29

Fenton Hardy stood at the center of the Brazilian Federal Police headquarters in Manaus, surrounded by officers, tactical experts, and military operatives. The atmosphere was tense, charged with a focused urgency. Reese knew they were coming—but what he didn't anticipate was the full force about to descend upon him.

Chief Inspector Raul Menendez laid a detailed map of the Amazon basin across the war table, his expression grim but determined. "We're mobilizing over a hundred men for this assault. Federal police, military special operations, and a handful of private contractors experienced in jungle combat. We will have more than double the estimated strength of Reese's security force."

Fenton exhaled. "That's exactly what we need."

Menendez nodded. "Reese has built his compound into a fortress. Concrete walls, steel gates, multiple guard towers—his men are armed, trained, and prepared for a fight. If we go in without overwhelming force, we'll be walking into a bloodbath."

Duarte, a tactical specialist, stepped forward and pointed to the map. "We're launching a dual-assault strategy. A primary ground force will approach on foot, while an airborne strike team will breach the compound from above."

Menendez continued, "We leave at first light tomorrow, traveling by boats up the river. But we must go through Anamã first—it's the last settlement before the jungle gets too dense. We'll keep a low profile, refuel, and make final adjustments to our gear before moving on. From there, we'll dock along this river channel well north of Anamã, in a heavily forested area. That's where we'll disembark and go on foot. It will take us a full day to get into position. We won't be ready to strike until the following morning."

Fenton studied the approach. "Reese will expect us to come by water or land, but he won't expect an aerial breach. What's the helicopter team's objective?"

Duarte marked a landing zone just beyond Reese's estate. "A Black Hawk will carry an elite strike team—twelve of our best men. They'll fast-rope onto the roof and attempt to secure key access points from above. Their goal is to neutralize any rooftop snipers, disable external security systems, and create an opening for our main assault force."

Menendez tapped the map. "Meanwhile, the primary assault team—roughly eighty heavily armed operatives—will move in from the jungle, surrounding the compound. Once the perimeter is breached, we go in with everything we have."

Fenton nodded, his mind racing through every contingency. "Reese is going to fight like hell. What kind of weapons are we bringing?"

Menendez motioned for an officer to bring over an inventory list. "Standard-issue assault rifles, body armor, and night vision gear for all operatives. We also have breaching charges for the compound's reinforced walls and grenade launchers to clear high-threat areas."

Duarte added, "We're also bringing a .50 caliber sniper team to neutralize guards in the towers before the main assault. If we control the high ground, we control the fight."

Fenton's jaw tightened. "Good. Because this isn't just about getting my sons and their team out—this is about wiping Reese's operation off the map."

Menendez folded his arms. "That's the goal. Once we have him in custody, his empire collapses."

Preparing for the Worst

Duarte crossed his arms. "Reese knows you're coming. He'll have booby traps, ambush points, and fallback positions. We have to assume he has a backup escape route."

Fenton nodded grimly. "We have to make sure he doesn't use it."

Menendez turned to one of the military operatives. "Captain Vasquez, you'll lead a secondary containment team. Your job is to cut off all possible escape routes. If Reese tries to slip away, we take him down before he vanishes again."

Vasquez nodded. "Understood. We'll deploy motion sensors and tripwire alarms around the perimeter to ensure no one leaves undetected."

Duarte tapped the map again. "This is a high-risk operation. Reese's men will fight to the death. We should expect at least twenty casualties."

Fenton inhaled sharply. He had been in enough battles to know that was a realistic estimate. He was prepared to do whatever it took.

Menendez met Fenton's gaze. "This is our best shot. We have the men, the firepower, and the strategy. In forty-eight hours, this ends."

Fenton set his jaw. It was time to bring the fight to Reese.

Reese leaned back in his leather chair, his fingers drumming against the polished mahogany desk as he listened to the static-laced voice on the other end of the line. His dark eyes were sharp, calculating, as he took in every word.

"Look Renaldo, I need your eyes and ears open in Anamã," Reese said smoothly, his voice carrying its usual blend of menace and charm. "The last thing I need is a surprise visit from federal authorities or some hotshot detective trying to play hero. You make sure I know if Fenton Hardy or any strangers start sniffing around."

The voice on the other end chuckled nervously. "Senhor Reese, you know I always keep you informed. Nothing happens in Anamã without my knowing."

Reese smirked, his fingers tightening slightly on the receiver. "Then prove it. Because if I get caught off guard, you won't live to regret it."

There was a pause. A swallow. Then: "Understood, senhor. I will keep watch."

"Good man," Reese drawled. "And if you see anything suspicious—anything—you call me immediately."

The line clicked dead.

Reese slowly set the phone back on the receiver and exhaled through his nose.

Lila, who had been leaning casually against the side of his desk, watching the exchange with idle amusement, let out a low whistle. "Well, someone's feeling paranoid today."

Reese gave her a pointed look. "I'm feeling prepared. There's a difference."

Lila smirked. "Sure. But we both know you wouldn't be this cautious unless you actually thought Hardy or someone like him might show up."

Reese stood, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored shirt. "Frank Hardy was in contact with his father. His last message to Fenton said they were headed to Anamã. That was before we took them." He gestured toward the map on his desk, which detailed every known approach to his compound. "Fenton isn't stupid. He'll come looking. But we must be sure."

Lila stretched her arms over her head lazily. "So, what's the plan, boss? If Hardy does show up, are we rolling out the welcome mat?"

Reese chuckled. "Oh, if Fenton Hardy finds his way here, he won't be leaving."

