Page 58 of The Gilded Cuff
Cody lounged back in the driver seat of his car, debating his next move. People filled the sidewalks as they explored the seaside village for late dinner and other evening entertainment. He turned his attention back to his phone. Earlier this afternoon he’d found a bug in his office. The tiny tracker on one of Emery’s new bug-detecting prototypes had gone off. Cody had been tinkering with the new device and had located the bug, lodged in a tiny crevice of wood near the window. Cody took his time removing it so as to not give a clue to its installer that he’d found it. It was time to quit playing nice with the other side. Whoever this bastard was had blown up Emery’s stables and nearly killed Emery and Sophie.
Naturally Cody did what he did best: he’d reversed the signal’s connection and set up a tracking program on his phone. It led him into town, but then the signal had cut off abruptly. Cody wasn’t like Emery and Hans. He didn’t think defensively, but rather offensively. He was a tech man. His understandings of people were based on what technology they used.Take this guy, for example, Cody thought.He plants a bug, then the signal stops…why?
He couldn’t understand it. Why plant a tool if you quit using it?
Something wasn’t right. To be honest, nothing had felt okay since Emery had brought Sophie home. From nearly the moment she’d arrived, Emery’s nightmare flashbacks had returned, barns had been burned and threats from the past seemed to have resurfaced. He’d personally gone over every inch of her personal life from the moment she was born to now, and he’d found no connection to Emery’s kidnapping. So why had her arrival started a string of bad events? Cody had learned to read people at a young age and he didn’t think Sophie was in on a plot to kill Emery or anything like that. According to her, she was here to save Emery’s life. But he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that her showing up had started something bad.
The light plink of rain on his car window made Cody shudder. He’d rather be back in the mansion than out in the rain. The sign of a nearby bar caught his attention. He could get a drink and keep dry while he waited to see if the signal would come back on.
He pocketed his phone and got out of the car. People hustled by him on the street, trying to get inside as the rain came down harder. He merged into the throng of bodies moving into the bar. Inside it was hot and noisy. A man with a guitar strummed lazily and sang a classic rock love song while couples milled about the tables. Harried waitresses, burdened with trays of glasses and bottles, fluttered between the tables. Cody spotted an empty seat at the bar and snagged it. He put his hand up to signal the bartender. The tall, dark-haired man with a hooked nose came his way ready to take his order.
“What’ll it be?” The man’s tone was gruff, as though doing his job was an irritation.
“Scotch on the rocks.”
The bartender grabbed an empty glass, filled it with ice and poured two fingers of Scotch before passing it to Cody.
Cody leaned back against the bar and took a drink. The place was filled with happy tourists and restless locals. The combination filled the atmosphere with a charge of energy. He longed to join in but he didn’t know anyone. As much as he loved his private world behind the Lockwood gates, he needed to get out. Get a life. Hans always teased him about needing to get a girlfriend. Maybe he was right. If nothing else, getting laid once in a while would be nice.
He took another sip. Frowning, he licked his lips. A heavy taste numbed his tongue. Funny, he hadn’t had Scotch in a while but he didn’t remember it tasting like…
The world around him suddenly spun on its axis. The tilt caught him off guard and he fell back against the bar.
“You okay?” The bartender’s gravelly voice seemed to bounce around in his head, the sound deafening.
Cody blinked, straining to bring his blurry vision back into focus. The guy had come out from behind the bar and was peering down at him.
“Can’t…can’t…” Cody’s tongue was too thick to form words, his limbs suddenly too heavy.
“Let me help you. I’ll get you a cab.” The bartender bent and threw one of Cody’s arms around his shoulders and hoisted him up onto wobbly legs. Shouldering his way through the crowd, the man dragged him to a black sedan.
It wasn’t a cab. Nausea ate away at his insides, and the sick feeling doubled when the man opened the door and shoved him hard. Cody pitched forward into the dark interior and landed on the backseat. The man lifted his legs and shoved them inside before slamming the door shut. Cody struggled to stay awake, but darkness and silence pounded at the insides of his brain repeatedly and then everything went black.
***
Cody woke to the intense pain of a rope slicing into his wrists and ankles. Head throbbing and neck aching, he swore softly and forced his eyes to open. His eyelids scratched over his eyes like sandpaper and his mouth was dry and sticky.
“Welcome to the party, Cody,” a rough voice rumbled from somewhere to his right. Cody swiveled his head heavily in that direction, raking a bleary gaze over the bartender.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a good friend of Emery’s.” The man threw back his head, tossing long wavy black hair from his cold dark eyes. Cody wasn’t afraid of much, but those eyes…like peering into the fires of hell.
“You’re the asswipe who set fire to Emery’s stables.” It made sense. This prick was toying with him to get back at Emery.
“Any more insults and I will lose interest in being courteous.”
A laugh gurgled up unexpectedly. “Courteous? You motherfu—”
Crack!
Cody’s head snapped back with the blow. Blood trickled down his face and the headache which had only just started to dull came roaring back to life. Hacking up the blood which drained down the back of his throat from his nose, he tried to get hold of himself. He took stock of his surroundings. It was a sterile room lit by one hanging ceiling light. There was a laptop open and on, sitting on a cheap table that had been shoved into the corner. The glow of the screen taunted him. His one ally was out of reach.
His captor sat straddling a metal chair beside him, forearms resting on the chair back, within easy smacking distance.
Bastard. Fucking bastard.
“Too scared to talk, Cody? I had a feeling you were all chatter and no action.” The way the man spoke his name was almost obscene, as though he enjoyed using it. Well, newsflash for him, Cody wasn’t a pansy and unless this guy started to cut off body parts, he wasn’t singing like a canary any time soon.
