Chapter Thirty-One

There it was. The place where his life had forever changed. Emotion overcame him. His legs felt weak. His entire body threatened to betray him and drop him to the ground under the weight of the unadulterated relief and anticipation racing through him.

Prescott leaned back against the minivan to steady himself. “Come on,” he whispered. “Get it together.”

Everything was going to work out fine. He knew what he was up against.

The guard at the jail had given him a change of clothes before he’d smuggled him out of his cell. He’d also left him a bag of supplies and cash inside an old Dodge Grand Caravan parked two blocks from the jailhouse. It wasn’t the kind of vehicle Prescott would normally go for—this one was far too soccer-mom for him—but in this case, that had been a wise choice. Every cop in the area would soon be after his ass. He just had to stay off their radar for a little while longer, and then he’d be headed out of the city.

Far out of the city.

He took a few deep breaths, and once again he focused on the front of the building before him. The Haven. The place where he’d first seen his boys.

When the guard had initially told him that Seth had moved in with the club’s owner, Raymond Vargas, rage had overwhelmed Prescott and made it difficult for him to focus on the instructions about the escape plan. Fortunately everything had gone off without a hitch, and now here he stood. At last.

In addition to collecting Seth, he mentally added torturing that asshole Vargas to his list of things to do. He was going to enjoy gutting the son of a bitch. And if he found out Vargas had touched Seth in any way, he’d make the pain and blood loss last for hours, until the asshole was begging him to end it, to bury the blade to the hilt and tear him open from nuts to navel.

Although that sounded too good for him. He needed to suffer far more.

Soon he would.

Prescott’s next steps were going to be tricky. He knew exactly where Henderson wanted him, but how far would the man go? Even if the club was currently closed, getting inside wouldn’t be easy. That dickhead owner had likely upgraded his security measures. But Prescott didn’t have time to wait for Seth to just stroll out on his own, alone.

Which had him wondering if Seth had brought his dog to stay at the club. If so, he’d let him take the mutt with him this time. He didn’t have the heart to once again separate them. Even if it would make a clean getaway more difficult.

As would the police. If they weren’t already there, they’d soon be keeping his boys under surveillance and most likely notifying them of his escape. The story would also be hitting the news any minute. He had to make his move. Now.

He took a step away from the minivan. He heard the harsh breaths behind him only a split second before he felt the blow to his head.

When he awoke, he lay on his side, his hands tied behind his back and his head throbbing like hell. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he knew without a doubt where he was, even with only the low light of the flashlights the men surrounding him held. He was in the abandoned factory next door to the Haven.

He’d spent countless hours there, preparing and living in that space with his boys. That building would always be special for him.

“We got him.”

Prescott squinted until he could see the man to his right talking on a phone.

“Right,” the man said. “Until you call. Got it.” He hung up the phone. He held a Beretta in his free hand, the barrel pointed at the warped wood floor. Was that supposed to frighten him?

Prescott shifted up onto his knees. His eyes adjusted to the beam of the flashlights. There were four men. Hired guns. Although none of the others had their guns drawn. Instead the weapons were tucked away in their shoulder holsters. Amateurs.

They were dressed in all black, the pockets of their cargo pants loaded down, probably with whatever else they thought they’d need to subdue him if he gave them any trouble. Two were tall like him, hefty men, more overweight than muscular. Henderson had probably hired them because they’d appear intimidating to most people. They, and their beer guts, didn’t worry him one damn bit.

The other two, including the one with the phone, had more of a tactical military look to them, standing there with their flattop crew cuts, their chests puffed out, inflated bravado radiating off them. Marine washouts most likely. They were probably the brains behind this phase of the operation. Although neither had his level of intelligence. Evident by the haphazard way his hands were secured behind his back, and the fact that they hadn’t checked his boot for the blade he’d stashed there earlier. They were likely counting on him to be disoriented from the strike that had knocked him out. He played along and hung his head low, swaying slightly from side to side.

He could get loose in ten seconds. Could take down all four of them in under a minute. He knew how to kill someone with his bare hands, but he wanted to play this out for a bit longer, see if he could learn anything more about Henderson’s plan. He wasn’t in danger yet. Not until Henderson arrived.

The man who’d been on the phone approached. He stayed several steps away but crouched so he was eye level with Prescott. “Don’t give us any trouble, and we won’t have to kill you.”

He’d like to see the asshats try.

“Our boss wants us to fill you in on where he is and what he’s doing.”