Lila tilted her head. "You thinking ransom? Leverage?"

Reese shook his head. "No. I'm thinking permanent residency. If Hardy gets himself captured, he'll be joining his boys and their little friends in a cell. He'll be a guest here until he dies."

Lila laughed. "Well, that'll be fun. The famous detective, living out his days as one of your prisoners. How poetic."

Reese moved to the large windows of his office, gazing out over his compound. Guards patrolled the perimeter, some stationed on the tall watchtowers that overlooked the dense jungle beyond. No one got in or out without his permission.

"We need to keep our captives in check," he mused. "They've been compliant so far, but I don't want them getting too comfortable. I also want to be sure that they don't know anything else about a potential visit from dad."

Lila smirked. "I'd say the last couple of days have been a nice little psychological beating for them. Callie and Jaime took their medicine like good girls. And Maddie? I think she's warming up to the idea of drowning herself in that lovely whiskey you keep feeding her."

Reese's smirk deepened. "Exactly. I want Maddie pliable by the time I take her." He glanced at Lila. "And what better way to break her than to let her mother and girlfriend be the ones to guide her into it? If we offer them an environment that shows both the pleasure and the pain, they can put things into perspective and likely instruct dear, young Madeliene that she is destined to grace my bed for the foreseeable future."

Lila grinned, stepping closer. "So, what's the next move?"

Reese turned away from the window, his expression cold, calculated.

"Perhaps a little time in the sun will do them well. It's always a pleasant way to ask questions."

"Indeed, it is." Lila smiled.

"Send for them and come along." Reese gestured with a waive as he rose from his seat.

The afternoon sun bathed the lavish poolside patio in a warm golden glow, making the luxurious estate look like a scene out of paradise. The pristine, turquoise water of the massive swimming pool shimmered under the light, the scent of grilled meats, exotic spices, and fresh-baked bread filling the air from the lavish meal spread across the long table. It was the kind of setting one would expect from a five-star tropical resort—not the prison it truly was.

Despite their captivity, the group understood the game now. At least the way Reese wanted them to understand. They had learned not to resist, not to challenge Reese outright when possible. The fact that he had a man killed in front of them the day before showed them how tenuous their hold on life was. He was a man who enjoyed control, but also adoration, compliance, and performance. Acting defiant would only invite punishment.

So, that morning, while still in their cell they reached the conclusion that it would be best to give the appearance of civility, and perhaps even indulging Reese's ego. As they were led onto the sun-soaked patio, Chet, Frank, Joe, Callie, Jaime, and Maddie smiled. They made a show of admiring their surroundings, offering light conversation, and behaving like guests rather than prisoners.

Reese, ever the gracious host, watched them with amusement, his lips curled into an indulgent smirk.

Lila, lounging in one of the white-cushioned chairs, adjusted her sunglasses, swirling a glass of iced sangria lazily in her hand.

"Ah, look at them," she mused, nudging Reese playfully. "Well-behaved, well-mannered. Maybe we don't have to kill them after all."

Reese chuckled, settling into his seat at the head of the table. "Oh, Lila. You're too harsh. They're smart. They know how to appreciate hospitality."

Callie, sitting beside Maddie, reached for a plate of tropical fruit, offering a pleasant smile toward Reese. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting something so… extravagant."

Reese poured himself a glass of wine, watching her carefully. "Why not? You're my guests. I take care of my guests."

Frank, ever the diplomat, took a sip of fresh juice, nodding. "You certainly know how to create an atmosphere."

Reese raised his glass in agreement. "I do, don't I?" Frank turned his head downward trying not to offer an overt look of disgust.

Reese's attention shifted to Chet, his smirk widening. "And for you, my dear Chester… I had something special prepared."

A guard approached, setting down a large plate before Chet. The rich, buttery aroma of freshly baked apple pie drifted into the air.

Chet hesitated, staring at the golden crust and warm cinnamon filling. He raised an eyebrow, thinking for a split second that it must be poisoned.

Reese leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice smooth. "You have a deep affection for apple pie, don't you? Particularly when it's made by dear Gertrude Hardy."

Chet felt his stomach twist. Aunt Gertrude's pies were legendary back home, a comforting staple of his life in Bayport.

Joe, ever the optimist, grinned slightly. "Well, nothing stops Chet from eating. Not even being held prisoner." He noted, though found it quite disturbing that Reese knew so much about their families.

Frank smirked. "He'll probably finish his pie before we've figured out how to escape."

Chet sighed, grabbing a fork. "I suppose I'd be offending our host if I didn't at least try it." He took a bite; his expression was one of pleasure. "Not bad."

Reese chuckled. "See? I am a man of generosity." He offered Frank a sideways glance. "And I suspect that Chester will indeed finish this pie, and many more, long before you ever find a way out of here." His eyes rose to the sky and looked at the beautiful surroundings. "As if anyone would want to leave here."

Frank offered a tight half smile and a brief nod. "But of course. How silly of me to even think such a thing."

Maddie, meanwhile, sat with her head resting in her hands, her face pale and slightly clammy.

Reese's eyes glimmered with amusement as he turned his gaze toward her. "Feeling a little under the weather, sweetheart?"

Maddie groaned softly. "Maybe."

Callie immediately stiffened, her motherly instincts kicking in. "She doesn't need more alcohol, Reese."

Chet nodded in agreement. "She's a kid."

Reese ignored them both, snapping his fingers. A bartender stepped forward, placing a small glass of dark liquid in front of Maddie.

"Hair of the dog," Reese said smoothly. "Best cure for a hangover."

