The Wrong Time Page 3

  “We have been through the video footage, and evidence suggests whatever happened was all in your guesthouse and on the drive. I’m just passing along a message.”

  I nod, and she walks back to the guesthouse.

  Opening my door and walking inside, I dump all of my belongings on the kitchen table before fumbling around for the stronger painkillers since my headache has made an aggressive return. I know Lucy keeps them in one of the top cupboards somewhere.

  The text is still worrying me. I know John’s right, I have to let the police deal with it, but in the back of my mind, I keep thinking that if I had my car, I’d be at the location the message told me to meet them at in a heartbeat, beating the shit out of the prick who has my girl.

  After locating the tablets, I down two before dashing to the bathroom. On my return to the kitchen, I take a deep breath and walk to the Keurig. I collect a pod from the container on the counter, bringing it to my nose. The rich smell of the strong ground coffee wakes my senses. My thought processes might be more on point when I’ve had a good strong coffee.

  While it’s percolating, I grab a pen and paper, placing it on the kitchen bench. I’m going to have a hard think about anyone who may have a gripe with me.

  Grabbing my coffee cup, I place a splash of cold water into the fragrant dark brown liquid, so it can do its magic faster, then walk to the table placing my cup down as I sit in a kitchen chair facing the rear door.

  Having just had one sip of my coffee, there’s a tap at the door, and I outwardly groan wishing I could have had at least five minutes to down my caffeine fix.

  I walk to the door, pulling it open. Standing there is John with Detective Peters. Without saying a word, I wave my arm, welcoming them into my kitchen.

  “We have a lead,” the officer blurts out.

  “Take a seat. We need to find out if you know anything about this connection,” John says.

  Detective Peters gives John an exacerbated sigh and says, “Please, let us handle this from here. This was only discussed with you as head of security. But you are not on this case.”

  John nods and stands off to one side.

  “Mr. Cunningham, we got a hit on the license plate your security guard gave us.”

  I nod. This is the same information John gave me not ten minutes ago, so nothing new with this.

  “Do you know anyone who lives in Maysview?” the officer asks.

  “That’s over the other side of the city, right?” I exclaim, before gathering my thoughts and replying, “I believe I may have had a client or two over that way. I think my parents have friends who live there, too.”

  “Right. Does the name Lauren Hamilton ring a bell?”

  I roll my eyes. Of course. I know Lauren Hamilton, she’s my mother’s friend, the woman who’s been paying her visits at the nursing home. The same one who’s involved in the bomb Mom dropped on me yesterday afternoon. She better not be a part of this shit.

  “I do,” I say, deflated. “What has she got to do with this?” I rest my elbow on the table before massaging my temple with my fingers.

  If she’s played a part in this, then that explains her return into my mother’s life. Who knows what information she was getting out of my mother? Mom often blurts out pieces of information when you least expected it—some from fifty years ago, some from a few weeks ago—and she doesn’t have to be in a moment of clarity to do it.

  “We aren’t sure yet, but the car belongs to her. I’ll send in one of the other officers to take down some details from you.” My fingers begin massaging my temple faster in frustration. “Mr. Cunningham, we are one step closer to finding Georgia.”

  I reply with a slow nod before anger boils over, and I bang my fist on the table.

  Fuck closer! We need to find her and find her now.

  If that woman is responsible for Georgia’s disappearance, she will fucking pay.

  And I don’t give a shit if she’s friends with my mom or not.

  Georgia

  A loud groan wakes me, but I don’t dare open my eyes. It isn’t a human sound, more like a heavy metal door being opened. My head feels heavy, and I could easily go back to sleep.

  Suddenly, it dawns on me what’s happened. My heart rate spikes as pieces come back to me.

  Blaze breaking into the guesthouse.

  Being jabbed with a needle.

  I slowly pry an eye open, trying to take in my surroundings, but I’m facing a painted brick wall, lying on a portable stretcher. I consider screaming, but maybe that will only make Blaze angry again.

  I’m not at home. I don’t recognize this wall.

