Neon Page 3

  “I'm allergic to those ugly tunics.”

  “They're made from cotton. How can you be allergic to cotton?”

  “It's more the style.”

  “Why am I not surprised? So, where are you really going?”

  He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I may have left a few snacks in Carmen's car.”

  “Great. Make sure you bring enough back for seven.” Emmy headed back towards the hotel building.

  “Wait. What were you doing out here?”

  “I was going out for burgers again, but now I don't have to.”

  “But I took all your money.”

  “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. I've been at this game a lot longer than you, young grasshopper. You missed the ten grand in my bra and the credit card sewn into the back of my knickers.”

  “Sometimes I hate you.”

  “We'll be in my room. Do me a favour and hurry up—we're starving.”

  Dammit. He needed to get better at this sneaking around stuff. Emmy caught him every time, like when he borrowed her Dodge Viper without asking and she tapped him on the shoulder as he was putting the keys back. Damn near gave him a heart attack.

  He kept an eye out for hotel staff as he jogged to the parking lot because he didn't want to end up in the manager's office again. He swore she had a forked tongue, and she knew how to give a good lashing with it.

  Carmen had parked right at the end, which meant further to walk once he'd grabbed the bag of goodies. Still, his mouth watered at the thought of the chips and cookies and chocolate he'd be eating soon.

  An old van blocked his way, and he made a note to have a word with reception tomorrow. It was blocking at least three vehicles. Honestly, people should show a little courtesy. Now, where had he put the car keys?

  A sound behind made him turn, but he never found what it was. Fire burst through his skull, and the pain was the last thing he remembered before the fire subsided and darkness took over.

  CHAPTER 6

  “WHERE THE HELL is Bradley?” Dan asked. “He must have been gone at least fifteen minutes.”

  Carmen leaned back on the bed. “I bet he brought Reese's Pieces, and he's sitting in my SUV eating them all.”

  Emmy pulled her watch cap back on again. “Little sod. I'm going to find him.”

  “Not without us, you're not,” Mack said.

  “Get a move on, then. I'm hungry.”

  The other girls pulled on jackets, and Tia changed her high heels into something more practical. Emmy waited by the door, tapping a foot as she mentally nagged at them to hurry up, because not only did Carmen have food in her car, she also had several sachets of instant coffee stashed in the door pocket. Emmy knew because she’d put them there—she left those suckers everywhere in case of emergency.

  “Shhh!” she told a giggling Tia as they all headed out of the door.

  “Sorry.”

  As they stole towards the car park, the only sound came from Tia and Lara's footsteps, and Emmy ground her teeth at the thought of working with amateurs. Sure, they were only going to fetch Bradley but old habits died hard.

  Only where was Bradley? They got all the way to Carmen's car without seeing any sign of him, and the doors were still locked.

  “I know Bradley's sense of direction's terrible, but surely even he couldn't get lost on the way to the car park,” Emmy said.

  “Maybe he forgot the keys?” Dan suggested.

  “Maybe, but we'd have seen him on his way back in. I don't like this.”

  Emmy’s knife found its way into her hand, a trusty Emerson CQC-7 scarred from battles won. Hey, the bitch on reception didn't say anything about knives, okay? She'd already flipped the blade open when rustling came from the trees on the far side of her car.

  Acting on instinct, Emmy shoved Tia down behind the Porsche while Dan got Lara out of the way. Moonlight glinted off the blade in Carmen's hand—her first choice was always the Benchmade Presidio.

  “Who's there?” Emmy called out.

  Nothing but silence answered.

  Emmy pointed a finger to her left, and Carmen glided in that direction and melted into the trees. Emmy mirrored her to the right while the others hunkered down behind the car.

  The skinny pines didn't offer a lot of cover, but the man Emmy spotted ahead didn't so much as glance behind him. Nor did he appear to have a weapon as he clutched at the tree trunk in front of him with shaking hands.

  “Boo,” she whispered as she twisted his arms down behind his back, and Carmen clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his shriek.

  The dude couldn't have weighed more than one-thirty, and when he stopped trying to speak, Carmen lifted his feet while Emmy grabbed under his armpits. Yuck. This guy was sweaty. Caused by fear or merely poor hygiene?

  It was only when they got him out into the moonlight that Emmy recognised the man as the life coach she'd wasted an hour with this morning. Nigel. He'd grinned and nodded enthusiastically while she lied her head off for a whole hour before her tennis lesson.

  “You. What the fuck are you hiding in the woods for?”

  “I-I-I'm not.”

  Bullshit. “You expect us to believe you were taking a shortcut?”

  “Uh...”

  “I'll get the truth out of you eventually so you might as well save us all some time and spill it now.”

  Nigel squinted up at her, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Emerson? Is that you? We had a session together this morning.”

  “Well spotted.”

  His forehead creased in confusion. “But you said your life's ambition was to learn needlepoint. Why are you sneaking around the woods dressed in black?”

  “It's actually dark purple, but that's an easy mistake to make in poor lighting.”

  “Good choice. It's far better to add some colour into the mix, although black pants would work well with a violet top for variety.”

  “Thanks, I'll remember that.”

