Page 33 of Stunts and Sparks

When she didn’t come back after two minutes, he thought she was taking a while to use the restroom. But maybe she just wanted to take a moment to cool off. After another two minutes, though, he started to worry. This situation was too similar to the first one in which she was taken. He couldn’t convince himself it wasn’t happening again. And then he saw that she had taken her coffee with her, and that was all the evidence he needed to know that something wasn’t right.

He went to the counter to talk to the barista. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“My friend just went to the restroom,” he said. “I’m kind of worried about her, and I was wondering if you could check on her quickly. Just to make sure she’s okay.”

The barista gave him a sympathetic look that didn’t do anything to relieve his worries. “I’m really sorry to tell you this,” she said, “but your friend isn’t in the bathroom. She got her coffee to go, and headed out the back door.”

“Dammit!” Cole cursed, apologized to the barista and then asked her which direction Heather had gone in. “I’m not a stalker.” He felt the need to explain, but he almost immediately realized that the barista had no reason to believe him. “Never mind,” he said, and he ran out the door.

There was no way of knowing which direction Heather had gone in. He started frantically asking people if they’d seen her. “A pretty girl with blue hair holding a cup of coffee. You can’t miss her.” Every time he came to a corner or crossroads, he asked every single person there. Eventually, though, he seemed to have lost her trail. After a while, the people who were left standing around where not the same ones who had been there when she passed by. Heather was moving too fast, and Cole was going far too slowly to keep up with her.

He wanted to be angry with her. A little anger would have given him something to work with that wasn’t pure, all-encompassing panic. But he couldn’t help the feeling he got deep in his gut when he thought about where she could be. Then he saw it — a disposable coffee cup laying in the street gutter. The drink was still slowly leaking out of the lid, and the stamp on the side of the cup indicated it had come from the same café he had just left.

It could so easily have been a coincidence, but Cole struggled to accept that. So, he started asking a new question. Had anyone there seen a van with dark windows, the same van that had taken Heather the first time? He walked up and down the block interviewing people, asking about both the girl with blue hair and the van. He wasn’t getting the answers he wanted. It was time to expand his search area.

Before he knew it, he’d been searching for an hour with no sign of her. He didn’t want to believe it, but he thought it was probably time to call the police. Then he asked one more person.A man who had been loitering on the street corner, looking like he was waiting for a bus, finally gave Cole the answer he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, I saw her,” he said. He was an older guy, large build, military haircut. But he had kind eyes. “She looked really upset,” he said. “I saw her heading in that direction.”

He was pointing down an alleyway. Cole got a chill when he looked in that direction. It looked empty compared to the rest of the street. “Why?” he said.

“I think she just wanted to be alone for a bit. I dunno. Some people were bothering her.” He paused and looked deeply concerned for a moment. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know.” Cole started heading for the alley, sick to his stomach about what he might find there. “But I’m going to find out.” He marched straight onto that lonely backstreet without a thought for his own safety. And that was his biggest mistake.

Heather wasn’t in the alley, but two men waited at the other end of it in front of a sickeningly familiar van with dark windows. Cole turned back, but the big man with the military haircut had followed behind him and now blocked his path menacingly.

So much for kind eyes, Cole thought.

It was the last thought he had before someone hit him on the back of the head and a black bag was placed over it.

CHAPTER 17

HEATHER

As she sat in the back of a police car being driven by someone who was most definitelynota police officer, it occurred to Heather that she hadn’t had a moment to feel terrified because she was too busy being absolutely furious with herself. She had made one stupid decision, and it was going to change her life forever. Leaving Cole was bad enough, but managing to get kidnapped again in broad daylight in front of dozens of witnesses was the frosting on the idiot cake.

Of course, it hadn’t looked like a kidnapping at the time. It had looked like an arrest. And she had looked like a raving lunatic with blue hair and an angry expression. She was fighting the police officer, screaming about how “they” had found her and were going to take her away. She was begging bystanders to find some random guy, who they probably thought didn’t even exist. The witnesses looked like they felt sorry for the police officer more than anything. The poor man was just trying to do his job, and now he had to deal with this nonsense, which they probably assumed was caused by some illicit substances.

But the only substance Heather was on was caffeine, and the man arresting her was most definitely not a police officer. She recognized him, in fact. And she remembered his name.

“You’re Jay, right?” she said.

The man she had once dubbed the hotheadglanced at her through his rearview mirror.

She continued trying to get to him. “It’s a crime to impersonate a police officer, you know.”

He laughed at that. “Wouldn’t be the first crime I’ve done now, would it?” And it wouldn’t be the worst he would do in the future either, would it? He hadn’t bothered to put a bag over her head this time, and Heather thought she probably knew why.

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me, aren’t you?” Her voice was more timid than she would have liked. She wanted to sound fearless in the face of her imminent death, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

“It’s not up to me what gets done with you,” her kidnapper said. “I’m just the delivery guy.”

“Demoted?” she pressed him. “That’s not fair. You were just doing your job. Someone had to check that I wasn’t who you thought I was.” There was no harm in trying to get an ally in the group that was kidnapping her. Maybe he would argue to keep her alive when the time came. It was worth a try anyway, and she had to try something. The only other alternative was giving up. And giving up was not an option — not to Heather. Jay didn’t respond, which was probably a sign that he was at least not hating what she said.

The ride back to Los Angeles was going to be upwards of three hours, and that was Heather’s ticking clock, as far as she was concerned. “I have to use the bathroom,” she said out of nowhere. Maybe it was cliché, but it was a classic for a reason. “Can we stop somewhere so I can go?”

“Nice try,” he said.

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