Titanium Page 13

  "Think how you worded the questions." Dom, who'd witnessed my techniques, knew how tricky it was to ask the right thing.

  "I worded them just fine." The next second I wondered if I really had. Cheap Charlie's asking Riley out had definitely pissed me off, not that I was admitting that. "We need to get all the surveillance shit out of here now."

  "No, no, no. We should leave it," Wilson said. "Most of it, anyway. If you don't, they'll know we're onto them. Now the cameras are fine if we keep in mind where they are. As for the mics, I say we kill the one in the living room and leave the others." He turned on the TV in Riley's room, raising the volume until it blared. Now no one would hear anything but that.

  With a nod of approval, I left them to it and strode straight out the front door of the apartment as I'd done Friday night, only this time my brain wasn't sidetracked by jealousy as it had been then. A nanosecond later, I pounded both fists on Cheap Charlie's door yet again. When he opened it, I gave him a hard push backward. He sprawled into his recliner.

  When Charlie's shocked gaze swept the motley crew who'd followed me, he wilted like the pansy he was.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Riley

  "That went well, don't you think?" Jason asked.

  I gathered up what bluster I could. "Some fan you are."

  "Trust me, there isn't a bigger one on the planet. I idolize Steve McConnell. That's why I'm doing this. He's going to look like an idiot if someone doesn't step in. It's called tough love, baby."

  "Yeah? Well he's not going to love you back, and I'll tell you why. Whatever you feel for Eric Deckard, it's nothing compared to what my father feels. He will never let you take control. Never."

  "Then I guess you can kiss your sweet ass goodbye."

  "Or maybe I'll be rescued. Zander has surely called the police by now and is probably looking for me, himself. He's military, you know."

  "Don't count on your GI gypsy. Yeah. We've got the scoop on him, too. Purple Heart. Bronze Star. But none of that bullshit matters, does it, when you're dead? And that's what he is, baby. Dead."

  I gasped. "You're lying."

  Jason grabbed my arm at the biceps and pulled me up close. "Why would I bother?"

  He let me fall and abruptly tipped his head toward the door. Everyone came to life, filing out of the room and taking that flashlight with them. The resulting darkness totally engulfed me.

  I fell apart. Screaming my sorrow and bawling so hard I couldn't catch my breath. More than anything, I wished I had Zander's talent for spotting a lie. Was he dead? He'd survived Afghanistan, for God's sake. Had he really been killed in the states by freakin' Titanimites?

  The minutes ticked by. How many, I didn't know. Angry, scared, violated, I was so lost in my private nightmare that I had to make myself breathe.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  Was I really alone? Or had one of them simply hidden in the shadows, watching and waiting to pounce when I least expected it? Would they give me food? Water? A toilet? What if my father couldn't meet Jason's demands? What if he wouldn't? I hugged my knees, burying my face in them as I rocked back in forth. Would they kill me?

  And what if Zander was really dead?

  Yeah. Back to that. I should've told him how I felt, I realized. Now he might never know.

  Deep breath, Riley.

  As my pulse gradually slowed, I deliberately focused on Zander's well-deserved Purple Heart. He hadn't mentioned it to me, but he probably wouldn't. As for the Bronze Star, I wished I had my iPhone so I could look up what they were given for. I thought it had something to do with bravery. That didn't surprise me. He'd proved his courage the first time he saved my butt, and his buddies had confirmed it.

  Could I be brave, too? A warrior just like him?

  Maybe it was time to give Zander a break and rely on myself. And the first step would be figuring out where I was. I took off one of my boots and set it on the floor. My fingers touched what felt like small clumps of dirt on cool concrete. If it had been tracked inside, there might be a door somewhere nearby that opened directly to the outside. I wouldn't have put it past Jason to try and disorient me by taking the long way in.

  With my shoulder to the wall, I crawled around the perimeter of the room, encountering one locked door before I got back to the boot. The area wasn't as big as I'd originally thought. Wondering what the room contained besides me, I used my new mental map to grope across it. I ran into nothing. Feeling braver, I walked the edges again with my hand on the wall. My fingers found a built-in counter with a sink set in it. I turned on the tap and got water, so I washed my face and took a good long drink, hoping it ran clear. At any rate, it tasted okay.

