Lucky II (Patten Bodyguards Book 6) Read online

  While my heart races, he curses like mad. It’s a good thing I got oxygen or I’d hyperventilate. By the time he returns, I’ve worried myself into a full-blown panic attack.

  “Get me out. Now. I can’t do this. Not one more second.”

  “They’re coming in another way. You need to hang tight, luv. No worries.” My husband’s reassurances don’t fool me in the least.

  I may never see the sunlight again, never be a mom, never hold my husband in my arms. “Lucky, I’m scared. Really scared.”

  I pray. Hey God? I never figured I’d be one of those begging for forgiveness at the end of my life but here goes. But this prayer isn’t for me. It’s for my husband. When me and my baby are with you in heaven, he’ll be on earth, all alone. Make sure to take care of him. Deal?

  Done with the big guy, I take a deep breath. “Loch? Promise me you’ll move on after I go. I need to know you won’t mourn me the rest of your life.”

  My husband’s voice cracks. “Don’t talk like that. We’re going to get you out.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks and I sob. “Promise me if I don’t make it, you’ll marry again, have kids, have a nice life.”

  “Don’t you dare give up, Calliope James. You’re no quitter.”

  “I’m so tired.” I close my eyes and when I open them there’s a small tunnel at my feet and… Oh my God, there’s blessed sunlight.

  A guy in a yellow hard hat clears the building’s wreckage off my legs. When a flashlight beam fills my cave, I gulp. Holy shit, nothing is holding the shit overhead from falling.

  “Mrs. James? We’re going to pull you out real slow-like. Don’t push. Don’t pull. We’ll do the work.”

  “One, two...” On three, bricks scrape my back and I’m tugged out of what was to be my grave. I don’t cry out for fear they’ll stop.

  Seconds later, I blink until my eyes adjust to the bright sun overhead. Two firemen help me to stand in this wide hole and fasten me onto a stretcher. Then, I’m pulled head first, up through the narrow space.

  At the top, people cheer, a helicopter roars, and Lucky shouts out my name. He cups his hands to my face and kisses my dry lips. I’ve never seen him cry.

  I sob, too. “It’s okay. I made it, sweetheart.”

  We kiss again and when done, he wipes a filthy sleeve over his gorgeous eyes. “Fook me. I thought I lost you.”

  “Never.” I still can’t tell if this is real. What if my unconscious mind has taken control and I’m dreaming.

  A paramedic wraps a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm and he listens to my heartbeat with a cold stethoscope at my chest.

  “We should take her to the hospital.” He starts to insert a needle into my arm but I slap his hand away.

  “No, no drugs. I’m fine.”

  “You need fluids, luv.” Lucky holds my hand but something is off.

  Why can’t I think clearly? To my left, Isabella lies on a stretcher, her leg wrapped in some kind of blow-up splint.

  “Izzy?” I freak because she’s so still. If not for her and the others, I would’ve gone crazy.

  “Lucky, what’s wrong with Isabella?” I reach out my hand, my husband grabs it, and squats beside me.

  Grayson, my boss, appears out of nowhere and joins him. “They gave her something for the pain. She might have broken her leg but she’s fine.”

  “Step back please.” The taller of two paramedics straps me in, looking vaguely familiar.

  Where have I heard that voice before?

  Two paramedics lift my stretcher, the wheels click down, and I’m rolled toward a waiting ambulance. Once inside, I remember. It was dark and one of the paramedics was across the room. This is the guy who locked us in the restaurant, the one with the zip ties.

  “He-” My scream is stifled by a large hand closing off both airways.

  The paramedic hisses and loosens his grip. “Shut it or die.”

  While I attempt to breathe, outside, my husband curses. I’m pretty sure there’s a fight because fists meet flesh. Thank God, he knows I’m in trouble.

  “Hands up. P-police.” A young male voice sounds nervous, but at least he realizes something is wrong.

  Wide-eyed, I stare out the back door. As seconds tic by, my kidnapper sweats, his foul odor filling the cab.

  Suddenly, the back doors slam shut and a driver jumps in the front seat. Tires burn rubber, the ambulance lurches forward, and my stomach heaves.