  “We want to know about Bradley,” Carmen reminded her.

  “Oh, yeah. What are you doing out here?”

  “I was walking to my car when two men leapt from behind a van and hit the man walking in front of me. I didn't know what to do, so I ran into the trees.”

  “Hang on, they hit him? Then what?”

  “He fell down, and they put him into the back of a van and drove off.”

  “And you didn't think to call for help?”

  “My phone’s in my car—we’re not allowed them on site.” Nigel waved a hand at an ancient Mazda Miata. “And then I got so scared I couldn't move.”

  Dan took a tiny yet powerful torch out of her pocket and walked slowly along the car park before crouching down, touching her fingers to the ground, and taking a sniff. “There are scuff marks over here plus a smear of blood.”

  The kid was shaking so hard Emmy figured he was telling the truth, which left the million-dollar question, or possibly more if a ransom was involved. Who the fuck took Bradley?

  “Did you get the van's licence number? Can you describe the men?”

  Nigel shook his head. “It was too dark.”

  “Fuck.” So much for a relaxing bloody weekend. “Right, we need to fix this mess.”

  “You mean call the cops?”

  “No, I don't mean call the sodding cops. They'll take ages to do anything.”

  “But you can't sort it out yourself. I mean, you're an artist for goodness sakes. That’s what you told me this morning.”

  Dan raised an eyebrow. “An artist? But you can't even draw a stick man.”

  “I was playing a part, okay?” Emmy said. “Let's go back to the hotel and regroup—seeing as Bradley didn't conveniently drop Carmen's car keys, there's not a lot we can do out here until we find mine. We won’t all fit in your Miata, and the security on Black's Porsche is so good even I can't make it start without the damn key. And we need to get Mack's laptop back.”

  Mack brightened up a little. “Really?”

  “Really.”
Emmy patted her on the hand. “Me and Carmen'll go find it while the rest of you guys tear Bradley's room apart.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “I WANT TO know why Bradley was taken,” Emmy said as they jogged back to the hotel. “I mean, who are we up against here?”

  “Have you pissed anyone off lately?” Dan asked.

  “Too many people to count.” Emmy glanced at Nigel, who'd tagged onto the back of their group. “But for various reasons, most of them aren't able to be with us tonight. How about the rest of you?”

  “Same,” Carmen said.

  Dan shook her head. “Nobody who knows my identity.”

  “I found a new way of hiding my IP address,” Mack said, tossing her mane of red hair over her shoulder. She had a spring in her step that had been missing since they arrived at Cedar Ridge.

  “Bradley got in an argument at Bloomingdale’s last week over the last pair of Valentino palazzo pants,” Tia put in.

  “Why? I've never even seen him wear palazzo pants.”

  “They were for you.”

  “I don't wear them either.”

  “Apparently you do now.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes.” At least she'd have somewhere to hide her knife. “So he won then?”

  “Of course. Bradley can out-shop anyone.”

  “Do you know who the argument was with?”

  Tia shook her head. “It was just a bunch of shouting then he distracted her with an asymmetrical skirt and ran.”

  “Kidnapping seems like a drastic response.”

  A small voice came from the back of the group. “I think I might know who took him.”

  Six heads swivelled to stare at Nigel.

  “I thought you said you didn't get a good look at the men?” Emmy said.

  “I didn't. But I've got an awful feeling they were here to take me instead.”

  The group reached the hotel, and Emmy put a finger to her lips as they tiptoed past the main reception desk, taking a few seconds to look at Nigel with fresh eyes. He was younger—twenty-one or twenty-two to Bradley's twenty-nine. In daylight, there was no way his rounded face could be mistaken for Bradley's high cheekbones, but they shared the same build, and Bradley had dyed his hair a similar shade of blond to Nigel's a few days before they got to Cedar Ridge. In the dark? Yes, a case of mistaken identity was possible.

  Emmy used the pair of bobby pins holding her hair back to make short work of the lock on Bradley's room, and once the group got inside, she pushed the door closed behind them and pointed at the chair by the window.

  “Sit,” she instructed Nigel.

  He took one look at her and sat.

  “So, Nigel, tell me why you think somebody wanted to kidnap you. I'm dying to hear this.”

  “Uh, it's a long story.”

  “Well, seeing as Bradley's life is in danger, how about we just go with a summary for now?”

  “O-o-okay, I mean, yes... I'm not sure where to start.”

  Emmy tapped her foot. “Any time in the next five seconds is fine.”

  “I saw a client get murdered by her husband, and now I'm on the run from him,” Nigel blurted.

  Emmy stood back and nodded thoughtfully. “I can see how that would do it, but why didn't you just go to the police?”

  “Because the local police chief was one of the men who helped him dispose of the body.”

  “Fair enough. This husband got a name?”

  “Sheldon Bernadino, but everyone calls him Bernie.”

  “Who's everyone?”

  “The people who live in Fairoaks, West Virginia.” A tear leaked down Nigel's cheek. “W-w-what's going to happen now?”

  “First, we're going to get Bradley back, then we'll deal with your little problem. You got any evidence of what Bernie did?”

