CHAPTER 10—REMY'S MISTAKE
Donovan's exhaustion was acute. He had slept several hours longer than he ever had in his life. It was more like a coma than a regular sleep cycle. The space beside him was cold and empty. He didn't become immediately alarmed. He had no reason to suspect that she had gone any further than the bathroom. However, when he sat up, he noticed her bag wasn't in the corner beside his. Although he knew it was a moot point, he called out to her a couple of times, but was only met with silence. Please God; please don't tell me she left. His prayer fell on deaf ears, of course. He scrambled out of bed and pulled on the first shirt and pair of pants he could find. She hadn't taken the keys, so he assumed she had left on foot. He had no idea when she ran. He had been sleeping, in his coma, and he felt like a failure.
* * *
Hours before Donovan awoke, Remy hitched her bag up on her shoulder and continued to plod forward along the small town streets. She had no idea where they were, but the direction in which she walked was where she had driven them. She tried to tell herself she hadn't lied to Donovan, that she had only misled him. He was driven by testosterone. He wasn't thinking clearly, and there was no way she would allow him to take a fall just to save her ass. Remy didn't see anything but miles and miles of road ahead of her. Donovan preoccupied her mind as well, and she hoped he would forgive her. So oblivious was she that she didn't notice the black car parked across the street. She didn't see it pulling onto the road to follow her.
When she heard the screeching tires behind her, she was almost certain Donovan had found her again. Although she thought her leaving was the best thing she could have done, a part of her was glad that he had come after her again. She turned toward the noise, half expecting to see his metallic blue sedan. It wasn't Donovan. The car was long, menacing, and black. Without a thought, she threw her bag down and began to run. The driver of the car threw it in gear, and it seemed to roar as it began to roll toward her. She wasn't stupid enough to believe she could outrun the car, but she refused to give up without a fight.
The car screeched to a halt in front of her, blocking her. She tried to reverse her direction, but the passenger side door flew open and a thin, young looking man began to run after her. Without a second thought, Cheeky tackled Remy to the ground. He landed on top of her, and her face was pressed into the grass. He held her arm jerked behind her, and when she struggled, he twisted it ruthlessly.
"How ya doing, whore," he asked, his stinky breath puffing in her face. "Long time no see. You look different with clothes on."
"Fuck you," she spat. It was hard to speak with her face pressed into the ground.
"I would, baby, but I don't do whores." He looked in the direction of the car. "Boss! Come on. Help me with her. She's gonna fight."
Another man began to approach Remy and Cheeky slowly, almost thoughtfully. He stood in front of her and looked down at his game. She was very beautiful, her eyes haunted him, and he could clearly see why Donovan insisted on fucking her every chance he got. Remy rolled her eyes up to the tall man standing before her. He was dark and had thick black hair. A neatly clipped beard framed his face, somehow making him appear older. Her vision obstructed, she wasn't sure who she was looking at.
"Frank," she asked groggily.
"Not quite, whore. Look again. Get your hand off her neck, Cheeky. Let her see me. Our faces will be the last ones she sees."
Cheeky released his hold just enough to allow Remy a better view of his face. When she saw him, when she saw his eyes, she knew. Immediately, she began to scream and fight. Cheeky held onto her tightly, shoving her face down onto the ground again. When that didn't work, he balled up his fist and smacked the back of her head with all his strength. The blow knocked her out, sending her down into a wonderful black void. Before the blackness engulfed her, she thought of Donovan, and hoped these men would not harm him.
* * *
Donovan ran out to his car. He remembered his cell phone in the backseat. Before he got underway, he reached back and grabbed it. When he turned it on, a dozen voice messages awaited him. His heart sank when none of them were from Remy. Most of them were from his team. One particular message affected him more than all the others combined: "We've been shut down, Boss," Cody's voice said. "Until further notice. Whatever is going on, let us help." Let them help with this one? No way. What was business was now personal. He had to find Remy before it was too late.
The town where Remy had driven them was called Jud Hill, and it was small. There were only four or five streets total, and the main road led into and out of town. He figured Remy might have gone that way to get out. Although his heart was seized by panic, he drove down the street slowly and examined every nook and cranny. He recalled that the last time she ran off, he found her bag before he found her. His eyes scanned the sides of the road for any sign. He had driven almost the entire length of Main Street and was about to turn around until his eyes caught sight of something peculiar. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out. As he feared, the peculiar item that caught his attention was Remy's bag. He bent over and retrieved it. It had been partially, but deliberately, hidden behind a roadside garbage bin. This did not bode well for Remy.