  A tied-up man in the same uniform as my kidnappers falls onto his side and moans. Looking away, my captor loosens his grasp so I bite down on his hand and scream.

  Damn, damn, damn. It’s too late. Sirens drown out my desperate shouts. Then, wheels bump over the curb and I’m raced away to God knows where.

  Chapter 4

  Lochlan James

  Officer Perez points his gun at my chest. “Hands in the air.”

  Bloody hell. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He twists my arms behind my back and cuffs me.

  Seriously? “My wife needs me.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want you with her. Did you ever think of that?” The cop glares at me like I’m some kind of wife-beater and I’ve had quite enough.

  “Am I under arrest?” At my loud, angry voice, TV cameras turn and the youngster in the NYPD uniform mutters, “If the driver doesn’t press charges, I’m sure the judge will let it go.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m thinking lawsuit.” I swivel so the kid can release my cuffs.

  “Can you at least tell me where they’re taking my wife? She might not make it. I may never say goodbye.” I fake sob into my forearm. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to hit the paramedic. I just wanted to go with her to the hospital.”

  A dark woman, mic to her mouth, steps in front of me. “I’m here with Mr. Lochlan James, whose wife was only moments ago freed from beneath the rubble of a gas explosion. Can you tell us what happened?”

  She points the microphone at me and I ham it up even more. “I was tryin’ to climb into the back of the ambulance. The bloody paramedic pushed me out. Naturally, I reciprocated and then this man…” I point to the officer. “…pulled a gun on me.”

  I glare at the cop who releases my cuffs then smiles politely at the news crew. “Would you like a lift, Mr. James?”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate one.” Rubbing my wrists for much longer than needed, I shoot an award-winning look of gratitude toward the cameraman.

  If not for the evening news, I’m sure the cop wouldn’t have offered but I don’t give a shit. Something is bloody wrong. With an awful feeling tugging at my gut, I text my boss who by now, must be at the hospital with his wife.

  Me: Paramedic wouldn’t let me ride with Callie. Check on her?

  Gray: Give me 5

  Me: Copy

  My new best friend glances across the seat as we head uptown. I don’t want the young idiot to have an accident so ignore his glare. I need to arrive in one piece, hold my wife, and never let her go.

  Because of the fucking crosstown traffic, it takes thirty minutes to arrive at the hospital. I hop out of the cruiser and run into the emergency room where a sixtyish woman sits behind a glass window.

  Resting my hands on the counter, I lean in, and hand her my driver’s license. “Is Calliope James here? I’m her husband.”

  She motions over a young woman in scrubs who escorts me to one of the curtained-off bays. My heart sinks when I peek in, it’s not my wife, it’s Grayson’s.

  I give Isabella a half smile, motion Gray to me, and whisper to the nurse. “That’s not her.”

  Red-faced, the woman hightails it to a central nurse’s station and types madly on a keyboard.

  She looks up from her monitor. “I’m sorry sir. There was a bit of a mix up. She’s not here.”

  “Where the fook is she?” I scowl at the cop, the person most responsible for me not being with my injured wife.

  The officer pales when he recognizes the billionaire standing next to me and says into his ra
dio. “Perez here. What’s the status on Mrs. James?”

  “She just arrived at Mount Sinai,” the woman on the other end responds.

  She’s here? Heart drumming, I rush up and down the hall, checking all the bays. Lilac waves from one, Mel from another, and Blake from a third.

  At the end of the hall, I open the last curtain. For a brief moment, I forget Callie and rush to Suds’ side but he’s either unconscious or asleep.

  Grayson slides next to me. “He was shot but managed to get the ladies downstairs, away from the blast. He saved their lives.”

  “Some quick thinking. Will he be okay?”

  “Time will tell.”

  My fists clench. First, I need to find my wife. Then, I’ll take out the bastards who blew up her fucking baby shower. I take a deep breath to hold back the tsunami of emotions looming. Should I give in to them, I’ll drown.

  “We’ll find her.” Grayson reaches out a firm hand and places it on my shoulder. “Tell me. What happened after I left?”