Maddie hesitated, glancing at her parents.

Callie whispered urgently, "Maddie, don't—" She stopped short realizing that such a plea would be useless.

Reese raised a brow. "I wouldn't force you, darling. But I do expect compliance."

Maddie understood. Refusing wasn't an option. And frankly, her head felt like it was going to explode.

She took the glass and drank.

The burn hit her throat instantly, but the relief came quickly after.

Callie sighed, rubbing her temples, while Chet muttered, "This isn't good." He knew that addiction could happen swiftly. And with her mother's predisposition to casually drinking alcohol, that it might prove quite difficult to stop his daughter from developing a dependence.

Lila smirked, watching the exchange. "Relax, folks. She's just learning to have a little fun."

A sickening feeling fell in Callie's stomach. She felt powerless. This, of course, lent to her own indulgence as she tipped her glass back to take a healthy swig of the aged liquor.

Maddie, feeling a warm buzz return after two straight glasses in short succession, suddenly grinned sloppily.

Jaime, sitting beside her, tilted her head suspiciously. "Mads?"

Maddie stood up abruptly, her movements slightly uncoordinated.

"I wanna swim," she announced.

Without warning, she stripped off her top.

Jaime's eyes widened. "Maddie, what the hell?"

Maddie, now topless, giggled. "Come on, Jaime, let's swim!"

Before Jaime could stop her, Maddie tossed off the rest of her clothes and dove into the pool.

Jaime cursed under her breath, throwing a look at Callie, who had gone rigid in her seat.

Callie rubbed her forehead. "Oh my!"

Chet, still staring in mild horror, muttered, "Geez."

Callie groaned.

Jaime stood up, already pulling off her shirt and shorts. "I gotta go after her."

Callie nodded. "Please." She said fretfully. "Make sure she doesn't drown." Callie was off balance and felt hesitant to jump up herself.

Jaime dived in, surfacing beside Maddie, who was twirling in the water, laughing.

Callie watched, her eyes lingering on Jaime's form.

There was something about seeing her like this—confident, protective, uninhibited—that made Callie feel something she didn't entirely understand.

Jaime noticed the stare and smirked. "Something on your mind, Mrs. Morton?"

Callie snapped back to reality. "Just… thinking. About a friend of mine." This was true. Callie had been frequently thinking about Aimee. She supposed seeing Jaime's young form had caused a trigger reaction as their bodies were quite similar in size and proportion. At least this explanation was the most pleasant to consider for Callie.

It was apparent that even though Maddie had consumed a couple stiff drinks, she retained enough of her faculties to swim safely. Her inhibitions on the other hand were already gone…yet again.

After allowing them to enjoy the swim, Reese finally clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough fun. We have things to discuss."

The group gathered near the table.

Reese strolled along the pool's edge, his eyes sharp.

"Now," he murmured. "Let's talk about your father, Frank."

Frank and Joe remained calm, knowing this moment was coming.

"You last spoke to him before arriving in Anamã, correct?"

Frank nodded slowly. "Yes."

Reese's smirk widened.

Lila snapped her fingers, and a guard approached, carrying a glass enclosure.

Inside was a coiled pit viper.

Joe sighed. "Let me guess. If we don't answer, you let it out?"

Reese chuckled. "Exactly. But, just for amusement let's let it out now."

The latch was opened.

The snake slithered onto the table, its forked tongue flickering.

Frank remained still as stone.

Reese's voice was silk. "Is your father coming?"

Frank exhaled. "Yes."

Joe added, "And he's not coming alone."

"I assume he will have some people with him. He usually does." He added nervously as the snake got frighteningly close.

The snake coiled, preparing to strike.

Then—just as the snake reared backwards Reese snapped his fingers.

A guard expertly grabbed the snake before it could strike.

Reese smiled. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Frank's pulse slowly started to drop back into a normal range. He looked at his guest doing his best to maintain his composure.

The air hung thick with heat, the sun blazing down over the pristine patio as the interrogation drew to a close. The tension that had been strangling the group moments ago slowly dissipated, though the weight of the viper's near-strike still lingered in the air.

Reese leaned back in his chair, exuding casual dominance, his gaze moving languidly across his captives. "Well," he murmured, twirling his glass of whiskey, "I must say, I appreciate cooperation. It makes life easier for all of us."

Frank and Joe exchanged a glance, their demeanors measured. They had said all they could say—without lying—and Reese seemed satisfied. Though the fact he came so perilously close to a fatal snake bite still had Frank very much shocked.

Maddie, still buzzed from the drink and feeling delightfully warm from the swim, stretched out on the pool's edge, her bare skin glistening in the sunlight. She sighed, turning to Jaime with a lazy grin.

"You know what?" Maddie murmured, still basking in the glow of her alcohol-induced carefree attitude. "This is actually kinda nice."

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking water droplets from her hair. "You're just drunk and sun-kissed, Mads."

Reese, watching the two girls with amusement, took another sip of his whiskey and made a casual suggestion.

"You should sunbathe," he mused, his voice smooth. "No sense in covering up when we're all so comfortable."

Maddie, buoyed by liquor and lack of inhibition, barely hesitated.

She stood up, wringing water from her hair, and plopped down onto a lounge chair—completely bare, stretching out like a cat.

Jaime, however, hesitated. She wasn't shy—far from it—but she wasn't as eager as Maddie to drop her towel at the command of their captor.

Still, keeping Reese content meant compliance, and compliance meant staying alive.

