NINETEEN
Xander flew into his office, slamming the door so hard the glass cracked. He wasn't a violent person. He had carefully caged away that adolescent side of himself years ago. But he found himself grabbing the coffee cup off his desk and hauling it at the wall. Next went the trash can. Then the computer.
Several minutes later, he was huffing, standing with the mess around his feet. It didn't help. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin, like he needed to rip himself open to feel some relief.
"Hey man what the fuck..." Gabe started, opening the door. He froze, looking around, taking in the mess. Watching Xander whose face was all hard lines, his fists clenching and un-clenching, his breathing heavy. "What's going on?"
Xander grabbed for the note, flinging it toward Gabe. "She's fucking gone," Xander ground out between clenched teeth.
Gabe stooped down, picking up the paper, and carefully reading it. "Damn," he said, shaking his head. "She really loves you, huh?"
"What?" Xander said, spinning to face his friend. He was feeling explosive, like a bomb that was bound to go off.
"She loves you," Gabe shrugged, holding out the paper. "This Jane Eyre quote... she loves you."
"She just likes her stupid quotes," Xander said, running a hand down his face. "She has a ton of then scribbled in those books."
"Yeah, but she wrote this one to you. In her goodbye letter..."
"What does the letter matter?" Xander asked, reaching for it, needing it, needing the piece of her. "She's gone."
Gabe took a deep breath. It needed to be done. He had to tell him. And he had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to end up with him getting his ass handed to him for keeping it from him in the first place. Hell, he deserved it.
"Dude," Gabe said, shaking his head. "I have something to tell you about Ellie..."
"Do you know where she went? Did you see her leave?" Xander asked, a small bud of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe there was hope. Maybe he could find her.
"No, man," Gabe said, moving inside, gesturing toward the desk. Xander rolled his eyes and went to sit down behind it. Gabe found the metal folding chair, picked it up off the floor, and sat down on it.
"So..." Xander said, feeling a little calmer.
"Her name is Eleanor Piotrowski. She..."
"What. The. Fuck. Gabe?" Xander seethed, slamming his fist down on the table. So much for calmer. His throat felt like it was on fire. "How long have you known this?"
Gabe tensed. He knew it wasn't going to go over well, but maybe he had expected better. Something was up. With Xander. With Ellie. With their situation. Because Xander might be hot-headed at times, but not irrationally so. "Since I met her. I know," he said, holding up a hand, stopping Xander from saying whatever it was he was about to say. "I know. But I told her I wouldn't tell you."
"So, she knew you knew... what the hell has been going on underneath my nose?"
Gabe felt himself smiling slightly, shaking his head. "Faith knew too," he said, figuring it was best to just get it all out there. At Xander's disbelieving face, he nodded. "Yeah. Faith knew a lot more than she let on to you. Hell, the other day, she even made Vin let Ellie into his panic room when some shithead was chasing her."
"Okay," Xander said, taking a slow, deep breath, holding up a hand. "I need this from the beginning."
"Right," Gabe said, nodding, able to deal with this side of Xander better. Calm, calculating, private investigator. "Her name is Eleanor Piotrowski. She was from Jersey. Her father was a detective."
"Am I going to need to pry it out of you?" Xander rolled his eyes. "Just spit it out already."
"Dude, she dated Nicola Russo."
The color drained out of Xander's face. He swore his heart stopped in his chest. "What?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," Gabe said, shaking his head. "She was a kid. Eighteen. He promised her all kinds of things. And then he slowly isolated her from her family and friends..."
"Fuck," Xander said, knowing where this story was going.
"And then he started beating her. When she tried to run about a year into dating him, he dragged her back and threw her in a cell in his basement. Left her chained there by her wrists for weeks. Tortured her. Made her lose the baby she was carrying. Let her almost die of infection..."
Xander was shaking his head. No. No fucking way. No. That couldn't be her story. But he knew that it was. He knew that she had suffered. She had told him herself. At the hands of some jackoff glorified drug dealer in Jersey.
"He killed her father as retribution..."
"Jesus," Xander said, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands.
"But she got away. She got away and she survived and she ran. She found her way here..."
"And I couldn't save her. So, she had to save herself," Xander concluded, full of an overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. It was weird. Like sinking. Like drowning. But without the blissful death at the end.
