Chapter 62
Grant
It was all Grant could do to keep it together after he got off of the video call.
The adrenaline churned through his system. Kate… his father was right all along. He never should have listened to his birth mother. He never should have gotten involved.
“Think,” he muttered to himself. First thing, he called his father.
“I’m about to fly back from Atlanta,” Walter said when he answered. “Is it an emergency?”
“I found Kate,” Grant said. “Danielle has her.”
“Oh no,” his father said. “I’m calling the FBI. Don’t do anything, Grant. Promise me!”
Grant hung up the phone. He wasn’t going to wait around for the FBI. He pulled out an old, broken hard drive and all the guns he had at his desk.
“I need my rifle,” he said and tried to focus. Danielle had said to meet them at the canal. He pulled on his canvas pants, his boots, and a bulletproof vest.
He jogged down to the parking deck, where his father kept a motorcycle. Grant had thought it was yet another wasteful display, but now he was glad to have it.
He slipped two razors into his mouth, put on the helmet, and raced out of the deck.
When Grant arrived at the canal, Luigi was there waiting for him in front of what looked to be some sort of storm-water tunnel.
“Our guest of honor has finally arrived,” Luigi said.
Grant felt his eye twitch.
“No threatening statement from the newest Holbrook?” Luigi sneered.
Grant ignored the dig. “Let’s get this over with. I have other things I need to do today.”
Luigi smirked at him and held up a blindfold and handcuffs. Grant didn’t want to put them on, and he hoped he would make it out alive. Luigi patted him down and removed most of his weapons but didn’t check his mouth. He also didn’t find the pistol Grant had pressed between his vest and his undershirt. He tried to suck in his stomach as much as possible so his mother’s lackey wouldn’t notice the weapon. Luigi threw the weapons into the water then marched Grant in front of him. Grant hit his head on the low ceiling as he entered into the tunnel, and he heard Luigi chuckle.
They walked for at least a mile, and Grant could hear Luigi huffing and puffing. When they finally arrived at their destination, Grant could smell exhaust and wet dog. The blindfold was ripped off.
“You aren’t so smart after all, are you?” Danielle said when she saw him.
“What happened to a simple trade?” asked Grant. “This is excessive.”
“Run!” Kate sobbed. “They’re going to kill you to hurt your father.”
Grant ignored her. “The Bitcoin are on that hard drive,” he told Danielle. He tried to remain calm and buy himself some time, for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. The odds were three against one—not good. Plus, he was still handcuffed.
“What’s the password?” she asked.
“You’ll receive it when you let me and Kate go,” he said to her.
“No.”
“Too bad. I don’t remember it,” Grant told her. “I have it written down in my office.”
Danielle looked at him. Grant wondered if she knew he was lying. Luigi grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him to his knees.
She held up her phone and started a video call. Grant heard his father’s voice.
“Danielle, what are you doing? Where are you? Release my assistant at once!”
Danielle turned around the phone, and Grant saw the shock and horror on his father’s face. His mother laughed as Luigi pressed a gun to Grant’s head.
“No!” his father yelled. “Luigi, you’re a dead man!”
“I want money,” Danielle said. “And lots of it. Also, there’s a password on Grant’s desk. I need it for these Bitcoin.”
“I’ll give you money. Please don’t hurt him!”
His father looked as if he was crying. Danielle looked pleased—this was the reaction she had been hoping for.
“Don’t bother tracking this call. We’re on the move,” she said and hung up as Alan started the truck.
Grant had no intention of waiting around for her to receive her money or for him to be put in that van. Luigi’s attention was off Grant for a split second. He jerked forward, sweeping out a leg, and brought Luigi to the floor. He wrenched his arms over his head and felt his shoulders pop and dislocate. He spit out the razors and sliced Luigi’s throat. His hands were at an awkward angle, and he didn’t make the cut he wanted.
The gun went off, and he heard Kate scream. Grant slammed his boot down on Luigi’s arm and felt it snap under his foot.
“Kate!” he yelled.
“I’m fine,” Kate sobbed, “it was my arm.”
More shots rang out from Danielle, who fired a small silver pistol. Grant hit the floor, praying Danielle wouldn’t shoot Kate again.
Her attention was briefly diverted as Gus ran at Danielle, teeth snapping, and latched himself on her ankle. Grant somehow managed to wrest the pistol out from under his vest, then he took aim at Danielle and Luigi. He thought he hit one of them, but he wasn’t sure. Danielle grabbed the dog and the hard drive. Luigi, clutching his bleeding neck, jumped into the truck while Alan revved the engine. Grant aimed at where he thought the driver would be and shot. It was hard with his hands cuffed. He heard a man scream, and the van lurched forward, speeding down the service drive.
“No!” Grant shouted. “Gus!”
He shot after the car, but there was no way he could catch it. Gus was gone, just like Brendan, and Kate was wounded. Why did this always happen to him? He watched in shock as the truck sped away.
Suddenly, he heard the squeal of brakes. There was a series of gunshots. It sounded as if it was coming from a high-powered rifle, and Grant flung himself on top of Kate.
He heard a car door open then slam shut and the crunch of gravel under boots. A masked man came around the side of the van. Grant tried to steady his pistol up and aim. He had one more shot left.
The man pulled off his mask.
“Uncle Jack,” Grant said in relief.
“You are in so much trouble,” Jack told him.
“Honestly, I’ve never done anything more satisfying than shooting that woman in the face,” Jack said to him later in the hospital.
From her hospital bed, Kate had somehow gotten her hands on her phone and was busy fielding calls from the media, Walter, and the lawyers. Several men in suits came by to tell Grant and Jack not to say anything.
As the lawyers arranged themselves around Grant’s bedside, the detective assigned to the case came in.
“We’re waiting on the medical examiner’s report, but somehow, three people were shot and killed fleeing a crime scene,” the detective said around the toothpick he was chewing.
“This is America,” Jack said. “A man can’t save his own nephew?”
The detective tapped his notebook against his thigh as Jack pressed on.
“They started it. They kidnapped my nephew and a nice young woman from a good family. Who’s really at fault here?”
“God help me,” muttered one of the lawyers. “Stop talking,” he snapped at Jack.
The detective grinned, showing a chipped tooth. “You’re in the clear, Mr. Holbrook and Mr. Holbrook,” he said, nodding at Grant. “Open-and-shut case of they-had-it-coming. I don’t think anyone in the DA’s office or the police force is going to look any further.”
Jack smiled broadly.
“Look,” the detective said, “man to man? I was there that night the house burned. I still have nightmares about it. You were doing the Lord’s work.” He shook Jack’s hand and clapped Grant lightly on his shoulder.
Bending down and looking into his eyes, the detective said, “You need to rethink your life, son. It’s not good to keep looking for trouble like that. You’re not in your early twenties. Find a nice girl and settle down.”
“Yes, sir,” Grant replied. He thought about Kate. How could he have let someone hurt her? He should have looked for her sooner. Now that the sharp pain in his arm was subsiding, the guilt and self-loathing bubbled up.
“I’ll try to stop by the funeral. I’m sure I’ll see you there,” the detective said as he left.
“Funeral?” Grant asked, confused.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Jack said. “Danielle is still technically married to Walter. We can’t just dump her in the river.”