With a small sigh, she joined Maddie, settling onto a second chair, her toned body gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Callie, who had been watching the girls, felt her throat tighten when her eyes lingered a little too long on Jaime's form.

Something about the way Jaime moved—the fluid grace, the unapologetic confidence—reminded Callie too much of the night before.

Reese, ever perceptive, caught Callie's stare. His lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"You're staring, Callie."

Callie blinked, then forced a light laugh. "Just… thinking about my lover Reese. You remember Aimee, of course?"

Reese tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his dark eyes. "Ah yes, Brandy. The last good photo of her I saw she had something in her mouth. You remember that day, Walt? Reese shot Chet a sideways smile. Chet covered his brow with an embarrassed expression. Reese looked back to Callie and gestured towards Jaime. "It is true, they do have the same size and proportion. But I bet they each have their own special taste, don't they?"

Callie hesitated, then shrugged deliberately, schooling her expression into nonchalance. Reese was clearly trying to trigger her into being reactionary. She wouldn't have that. She smiled at him. "Indeed, they do. It's quite distinct."

Reese grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Well, very good to know. Anyway, why don't you join them?" he said, gesturing towards the pair.

Callie stiffened slightly.

Chet, who had been pouring himself a stiff drink, visibly tensed.

Reese sensed the hesitation, his smile widening. "Oh, come now, Callie," he mused. "You know you want to. Just think about the fun you had two nights ago."

Jaime flushed slightly but said nothing, shifting on her lounge chair.

Callie, her pulse spiking at the memory, lifted her chin. "I just… hadn't considered it."

Reese leaned in slightly, his voice silk and steel. "Consider it now."

Callie glanced toward Chet, who was doing his best to ignore the conversation, sipping whiskey like his life depended on it.

Then she looked toward Jaime, whose averted her gaze.

There was something… uncharted between them now.

Callie felt quite awkward that on some level she had managed to confuse Jaime for Aimee. Even if for a short time. Perhaps it was more acceptable for her to view Jaime as her 23 year old lover that was back in Bayport. Callie couldn't process even the remotest possibility that on any level to the 17 year old who was for all intents and purposes her own daughter's girlfriend. The notion made Callie sick. While any relations they had were clearly under duress and at the direction of an armed criminal, she still felt quite dirty. She did not like how her mind played these games with her. She hoped they would all be able to escape so that they could get some much needed therapy!

Callie's racing mind aside, the reality was she was still very much a prisoner of pair of killers who would not likely think twice to dispatch her permanently if she opposed any of their directives. She sighed deeply and without another word, she stood slowly, undoing the ties of her bikini top before sliding the fabric away.

Chet made a small choking sound into his drink, which Frank promptly clapped him on the back for. "Easy, pal. It will be ok."

Chet placed his empty glass down and shot his friend a troubled glance. "Normally I don't have an issue with Cal displaying her stuff. But something just plain wrong about seeing my daughter and her 17 year old friend letting it all hang out."

Joe, nodded his head, muttered, "Would be nice if your daughter would close her legs. This is rather unsettling. I need another drink."

Lila, perched comfortably in her chair observing the group and their comments, laughed in delight. "Oh, this is fun."

Callie, ignoring the reactions, removed her remaining garments and settled into the sun.

Reese gave an approving nod.

"Much better."

Frank, Joe, and Chet sat awkwardly at the table, another round of drinks firmly in hand, trying to pretend like this was normal.

Joe took a long sip of his drink, then exhaled.

"You know, Frank, I always thought we'd go down in a blaze of glory. Guns, fists, some dramatic explosion."

Frank sighed, watching the three nude women basking in the sun with carefully averted eyes. Callie was the one redeeming visual. Frank remembered his past with Callie and took a deep breath. However, he couldn't really focus much given that there were also two minors inches away displaying themselves for their sick captor.

"I never thought it would be because of this."

Chet muttered, "I'm in hell."

Reese, reclining in his seat, chuckled. "Oh, Chet," he murmured, pouring himself another drink. "You're in paradise."

Chet let out a low grunt but chose not to comment further. He knew the situation could be worse. Their sick host could be making good on his lustful desires of a 14 year old right in front of them. Under the circumstances, Reese was demonstrating quite the restraint. Or he was just looking for everyone to fall into a deep state of comfort before he pulled the rug out from under.

Callie, lying beside Jaime, turned slightly, her head propped on her hand.

Jaime felt the shift, her gaze flicking toward Callie.

Callie's lips curved slightly, her voice low and teasing.

"You're… very comfortable like this?" She asked awkwardly.

Jaime smirked, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the armrest. "I adapt."

Callie knew Reese was watching. She knew that he was most content and less prone to violence if he was enjoying himself. For him to see something he thought was happening between her and Jaime would no doubt keep him in a safe place in terms of predictability and maintaining stable mind.

She took a quick breath. Her gaze lingered, indicating a hint of something undeniable between them.

Jaime turned her head fully, her eyes locked onto Callie's.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then, deliberately, Jaime reached for Callie's hand, her touch light but deliberate.

Callie let it happen. With a quick glance at Reese she smiled internally.

The connection between them—unspoken, untested, but undeniably real—buzzed in the humid air.

And Reese, watching from across the table, smiled knowingly.

Everything was falling into place.

Reese sipped his whiskey leisurely, watching the three women sunbathe with a satisfied smirk. The way Callie and Jaime exchanged subtle glances, the silent acknowledgment of their shared experience from the night before—it all delighted him. It meant that cracks were forming, bonds shifting, boundaries dissolving.

