Good news, I'm going to weekly updates now, so these last few drama filled chapters won't have to be strung out too long! Get ready for some answers…
Rebel8954, Haha, for once, Seth didn't do anything, but he is in this chapter though, being all Seth-like, so, you know, there's that!
Crazyredhead2005, Oooh, interesting theory. Not that I can confirm or deny anything…yet *walks off whistling*
Idcam, Yep, a Hunter can't change it's spots. Even if it kind of wants to. We've got lots more Hunter coming up though, so maybe we'll test that theory a little…
Skovko, "Popcorn, popcorn, get your popcorn!" Yep, get comfy. All the answers you need are coming your way!
Mandy, Oh no, I'm sorry your brother is causing disruption and being difficult. I have extra ratface in this chapter for your reading pleasure. In fact, the whole gang's here, so I hope that cheers you up. Don't give up, the right job is out there, and it will be so worth it when you get it. Hugs.
xXBalorBabeXx, Well now that would be telling (lol) but the good news is, you don't have to wait for answers about what happened. They're all here!
WolfGirl2013, I think she might have preferred quitting to what has happened!
XwwecoyoteX, Hey, good to have you back! You don't have to apologise. I'm just glad you've enjoyed catching up on the madness. And you're just in time, because it's about to get crazier!
Minnie1015, :) this is for when you get here!
Oh Shi—
Despite standing in the ring for another five minutes—feeling more and more naked in my custom attire, since no one had anything else to look at. Including the cameras—Kaylee never showed, which meant that my first ever match in the business ended in no contest win. Thus finishing my wrestling career before it started. Not that I minded one little bit.
Although I did still have one lingering question, which I opened with as I stumbled backstage and was instantly wrapped in a covering blanket.
Best husband ever.
"Um, what the heck was that? Why didn't Kaylee show up? Where is she?"
"No one seems to know," Roman shrugged, stepping back as a runner rushed past us looking understandably stressed and gabbling frantically into a headset as everyone scrambled to plug the viewing gap.
Dean however seemed much less worried,
"Who the fuck even cares?" he huffed, making sure my backside was covered before turning and leading me back out into the hall.
I noticed that Vince didn't look at me this time, but I wasn't too sure if it was because I was covered up, or because he was trying to stop Rome from burning. Although in hindsight it was probably a little of both.
"She probably knew she was never gonna beat you, an' hightailed it outta here so she didn't have to lose," Dean carried on, with more belief in my abilities than I'd had at any singular point of this whole thing. And apparently still didn't have.
"Do you think so? Because she didn't seem worried on Smackdown or Raw. And besides, if she'd been thinking of quitting, then wouldn't Seth have heard about it by now?"
Not that I had a better solution. Mostly because nothing seemed to make sense. Especially since if she'd been caught in traffic, or had broken a nail or some other minor thing, then Stephanie or Vince could have easily pushed our match back, or even postponed it. But instead, it had continued and I'd taken the win. As if they'd given up on her for some reason.
"Wait, forget everyone else. Why the fuck do you care?" Dean asked, not completely unreasonably, "The woman tried to steal your freakin' job an' run you out like a Wild West prospector. At this point, you shouldn't give a fuck where she is."
He made a valid point. Sweary, but valid.
"I know, I know" I nodded, "And I don't. Well, not really. But it's just not like her and it's making me feel sort of unsettled."
"I'm not surprised," Roman grumbled back from behind us, where he was playing the part of our loyal rear guard, just in case Kaylee came out of nowhere and tried to start a hardcore match in the hall. Which honestly, I wouldn't have put past her, "You put a lot of time into training for tonight and you didn't get to put any of it into practice. Stands to reason you'd be feeling all out of place."
"Huh," I blinked, "I hadn't thought of it that way. You might be right."
"Of course I am baby girl," Roman grinned, wrapping a big arm around me as Dean flung open the door to the locker room—
And apparently hit Seth who was standing behind it.
"God damn it Dean. Why don't you watch where you're going? Anyone would think you were trying to hurt me."
"Okay first," Dean countered, "You were hidin' behind the door. And second, thanks to your little stunt last summer, I've become kinda hardwired to try an' kick your ass. But the good news is I'm in therapy for it, an' the doc says that while I'm gettin' better each day, I'm still gonna have those occasional moments where I can't help but hurt you."