  The cabinets above and below the basin were empty. Naturally, I tried the door again when I got to it. Still locked. Only a little lost, I made my way back to my spot and sat to pull on my boot, an action that resulted in my fingers touching something small and crispy. Dead spider!

  I shuddered from head to toe as I swiped my hands down my jeans. Were there other critters lying around? Ants, roaches? And what about mice? Thinking of them brought Zander to mind, annihilating whatever satisfaction I'd experienced by blindly checking out the room.

  He didn't feel dead to me, but how could he when I was in total denial?

  I forced myself to refocus on the here and now. Was this enclosed space someone's storm cellar? If I only had a light, I'd feel better, I thought. Sensory deprivation was proving to be much worse than I'd ever imagined. No wonder prisoners went crazy in solitary confinement. I wished for Zander's watch with its glow-in-the-dark readout in military time.

  Sinking into a pit of despair in spite of my resolve to do otherwise, I sat for a very long time before I heard muffled voices and the slide of a deadbolt as someone unlocked the door. Aided by a small flashlight, a Titanium came in with a Sonic sack and drink. Beyond him, I saw what looked like a shadowy hallway.

  "I've gotta pee, dude."

  He nodded and set the sack on the floor before motioning that I should get up and go to him. When I did, he stepped behind me. I tensed, but all he did was slip one of those silver masks over my head and test that I couldn't see.

  Since the eye holes had been duct taped and the mask contoured to fit a face, I definitely couldn't. "Is this really necessary?"

  He didn't answer.

  I let him lead me out the door, counting the steps and noting that the soles of my boots seemed to scrape on more and more dirt as we walked. The guy in the mask turned me to the right and nudged me forward, shutting the door behind me and sliding a dead bolt mounted on his side. I yanked off the mask, as he'd surely known I would.

  Though dark, the bathroom had a window that appeared to be boarded up on the outside. A tiny crack between two of the slats let in just enough light that I could find the toilet and wash my hands with soap located near the faucets. There was no towel.

  "Hurry up in there!"

  I tried to open the cabinet under the sink, but when it didn't easily budge gave that up. Didn't want him to hear me and cut off bathroom privileges. After slipping the mask back in place, I knocked on the door. He slid the bolt, checked to confirm I couldn't see, and led me back to my prison.

  "Thanks." I figured no harm could come of me being polite. What I needed now were allies, even if they wore expressionless silver masks.

  He grunted, pushed me through the door, and took off the mask. I heard him lock up and leave. Following my nose, I found the food and ate every bite of a hamburger and cold fries. The Coke was sweet nectar sliding down my scratchy throat.

  I wished for something to soothe my ravaged lips, which made me wonder where my purse was. Back at the cabin? Or had one of them snatched it up? And if so, could I talk someone out of it?

  Time dragged by. Exhausted, I stretched out and dozed a little, or tried to. It wasn't easy to relax when I couldn't tell if there were bugs or rodents nearby. What if one crawled up my arm? And why was I worrying about something so trivial when Zander migh
t be dead?

  Zander. I'd never known I could love any guy so much. His strength, his struggles, his nightmares--I wanted to witness them firsthand and forever. I wanted to help him work through them. Knowing him put my own life in perspective. If I'd ever thought I had problems, I sure didn't think that now.

  Frustrated and lonely, I crawled to where I thought the door stood. I found it a couple of feet to the left of where I aimed. "Hey, is anyone out there?"

  "What do you want?" The male voice sounded slightly muffled since we had a heavy wooden door between us.

  "Tell me about Titanium."

  "You don't know the story?" He sounded incredulous.

  "No." I lied. Anything to keep him talking. "Start at the beginning. I want to know what all the fuss is about."

  Before the guy could answer, I heard more muffled voices.

  "Do you need the bathroom?" someone asked. A new voice, yet oddly familiar.

  "Yes." Any excuse to get out of there.