And Maddie, blissfully uninhibited under the sun's warmth, was unknowingly treading down a path he had set before her.

Chet rubbed his temples, his fingers pressing into his skull as he took another swig of whiskey.

"Well," he muttered under his breath, "this is the weirdest day of my life."

Joe, swirling his glass, raised a brow. "Only today?"

Chet scoffed. "I mean, I always knew Maddie was a wild kid, but this?" He gestured vaguely toward his daughter, sprawled out under the sun without a stitch on or a care in the world. "This is something else."

Frank, ever the tactician, kept his face neutral. "Better this than her being punished for refusing. Or even worse…"

Reese, overhearing, chuckled. "Ah, detective pragmatism. I admire that."

Frank lifted his drink in mock acknowledgment.

Joe leaned forward slightly, voice low so as to avoid being overheard. "Let's just keep things civil. Keep this all going. I think he is buying it."

Chet exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Doesn't mean I have to like the show."

Frank took a slow sip. "None of us do."

Maddie stretched languidly, feeling the warmth seep into her skin. She turned her head to Jaime, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin.

"You know…" Maddie murmured, shifting closer to her best friend. "This isn't the worst day ever."

Jaime rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. "You're still buzzed, aren't you?"

Maddie giggled. "Maaaybe."

Jaime reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Maddie's cheek. "You're gonna regret this later, Mads."

Maddie pouted. "You mean, I'll regret feeling this good?"

Callie, listening, subtly turned her head toward the two girls, a concerning expression on her face.

Maddie shifted onto her stomach, resting her chin on her folded arms. "You know what I don't regret?"

Jaime sighed knowingly. "What?"

Maddie flashed a devilish smile. "Being naked in the sun."

Jaime let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Callie, watching, bit her lip, her fingers twitching slightly. Her silent fear brewing internally. If and when they made it out of this hell, there would be a lot to deal with.

Reese, who had been observing her reaction, smirked. "Something on your mind, Callie?"

Callie, caught, forced a casual shrug. "Just watching over my daughter."

Reese chuckled. "Oh, I think your focus was a little broader than just Maddie."

Jaime turned her head slightly, catching Callie's gaze.

For a moment, neither looked away.

"Maybe so." Callie admitted softly, with a wink to Jaime.

Reese leaned forward, setting his glass down with deliberate ease. "You know, this has been a lovely afternoon, but I do think we should make use of our time together."

Frank stiffened slightly, his instincts sharpening.

Joe, ever the smooth talker, smiled. "And what do you have in mind?"

Reese gestured lazily toward the patio doors leading back inside. "Oh, nothing too intense. A little chat in the library. Some drinks. A bit of conversation."

Frank's jaw tensed subtly. Conversation with Reese usually meant extraction of information through one means or another.

Lila, lounging with a cocktail, grinned. "I do love a good cocktail hour."

Reese stood, stretching like a well-fed cat. "Shall we?"

Maddie sighed dramatically. "Ugh. I was so comfortable."

Jaime nudged her. "Come on, Mads."

Maddie stretched one last time, deliberately slow, before finally standing.

Callie grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself before following.

Reese clapped his hands once, gesturing for the group to move.

"Well, my friends," he mused as they filed inside, "let's see just how much more civil we can be."

The afternoon of leisure and indulgence had yielded to another scene in Reese's twisted opera.

The opulent library was dimly lit, the scent of aged books mingling with the rich aroma of whiskey and cigar smoke. The room was grand—vaulted ceilings lined with mahogany shelves, a massive hearth smoldering faintly, and a bar stocked with the finest liquors money could buy.

Reese led them inside with a confident swagger, Lila following closely behind, a smirk already playing at her lips. The casual elegance of the setting only made the underlying tension more suffocating.

Maddie, still wrapped in her towel, flopped onto one of the leather chairs, completely uninhibited. Jaime, ever her shadow, sat beside her, watching the room carefully.

Callie, after wringing out her hair, accepted the whiskey Reese poured for her, her fingers tightening around the glass just slightly as she took a sip. He then passed another glass to her daughter. Maddie accepted it without hesitation, causing a sigh from Callie. She gave a smile and offered a slight shake of her bosom "Thank you, Mr. Reese." Maddie said. He words dripping with the overt coy suggestiveness of a middle school cheerleader who was bucking to be named squad leader by the middle aged coach.

Chet's eyes closed tightly as he tried to unsee what had just transpired.

"Mr, is it?" Reese smiled back at the youth. "So kind of you, my dear. I can't wait until you can show me more of your appreciation. But perhaps in a more private setting. I'm afraid your father appears a bit distressed." He took the final glass and offered it to Chet.

Chet, shifting uncomfortably, took the offered drink with a muttered thanks. He needed something to settle his nerves after the surreal nature of what had transpired.

Reese, ever the gracious host, settled into his seat, swirling his own drink with practiced ease. His dark gaze scanned the room, studying them one by one, measuring the cracks, noting where the pressure would need to be applied.

A Soft Push

"So," Reese began, his voice velvety smooth, "I hope you all enjoyed our little afternoon. A bit of sun, a bit of food, a bit of… freedom."

Frank was the first to respond. "It was a welcome break."

Joe, always willing to play along, lifted his glass. "Got to admit, Reese—you do know how to host."

Reese chuckled. "Oh, I do try. Though I must wonder which of you fine gentlemen were the biggest brown nosers of your school class." The brothers exchanged amused looks.

Maddie, still floating in her buzz, giggled. "You should've joined us, Reese."

Reese raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "Should I have?"