  I toss my head in the direction of the cop. “That idiot kept me from riding in the back of the ambulance with Callie. If not for him, I’d be with her.”

  Perhaps the ambulance had an accident, she’s at another hospital, or God knows what.

  “Gray, hun? Get me a computer.” Isabella peeks out from behind her curtain, hopping on her good leg while holding her gown closed in the back.

  “God dammit. Get into bed, Izzy.” He lifts her, places her on the sheets, and opens her computer bag.

  Once she’s powered on, logged in, and connected, he turns to me. “Izzy can find anything, anywhere.”

  Bloody hell, I’d almost forgot. Of course, she can. A genius, she works for Patten’s IT division. I stuff more pillows behind her back while Gray scowls and covers her legs with another blanket.

  “Stay put. Don’t leave the bed again.” He’s all bark because eyes soften when they rest on her face.

  Their love reminds me of what I’m missing. I need to find my wife.

  The young officer moves into the lobby, now yelling into his radio. “She’s not here. No, it wasn’t Mrs. James. Well, they were wrong. Yes sir, I’m sure, sir, as is her husband standing right here. Want to talk to him?”

  He storms past the nurses’ station and approaches Izzy’s bay. “They’re sending over two of our best detectives. I’m sorry. I thought-”

  “Not your fault. Just help me locate her.” I’m pissed but not stupid. Later, I’ll see to it the rookie finds another line of work.

  Right now, I need his cooperation. “Did you get the name of the ambulance? Does anyone have videos?”

  Isabella shouts out from behind the curtain. “Lucky, come quick. I got something from a helicopter feed. There she is.”

  Her laptop plays a birds-eye view from almost an hour ago. Callie’s stretcher folds and two men place her in the back of an ambulance. When I try to follow, the paramedic and me get into an altercation.

  That’s bodyguard-speak for I punched him. Then, the cop shouts, points his gun, and I raise my arms. Meanwhile, the vehicle jumps the curb and peels away.

  Isabella zooms in on the license plate and types it into Patten Securities’ search engine. “Ah, fuck. The ambulance was stolen about an hour ago, the driver injured.”

  “Where is he? The driver?”

  She does some more typing. “He’s here, in this hospital.”

  I rush to the front desk and shout over my shoulder at Gray. “What’s his name again?”

  Izzy shouts back, “Derrick Peters.”

  The cop joins us, flashes his badge, and gets us a room number. On the fourth floor, a small guy in his twenties opens one good eye. He scoots up in his bed and turns his battered face to the cop. “Did you find the bastards who did this?”

  “Not yet. Can we ask you a couple questions?” Officer Perez clears his throat and drops his pen as he takes out his notepad.

  “I already told the police everything. I was responding to those women who got hurt in the gas explosion. I was almost there but had to slow at a light. That’s when these two dark-haired dudes held a gun to my head and hijacked my ride. I was tied up and gagged but saw them put a woman in the vehicle. Right after, they tossed me into the street. After that, I don’t recall much.”

  “Did you see which way they headed?” The clock is ticking. Every moment these guys have her, is another percent chance I won’t get her back.

  “South on Seventh Ave.”

  This is our first break. Since the attack of nine-eleven, New York has more eyes than God, tracking vehicles in and out of the city.

  I thank the guy and put my number in his cellphone in case he remembers anything else. Then, I rush back to the emergency room to see what else Izzy might’ve found.

  She hands me her phone with a contact open. “Go see Doctor Jones. She’s got an AI unit far faster than anything I can do manually.”

  Grayson jogs me to where he parked and hands me his car keys. “Don’t worry. She’s as good as found.”

  “I don’t understand. Why take Callie?” I slide into his SUV and start the engine while he stands at the open driver’s side door.

  “If they call for ransom, we’ll be ready.” His steely gaze strengthens me while his words chill me to the bone.

  “You think they want money?”

  He shakes his head with dark brows raised. “Either that or they found out about her research.”

  “Shit.” Only a few of us know about my wife’s groundbreaking work in EMF weapons.

