Page 2 of Abra's Acquisition
Once Olivia explained how they came to rescue us, the tension eased, until their leader, Hex, refused to call the cops. When he explained how the kidnappers had cops in their pockets, I offered them a solution. My brother Max is a cop, and he’s not in anyone’s pocket. Discovering that one member of the Demon Dawgs is the son of a client. I gave them more leeway and trust than I usually would. I can admit I feel guilty about not calling Max immediately, but with the image of the broken woman who had been used brutally by those assholes, I can admit I hoped the Demon Dawgs used the time I gave them to give those assholes the pain they earned. I was certain the man they called Abra was up to the task. His dark presence reminded me of an avenging angel.
Even though the water is still hot, I shudder at the memory of his intensity as he watches me. I feel as if I should recognize him, even though I know I’ve never seen him before. When I turn off the water and grab a towel, I realize that he looked at me as if he thought he recognized me, too.
I don my pajamas and pull down the covers, but before I can crawl under, my phone rings. I groan as I consider letting it go to voicemail. However, there is a possibility that it is my brother calling to check on me. He’ll freak out if I don’t answer. I grab my phone and hesitate before answering. It isn’t Max, but Blake Erickson.
Blake is my client and a formidable pain in my ass. He’s incredibly wealthy and expects everyone to work to his timetable. Groaning again, I answer even though I really want to ignore the call.
“Mr. Erickson, what can I do for you this evening?”
“Ms. Davenport. I was calling about your meeting tomorrow morning with the Vieux Carré Commission. That’s still scheduled for ten am, correct?”
“Yes, it is. Do you plan on attending?”
“No, I can’t. I’m going out of town tomorrow. However, I’ve come across something that I think might help our cause.”
The cause is his, not ours, but as his lawyer, I have a vested interest. Blake Erickson has a strong desire to acquire a piece of history. He has his sights set on an abandoned home in the French Quarter. The property has been vacant since the previous owner died intestate. The Sheriff planned to auction off the land. Blake is determined to purchase the property and restore the building. He’s had me working with the VCC to clear the way for his plans once he wins the auction.
“What do you have?” I ask.
“I have some information about the other bidders that I think will help our cause. I’ve had a private investigator look into them and their plans. I think we can use this information to improve our chances of winning the bid.”
His comment makes me uncomfortable. When Erickson hired me, I looked into the other bidders but found nothing in the public records about who else was participating, let alone any information about their plans.
“How did you get this information?”
“I told you. I hired a private investigator. It’s all above board, I promise. You can be the judge of whether or not we can use the information. How does that sound?”
I sigh, but give in. The investigator may have been able to gather the information legally. If he did, it could be helpful. “I can come by tomorrow and pick it up…” I offer, but Blake rejects this plan.
“I won’t be here tomorrow. Can you come over tonight and pick it up?”
I glance down at my pajamas and roll my eyes. “Of course, I’ll be right over.”
After quickly changing into business attire, I hop into my car and drive the ten minutes to Blake Erickson’s mansion. The guard passes me through the gate and I park outside the massive entrance. The building used to be a bank at one time, but Erickson had purchased it and transformed it into a masterpiece of a home. It makes sense when you consider the priceless collection of artifacts he has on display inside. Every time I visit, I’m awed by the beauty of the pieces he displays. His housekeeper answers the door and leads me into Erickson’s study. Blake sits behind a magnificent mahogany desk. Anyone else would feel dwarfed by the history and size of the piece. But not Blake.
He stands and circles the desk to greet me. After we shake hands, he plays host.
“Can I get you a glass of wine? Chardonnay, correct?” he offers.
I think of the tiny life growing inside me and shake my head. “No, thank you. I need to drive home. I don’t need anything, but I’m excited to see the information you’ve gathered.”
“Of course,” Blake says, gesturing toward his desk where three files lay in the center.
I reach for them, but Blake grabs me from behind. With one hand, he pinches my nose, and with the other, he pours bitter liquid down my throat. I feel myself grow sleepy as I watch him pull my phone out of my purse. He speaks, but I don’t understand what he’s saying. I only manage to grasp the word, ‘Abra’, before I drift into darkness.
CHAPTER THREE: ABRA
“Hold up, what are you talking about?” Hex asks me as I reel at the knowledge that Erickson has kidnapped Rey. “Abra?” Hex barks while snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“He thought we were working together,” I murmur. “Shit, I didn’t think.”
“Abra! What’s going on?” Hex demands getting in my face.
“Erickson. That fucking bastard. He kidnapped Rey to get to me. We need to go rescue her,” I tell Hex.
“No. We need to go back to the clubhouse so you can fill us in on what the fuck is going on. Then we’ll discuss how to rescue Rey,” Hex says. “Lake, you can stay here with your dad.”
“I’ll go with you guys, Toff’s here. He’ll stay with Coyote,” Lake says. He has his arm around Olivia, who looks confused about what’s going on. She isn’t the only one.