Maddie grinned. "Well, you're the host, after all. I'm sure we could have entertained you?"

Lila let out a low laugh, clearly entertained.

Reese leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're quite the little firecracker, aren't you?" His gaze flickered to Jaime. "She is opening the door that you want to stay closed, you know."

Jaime, ever the protector, draped an arm over Maddie's chair and met Reese's stare evenly. "Well, I'm sure you do know that when you finally do get to pick this peach, you want her to roll straight to you, without distraction."

Reese tilted his head. "Indeed, I do. Maybe I will let you join in after the first round." Jaime pressed her best fake smile forth and offered a short nod.

He shifted, setting his glass down, and suddenly, the air changed.

"Speaking of things rolling straight…" Reese mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "I'd like to discuss something."

Frank tensed ever so slightly.

Joe, still casually sipping his whiskey, exhaled. "I had a feeling."

Reese's smile was pleasant. "Tell me, Frank, Joe—how much exactly did you tell your dear father before losing contact?"

Frank's mind worked fast. Didn't he just ask this outside? But supposed it would be best to play the game…again.

He went with controlled honesty.

"I last spoke to him when we arrived in Anamã," Frank admitted, choosing his words carefully. "We weren't specific about our next moves, but he knows we were heading deeper in."

Reese's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—calculation.

"And did he say anything… about bringing reinforcements?"

Frank gave a casual shrug. "Fenton Hardy doesn't go into situations blind. If he thinks we're in trouble, he'll come with a team."

Reese nodded, absorbing the information. Then, his lips curved ever so slightly.

"Oh, I'm counting on that."

A tense silence followed.

Reese leaned back, exhaling slowly before gesturing toward Lila.

"Would you be a dear?"

Lila's grin widened. "Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

She walked toward a side table, where a tall, narrow box sat covered in a velvet cloth.

Maddie blinked, still too relaxed from the liquor to fully process the shift in the room. "What's in there?"

Lila lifted the cloth with a flourish.

Inside, coiled and writhing, was a sleek, black snake, its forked tongue flicking at the air.

Maddie sobered slightly.

Chet cursed under his breath. "Does he have one of those in every room?"

Reese stood, stepping closer to the container, his expression pure amusement. "This little beauty," he said smoothly, "is a Bothrops atrox—more commonly known as the lancehead viper." He glanced at Joe. "Aren't you boys just full of luck today?"

Joe, to his credit, didn't flinch. "You're really leaning into the Bond villain aesthetic, huh?"

Reese chuckled. "Oh, I do have a flair for the dramatic." He confessed.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached in, pulling the snake out, letting it slither effortlessly around his wrist.

Maddie shrank back slightly.

Jaime tensed beside her.

Callie, instinctively protective, placed a hand on Maddie's knee.

Frank's voice was calm. "What's the game, Reese?"

Reese let the snake wind around his hand, tilting his head. "Oh, nothing too cruel. I simply find that people are often…more honest when they believe they're about to die. Much as you were earlier. Or so it seemed."

He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, until he was standing right in front of Joe.

Joe held still.

Reese extended his hand, letting the snake crawl up Joe's shoulder, its cold belly pressing against his skin.

Maddie let out a shaky breath.

The room held still.

The snake, oblivious to the tension, slithered toward Joe's neck.

Joe exhaled through his nose. "You know, Reese, if you really want information, there are easier ways."

Reese smirked. "But this is so much more… entertaining."

The snake coiled tighter, its head hovering just an inch from Joe's jaw.

Chet, gripping his chair, muttered, "Christ."

Frank, his mind spinning, forced himself to stay still. There was no winning here—only surviving.

Lila, leaning against the bar, chuckled. "Looks like he's getting comfortable."

Reese leaned in, his voice a whisper.

"So, tell me, Joe—do you know something you aren't telling me?"

Joe, to his credit, smirked. "Under normal circumstances, If I did, I wouldn't tell you. Under these particular circumstances, I can tell you with certainty that no, I do not anything more about dad's potential arrival."

Reese's eyes darkened, his smile never fading.

The snake moved closer.

Maddie let out a strangled noise.

Then, just as the snake's fangs grazed Joe's skin, Reese whistled softly.

The viper froze.

Then, with an almost lazy motion, Reese reached out and lifted it away, letting it coil back into his hand.

Joe exhaled—slowly.

Reese chuckled. "Neat trick, eh?"

Joe met his gaze. "I must confess, yes. Not sure I've ever seen a trained snake."

Reese set the snake back in its box, closing the lid with a soft click.

He turned back to them, his expression easy, but his message clear.

"Any living thing can be trained," he mused, pouring himself another drink. "If it values its life and is willing to learn."

The room remained silent.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Reese raised his glass.

"Well then—shall we toast?"

No one moved.

Reese grinned. "Oh, come now, don't be so dramatic."

Maddie, still breathing fast, reached for her drink.

Jaime gently covered her hand.

Reese's smirk widened.

"Ah," he murmured. "There's always more than one kind of poison in a room, isn't there?"

Reese leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he turned his attention to Chet. His dark eyes were sharp, calculating. The warm afternoon breeze did little to soften the weight of his presence.

"Now, Chet," Reese drawled, his voice deceptively smooth. "We've heard from Frank. We've heard from Joe. But what about you? Do you have anything else to add? Any little details about Fenton Hardy I should know?"

Chet met Reese's gaze with the same defiant glint he'd always had. He knew this was a dangerous game, but it was one he had been playing since the moment they had been taken. He glanced at his drink, took a sip, and leaned back slightly in his chair, acting more relaxed than he felt.