Prescott feigned difficulty in lifting his head. He croaked out the words, “Your boss?”

“Franklin Henderson. You should be thanking him. He’s the one who got you out. He also found a guy who looks like you and set up a false trail out of the city. It should keep the cops off your ass for a little while.” The man paused as if he was actually waiting for a verbal offer of gratitude that he could pass along.

Then he continued. “I hate to be the one to tell you this.” The eager grin on his face proved that wasn’t the least bit true. “But before Mr. Henderson comes to deal with you, he’s going to hurt someone very special to you. A ‘gesture of retribution’ as he calls it.”

“Who?”

“Seth Fisher. He’s going to finish what his son started. He’s going to beat Fisher to death.”

No.

Prescott clenched his hands into fists behind his back. He had underestimated the old man. Good thing Henderson had done the same with him.

The asshat went on. “We’re going to keep you out of the way until it’s done. Then Henderson will come here to deal with you. He wanted you to know exactly what he was doing right now, so you could sit here and suffer through imagining what sort of torture he was putting your boy through. Then he wants to be the one to tell you when it’s finished, to tell you what it sounded like when your precious boy’s neck snapped.”

* * * * *

“Prescott’s escaped.”

With Walter’s words, everything stopped. Vargas’s breath. His body. He couldn’t move or speak.

Then he snapped out of it and charged for the kitchen doorway. “How the hell did he get out?”

“Seth didn’t get a call?”

“No. What the fuck happened?”

“They think he bribed a guard to open his cell. The guard got him out of the building through a maintenance access door near the laundry room. I’m on my way to get Kevin at his work. A victim’s advocacy group that works with the DA’s office called here to let us know. I’m guessing they’re contacting the others right now.”

By others he meant Prescott’s other victims, all of whom no longer had bodyguards watching them, including Seth.

“Fuck!” Vargas reached the apartment door and swung it open. His heart was pounding like mad. He signaled to Ian who was on duty outside, then pointed at the door. “Do not leave here. No one gets in but me and Seth.”

Ian gave a nod.

As Walter kept talking, Vargas sprinted down the hall toward the back staircase.

“The state and local police are searching for him now. U.S. Marshals are on the way to assist.”

“Did you tell anyone Seth was staying here?”

“No. Are you guys in the apartment?”

“He went for a walk. I’m on my way to find him.” He raced down the back stairs. Reaching the door at the base, he wrenched it open, and there was Seth. He was coming up the walkway, a huge grin on his face. He moved at a leisurely pace, glancing up at a flock of geese flying high above in the sun-filled sky as he casually chewed a piece of gum.

Vargas lowered the phone and huffed out a gust of air.

As soon as Seth caught sight of him, he stopped, then rushed forward, clearly getting that something wasn’t right.

Without a word, Vargas went to him and tugged Seth into a bracing hug, then grabbed him by the arm and got them back inside the Haven. He spoke into the phone as he started up the steps, still holding on to Seth. “I’ve got him. We’re heading up to my apartment.”

“Good.” He heard Walter lay on the horn and curse at a driver who obviously wasn’t moving fast enough. “I’m pulling up to Kevin’s office now. He’s in the lobby waiting for me.”

Vargas was about to suggest they come to the Haven. With the guards on duty and the extra layers of security, the club was one of the safest places they could be. Then a thought occurred to him. “After you’ve got Kevin, can you get to Aaron?”

“Yeah.”

“Check his place first. I’ll ask Tucker to see about the others.” He considered getting Carter to help too, but he needed him to lock down the club and make certain Seth was safe. Which meant he was out of people he trusted enough to ensure that one more person was out of harm’s way. “I’m going for Dylan. When you’ve got Aaron, bring everyone here.”

“You got it.”

“Be careful,” he said into the phone and then hung up.

At the top of the stairs, Seth tugged his arm free. “What’s going on?”

“Get in the apartment first.” Grasping Seth’s upper arm again, Vargas hightailed it down the hall. At the apartment door he asked Ian, “Anyone approach?”

“No, boss.”

Vargas steered Seth inside, then said to Ian, “Prescott’s escaped from the jail. Have Carter get this place locked down. No one leaves their post for any reason.”

Ian already had his phone out. “I’m on it.”

Vargas turned to Seth, who stood just inside the entryway, eyes wide, his lips quivering, his body shaking. Vargas shut the apartment door and made sure it was secure, then went to him.

He pulled Seth close and held his head against his chest. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”