, but nothing else.

  “Mom!” she heard a child yell as he passed the car. Hoping to attract the attention of his parents, she kicked and yelled, but no one came to her rescue. Crying in earnest now, she fought to keep herself from sobbing or hyperventilating in the not quite airtight trunk. At least I'm not gagged. She felt and heard a door open and shut and held her breath, hoping she'd hear something that would give her a way to identify her kidnappers. It was quiet before heavy metal music filled the space the moment the car lurched forward, causing her to smack her forehead against the floor. She held in the scream that wanted to break free, hoping her captors would assume she was still knocked out from whatever they'd drugged her with. Her chance to escape may have passed, but she wouldn't make it any easier. God, I hope they just want money. Money, I can do.

  The horrid music kept at it non-stop until she was sure her ears were bleeding and she had no idea how long they'd driven. Every time the car came to a stop she braced herself, but it was a light, or a stop sign instead of a destination. If she'd known where she was when she’d come to, she would have bothered counting turns and stops, but with no starting point, it would be no use. After what seemed like hours, the car finally came to a stop after pulling into a garage given the sound of the door opening. When she thought she'd be released from her prison, she heard the car door open and close and nothing else. They were leaving her in the trunk.

  ~*~

  “Wait, what did you just say?” Walker asked.

  Carter looked at his brother scribbling on a legal pad. “Abby was writing 'Abigail Jamies
on' in her notebook when she thought I wasn't looking.”

  “Like high school?”

  He shrugged. “She's just out of college.” He hated to think it, but finding out about Abby's infatuation made him worry. In spite of his own thoughts, he said, “She wouldn't hurt Cam.”

  “Right. I'm sure Mase didn't believe Prissy would come after him or Kat either.”

  Carter studied his brother. “I did tell Chris to look into her,” he admitted. “But I still don't think she'd do anything to Cam. She's five foot nothing and maybe a hundred pounds.”

  “So, she's tiny. That doesn't mean she couldn't find a way to incapacitate Cammy.” He threw his older brother a withering look. “And it's not like your woman is much bigger than your little bit of an assistant.”

  Cam was at least five inches taller than Abby and a dancer, and but quibbling about details wasn't going to help anything. “Fine.” He let out a sigh. “I still think it's someone else, and it has to do with that fucking club.”

  “Not arguing, just offering other options. It's obviously someone the police didn't think of, or at least someone slick since she's gone and everyone on the suspect list is accounted for.” Walker drummed his pen against the pad. “Simon is at home, eyes on him. Leanne is home, eyes on her. Do they have eyes on Abby?”

  His stomach dropped. As much as he didn't think Abby capable of hurting Cam, he didn't know if the cops were watching her, and if they weren't, he was scared. He knew they all thought she was likely held at the club, but what if they were wrong? What if this whole scenario had nothing to do with Theo's murder? “Shit.” Without even knowing he was doing it, his phone was to his ear in a flash. “Do you know where Abby is?”