CHAPTER 9—THE DONOVAN CLAN
Loralei's body was frozen as he forcefully began moving her toward the door. Her terrified eyes were plastered on Donovan's body. She couldn't even see his face, couldn't get one last look at him. The arm holding onto her body and the hand covering her mouth tightened. He would have to drag her out. There was no way she was going to help her captor. If he wanted her, he would have to work at it. In the few days he had been watching the hotel, he had learned the layout and knew exactly where to take her to elude detection. He dragged her to an employee area where they had their breaks and changed shifts. He had watched long enough to know when there would be people back here, and when there would be none. Keeping his hand over her mouth, he pushed her body against a row of employee lockers. She watched, incredibly, as he opened one of the lockers and dug around one handed. He pulled out duct tape and scissors.
"If I move my hand," he asked, "will you promise not to scream? If you scream, you'll die. Do you understand?"
Mutely, she nodded. She didn't moan or plead or beg. She held onto her wits as he slowly removed his hand. Loralei didn't scream. Instead, she tried to escape, but he took hold of her wrists in one hand and pushed her back. He shook his head menacingly. Quietly, he set about his work of binding her hands with the duct tape. Even pregnant, she was a handful, and he had no intention of allowing her to get away. After his job was done, he slapped a strip over her mouth. He didn't trust her. He set the tape and scissors aside and took hold of her bound hands and began dragging her toward the exit. Loralei's eyes began wildly searching for someone, anyone, during the walk to his waiting car. No one came. She began to resist, jerking her body backward. He stopped and turned toward her, realizing that this would not be easy. He lifted her body and slung it over his shoulder, mindful of her swollen abdomen, and continued onward toward the car. With great difficulty, he unlocked the door and placed her body inside. He quickly went over to the drivers' side, opened the door, and slid inside. Darkness was good cover, and he was certain no one had seen him.
Once they were on the road, he began to relax a little. Without hesitation, he grabbed the very edge of the tape covering her mouth and ripped it off. He was greeted with an indignant yell of pain and an amazing jet of spittle in his face. Grimacing, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He should have left it on her, and he would probably regret the decision he made to take if off before they reached their destination. She glared at him, and the ire evident in her eyes was incredibly brutal. He did not doubt that if she weren't pregnant, she would attack him, and probably give him a run for his money. The child she carried was her only thought, her only worry, and that would ensure her cooperation. Nothing else had such power.
Loralei couldn't tear her eyes off the amazing Canadian sunrise sprouting on Farron's face. The bruising was extensive, and appeared to be getting worse. She noticed that he had somehow obtained a patch and had covered his injured eye with it. It didn't matter, the swelling was still evident, and she wondered if he might lose it. What was his purpose in abducting her? What did he think he was doing? Had he been running a game on them the entire time? Had he really wanted to give up the life? The image of Donovan's crumpled body disturbed her. Was he alive? How could she get away without endangering the life of her unborn daughter? She wanted to speak, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd only end up screaming at him.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Farron said suddenly without tearing his eye off the road. Driving without both eyes was a difficult feat at best, and he would have to concentrate doubly hard. "Don't worry about Frank, he'll be fine."
"Why did you do this? Are you going to give me up to your friends," she spat in anger.
He shook his head and chuckled sarcastically. "Give me a little credit, okay? I'm not bringing you to Ortiz as a prize. I'm a enrosque arriba (screw up), but no killer. I wouldn't give over my brother's pregnant wife to a bunch of los vaqueros de la cocaína (cocaine cowboys). Your life is in danger, and you are not safe with Frank, with me, or alone in Chicago. My former jefe has dozens of men on his side, dozens of people who would be more than willing to track you down. Where I'm taking you, no one would ever know to look, even Frank. This is the only way you'll survive."
She didn't care what he said or what he did. She didn't trust him, not after everything he had done to her husband and to her. Yet, one burning question would not leave her. "Where are you taking me?"
"Plant City. Mine and Frank's sister, Anya, moved there with her family about a month ago. You'll be safe with Anya until this is over. Once we arrive, call Frank and tell him where you are. Call him, but no one else. Do you understand?"
* * *
They found Donovan passed out on the floor of his hotel room. Together, Jake and Cody lifted his prone body and laid him on the bed. It appeared that he had been hit from behind with a small fire extinguisher. The team knew that once Donovan realized that his brother had escaped with his wife, he would fly off into some kind of homicidal rage. Farron Donovan was as wily and as sneaky as his twin. He had excused himself for no longer than five minutes, and when Cody went back to check on him, he was gone. He had somehow climbed out of the small bathroom window. Apparently, he had then gone to Loralei and Donovan. Once the boss woke up and realized that his wife and brother were missing together, they would hastily prepare for hell on earth to arrive.