The garbage bin was large. Someone could very easily hide a body inside it if they were creative enough. With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he drew his weapon and carefully approached the bin. There was no lid on it, and the sickening smell of baked-under-the-sun garbage wafted up into the air. It was nauseating. Donovan stepped up to the bin and peered inside. Remy was not inside, and the incredulity of that fact overwhelmed him. He staggered backward, nearly falling over his feet. His relief was met by even more angst. If she hadn't been murdered and tossed aside, she had been abducted. He had no idea where to begin looking for her.
* * *
Remy's eyes were filled with hatred and fixed upon the one called Cheeky. Her memory had come back the instant he touched her. This fuck had killed the senator and had tried to kill her. He had even taken her to the same hotel. His 'boss' was also with them. He had stepped out to take care of some 'business' to do with Donovan. The two men were planning on how they would dispose of her. She wasn't sure what they had planned for Donovan, and she couldn't bear the thought of his dying. He had nothing to do with the senator. All he had done was gotten suckered into being her bodyguard.
The boss returned to the room and gazed at Remy. She was tied to a chair and looked inviting enough. She had seduced a hard-nosed senator and a hard-assed agent. She had brought them to their knees and sent them begging like little boys. It wasn't hard to see how she had the power to do that. He would enjoy playing with her a few hours before giving the order to have her eliminated. He had also cooked up a nice little plan to get himself and Cheeky off the hook. It was brilliant. But first, before the fun could begin, he had to get some information out of the fair-haired whore.
"So, you little whore," he said with a pleasant smile. "What did you do with the package Anthony gave you?"
She hated him. She wanted him dead. "I don't know what you're talking about," she spat.
He looked over at Cheeky and gave a simple nod of his head. The other man approached Remy and slapped her hard, backhand, across her cheek. The blow jerked her head violently to the right. She refused to cry, refused to let them break her down. If they wanted to kill her, so be it. She just didn't want them to hurt Donovan.
The boss grabbed a vacant chair and pulled it close to Remy. He flipped it backward and straddled it. He propped his arms over the back of the chair and gazed harshly into her eyes. "Come on, slut child, I know you know what I'm talking about. Anthony was an idiot. I know he told you things. You knew him intimately, didn't you? You fucked him, probably gave him blowjobs, let him spank you…all that good shit, right? Anthony was a kinky fuck. We had that in common."
Just the thought of this man touching her was enough to make her feel nauseous. "Anthony told me nothing. I was his sperm bank, you prick."
"Come on, whore. You don't want me to give Cheeky the opportunity to smack you around again, do you? That cocky shit may have worked with Donovan, but it's not going to work with me. Frankie boy could always be easily led around by the balls. I saw it time and time again. Not me. No way. So, whore, what is it going to be?"
"Are you an idiot, or are you deaf? I told you, I know nothing about a package." She held up her head, her arrogant cheekbones were flushed with anger.
The boss sighed in the deepest of aggravation. "Cheeky, I'm going to step out for a drink. Do whatever you want with her beyond killing her. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
* * *
Donovan knew he wouldn't make it back for several hours. He got on his cell phone again and began barking orders left and right. He ordered Jake and Alex to check out Remy's apartment, to tear it apart. He still had no idea where to find her, but he would not rest until he did. His single-minded purpose was to find her and then deal with her abductors.
Within two hours of his barked orders, he received an update from Alex. She and Jake had found something inside Remy's apartment. It was apparently what the killer had been looking for when he ransacked the place. It gave a clear picture, so to speak, of who had orchestrated the assassination of Anthony Wengrod. When Donovan heard the name, he was shocked. He quickly batted the shock aside. He would deal with it later. Right now, he had to get to Remy.
* * *
Cheeky stood and stared at the whore for a few hours. Her face had begun to bruise where he'd smacked her. She was a steady and strong whore, she hadn't flinched once, nor was she crying. It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen. He didn't exactly want to do anything to her but kill her. She had been his first victim to walk away alive. He was prepared to torture her, if necessary. But fuck her? Naw. He was no rapist; he had morals for Pete's sake. Besides, why would he want a piece of ass that had been taken repeatedly? It didn't appeal to him at all.
While Cheeky stared at her, Remy was trying to think of a way to release her bonds. It was tough going. Cheeky had used duct tape, and she wondered what the stuff was made of…steal? The moron wouldn't stop gawking at her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her mind wondered back to Donovan. Where was he? Was he alive? Dead? She had made a grave mistake. Not only would it lead to her death, but it may also have led to his as well. It was a thought she couldn't live with. She didn't care anymore; she was ready to die.
* * *
Donovan pulled his car into the hotel's parking garage. He had denied Jake and Alex's request to back him up. This was something he would have to do alone. Once the identity of 'the boss' had been revealed, Donovan was pretty sure where they were holding Remy. He hoped he had gotten to her in time. It had been hours, and he wasn't certain she was alive anymore. However, if that were the case [he fought against that idea furiously], the killers would be dealt with swiftly and lethally.