"No," Gabe shook his head, even though he wasn't looking. "No. She left because she loved you. Because she didn't want anything to happen to you because of her. Because she's learned that Nicola kills anyone she cares about. She couldn't live with that. So she left. To save you."
"I can't..." Xander started.
But then the door flew open, bouncing against the wall, the already broken glass shattering to the ground. And there stood K. His eyes were wild, frantic. A phone was clutched in his hands.
"He has her," he shouted, looking like he wanted to pace, lunge, hit someone.
"What?" Xander said, his chest feeling suddenly hollow. "What are you talking about?" Xander said, standing up so quickly his chair overturned.
"He has her. I heard them struggling. And then the line went dead. He found her. He found her and he has her."
"No," Xander said, shaking his head. No. No that couldn't happen. She was too good. Too smart. Too safe.
"Yes," K said, trying to calm down, trying to pull himself together. From the looks of his office, Xander was already worked up. So he needed to be in control of himself. He needed to drag Xander out of his own rage, get him on board. He took a breath before speaking again, his tone deceptively clear and controlled. "Xander, Nick has her. We need to do something."
"Okay," Gabe broke in, standing up, holding his hands out. "Everyone needs to calm down. I am guessing," he said, looking at K, "that you are the guy from Seattle. The one who taught her everything she knows about surviving."
"K," he said, nodding.
"Alright, K. Tell us exactly what happened today."
"I got a call," he said, looking between them. "I was expecting it. She calls when she is safe. We discuss the next step. She was in Hartford. Was considering going to Boston next. Everything was fine. But then I heard a voice with her..." he took a breath, remembering the pit of fear he had felt then. It was like nothing he had ever known before. Not like in all his fights. Not like when he had his own life to try to defend. Nothing had come close to the feeling he had for Ellie's attacker finding her. "And I told her to run. And she did. But I think she panicked because she took off down a highway and away from populated areas. She ran forever. Ten minutes. Fifteen. I don't know. Then she said there was a building. She ran to it. And then she must have seen people. Men. They were men. And she screamed for help. And they helped," he said, closing his eyes. God bless them. "But Nick must have had people with him. I heard hitting and yelling. Ellie had just... stopped running. I guess she was in shock. Or there was no escape. I don't know. But then..." he closed his eyes, feeling sick.
"And then?" Gabe pressed, not caring about being sensitive. They needed the facts.
"Then she hit him. With something."
"A baton," Xander finally cut in, his voice hollow. "My baton."
"She hit him and he yelled. And then," he took another steadying breath, "then she just starting telling me she loved me over and over and over like..."
"Like she thought she would never get a chance to say it again," Xander said, looking down at his hands.
K nodded. "And then there was a crack. And the phone fell. That's it. That's all. I don't... I need help. I need to help her and I can't do it alone."
Xander was deceptively quiet, sitting with his face buried in his hands. He needed to detach. He needed to stop thinking about it as Ellie. Beautiful, perfect Ellie. It was just a client, a no one, someone just like the hundreds he had dealt with before who got their asses kicked in alleys or got their kneecaps broken. People who needed his help.
He couldn't picture it as Ellie shackled up in that basement room, watching her attacker, knowing what she was in for, knowing he was going to push her toward death and then drag her back.
No. That wasn't going to help. It was just a person. A nameless, faceless person who needed to get dragged out of a bad situation. He had dealt with gangs, crooked cops, the mob. It didn't matter that it was Nicola Russo.
"Alright," he said, taking a deep breath. "We need to make a plan."
"We need to go," K said, his voice desperate.
"We will," Xander said, moving into the apartment, waving them with him. He walked over to the coffee machine, filling it and turning it on. They were going to need it.
They didn't sit down. Xander stood, his back pressed against the refrigerator. K paced on and off toward the front of the room. Gabe seemed the most relaxed, holding one of Ellie's books in his hands, flipping to read the quotes she had written down, one hand on the back of a dining chair. All of them were silent. Thinking. Planning. Trying to come up with the cleanest way to go about it.
The coffee machine beeped and he handed them each a cup, steaming, black, strong. It was like a punch to the system each time they took a sip.
"Okay," Xander said, breaking the silence. "K, what do you know about Nicola?"
"I mostly know about what he did to her," K said, looking sad, disgusted. "I know he's a drug dealer..."
"He's one of Jersey's biggest drug dealers," Gabe said, shutting the book, but holding onto it. "He's the one who is causing all the overdoses here. They say it's because the heroine is too strong, but there are rumors around that he's lacing it with something else."