"Hey," Seth yelped, as Dean reached across and flicked him on the forehead before shrugging innocently as if to say see?
Scuttling past them, I snatched up my normal clothes and attempted to stifle my giggle in the showers. Which didn't work quite as well as I had hoped for, since it just made it echo even louder.
"I heard that."
Hurriedly changing out of my ring wear—which I shoved haphazardly into my bag in the hopes that I would somehow trash them and be spared from ever having to put them on again—I slid back into my jeans and sweater and then sank against the cubicle tiles in relief.
Bliss.
By the time I had pulled my thick winter boots on and wiped off most of my stage makeup, the talk had turned to the topic of the evening. Or more specifically, where in the hell Kaylee was. Which was apparently as much of a mystery to The Authority as it was to the rest of us.
"Steph's going nuts," Seth informed us, in what was probably the understatement of the century, "She thinks that Kaylee lost her nerve and skipped town. She even sent Kane to her hotel room. Empty."
"See?" Dean smirked, nudging me with his elbow as I sat down beside him and leaned into his side, "What did I just literally get through sayin'? That bitch knew all along that she couldn't beat you. I mean, she probably thought you'd quit beforehand or somethin', so when it got to tonight an' the match was still on, she panicked an' then like, fuckin' scarpered so she wouldn't get her ass kicked on live tv."
"Unless she had an accident on the way over here," Seth suggested, inadvertently hitting on the one thing I was worried about.
Because while Kaylee—Kaylee, who'd tried to punch me in a nightclub and slap the taste out of my mouth on the show—didn't much seem like the type run away from things, she could easily have been caught up in something else and be genuinely lying in a hospital bed this time, with no one to visit her or ask how she was. Especially since Steph had apparently washed her hands of her.
"Do you think we should ring the local emergency room?" I asked, starting to chew on my lip with worry.
In the silence, Dean's cell phone started to ring. Probably thanks to some old buddy from the indies who had seen him win the title and was calling up to say congrats, or get the inside scoop on what was happening with Kaylee.
In which case, they were going to be disappointed.
"Nah," he huffed, reaching into the low back pocket of his denims, "Come on. Stop worryin'. Kaylee's fine. She's probably scored a first class ticket to Bermuda from some poor rich fuck that she met in the departures lounge, an' is sittin' back sippin' champagne somewhere."
"You think?" I asked hesitantly.
"I freakin' know," Dean grunted back, putting his cell phone down on his kneecap and then jabbing the loudspeaker button, "Y'ello?"
The voice that ground out at him sounded low and raspy. Like someone trying to cosplay as Darth Vader.
"I have your wife."
For a second, we all sat and looked at each other. Or rather, everyone sat and looked at me. His wife. Who was there and just as baffled as they were.
Dean screwed his face up at the Samsung.
"Huh?"
"I said I have your wife," the voice growled, sounding slightly irritated this time, like whoever it was was rolling their eyes. Which seemed a bold tone to take when they were the one talking nonsense.
"Dude, what the fuck are you talkin' about?" Dean frowned, clearly losing his patience. Well, it had been a long night, "My wife's right here."
"Hi," I chirped, leaning in a little closer and then waving my hand at the phone like that would help.
In response, the mystery voice paused for a second, although they sounded less certain when they finally spoke again,
"You're lying Mr Ambrose. I have your wife with me. Here, allow me to prove it to you."
Somewhere in the background there was sound of ripping tape, followed by a familiarly bitchy huff of disgruntlement and then—
"Dean?"
Kaylee?
"You have to get me out. These men, they just grabbed me for no reason, and now they're talking about money someone stole, and they made me miss the match against Lauren, and—mmph," Kaylee protested as the tape was stuck back on. Or at least, I assumed that was what had just happened, based on how quiet it suddenly went. Excluding some angry sounding mumbling in the background.
"I think I've made my point clear," Darth Vader sneered, clearly still thinking he had the real Mrs Ambrose, and—
Oh dear god.