  "You know the drill, right?"

  "Yeah." I waited for him to open the door, which gave me just enough light to see how to get to him. He put the mask on me. He led me there and locked me in. I pulled cloth off my eyes. After I did my thing, I simply stood there for a minute, grateful to be in a gray world instead of a black one.

  "Hey!" He banged on the door. "Are you done yet?"

  "Yes." I put on the mask again. He led me back to the dungeon. I got the distinct impression he was tall. Wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the source of his voice or the angle of the arm attached to the hand that grasped me. "Thank you."

  "No problem."

  Was this zombie two aka tall guy from the parking lot? I really thought it was. I eased over to the door and sat beside it, wishing a breath of fresh air or one ray of light could get in. "Did it ever occur to any of you to just ask if I'd go along with your plan to control my dad? I'd have done it. He's nothing to me. Of course, I'd have made sure he threw in some cash."

  "I can't talk to you."

  "Why not? I'm miserable in here, and guarding me can't be that much fun."

  "It's pretty freakin' boring all right."

  "Do you have any sisters?"

  My question seemed to catch him off guard. "Two."

  "Would you want this to happen to either of them?"

  "No. "

  "Then how can you do it to me?"

  "Not the same thing."

  "But it is!"

  "I'm sorry, okay? We're just doing what we have to."

  Heart. He had heart. Well, some anyway. Could this guy be the weak link I needed?

  Zander

  "I'm telling you I don't know anything about any hidden cameras," Charlie said.

  Having asked the question every way possible, I knew he wasn't lying. After some physical intimidation, he spilled his guts and told us some guy had paid him to borrow Riley's key, but never told him why he wanted it. Charlie thought that relieved him of responsibility, the reason I couldn't sense the lie. In his eyes, he really hadn't let anyone in.

  As for the spying question, Charlie was simply monitoring conversations, which he didn't count as spying. The video was being watched by someone somewhere else. Naturally I gave myself a mental kick in the ass for not asking better questions.

  He gave us a description of the person who'd done the installation, saying he spoke with a gravelly voice, only came around when Riley wasn't there, and drove either a Chef's Way delivery van or a silver SUV. Again, the truth--truth that told me Jason was behind everything. I threatened Charlie with bodily harm if he reported our visit. He swore he wouldn't say a thing. And since he'd all but pissed his pants, I knew he was scared enough to mean it.

  Back in Riley's apartment, Wilson went to the kitchen, which had no mics or cameras that we'd found, and called the Chef Way plant. Someone there told him a few trucks made Saturday deliveries to some restaurants in town. That made sense. Although Wilson made up some shit about one of the deliverers driving recklessly and even gave them the description Charlie had just shared, they wouldn't cough up a name.

  I checked my watch when he got off his cell. Twenty-four- minus-five hours and counting. I started pacing, my anxiety level escalating.

  Dom's Firestone contact called him to say I had new tires on my truck. I paid him five-hundred dollars by credit card over the phone. To keep me from kicking in a wall, Sparks and I headed back to the cabin to get it. We left Dom at the house. As for Wilson and Simms, they said they'd had an idea they wanted to follow-up on. Desperate, I told them to go for it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Riley

  "Does your leader really go by 'Titan'?" I asked, keeping my tone light. If this guy was the weak link, I wanted to make him feel comfortable talking to me. "I mean, that's pretty lame."

  "We call him Ti."

  "T-i, the symbol for Titanium? That makes sense, I guess. How'd he get to be boss?"

  "He's a genius."

  "In a mad-scientist sort of way?"

  "Nah. Ti's all right. The biggest and best fan your dad could have."

  "Are you for real? I've never met anyone as sadistic, evil, and mean."

  "That's not Ti; that's Panther."

  "Are you telling me that Panther's calling the shots?"

  "No way. Ti calls the shots. Panther's just the muscle."

  "Is he a fan, too?"

  "I doubt he can read."

  "So he's just Ti's cruelty consultant." Things were starting to make sense. While Ti wanted to force my father's hand, he didn't actually have the stomach for inflicting real pain. Could I use that to my advantage? Only if I could drive a wedge between him and Panther.