"Well, I do have a bit of knowledge," Chet admitted, setting his glass down on the table. "For instance, I know that my dear friend Fenton Hardy is one hell of a detective. And if there's one thing he's good at, it's ruining the plans of guys like you."

Reese's jaw tightened slightly, but he masked it with an amused smirk. "Chet, Chet, Chet… I appreciate your loyalty, but let's not pretend that was an actual answer to my question."

Chet smirked. "Sure it was. Just not the answer you wanted."

A flicker of irritation crossed Reese's face. He placed his glass down a little harder than necessary. Lila, who had been lounging nearby, let out a low chuckle.

"I'd be careful, fat boy," Lila said with a lazy grin. "Our dear boss doesn't appreciate sarcasm when he's in the middle of a very serious conversation."

Maddie, who had been observing the exchange with increasing unease, sensed the shift in Reese's mood. The last thing she wanted was for her father to provoke him further. Even though somewhat intoxicated, she knew they had to play this smart—keep things light, keep Reese engaged, and above all, keep him entertained. A beating could be the least of their worries if they weren't careful.

Acting on impulse, fueled by the warm haze of alcohol, Maddie suddenly straightened and let a slow, amused smile curl at the edges of her lips.

"Reese," she said smoothly, tilting her head as she lazily twirled a strand of her damp hair between her fingers. "You didn't invite us out here to have a boring interrogation, did you? I mean unless you have another snake." She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back just enough to draw his eyes.

Reese's attention immediately shifted, the irritation in his expression melting into intrigue. He studied her, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Well, aren't you getting comfortable? And yes, I do have another snake. But not in a box." he mused.

Maddie smiled, leaning back on her hands as she stretched her legs out, exuding a relaxed confidence. The sun warmed her skin, and the effects of the alcohol dulled any hesitation she might have had.

"Well, you should probably keep your snake in his cage…for now," she said, her voice carrying an air of playful defiance, "But I am sure there are things you'd rather enjoy than waste time going in circles with my dad. He's not going to tell you anything you don't already know."

Reese smirked. "Oh? And what should I be enjoying instead?"

Maddie shrugged, her fingers idly tracing the towel beneath her. "The sunshine, the company..." She flicked her eyes up to meet his, her gaze steady. "Unless, of course, you really do prefer grilling my dad instead."

Reese chuckled, glancing back at Chet with a smirk. "Well, it seems your daughter knows how to lighten the mood."

Chet, who had been holding his breath throughout the exchange, exhaled slowly. He didn't like this. He didn't like the way Reese was looking at his daughter, the way Maddie was playing into his ego. But he understood why she was doing it. She was deflecting. Distracting. It was risky, but it was working.

Callie, who had been watching from the corner of her eye, kept her expression neutral but was alert to the shift in energy. She saw the way Reese's attention was now fixed on Maddie, and it made her skin crawl. But if it meant keeping Chet from further aggravating him, it was necessary.

Lila smirked, taking a sip of her drink as she watched the exchange. "Well, well. Looks like our little Maddie is learning how to play the game."

Maddie didn't break eye contact with Reese. She knew she had his attention now, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Reese leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping lazily against the table. "You know, Maddie, you continue to surprise me."

Maddie smiled, though she felt a slight tremor in her fingers. "I'm full of surprises."

Reese chuckled, lifting his glass to his lips. "That remains to be seen."

The tension in the air simmered as Reese's mood shifted back into something more amused rather than frustrated. The danger had been momentarily averted. Maddie had bought them time.

Callie let out a slow, controlled breath. Jaime, sitting beside Maddie, subtly placed a reassuring hand on her back. She had played a dangerous game, but it had worked.

For now.

Reese turned his attention back to his drink, letting the moment linger before finally speaking again. "You know, this is exactly why I enjoy having guests. Good food, good company… and, of course, the entertainment."

He glanced back at Chet, his smirk returning. "I suppose I can let you slide this time, Chester."

Chet exhaled slowly, offering a tight smile. He realized his previous comments were not of any benefit and caused his daughter to do things that were discomforting. "Much appreciated."

Reese clapped his hands together. "Now then! We've had a lovely afternoon, haven't we? I think we should continue to enjoy it. No more unpleasant business." He looked at Maddie again, his smirk deepening. "At least, not yet."

Maddie forced herself to smile, holding his gaze. "Sounds good to me."

As Reese and Lila shared a knowing glance, the tension in the air settled. But everyone at the table knew the unspoken truth:

This was only a temporary reprieve.

And Maddie had just stepped further into the game.

The group once again made their way outside.

The afternoon stretched on with the oppressive weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. The warm sun bore down on them, the glistening water of the pool reflecting bright flashes of light across the patio. Reese, now thoroughly entertained, leaned back in his chair, his smirk lingering as he sipped from his drink.

Lila, ever the observer, chuckled to herself as she watched the dynamic unfold, her gaze flicking between Maddie, Callie, and Jaime with amusement. "Well," she murmured, swirling the last of her whiskey in her glass, "this is turning into quite the civilized little gathering. Who would've thought?"

Maddie, still feeling the warmth of alcohol in her veins, stretched out lazily on her towel, enjoying the glow of the sun on her skin. She wasn't sober, but she was aware enough to know that she had successfully diverted Reese's irritation away from her father.

She had played her part. For now.

Across from her, Callie sat stiffly in her chair, pretending to be at ease but very much aware of every glance Reese cast in Maddie's direction. It made her skin crawl. Jaime, sitting next to her, subtly shifted her body just enough to put herself between Maddie and Reese's direct line of sight, a small but deliberate act of protection.

