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After buttoning up, she points to the third button down. “That’s where the camera is located.”
I nod, securing the sleeves down and making sure the clip in my weapon is fully loaded.
“I’ll be able to hear everything going on and can send a copy of the feed to Westin. If you need backup, he’ll be able to see what’s going on.”
“Perfect,” I say, grabbing my peacoat and then heading to the elevator.
“Brandon.” I hear Kamaya running up to catch me before the elevator reaches our floor. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got your back,” she says.
Never one for being demonstrative with my feelings, I can’t find the words to express my gratitude that I have not only a competent team but one that cares about me beyond being their boss. I squeeze Kamaya’s shoulder right as the elevator arrives. “That means more than you know,” I say. “Now, I’m going to save my Ava.”
Once back in my own vehicle, I make it to the Queensboro Bridge in good time. The traffic getting off the bridge finally subsides, and my anxiety rises as the GPS alerts me I’m less than two miles from the destination.
I pull up to the brick building, which is completely abandoned at this hour. The only other activity in this area is a gas station with very few patrons. James picked the perfect abandoned area for his crimes.
I leave the peacoat in the car. Don’t need anything getting in the way of the body camera. I can brace against the blistering winds for a few feet from the car to the front entrance. The brick building has a glass front door, and all I can make out isLong Island CityMeat Processingbefore the door opens and a familiar figure stands before me.
“Took you long enough,” the man says, displaying a thick accent I can’t place. He opens the door wider to allow me passage. This is definitely not my father.
I recognize the square jaw and the same black hooded jacket. The man following Ava and me in the New Jersey deli. The one she swore was loitering on her block.
So, this was the real stalker harassing Ava all this time? Working for James. Anger boils up in me and, as much as I hope to keep my composure, I snap.
My hands have a mind of their own.
“You fucking asshole! Where is she?” I grab him by the front of his jacket so hard that I lift him a few inches off the ground. He only laughs in my face, his stale cigarette breath blowing right in my nostrils.
“Daddy dearest has her,” the blighter says. I release him back to the ground so forcefully he stumbles before finding his balance.
“You get you manners from your father,” he says, side-eyeing me and straightening his clothes again. “Where’s the money?”
I pat my suit pocket and don’t offer an explanation.
“Oh, Mr. Eastwood is not going to like this—” He’s cut off by the sound of a feminine scream.
The place is dimly lit, but I let the sounds of screaming guide my feet as I break into a run. Whoever’s torturing Ava is going to pay.
CHAPTER 18
Ava
The stench of this place will kill me before James Eastwood gets a chance to.
He threw me down into the corner, facing the wall where rows and rows of recently slaughtered dead pigs sway above me. The blood oozing out of the slain animals is pooling on the cement floor. I keep dry heaving at the horrid stench. I prayed I wasn’t next, and that my own slain body wouldn’t accompany the animals. This crazy man would kill me for whatever petty revenge he was exacting on Brandon.
The ties around my hand dig into my flesh if I so much as try flexing my fingers. The thin rope ties are starting to loosen the more consistently I try maneuvering out of them. Still, the bite of the rough material into my flesh has my wrists raw and bleeding now, making it painful to try an escape.
The lights in this place are dimly lit and inconsistently flickering. I hear the whispered voices, one familiar and one not. I catch occasional mentions of Brandon’s name, but nothing makes a lot of sense, almost as if James is conversing in another language.
This man is going to kill meplays on a loop in my head. He hates his only son that much that he’d take my life if it meant making Brandon miserable.
What if James does kill me? I’ll leave this earth, and my last conversation with Brandon will be with me storming out of his office, crying at the injustice of not being together. I needed more time. If that psycho wants to kill me, I have to speak to Brandon one last time.
“Ava!”
Brandon. He came for me.
I try twisting in the direction of where his voice is carrying from, but being in the corner, tucked under the hanging racks of pork ribs, causes me not to move properly without brushing my face up against the fleshy meat.