  “Listen, you go talk to Doctor Jones and I’ll head up the investigation from here.” He slams the door, ending our conversation.

  When the East Side address pops up on my screen, I turn uptown and glance in my rear-view mirror where the cop-in-diapers follows in his squad car.

  Whatever.

  At the stop light, my mind wanders to the first time I danced with Callie. Her face was fucking glowing as I held her in my arms. She shivered and these amazing blue eyes focused on mine, holding my heart captive. The rest of the party faded away until it was only me and her. A string quartet played some high-brow waltz but neither of us heard anything. Our bodies melded and I knew right then she was the one. My hand held her small waist and slipped behind her back as I pressed her into my aching need. My willy, already half-chub, swelled.

  However, I’m a fucking professional and let her go until I was off the clock. It might’ve been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Her mouth, oh God, it is the sweetest…

  One hand clamps the steering wheel and the other pounds it. How the hell did I let this happen?

  Fuck. I only left her side for a moment. And Suds? He was there. How the bloody hell had they got the drop on him? When I left to put presents in the car, no one other than the cook and his wait staff was there. I’d even chatted with them while the ladies gabbed about nursing babies, sore boobs, and other uncomfortable topics.

  Breast feeding may be all good and natural but it’s a topic for women. Damn me to hell. My wife sensed my unease. Only then did she ask me to bring two of the bigger presents to the limo. I was parked right around the corner and I left Suds in charge. Hell, I wasn’t gone five minutes.

  Nothing is adding up and self-flagellation is getting me nowhere.

  I park in the nearest lot, ignore baby-cop, and rush into Jenna Jones’ building. The lobby clock reads six pm. If I don’t find my wife soon, I fear I may never see her again.

  Chapter 5

  Callie

  When the ambulance slows, my kidnapper opens the back door and shoves the real paramedic into the street. Tires squeal, we skid around a corner, and I try not to roll off by gripping the stretcher’s edge.

  Tony Soprano wobbles, reaches for an overhead strap, then glares at the driver in the rear-view mirror. He clenches his fist, prison-tats swelling on his knuckles.

  “Slow the fuck down.”

  The driver laughs. “Pussy.”

  We go for miles while our s
iren screams and car horns blare their displeasure.

  Finally, I can stand it no longer. “What hospital are you taking me to?”

  “No need to worry, Mrs. Grayson. We’ll be there soon.”

  Wait. He thinks I’m Isabella? Her husband’s net worth is up there with Bill Gates. They’re going to want ransom and when they find out I’m not her…

  Oh my God, they’ll kill me.

  Do not panic. Remember? The voice in the bathroom said no one was going to be hurt.

  Riiight. Obviously, someone was lying.

  “Can you call my husband? He’ll be worried.” I put my hands on my belly and rub my little one.

  The man pales and moves my blanket aside. “Wait a minute. Who are you?”

  “Calliope James. My husband’s a bodyguard. He works for Patten Securities.” With a bravado I don’t feel, I hope to put some fear into the asshole.

  “Fucking shit.” He flicks his eyes back to the mirror. “This isn’t Patten’s wife. We need to get rid of her.”

  After seeing what they did to the other passenger, I freak. I won’t survive if they push me out the back. I’ve seen their faces and am going to die unless I can convince them otherwise.

  Quickly, I twist on the stretcher and catch the driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. If what I overheard is true, he was the one who didn’t want to hurt us.

  “Wait. Hear me out.”

  When neither of the men respond, I almost give up. However, the little life growing within me kicks, reminding me I’m a mom, now. I have to keep trying.

  “Please, let me go. I won’t say anything. You didn’t mean for the gas to explode, right?”

  The man in the back sneers, clearly in charge.

  Rather than hide under my blanket, I make him talk. “Money? If that’s what you’re after, I can get some. My family is quite well-off.”

  He snorts. “We wanted Patten’s wife, Isabella.”

  “Me and her are close, like family.” Please, please, don’t kill me.

  “That so? Can she convince him to back away from a billion-dollar contract?” His brows raise, mouth drawn tight, and my mind spins.