Chapter 8
Jack
If she didn’t sound so damned upset, I might’ve said I told you so but this is neither the time or the place. Plus, all I want to do is get her out of that compound in one piece. Acid burns in my chest knowing there’s nothing I can do until backup arrives.
With everyone else in the hotel, I sit in the rented van in front of the Church of Heavenly fucking Bliss. I’m more than ready to kill the whole lot of those bigamist motherfuckers. If they harm one hair on her head, I can’t be responsible for my actions. It’s probably good Dr. Ned took the kids back to the hotel.
“Hang in there, honey. Push a dresser in front of the door. If you need me, I’ll come in with bullets blazing. I already called the FBI.”
“You really think they might try to hurt me?”
“You tell me.” I hold my breath, hoping I don’t have to pull some kind of move worthy of a Bruce Willis movie.
She sighs. “I don’t know… I think Young’s going to try to marry me off.”
“What makes you say that?” Counting my bullets, I calculate how much more ammunition I’ll need to get her out.
“He introduced me to two men after evening prayers, neither American. I think you need to hurry, Jack. Shit. My battery is-”
“Blake? Blakely?” Fuck. As I hang up my phone, I picture her getting whisked out of the country by some Arab with plenty of dough. If he has a private jet, she’ll be impossible to find.
More fearful than I can ever recall, I speed dial Patten Securities, avoiding Slate and going straight to the top. “Get me Grayson Patten.”
Voice recognition takes me to the billionaire’s private cell phone. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
“I need a favor, about five million favors in small bills.” I wait for the hiss and he doesn’t disappoint. “Jesus. What for?”
“I need to buy Dr. Blakely Smythe.” I watch the parking lot like a hawk, using my camera to shoot the license plates of the cars leaving.
“Mel’s Dr. Blakely?”
“Yeah. She’s got herself in a bit of a bind.” I download her current status as fast as I can and share the only plan I’ve been able to create in such a short amount of time.
When everything is all set up, he says, “I got Lucky and Suds on the way but they won’t arrive until morning. Do you need more?”
“No. Those guys will do just fine. If the three of us can’t get her out, no one can.”
“Good. Keep me in the loop.”
“Thanks, I don’t know how I’ll pay you back.”
“We’ll even up the score at some point. For now, just get the good doctor out of there. I’ll call Slate and fill him in.”
“Yeah, do that.” I leave out the part about howthe good doctorwas so damned foolish she got herself kidnapped. Oh sure, she may have been brave but she damn well should’ve given me a heads up so I could’ve had a backup plan ready. Now, I’m flying by the seat of my pants.
I take another picture of someone leaving the compound, then call David Young. “This is Jack Taylor. I understand you have a Blakely Smythe for sale.”
There’s a long pause before he answers. “Where did you hear that?”
“Let’s just say I know people who know people. I saw her first and she’s mine. I’ll pay double what anyone else offers.”
I pray greed wins out over ego as I send him a link. “I just forwarded a webpage to you. Check it out fast. It’ll only be there for the next twenty minutes.”
“Th-This is quite irregular. How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’ll email everything you need to know. Tomorrow, I’ll bring cash and you can have it as soon as I say my vows.”
“Just a moment.” I hear him mutter to some people in the background before his phone goes on mute. Five minutes pass before he returns.