No wonder they thought that, considering that it had been flashed across the titantron in spangly graphics for the past four weeks. But what did they want Kaylee—I mean me—for? And wait, had I nearly been kidnapped?
Again?
"What do you want?" Dean snarled down the phone line, clearly thinking the same thing as me, since his voice had gone low and sharp and deadly.
"I want the money that your bitch mother stole," the man snapped back, which made the penny drop slightly. Or more like clatter loudly to the floor. Oh, and also, it wasn't a penny. It was a bowling ball. One of those extra large ones.
"Is that Big Lorenzo?" I gasped, completely forgetting that we were on speaker.
"Who the hell is Big Lorenzo?" Seth hissed, since he hadn't been there when we'd been talking about Dean's mother. Whereas Roman on the other hand most definitely had, which explained why his face had folded into a deep frown that almost matched Dean's in terms of royally pissed off.
"He's a drug dealer in Cincinnati that Dean's mom stole some money from," I hissed back in quick summary of what the heck was going on.
Not that Big Lorenzo seemed to agree with me underplaying it,
"Some money?" he barked, "That bitch stole two hundred grand, and I'm starting to get just a little bit tired of you people stalling. Now do you want your wife or not?"
"I already told you, she's not my—,"
"Boss?"
"What?" Lorenzo yelled at whoever he was with. He sounded like an aggravated school teacher who didn't really like—but was surrounded by—kids. Or like someone who just wanted a vacation, but was having to kidnap random women instead. Life was clearly tough as a gangster.
"I—I think we might have got the wrong girl."
Silence followed for several seconds, before a hand was hastily clamped over the phone, although not well enough to stop us from hearing how the rest of the conversation panned out,
"You think what?"
"This is Ambrose's real wife. She's called Lauren," an oddly distinctive, sheepish sounding voice announced, clearly holding my picture up to Big Lorenzo, which made my heart launch into my throat. I reached out and tangled my hands in Dean's fingers, which he squeezed reassuringly to remind me I was safe.
Well, either that or because he was imagining punching someone. But either way, it made my pulse come down a bit.
Big Lorenzo sounded incredulous,
"So then who's the loud hoe we have tied to a chair?"
Poor Kaylee. It seemed like she couldn't make friends anywhere. Apart from with the Bellas, which didn't really count. Since they weren't so much friends as kindred spirits.
"According to this fan site Mick found. She's his ex," the weirdly familiar second voice continued, which made me frown in concentration. Because where had I heard the name Mick?
Big Lorenzo heaved a sigh out. The kind of sigh that implied he was barely holding onto his shit.
"So let me get this straight for a second. I send you guys to bring me Ambrose's wife. You stake out wrestling shows for nearly four weeks, and then finally come back with the wrong fucking girl? Is that—is that what you're trying to tell me?"
The response was an embarrassed sounding half mumble,
"Yes."
"Jesus Christ," he suddenly bellowed, loud enough that it made me flinch and I wasn't even in the same room as he was. Thank goodness, "How is it possible to be that dense? I mean, how are you two even breathing? Fuck. Do I have to do everything myself?"
"Hey," Dean grunted, cutting in through the ranting, in case Big Lorenzo had forgotten we were there, "Look, you're havin' some issues. We get it, but you've clearly got the wrong person there. So why don't you just—you know, untie her—an' we'll forget that this whole mess ever happened. What do you think? Do we got ourselves a deal?"
Big Lorenzo seemed to consider it. Or at least, he was silent for several beats, which made it seem like he was thinking about it.
Although in the end, he merely snorted,
"Go to hell. Your mother still owes me two hundred big ones, and I still have leverage, so the way I see it here, you have four hours to bring me the money, or your bitchy little ex and your mother are dead. Oh, and I want your real wife to deliver it."
"Not in a million fuckin' years," Dean snarled, "I'll deliver it, or—,"
"You don't make the rules here," Big Lorenzo screamed at the top of his lungs, clearly losing hold of the last vestiges of patience, "I want my money back in four hours, and I want your wife to be the courier. Or else."
"Uh, boss?"
"What now Mick?" Lorenzo snapped at his lackey, hanging up before Dean could say another word. Which plunged the locker room into stunned silence.
"So, I guess now we know why Kaylee didn't show up," Seth observed in the sudden lull in conversation.