"Right," Xander said, thumbing through his notes about the overdoses. "Where does he live?"
"Trenton," K and Gabe said at once.
Xander looked at them. Gabe shrugged. "I was doing a jumper with a friend. One of Nick's enforcers, Antony. That's how I knew about Ellie. Antony and Nicola were really close. And wherever Nicola was, so was Ellie... bruises and all."
"Do you know where in Trenton?"
"I mean... no. He did most of his business in parks. In restaurants..." Gabe trailed off, thinking. "Don't you know a guy on the force who would look it up for you?"
Xander shrugged. "Maybe." It really depended on the day, on the case, on his mood. "I'll give him a call," he said, moving into the office.
Alone, Gabe looked at K. "She's in love with him," he told him.
K snorted. "About as much as he's in love with her, I imagine," K said, feeling once again for Ellie. No wonder she was so flustered, so confused. She was running, for the first time, to protect someone other than herself. "It doesn't seem to be clouding his judgment though," he said, thankful for his clear-headedness.
"Not now," Gabe said, finally putting the book down, "but when we get there, when we see her, see what she's gone through..."
K nodded. He knew that feeling. The coiled beast of outrage in his own stomach was going to be hard to control.
"We're probably going to need to drag him out of there before he does something stupid."
"Alright," Xander said, walking back in the room. Calm. He was so freakishly calm it almost worried them. "Bad news," he said, walking over to his coffee and draining it. "He had an address, but it linked back to a house that was sold about two years ago."
"So he might not even be in Trenton anymore," Gabe said, sighing.
"No, he wouldn't leave. That's where his business is," Xander said.
"So we go to Trenton. Ask some questions. Knock some heads together if we need to," K shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. "We'll get an address."
Xander nodded. It was their best best. They could sit around in his office twiddling their thumbs for hours, days, and turn up nothing. It was better to get closer. He walked over to his closet, grabbing a handful of weapons and dropping them all on the dining table. "Take your pick," he said, reaching for a stun gun and handcuffs.
"I'm taking these," Gabe said, holding up the brass knuckles, "for sentimental reasons. I have more stuff at my office," he said, watching K look over the selection.
"I prefer my hands," K shrugged.
Xander rolled his eyes, slipping a knife into his back pocket. "Take something. They're going to be armed."
K sighed, grabbing a knife and a baton.
"Alright," Xander said, nodding, "let's get one of your trucks and get going."
They followed him into the office, Gabe letting out a shrill whistle. "You gotta do something about this place."
Gabe went in his desk, grabbing the gun and tucking it into his jeans, ignoring the raised eyebrow K was giving him. He reached for a stash of cash. "Fine," he said, walking into the street and yelling at the group of teens hanging around outside. "You're going to sit in here and watch my office," he told them and watched them look at one another. He pulled out the wad of money and waved it at them. "You don't go to school anyway," he said. "Clean it up. And don't leave. When I get back, you can have this."
"Yes, sir," one of them said, nodding.
"Really?" Gabe asked as they walked into his office. "You're gonna trust them?"
Xander shrugged. "Nothing to steal," Xander said, watching Gabe go in his desk and grab keys, pepper spray, and a gun.
"Alright," Gabe said, locking the front door and walking them through to the back. "Let's go."
–
The drive wasn't long, but passed in stony silence. Gabe drove, his eyes fixed on the road like it required intense concentration. K sat next to him, his eyes focused on his phone like it might ring. Like maybe he had been wrong. Like maybe she had gotten away after all.
Xander sat in the back, staring out the window. He was trying not to think about her. And failing miserably.
He wondered about the years before Nicola. What she had been like. Less guarded, for sure. More open. Less skittish. Did she always compulsively clean? Had she been a better communicator? Someone who laughed easily and often?
He wondered about the years during the abuse. How she got herself through it. Her books? Trying to escape into different worlds? Pretend it wasn't going on?
He wondered about the years after her escape. How much work she had put into her survival. Learning self-defense. Learning how to live on the run. He couldn't imagine how lonely she must have felt, isolated. But still strong and independent.
And, lastly, he wondered about her then, at that moment. Had the years made her strong enough to get through what she was surely going to be put through at Nick's hands? Could she bury deep inside herself and bear it until it was over? Would she cower? Or try to fight back?