At one time, The Armorel had been one of the city's nicer hotels. However, it had gone through several different owners and they were constantly on the verge of bankruptcy. Whoever owned the hotel at any given time simply didn't fix it up on a regular basis. More or less, the hotel was used for nondescript meetings between call girls and their clients. He wasn't sure why the senator chose this particular hotel when he wanted to meet Remy, but he knew it was a haunt of 'the boss' as well. He needed to find a back entrance, some way to get to the rooms without going around to the front. If the killer saw him, it would be all over. The only renovation done on The Armorel through the years was the addition of elevators. Donovan thought there might be a different entrance that was used by those few who still insisted on climbing stairs. Yet, he didn't know what room to look for. This was turning into a never-ending nightmare.
His cell phone rang suddenly, and he swiftly shut it off. He had no time for a chat session. After pacing about the parking garage for what seemed like an hour, Donovan spied a door leading to the stairs. He didn't know where it would lead him, but he knew he couldn't stand out here fighting himself any longer. There would be a confrontation tonight, regardless of which way he entered.
* * *
The boss was back in the room again. He took great joy in watching Remy squirm. He stared down at the photo Cheeky had taken of her and Donovan. He didn't know why he had even brought it with him, but he liked torturing her. He would also like to torture Donovan, and he would as soon as he found him. He had no doubt that Donovan would eventually show up. He wasn't stupid, he would find his way soon. He wanted to kill Remy, but he would prefer to do it in Donovan's presence. It would be nice payback. And of course, payback was his business.
"Did you enjoy your time with Frankie, whore," he asked suddenly. She said nothing. She sat there and continued to loathe him. He smiled. "This picture was great. I wish I could have been there when it was going on, but I had another job to do. Let me tell you, holding down two jobs can kill a person."
Remy stared at the man as if he were nuts [which he was]. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I want to make a deal with you, whore. How about I set you up with a place to live, a nice allowance, and a car. What if I were to exchange this for the package? Would you help me?" Of course, he had no intention of making a deal with her. He would have her killed either way the die fell.
"Even if I knew what you were talking about, I'd never make one damn deal with you. You disgust me. If you're going to kill me, just do it."
Although the boss hardly got physical [he paid other people to do that], he approached Remy and dug his fingers into her cheeks, grotesquely distorting her face. "In due time, you fucking whore. I want that fucking package. You're going to die slow, do you understand me?" He released her and stood back.
"If you want me dead," she spat, "why don't you do it yourself? You're a coward."
He drew back and slapped her hard. "Fuck you, you whore. Cheeky is going to make your demise really interesting." He flashed his eyes on Cheeky's face. "Keep your eyes on this whore again. I need to get out for air."
* * *
Donovan stopped after climbing the first two flights of stairs. There was a door leading to a room before the stairs continued on. Taking a chance, he opened it and stepped out in the back way of the lobby. He ducked behind a wall and peeked around the corner. There were dozens of people milling about, but none of them were who he was looking for. He stayed where he was and continued looking at the crowd. He drew in a sharp intake of breath as his eyes identified the boss. He ducked behind the wall again as he tried to collect himself. He hoped to follow the man up to his room. He carefully peered around the corner again and noticed that the man hadn't moved an inch. He was speaking into a cell phone. When the man got on the move, Donovan slipped around the wall and followed at a safe distance.
Of course, the boss was aware Donovan was skulking around in the shadows, and that was fine. He didn't mind at all to lead him right up to the room. Donovan followed as closely as he could. He crept up the stairs behind the man. He suspected he was walking into a trap. It was too easy. But he couldn't help it. If Remy could be saved, he would die for her.
* * *
Even though it should have been the furthest thing from her mind, Remy dozed in and out for the next twenty minutes. It was her body's way of dealing with stress. During one of her 'wake' phases, the boss crept back in and laid his eyes on Remy. He was smiling at her again.
"We're about to have a visitor, whore. You know him well, you fucked him well. Please welcome former FBI agent and current unemployed Justice Department employee, FRANK DONOVAN," he screamed.
She didn't know if he was serious, crazy, or both. "Frank? No," she cried out.
Donovan was right outside the door, he heard the screams, and immediately knew he had stupidly stepped into the worst trap of his life. He didn't get the chance to kick open the door. It was opened for him, and he stood face to face with the man who had almost been his brother in-law.
The sound of semi-automatic gunfire exploded suddenly, making a deafening roar in the tiny space of the hotel room. Remy screamed and screamed.