Dean threw his cell phone across the room,
"Fuck."
"Dean," I squeaked, "Don't break it. We need that. Or else I won't know where to drop the money off."
"You aren't droppin' fuckin' anythin' anywhere," Dean responded with a warning sounding growl.
I blinked,
"But what about Big Lorenzo? He said—,"
"I don't fuckin' care what he said," my husband snapped, his fingers tightening, "Because no freakin' way am I sendin' my wife to meet some guy who wanted to grab her in the first place, an' only doesn't have her thanks to some fuckin' dumbass called Mick."
Mick.
The name hit me like a thunderbolt. Along with a flashback of a heart shaped tattoo and a toothy grin staring in through chain link fencing.
I turned and clutched Dean in excitement.
"I know who that is. Well, I mean, not know exactly, but Matt and I saw him a couple of days ago. He and some other guy were outside after Smackdown trying to find out where Kaylee lived."
"And you're just telling us this now?" Seth spluttered.
"It's not like I knew they were kidnappers at the time," I huffed back, not thrilled at being accused of keeping secrets. By him of all people, "And besides, I did tell Dean, but we just thought they were weird Kaylee fanboys, since they weren't wearing their convenient, I'm a criminal lanyards."
Seth put his hands up,
"Okay, okay, fine. And anyway, it isn't like that's the biggest problem."
"Yeah, because where are we going to find two hundred grand?" Roman mused, rubbing his beard for inspiration, which didn't seem to help much.
Seth gaped at him,
"Hello? Are you mad? You guys aren't actually thinking of going through with this?" he coughed in astonishment, looking between us one by one, "Please tell me you're not, and you're going to call the cops in to deal with this kidnap and ransom?"
Oh yeah, the cops. At some point I had forgotten that they were an option. Which told me I'd been working in sports entertainment for too long.
Or been in a relationship with Dean for too long.
One or the other.
"An' say fuckin' what? That my mom stole two hundred grand from a drug dealer an' used it to buy a freakin' motorhome?" Dean snapped. Not that the additional information much helped things.
"Used it to buy a what now?"
"An' besides," Dean carried on without pausing to answer, "Did we call the cops when Lauren was kidnapped by her dad? Or when Wyatt an' his big goons grabbed her? Or did we put our vests on an' fix things ourselves?"
Seth rolled his eyes like he was talking to a brick wall.
A very handsome, masculine brick wall.
"No. But those were issues that started in wrestling, involving wrestlers who we know we can take on. These guys are unpredictable. They're criminals."
"Yeah, Cincinnati criminals. Who I practically grew up around," my husband countered with a shrug of indifference, "An' stupid ones too. I mean, you heard them on the phone. Did they sound like the cast of Ocean's Eleven? Because to me, they sounded like a bunch of circus clowns."
"Which means we're back to our primary problem," Roman repeated, "Where do we find two hundred grand? Or someone who can even get that amount in four hours?"
Oh crud.
"I know someone," I groaned, "But I don't think he's going to be happy about it."
"No. We are not askin' Hunter," Dean scowled, reading my mind. Which was cute. And annoying, "I'd rather cut my own balls off."
"Um," I blinked, "Okay, firstly, please don't. And secondly, unless you happen to know a millionaire that we can guilt trip into helping us save Kaylee's life, then I'm pretty sure we're going to have to go with my plan."
Roman chuckled,
"She's got you there babe."
"Fine," Dean huffed, "But I'm coming with you."
"Yes you are," I smirked back, not arguing for once, since despite my earlier ceasefire with Hunter, the prospect of having to talk to him again—or even worse, run into Stephanie—still made my insides quiver a bit. And not in the good way that Dean did either.
"We'll stay here and keep tabs on your phone in case Big Alphonso sends an address through," Seth offered, picking up Dean's discarded cell, which seemed none the worse for having gone flying.
"Lorenzo," I corrected, not wanting Seth to rile him up in the unlikely event that the mobster called back again.
He flapped at me,
"Whatever. Just go and get the dough."
Dough? What was he? A nineteen twenties bank robber? Still, he had a valid point, which was why instead of teasing his word choice, I turned and towed Dean away through the door and back out into the organized chaos of wrestlers and runners and props and lighting rigs.