  I debate with myself on whether I should sit up and see who has walked into the room or fake being asleep. I decide to sit up, but first, I fake a few mumbles to let the person know I’m waking up.

  Through the cloud that is currently my brain, I decide it’d be best to tread carefully. Blaze is obviously unhinged.

  Slowly, I lift my body until I’m in a sitting position, although my head immediately wishes I hadn’t. I wince in pain, and my eyes close tightly willing away the dizziness. The pounding of my brain against my skull surges through me so quickly, it’s as though I’ve just been hit several times with a baseball bat. My wrist begins to throb with pins and needles. Perhaps I’ve slept on it wrongly, but my guesthouse fall comes to mind, and now I am hoping I haven’t hurt it too bad.

  My hand instantly lifts to my head, lightly massaging it but to no avail.

  Panic is increasing in my body.

  Why have I been taken?

  What’s Blaze’s connection to Adam?

  I flicker my eyes open and turn myself around. They slowly focus on not one, but two bodies who are now within this room. My heart thumps against my ribs.

  Blaze is staring at me with an expressionless face.

  It’s still relatively dark, but the morning light shines through a gap in the curtains. There is a chill in the air. I had no blanket covering me, but luckily, I’m still dressed in my hoodie and pants. Hopefully, that means they didn’t do anything to me while I was out cold.

  I remember Blaze specifically saying to me he wasn’t into pussy when I was on the couch in the guesthouse, so I can only hope that’s a good thing. The thought of even possibly being assaulted has my stomach churning.

  A thick-set man walks closer and grabs my arm. I gasp. My natural instinct is to scoot back on the stretcher, trying to get out of his grip, but he has his hand firmly around my bicep. I have no idea who he is, but Blaze is standing in the background with his arms folded.

  “Get up, Georgia. Now,” the big man booms, sending shivers all through my body.

  It’s as though my body is in slow motion, so I’m delayed in reacting to his direction, so he yanks my arm, his tight grip causing me to yelp out in pain. The only upside is his hand wrapped around my arm like a tourniquet is that it’s dulling the pain in my wrist.

  “You’re hurting me. Let go. I’m g-getting up,” I cry, my voice crackling. My body is shaking uncontrollably.

  “Get over it, Georgia,” Blaze barks, taking a few steps toward me. His voice sounds deeper than I’m used to hearing, and it’s scaring me even more. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, but in those months, he looks a different person. He’s lost weight, let his hair grow out, and grown a beard.

  Before I’m able to stand on my feet, I’m dragged toward the door, forcing me to lose my soft-soled shoe. His grip is still tight on my arm as he pulls me past Blaze, but I don’t have the strength to fight him.

  “Let me walk, please. My slipper fell off,” my voice wails, but it falls on deaf ears. Blaze is watching me being dragged around but does nothing about it. “Blaze! Why are you doing this? You used to care about me.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Pfft. Hardly. I was only ever with you to please my mother, Georgia. She can’t accept that I’m gay.”

  I want to yell and scream, but there isn’t time.

  “Why have you taken me from my
home?”

  “My beef is with your man. Not you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “H-How do you know A-Adam?” I stammer.

  “Shut the fuck up, Georgia. Brick, get the tape,” Blaze demands.

  He’s not making any sense to me. Why would Blaze have a grudge against Adam? To my knowledge, they’ve never even met. I desperately try and get my feet under my body to stand and walk for myself. The skin on my ankles and feet being dragged over solid concrete is causing terrible pain.

  As we reach the door, Brick lets go of my arm, and there’s instant relief. He pulls a roll of tape from his pants pocket and rips a piece off before slapping it over my mouth. I try to scream, but the adhesive grips onto my lips.

  Tears of terror run down my face as I begin to think of what they may do to me as my eyes dart between Blaze and Brick. If they make a move, I want to see it coming. I can physically feel my heart thrashing about in my chest, and I will it to calm down.

  Blaze steps out of the room first, leading the way. The burly man steps out next, dragging me behind him. As I’m pulled from the room, I make the swift decision to stick my leg out in the doorway, hooking my foot around the metal door, trying to get him to drop my arm.