Donovan regained consciousness piece by piece, as if he were awaking from a deep coma. Painful whiplash had claimed his neck and pulsed up to the back of his head. It felt as if he had been smacked with a brick. His confusion lasted for several moments as he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. The room seemed dark somehow, but he wasn't sure if the lights were off, or if he couldn't see properly. What happened? Suddenly, a thought cut into his confusion as effectively as a knife through melted butter. Loralei. He tried to sit up, but the pain was immense, and his body fell back against the pillows. Who the hell hit him? Loralei. Oh God. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. The pain was much too intense.
A low, fevered moan brought Alex around. She had been dozing in a chair and hadn't even realized it. She glanced over at the bed and watched as Donovan tried to sit up, but his injured neck wouldn't allow it. She approached the bedside and placed her hand on his clammy forehead. She wondered how long he had been struggling to move. "Hey," she said quietly, "Don't move. It's only making it worse."
Donovan focused his eyes on Alex's face. He didn't dare move his head. Every little inch he moved created new agonies to explode within him. "Where is Loralei," he demanded. Even speaking caused pain to flair. "Where is she?" She didn't want to tell him, didn't want to say the words. He lifted his arm quickly and took hold of her wrist. Although he was overtaken by pain, his grip was still strong. "Where…is…she," he demanded, emphasizing each word as if he were speaking to an insolent child.
She sighed. He wouldn't let up until she told him. "Your brother escaped, and we're certain she's with him. The rest of the crew is trying to track him down."
Donovan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He released Alex's wrist and covered his eyes. He was willing the pain to go away so he could function, so he could wrap his hands around Farron's throat and strangle him once and for all. His drug trafficking brother had abducted his wife. He then recalled that it been Farron's idea for him to redirect the flight back to Tampa. Stupid, stupid, he thought. Loralei had returned and Farron had taken his chance. His wife would be delivered into the hands of bloodthirsty criminals. He wanted to scream, cry, murder, and maim, but he could nothing. The pain, the fucking pain. He would will himself to move, will himself to get up. Loralei needed him.
He pushed Alex's hovering body aside and sat up. The pain exploded all over his head and his vision grayed out for a moment. If Farron had taken Loralei, he had obviously hit him. What the hell had he been thinking to listen to his brother? Beside him, he heard Alex asking Donovan not to move, to lay back. He ignored her. She didn't understand. Somebody had to do something before his wife and child were taken from him forever. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and another jolt of intense pain raged through him. He needed a neck brace, but there was no time for that. In the back of his mind, through the pain and the fog, he began to wonder where Farron could have taken her. Cuba? Colombia? Bolivia? How would he find her? Goddamn it.
"Find me painkillers," Donovan croaked. "Painkillers, Alex. I don't care where you get them, just get them."
* * *
Loralei wasn't sure that Farron intended to take her where he claimed. So many questions swirled in her mind; they were questions that Farron would never answer. If he had been concerned about protecting her and his brother, why would he knock out Donovan and leave him to his own devices? Why would he sneak around to do it? Why would he bind her so that she couldn't escape? If he truly intended to help her, he would have gone about it a different way. She wanted to talk to Farron, but at the same time, she didn't. She didn't want to hear one smarmy word from his mouth. Thoughts of escaping hadn't left her mind, but she wasn't sure how she could go about it without causing even more problems. The motion of the car and her exhaustion slowly began to lull her to sleep.
She was jarred awake when the car halted. She looked around at the dark, unfamiliar territory. He had driven her to a small neighborhood scattered with houses and mobile homes. The driveway he had pulled into connected to a modest looking home shadowed by a few palm trees. Her eyes fell on a small black mailbox. She could clearly see the name Marcello etched into it. Were they still in Florida or somewhere else? When she glanced at the illuminated clock on the dashboard, she realized that only thirty or forty minutes had passed. What the hell? Farron ripped the tape off her wrists. Caressing away the stinging pain, she looked up as light splashed over the driveway. A figure of a young woman stood in the doorway. She wasn't sure if she were looking at Donovan's sister or not. She wouldn't know until the woman drew closer. Each of his sisters had attended the wedding, and she would never forget what they looked like [they had the same eye and hair color and high cheekbones as their older brothers]. Only when she saw her would she be convinced that Farron hadn't double-crossed her.
The figure of the woman slowly approached the car. As she drew closer, Loralei made out the long dark hair and prominent cheekbones. This was definitely a Donovan sister. Farron had been telling the truth all along. As if reading her mind, he glanced at her from his good eye and gave her an 'I told you so' look. Anya knew Farron was bringing Loralei. He had called her earlier and discussed it with her. Of course, he failed to mention that Frank would not know. Anya barely glanced at Farron's battered face [he had told her about that, too]. Instead, she focused her concerned eyes on Loralei.
"I have little time to talk," Farron said to her. "I must get back to Tampa."