Except, was it me, or did it seem more chaotic since Kaylee's no-showing?
"Come on Princess, let's move," Dean growled, cutting a path through the bustle like a great white shark swimming through a school of fish, since people just seemed to move out of the way for him, which wouldn't have happened if I'd been there on my own.
In fact I probably wouldn't have made it to the end of the corridor.
"Look," I hissed, suddenly pulling him back and pointing along the long hallway beside us, where a tall brown haired figure was stalking off in heeled boots, "Stephanie's heading away from the office."
"Well then let's hope your dad's still inside," Dean murmured back, leading us around a corner and then barging through a door without bothering to knock.
Hunter was stood by a painted-on window that the props department had clearly pasted on the wall to make it look like a third floor boardroom instead of the cleared out broom closet it was. Albeit a broom closet with a couch and a pot plant, also courtesy of the guys in props, who presumably had all sorts of things in their trailers designed to make The Authority look good.
On seeing us in front of him, his whole face hardened, but since we didn't have time to hang around, Dean interrupted his opening question to get down to the facts,
"What do you two idiots wan—,"
"We need two hundred grand to pay your protégée's ransom, an' we've only got four hours to raise the whole lot."
Hunter stared at him for a second. Then looked at me. Then looked back again, as if he thought that Dean was joking and just hadn't got around to the punchline yet.
My solemn face convinced him he wasn't.
Sort of.
"Ambrose, did you break into Rob Van Dam's stash? Because what in the hell are you even going on about? Protégés? Ransoms—,"
"Kaylee's been kidnapped," I announced, figuring it was probably better to lay all of our cards out on the table at once. Or most of them anyway, "By some uh, wrestling fans who want two hundred thousand dollars to release her, and want me to deliver it."
"Why you?" Hunter frowned, reacting to the news of the kidnap a whole lot better than I thought he would have.
I paused,
"Um, I'm their favorite," I lied, "But anyway, that part isn't important—,"
"Yes it damn well is. You're not doing it," Hunter growled, agreeing with Dean for the first time ever. Not that he actually realized he was, "It's far too dangerous. Ambrose, what are you thinking?"
"Me?" Dean spluttered, as the censure swung to him, "Dude, I told her all that already. But it turns out, she's as stubborn and hard headed as her old man, so apparently she didn't listen. Go figure."
"Look, we can argue about this later," I cut in, "But right now, we need to know if you can help us. Especially since this whole thing is your fault."
Hunter looked at me like I'd slapped him. Or maybe told the joke that Dean hadn't done before, considering the way he barked in amusement, then furrowed his brow at me,
"Excuse me? My fault?"
"Well, yours and Stephanie's technically," I offered, fast beginning to warm to my own lie. Not that it was a lie. Well, not totally. Because okay, so Dean's mom might have stolen the money and used it to buy her and her boyfriend a motorhome, but there was another reason that Kaylee had been captured, and it wasn't to do with my mother in law, "Since you're the reason that Kaylee got air time and came to their attention."
See? Not a total lie.
"And is there a reason we can't call the police on this?" Hunter asked wearily, like he already knew.
Dean and I exchanged quick glances,
"Uh, they said we couldn't," Dean lied, since apparently, tag team lying was our brand new hobby. Not that I felt very good about that. But what else could we do without shopping his mother and dragging her and Tim back into the mess? Naked probably, knowing our luck recently.
Hunter threw his hands up,
"Fine. But I don't want Steph knowing anything about this. She already has enough on her plate."
"Agreed," I nodded, trying not to seem too pleased, since my stepmother wouldn't have believed a word we were saying, and would probably have point blank refused to help us.
"And one more thing," my father growled, eyeing us fiercely over the pot plant, "If we're using my money, then I'm coming too."
"No," Dean scowled back more darkly than ever, "This is not some freakin' Helmsley family day out."
"Then in that case, good luck raising the ransom," Hunter snorted, turning around and actually pretending to stare out of the window. The very fake window, "Four hours didn't you say? Hmm, that's not long. You'd better get moving."
I looked at Dean.
"Alright," he huffed angrily, "You can come."