Reese finally set his glass down, exhaling contentedly. "I think we're overdue for some more conversation. The pleasantries have been lovely, but I have some lingering questions." He turned his sharp gaze toward Frank. "And I do believe the Hardy boys are always good for a bit of honesty."

Frank, who had been quiet for most of the afternoon, lifted his chin slightly, his blue eyes steady. "Depends on the question."

Reese smirked. "Oh, I think you know which question." He tapped his fingers on the table, his patience thinning. "You were in contact with your father before you came to Amana. You were smart enough not to say much when we discussed this earlier, but I have to ask again. Just how close do you think Fenton Hardy is right now?"

Frank exchanged a look with Joe, who kept his expression neutral. They had both already told Reese what little they knew, but it was clear that wasn't enough for him. He was certainly developing an obsession about knowing about dad and his arrival.

Frank leaned forward slightly. "Like I said before, my last communication with my father was that we were heading to Amana. That was the last I heard. He doesn't always tell me his exact location or movements. But if I had to guess?" Frank tilted his head, meeting Reese's gaze with an almost casual air. "I'd say he's closer than you think."

Reese exhaled slowly, watching Frank with interest. "See, I have to wonder if that's the truth or just a very clever way to keep me on my toes."

Frank didn't flinch. "Why don't you assume it's the truth and plan accordingly?"

Reese chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, believe me, I already have." He leaned back, taking another sip from his drink. "If Fenton Hardy is coming, then I'll be ready. And if he's foolish enough to come alone or with a small team?" His smirk widened. "Then I'll have one more guest to add to my collection."

Joe, who had remained still and quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You seem a bit preoccupied with dad. And you underestimate him."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

Joe met his gaze evenly. "Yes. You think you're untouchable, but you're not. My dad has brought down men with more resources and more power than you."

Reese laughed, the sound low and rich with amusement. "Oh, Joseph. I do enjoy your optimism." He swirled his drink in his hand, studying the amber liquid. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken. I don't think I'm untouchable—I know I am."

Frank clenched his jaw, keeping his temper in check. Joe, too, remained composed, but Reese could sense the barely restrained anger beneath their careful exteriors.

Lila smirked, clearly enjoying the tension. "You boys always think you're the heroes of your own little story, don't you?" She took a slow sip of her whiskey, watching them over the rim of her glass. "It's adorable."

Maddie, still stretched out in the sun, suddenly sat up, brushing sand off her skin. She had been listening carefully, the lingering effects of the alcohol making her bold. "If you're so sure of yourself, Reese," she said, cocking her head, "why waste your time worrying about Fenton Hardy at all?"

Reese turned his gaze to her, his smirk never wavering. "Because, Maddie, I don't like loose ends." He took another sip of his drink, savoring the taste before setting the glass down with a soft clink. His gazed fixed upon the youth's ample chest.

Callie, unable to stomach another minute of this, shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. "Enough about Fenton Hardy." She shot a glance at Reese, her tone measured but firm. "What do you plan on doing with us for the rest of the day? Or are we just going to sit around waiting for another interrogation with a snake? Or perhaps you are just going to keep leering at my daughter's chest?"

Reese chuckled. "Oh, Callie, you wound me." He gestured toward the expanse of the patio and pool. "I invited you all out here for leisure. You should be thanking me for the fresh air."

Callie arched an eyebrow. "Leisure?"

Reese smiled. "Yes. And speaking of leisure…" He turned his attention back to Maddie. "Why don't you and Jaime keep enjoying the sun? It's a rare privilege."

Maddie blinked, then glanced at Jaime, who was already looking at her with a knowing expression. There was little choice here—Reese wanted them to stay exposed, vulnerable, a twisted little game of power.

Jaime, as if sensing Maddie's hesitation, gently reached for her hand, squeezing it once before speaking. "We were enjoying the sun just fine."

Reese smirked. "Good. Then don't stop on my account. Take a dip."

Maddie exhaled slowly, then finally stood, her body still slightly unsteady from the lingering effects of the alcohol. Jaime followed, her protective presence close by as they descended down the pool steps and into the water. Callie, who had been quiet, found herself stealing another glance at Jaime, noting the way the sun highlighted her toned figure.

She quickly looked away, clearing her throat. Reese, ever observant, caught the subtle shift in Callie's demeanor and grinned.

"Thinking of joining them, Callie?" he teased.

Callie hesitated, then lifted her chin. She wasn't going to let Reese get under her skin again. She had chastised herself for her previous comment. She knew she needed to help convey a feeling of compliance and defeat to their host. As sickening as that was. "Why not?" she said smoothly.

Reese's grin widened. "That's the spirit."

Frank and Joe exchanged looks, then turned their gazes toward Chet, who sighed and reached for his drink. "I swear, if I wasn't living it, I'd say this was the weirdest dream I've ever had."

Frank smirked. "You still have an appetite, though, right?"

Chet rolled his eyes but took a sip of his whiskey. "Nothing gets in the way of that."

Joe chuckled. "At least some things never change."

"The condemned shall eat a hearty meal." Chet observed as he noted the substantial amount of food remaining on the tables. "I could do this table more justice if I knew there wasn't a box of trained snaked waiting for me at some point."

The uneasy peace continued as the afternoon stretched on, the sun sinking lower in the sky. But beneath the forced camaraderie, beneath the fake smiles and playful conversation, everyone knew the truth.

This was a fragile illusion.

And it wouldn't last forever.