Loralei didn't know how to feel for a moment. So many emotions were attacking her at once, including relief. Without a word to Farron [she actually couldn't vocalize], she opened the door and climbed out of the car. Anya closed the door behind her, and took Loralei's forearm gently. Still a little shocked, she didn't say anything as Anya led her up to the house. No words came out of her mouth as her sister in-law led her into the living room. Only after she was behind the closed door did Loralei react at all. She began to cry deep, gut wrenching sobs. She had been so frightened and so distressed for dozens of hours. She had held it back as long as she could. Anya took the crying woman in her embrace and walked her over to the sofa.
* * *
Donovan sat up on the side of the hotel bed and dry swallowed two large capsules that Alex had scrounged up for him. He didn't bother asking what it was. He didn't care. It began to work fairly quickly, and he was able to move his neck a little bit. He stood up and walked around the room for a moment to test his body out a little. He would be no good if he couldn't walk.
"Donovan, I don't think you're physically up to this," Alex said. "Maybe you should go to the ER. We can handle this."
He fixed his dark eyes stubbornly on her face. "I can do anything I want. I don't need your permission or that of a doctor. My wife and our baby is involved, I'll handle it."
She threw up her hands. "Okay."
The pain medication began to make him feel halfway normal. The pain lingered, but not as severely as it did before. A few more minutes, and he would be all right. The bedside phone rang shrilly, cutting through the relief of the painkiller. He immediately went to the phone [his vision graying again] and snatched it. "Donovan," he spat through gritted teeth. The pain wanted to claim him again.
"Frank?"
He closed his eyes tightly. Loralei. "Where are you? Baby, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Frank," she spat. A sob was caught in her throat. "What about you? You were lying," she stopped speaking as the sob finally ripped out of her, "lying on the floor, Frank."
"Don't worry about me, I'm okay. Where are you? Where is Farron?"
"Farron is gone," she said, her voice calming down little by little. "I'm with one of your sisters. He didn't-didn't hurt me, but I thought-oh my god-I thought…"
"Don't. I need you to stay calm. Nothing is more harmful to you right now than fear. You're safe where you are. Again, my love, don't worry about me. Promise me that you'll stay where you are until this is over."
"I will," she said. "I love you, Frank. Just come back to us, okay?"
"Yes," he said. "I will. I love you, too, Loralei." He hung up without saying goodbye. He couldn't say that word, not to her, not with her so upset. The pain emanating from her voice was ten times worse than that attacking his neck and head.
Farron returned to the hotel and immediately went in search of his brother. He hoped that Loralei had called him by now to let him know she was safe. Expecting to eat a bullet, he marched up to the door and knocked. Donovan opened the door and fixed his enraged eyes on his brother's battered face. Without a word, without a sound, he grabbed Farron's shirt collar and slammed him against the wall. Suddenly, the pain in Donovan's neck seemed nonexistent.
"What were you thinking," Donovan asked through a severe whisper. "You attack me, you abduct my wife, and then you vanish. Start talking while you can."
"If I had come to you, dear brother, and suggested that I take your wife where she would be safe, would you have agreed? Would you have even listened to me? Don't lie. You wouldn't. You would have beaten me senseless, and then asked questions later. We both know this. They're not looking for me. They're looking for you now, and I was the only one who could do this. Tell me, Frank, where else could she go? Did you have any ideas? With all your power, all that you can do, you had nowhere for her to go. Did you? Your stubbornness, your not wanting to listen to me, almost cost your wife her life."
The look on Farron's face was smug, almost vicious. Donovan wanted to hit him again, to put out his other eye. Instead of acting on his impulse, he released Farron's body and stepped away. Was he afraid there was a little truth to Farron's words? Guilt began to sink into his heart. He turned away from Farron. He couldn't look at him anymore. Dear God. He turned to look at Alex who had stepped over to the corner of the room. "Put him in cuffs," he spat through clenched teeth, "lock him up in the conference room. He doesn't move, he doesn't leave. Get the rest of the team back here. We have to regroup and find these drug trafficking fuckers."
* * *
Loralei awoke in a strange and dark room. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was. The events of the last few hours seemed foggy, as if they happened a month ago. She gasped aloud at the tiny face of her four-year-old niece peering into hers. She sighed and sat up slowly.
"Sweetheart," Loralei said sleepily, "shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Wanted to see you," she said. "You were crying."
She nodded. "Yeah, Bianca, I miss your Uncle Frank."
"If you're scared, I could give you a hug," she offered.
Loralei smiled. Dear Lord, she was about to start bawling again. She lifted the child and drew her little body into her arms. In response, she wrapped her arms around Loralei's neck. The little girl drew away, but didn't immediately climb out of the bed. She snuggled up against Loralei and curled her tiny fingers around a few strands of her hair. Bianca was a beautiful little girl with her mother's dark hair and eyes. Loralei wondered if her little girl would have the Donovan hair and eyes.
"Do you have a baby in your tummy," Bianca asked sleepily.
"Yes," she said, "I do."
"You'll be a nice mommy," she whispered, almost totally asleep now.
Hormones be damned, she thought as she blinked her tears away. "I hope so."