He thought back to watching her attack Gabe, effortless, easy. It was second nature.
As much as he knew she would suffer because of it, he hoped she fought back. He hoped she made the fucker bleed. He hoped she would gain some kind of strength from that. And after it was done, she could look back and know she had hurt him back in some small way.
--
Gabe pulled over in front of a restaurant in a seedy area of town. It was half a day later. Twelve hours into her abduction. Xander looked out the window, seeing a sign that read Three Sixes and raised a brow at Gabe.
"When we went looking for Antony," he explained, "we were led here. I think it's a front. Or maybe just a place the dealers hang out. I don't know. But we got information out of some guys here."
"Alright," Xander said, reaching for his door. K was already outside, tense, getting his mind in line.
They stretched their legs for a second, walking toward the entrance. Gabe took a breath, placing a hand on Xander's shoulder. When Xander turned, he saw the struggle on his face. "Man I..." he waved a hand.
And Xander understood. Unlike him and K, Gabe needed to keep a clean record. He worked with the courts. He couldn't have it getting around that he was involved with beating information out of people. "Right," Xander nodded. "You stand here. You're just getting some air," he said. "And if someone comes out, you might just accidentally trip them," he said, nodding to K who opened the door. Xander watched as Gabe positioned himself in front of the door, before turning to look around him.
It was a bar. Of sorts. There was a small bar toward the side. There were tables and chairs. But there were games too: foosball, air hockey, pool table. Situated in a back corner was a huge flatscreen television with a pile of gaming systems attached and a plush leather couch in front of it.
"Guys," a voice said, coming up to them. He was average height, on the thin side, clean cut, "this is a private establishment."
"You should lock the door then," Xander commented, raising a brow. "All kinds of trouble could waltz right in."
The guy sighed. It was a long-suffering sound, like he was tired of something. He held up his hands, shaking his head. "Look, I don't want any trouble."
"Then you won't get any," K said, his tone calm and completely at odds with his tense body, "if you point us toward one of Nick Russo's guys."
The guy's eyes went wide, taking a step back. "Dude, you know I can't. That would be..."
Suicide. It would be suicide.
"I work for Nick Russo," a cocky voice said, coming out from the back room. He was young with blond hair, and a huge assortment of tattoos. "Jason," he said, inclining his head at them.
"Great," Xander said, smiling. It was an awful, sickening smile. Because he knew he was going to enjoy this more than was normal. More than he should. He looked over at the other guy and shrugged. "Sorry dude... collateral damage," he said and nodded at K.
If he hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed it. K's arm swung up from his side, crushing into the man's jaw, sending his head flying backward. He was out cold before he even started to fall toward the floor.
"What the fuck..." Jason said, looking between the men like he couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. His eyes landed on Xander last, taking in his sneer, the strange glint in his eyes. "What are you smiling about?"
"Because I am going to enjoy the fuck out of this," Xander said, cocking his arm back and swinging. His fist collided with his jaw, making his head jerk to the side.
Jason stumbled back a few feet before stopping and wiping blood off his lip. "What do you want?" he asked, sounding completely unaffected. Like he didn't feel pain.
"We want to know where Nick Russo's house is," K supplied, looking like a caged animal, just waiting for his chance to pounce.
"Yeah," Jason said, smiling, blood in his teeth, "good luck with that, man," he laughed, turning to walk away.
It was K who responded first, reaching out and grabbing Jason's arm, pulling it behind and up his back until he cried out, falling down to his knees.
"See Jason," Xander said, his voice smooth, quiet. "Nick has something that doesn't belong to him anymore. And we are going to go take it back from him. And you are going to help us with that."
"Like hell I am," Jason spat and K pulled his arm up higher, dangerously close to popping it out of its socket. "Wait..." Jason said, turning his head up to look at Xander, smirking, "is this about that stupid bitch?" he asked, and saw the muscle in Xander's jaw start to twitch. "Oh," he laughed, "Nick has a lot of plans for her. He'd kill me if I let you guys mess that up."
"And we will kill you if you don't help us," Xander said, smiling. "Quite the conundrum."
"Oh, please," Jason said, rolling his eyes, "you don't have the balls to kill anyone."
"Want to bet, mother fucker?" K said, his voice deep and terrifying. He released Jason's arm, taking a step back and landing a kick solidly between the man's shoulder blades. Jason went flying across the floor, slamming his face against the tile before he could even brace himself.