  The door closes as we walk through, my foot being hooked around it makes it close a lot faster than it should, and it slams against my bones. The instant pain of my foot being trapped between metal is indescribable. It’s as though it’s no longer a part of my body. The pressure of the door on my ankle, and the man still dragging me behind him, feels like I’m being torn in half.

  “Ahh. Fuck! Shit! My foot,” I cry, my voice weak and inaudible because it’s muffled by the tape.

  The man is forced to stop and drop me. I forget about my sore arm and place it on the floor to brace myself as my ass hits the concrete. My immediate reaction is to get this door off my foot as fast as I can and try to push it away. He reaches down and rips the tape from my lips. A new wave of pain surges through my body as I taste the faint metallic of blood on my lips.

  “Shit! What did you do to her? You’re not meant to hurt her any more than she already is,” Blaze says, pushing past Brick and holding the door open with his back, before helping me move my leg out of the doorway and wiping at my lip with a handkerchief he pulls from his pocket. I look up at him through my tears, and I can see a glimpse of the Blaze I first met. The one who gave me the impression he was sweet and caring.

  “She did it to her fucking self. I only did as you told me,” Brick grunts.

  I look at the men, hoping they will help me, and desperately wishing Adam was here to scoop me into his arms and take me to the hospital.

  “Get her moving,” Blaze orders, the glimmer of hope that he was beginning to show his caring side is now gone. As he turns back to face down the corridor, I catch a glimpse of his full face in the light. A fresh pink scar runs from next to his eye down into his beard.

  A sudden wave of pain rips through my body, and I warn the two men that I need a bathroom now, or I’ll be sick everywhere.

  “Don’t let her throw up in the hallway. Mom will kick my ass for that mess,” Blaze groans.

  I look around, finally realizing where I am.

  Blaze’s mom’s house.

  I remember the dated wallpaper lining both the walls and ceiling. It’s like she’s never left the 1970s. I am sure it would have been one of the best houses in the street in it’s prime. Perfectly manicured gardens, living and sitting rooms, and a large outdoor area for entertaining. Blaze once told me that when his father passed, his mother couldn’t maintain the house anymore and let the trees grow large out front, blocking the sun from entering and warming the house.

  “I’ll carry her,” Brick’s stern voice booms, shocking me back into reality. I cringe when I realize he wants to lift me into his arms. He stinks as though he hasn’t showered in days.

  I try and stand, but I know my ankle is badly damaged, probably broken. I remove my hand from my ankle, trying to see the damage, and while it’s not bright enough in this room to see, I can feel the stickiness of blood.

  “I can’t stand, Blaze. My ankle is busted,” I weep.

  “How does she know your name?” Brick asks Blaze.

  “Ignore her complaints. She cries about everything,” Blaze growls.

  “How do you know each other?” Brick asks more forcefully.

  “Long story... but we used to date,” Blaze sighs.

  “Date? Thought you’ve only ever been into guys. You lied to me.” Brick flicks his head toward Blaze, a flash of jealousy lights in his eyes.

  “I didn’t lie. It was all a cover. I never cared for her.”

  “You fucking well did,” Brick says, raising his voice and folding his arms across his chest as though he were a small child having a tantrum.

  “We’ll talk about this later. Get her up, Brick. We need to get moving before Mom gets back.”

  Brick swears under his breath. From the way they’re speaking to each other, I’d swear they are a couple. An odd couple, but one nonetheless. Brick swears several more times before walking behind me, hooking his arms under mine and lifting me as though I am weightless. He gets me to my feet, but I cannot stand on the ankle.

  “I can’t put weight on it. I think it’s broken.”

  “Fuck! If we’d taken him, I bet he wouldn’t have been half as much of a pain in the ass as she’s being,” he growls before scooping me into his arms.

  It’s uncomfortable the way he carries me, but the pain from my foot blocks it out.

  “Just carry her. My brother will come after her soon enough.”