  Although I tried to keep my guard engaged, I got silence for my efforts. Impulsively, I sang a couple of lines of "Titanium," the amazing David Guetta song sung by Sia that Zander had picked for the ringtone on his cell phone. The haunting lyrics touched me every time I heard them because they painted a portrait of someone who'd been hurt to the point of becoming "bulletproof," but only because there was no feeling left.

  "Ti loves that song."

  "Big surprise. Zander does, too. Should I be worrying about him? Do you know if he's okay?"

  "I'm done talking."

  I made myself switch gears. "What are the rest of you called, Fe, V, Mo, and Al?" I jokingly rattled off the names of chemical elements with which Titanium could be alloyed--iron, vanadium, molybdenum, and aluminum.

  "How could you possibly know that?"

  That got me since I'd only been kidding, but I ran with it. "Ti's not the only one with brains around here. Who are you? Mo? V?"

  "Al. I'm Al."

  "Nice to meet you Al. I'm Riley, but you knew that."

  He didn't answer.

  "What's really going to happen if Steve doesn't cooperate? Will Ti have Panther kill me?"

  "Can't talk about it."

  "I called the police after the parking lot thing, you know. Sergeant Brian told me he'd check mall security tapes. He's probably already looking for you guys."

  "Can't--"

  "Are you talking to her?"

  My heart sank. Someone had undoubtedly come to relieve Al. Someone who probably wasn't going to chat with me.

  "I was just--"

  "Get out of here!"

  "But I didn't tell her anything."

  I heard footsteps that quickly faded away to nothing and a rustling near the door. "Hello out there."

  "Shut the hell up, bitch."

  Yikes. I retreated to my wall, my tail tucked between my legs.

  Forever passed before I heard another sound besides my own breathing. My head ached. My throat felt scratchy again. One minute I sweated; the next, I shivered. Alone with my thoughts, I tried desperately to focus on the positive things in my life, the biggest one the fact that I had money. Way more than I'd ever had. And I had my father, of all people, to thank for it.

  I wondered briefly if he'd written me letters or sent gifts I'd never received. But surely Leslie woul
dn't have gone that far to keep us apart. Didn't she get that I missed out, too? I thought of the information Clint had shared. I could imagine how betrayed Leslie felt when her boyfriend hooked up with her big sister in secret. That would be hard to forgive, and his constant presence in her life a painful reminder of what had happened. Could I now forgive her for keeping secrets? I knew I had to if we were to move forward as a family.

  Family.

  They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and most of the time you were stuck with what you got, which could get messy and often did. Bottom line: I had a biological father who'd deserted me and a maternal aunt who hadn't. I had to give her credit for that, and I wouldn't have stopped loving her no matter what she'd done. So, yeah, I could forgive her. Had already, in fact, though I still had some confusion and resentment.

  I hoped she'd helped me out of loyalty to her sis, but had to wonder if a teeny-tiny part of Leslie's motivation was revenge--her only way to keep Steve out of my life. As for Clint, he was the un- father with no blood ties who'd taken me in, managed my money, and offered a crap load of solid advice. How could I ever forget what he'd done or let a man I barely knew replace him in my heart?

  "Do you need a bathroom break?"

  I startled. Had the guard changed again? I sure hadn't heard it. "Yes, please."

  We did the blind, trip-down-the-hall thing. "Who are you, Mo, V, or Fe?"

  "Someone's got a big mouth."

  "Or someone else got an A in chemistry."

  He didn't comment.

  I took care of business and stole a couple of minutes to test the boards over the window. First I peeked out, but saw nothing. Was it night? And when I tried to raise the window it squeaked. My heart leapt into my throat.

  "Hurry up, would you? I don't have all night."

  So it was already night. Saturday or Sunday? Or maybe he simply meant he'd be on duty all night. I flushed the toilet and started toward the door only to brake when an idea popped into my head. I put my mouth to the door. "I need my purse."

  "No way."

  "Come on, man. I really need it."

  "You heard me. No freakin' purse."