Looking at K, Xander saw something there he had missed before. It was something that K had obviously worked hard to cover up with his nice clothes, his on the up-and-up business, his cool and collected demeanor. There was something there, in the tense muscles, the fathomless eyes. It was something grisly and wild, something terrifying enough to make a chill run down Xander's spine. K had secrets. K had the kind of past that you learn to never speak of.
And Xander was suddenly even more thankful to have the man at his side.
"You're only making this harder on yourself," Xander said, watching as Jason pushed himself up on his knees.
"Fuck you," Jason said, getting to his feet.
"Fuck me?" Xander asked, laughing, looking positively psychotic in that moment. "Fuck me?" he asked again, lunging forward and throwing fists. He fell back into the violence like the way you fall back into an old lover: comfortable, giddy almost, knowing the sensations, knowing all the right moves. It was easy, familiar.
He felt K's hand on his shoulder, hard, pulling, pulling him backward. "We need him conscious," K said, looking over at the swollen face of Jason, curled over himself, holding his stomach.
Xander took a breath, feeling the adrenaline start to slowly drain away, bringing back his clear-head. His knuckles were broken open. Blood covered them. His own, probably. And Jason's. How long had he been hitting him? It had felt like seconds. Just a few wild jabs. But from the looks of the other guy, it had been longer.
He took a step back, looking a bit horrified. He needed to get a grip. He was losing it. And they weren't even close to finding her yet. He was going to fall apart or get himself killed if he didn't get himself under control.
"Last time, kid," K said, moving between Xander and Jason. "You tell me, or I'll let him finish what he started with you."
Jason hung his head, touching his face, running his hand over his swollen lip. "Twenty-four fifty-two Elk Circle," he said, his voice a defeated whisper.
Xander was walking toward the door, determined. They had an address. They needed to go. Right then. He needed to save the girl.
"Yo," Gabe said, blocking the doorway. "I mean, I'm no expert or anything," he said, watching Xander closely, trying to lighten the mood, "but I don't think you should just leave them there... with all kinds of access to phones and stuff..."
"Right," Xander said, turning back, walking over to the guy passed out on the floor and hauling him up. "There's got to be somewhere in the back we can lock them up," he said to K, throwing the guy over his shoulder. "Get his cell from him."
There was a walk-in refrigerator set to a chilly thirty-five degrees. They collected their cell phones and pushed both men inside, ripping the emergency handle off of the inside.
"Alright," Xander said, taking a breath. "Let's go get our girl."
–
They drove in silence again for a long time, Gabe's fingers gripping the steering wheel. Then, finally, he spoke, "I'm going in on this," he said, staring at Xander into the rear view.
"We can't ask you to do that. Not with your business..."
"Screw my business," Gabe said, a certain sadness there. His business was his life. It was what got him off the streets and settled his debts. "You're going to need me for this."
Xander wanted to disagree with him, tell him that he and K could handle it. They didn't need him to screw up his life with them. But the truth was, they were going to need him. There was no telling what could be in store for them inside of that house. Just Nick, maybe. But he could also have a small army around him.
"Okay," Xander said, falling back into silence, preparing.
The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, situated a good half an acre from the street. It was massive. All clean, traditional lines, and newly painted an immaculate white. There were old-fashioned looking lamps lining the driveway. There were no trees or shrubs, nowhere for an outsider to hide. Xander was sure there were cameras. And there were motion sensor lights all around.
But they weren't trying to sneak in.
Gabe parked on the street and the three of them climbed out of the truck, each taking a deep breath and looking at one another. Xander nodded at them. Then as one big unit, they walked up the driveway.
They hadn't formulated a plan, worked out schematics. Because there was no need. They were going in, and by any means necessary, they were coming out with Ellie.
K was the one to open the door. His foot landing perfectly, making it crack and spring open. And they were in.
Xander looked around, a strange, rising panic working its way into his throat. "No," he gasped, shaking his head.
K looked equally as horrified, his shoulders falling, his mouth open.
Gabe was the only one moving, turning into the room at the side. Xander could hear him moving through the rooms on the floor, toward the back, then the other side before coming back to stand with them. "We need to check the basement and the second floor," Gabe said, his tone suggesting hope when they knew there was none, that needed to check the house before the gave up and left without her.
But the entire goddamn house was empty.