  Did he just say brother?

  What the fuck!

  The polite part of me wants to thank him for carrying me, but he’s keeping me here against my will along with Blaze. What I’d actually love to do is tell them both to get fucked and let me go.

  We all slowly walk in silence down a long, poorly lit corridor. It feels as though I’m being carried to my death. Through the pain, I wonder what they’re planning to do with me. The chill of the air is starting to get to me as goosebumps form on my arms under my hoodie, or perhaps its nerves sinking in on what will happen to me next.

  At the end of the corridor, the kitchen is on one side and a door on the other. I don’t remember this part of the house. It looks like a new addition, given the door isn’t even painted. Brick flops me into a plastic outdoor chair right next to the door and leaves me there as they walk into the room. I try and peek at what’s inside, but they slam the door in my face.

  Blaze’s voice is muffled, but I think he told me to wait where I am.

  Hah! It’s not like I can get up and leave anyway.

  Looking around the room, whether it be for my escape or to deter my mind from thinking the worst, I notice a very old wall-mounted phone above my head.

  I reach up, and gently grab the receiver, hoping the old thing still works. As I place it to my ear, I hear a soft dial tone and wedge the receiver between my ear and shoulder to save my wrist and twist around to press the three emergency numbers with my good hand.

  When an operator answers, I frantically whisper, “Help. I’ve been taken. Help. I’m hurt.”

  She begins to ask questions just as Blaze and Brick pull the door open and step back inside. Light beams out of the doorway as Brick rushes to me and grabs the receiver. I let out a shriek as he rips the telephone from the wall and throws it back down the hall before grabbing me and throwing my pain-ridden body over his shoulder.

  “Stupid move, Georgia. You’ve pissed off Brick, and I’ll have to explain this to my mom. Let’s get going… now,” Blaze demands.

  “Fuck. I need to shit. I’ll throw her in the car, visit the bathroom, and then we’ll go,” says Brick.

  “We don’t have time. The police will be on their way,” Blaze yells.

  “It’s either I go now, or I shit in the car.” He clears his throat. “Hon… I mean Blaze, I’ll be a couple of
minutes.

  “Fine. Hurry.”

  Brick throws me into the back seat of the car, knocking my wrist against the rear driver’s side door. I scream in agony as my foot is pushed in, and he slams the door. Twisting myself around in the seat, so I can sit up, I try crossing my bad foot over my other leg and start to gently rub my ankle. But I can’t even touch it without the pain being unbearable, and it just hangs there. The pain from this has made me forget about the pain in my head. I take a deep breath in, forcefully blowing it out as Blaze slides into the front passenger seat.

  I readjust myself and end up next to the rear passenger door, sitting behind Blaze. Resting my head against the cold window is somewhat soothing as I stretch my leg out and slowly try to rotate the ankle, desperately attempting to alleviate the pain. But I can’t even move it, making me assume that it is broken. The reality hits me hard.

  Gently reaching for the door handle, I grab it and try to open it, but it must have the door lock on. Blaze hears my attempt and states, “You can’t get out, but you won’t get far.”

  I sob. “Why are you doing this, Blaze?”

  “You weren’t meant to be a part of this, Georgia. But when he didn’t come home, I figured you’re the next best thing.”

  “Do you think Adam’s your brother?” I ask.

  “I don’t think. I know. Mom told me over a year ago.”

  “It can’t be true.”

  Blaze twists in his seat to face me, forcing me to press back against the seat. “My mom wouldn’t lie about this.”

  “This isn’t you. Not the Blaze I knew. You wouldn’t do this,” I plead.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Georgia. We need this. When you owe someone a lot of money, you’ll do anything to get out of it.” He twists back around lifting his cell to his ear. “Mom, yes. Fine… soon… it’s all arranged.” Before placing it back on his lap.

  Brick slides into the driver’s seat as the garage door opens. I have no idea where they’re taking me. I wish I were curled up next to Adam. The thought makes tears well in my eyes. Giving up seems to be my only option right now. My fate is in their hands.