  He gulped. “A v-v-video. I took it with my phone.” The tear turned into a flood. “I should have tried to save her, but I knew he'd kill me too.”

  “Good. A video's good.” Emmy closed her eyes for a brief second as she firmed up all the little pieces of the plan flying around in her mind. Bradley. Focus on Bradley.

  “Carmen, you're with me. Tia, watch Nigel. If he cries, pass him tissues. If he moves, tie him to the damn chair. The rest of you—tear this room apart.”

  “T-t-tie me up?”

  “Tia's been taking macramé lessons, and she's dying to try out her new skills. Now, reception confiscated my friend's laptop. Where would they put it?”

  “All the contraband goes into the manager's office.”

  Emmy threw her head back and laughed. “Contraband. I'll show them fucking contraband. Where's the office?”

  “Take the door behind the reception desk, and it's the first on the right.”

  “I’ll be back in…who the fuck knows? I want my damn watch back as well.”

  The hotel lay silent as Emmy and Carmen moved down the corridor, one each side, alert for any movement.

  “Cleaner,” Emmy mouthed as they approached a corner, and they scooted past while his head was turned. Far easier to avoid being seen than to answer questions about their missing uniforms.

  Emmy vaulted the reception desk and heard the soft thud behind as Carmen did the same, and two seconds later, they were both through the door behind it.

  First on the right. There it was, just a few metres away. Locked. No matter—it only took a few seconds for Emmy to get the door open. She'd had so much practice at breaking and entering over the years the manager might as well have rolled out a welcome mat.

  Inside, the spartan office looked as dull as the rest of Cedar Ridge. A glowing corner lamp revealed a miniature Zen garden on one corner of the desk and the coat cupboard held a row of matching cream uniforms. Where was Mack's bloody laptop?

  “Over here,” Carmen whispered, holding back a wall hanging depicting a single banana over abstract pastel stripes.

  Hmm, another door. Emmy made short work of the lock on that one too, and pulled it open to reveal the mother lode.

  “Fuck me. That hypocritical bitch.”

  “Cojeme. Is that an X-Box?”

  It was, right next to the plasma TV, the Wii dance mat, and the Dell desktop. “And she's got a cappuccino machine. Pinche puta.” Emmy swore in Spanish in a nod to Carmen's Mexican roots. “And is this a polyester dress?”

  Carmen pinched the fabric. “Sure feels like it.”

  “It's hideous. And look at these lycra trousers.”

  “There's our stuff.” Carmen grabbed Mack's laptop bag while Emmy picked up the box containing their watches, phones, and other miscellanea deemed inappropriate for Cedar Ridge. It took all her willpower not to grab the damn coffee machine too.

  “Let's go.”

  Back in the room, Dan held up the Porsche key. “Got it.”

  “Where did he hide it?”

  “Curtain hem. And I found our money in his pillow case.”

  “Good job.”

  Carmen handed the laptop over to Mack, and she paused to kiss the lid before powering it up and plugging a custom-built Wi-Fi dongle into the side. As she typed in her ridiculously long password, she looked up at Emmy. “We've got the laptop, we've got the car keys, and we kind of know who took Bradley, but how are we going to find him? Are we heading for Fairoaks?”

  “I'm hoping we don't need to go that far.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “I always have a plan.” Be prepared. It was one thing Emmy's husband reminded her of over and over, and once again, she'd taken it to heart. “You know how I gave Bradley a new pair of diamond earrings for his birthday?”

  “Can't miss them. They practically blind everyone.”

  “Yup, and they cost me bloody thousands. Enough that I had Nate build a kinetic energy-powered tracker into the base of each, which means I can find them if Bradley loses one. And it also means we can track down Bradley if we lose him.”

  A slow smile spread over Mack's face. “Brilliant. All I need is the tracking ID.”

  “Th
at's an easy one. It’s 90210, Bradley's favourite TV programme last year.”

  Seconds later, Blackwood's bespoke tracking program, co-written by Mack and Nate, displayed a green dot moving steadily across the screen ten miles away, and it was Emmy's turn to grin.

  “Let's go, girls.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “WHAT ABOUT ME?” Tia asked. “I want to come too.”

  “Not today, honey,” Emmy said. “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on Nigel and Lara. We don't know how she holds up in these sort of situations yet, and I don't want to waste time trying to find Nigel if he legs it.”

  “You promise you'll be careful?”

  Emmy gave her a quick hug. “Promise. We won't be long.”

  The last thing Emmy wanted was Tia along for the ride. She loved the girl to bits, but if this turned nasty, she wanted her well away from the action. Carmen, Dan, and Mack? They were her team. They could read each other's minds, they'd worked together so many times.

  There were no arguments as Emmy leapt behind the wheel with Carmen beside her. Mack took her spot behind Carmen, the laptop screen glowing in front of her, while Dan took the other seat in the back.

  They knew their jobs, and Emmy's sole purpose right now was to get them to Bradley as fast as possible.

  “Take a right out the gate,” Mack instructed.

  The 550 horsepower Porsche Cayenne Turbo S belonged to Emmy's husband, and he'd had it tuned up to exceed the manufacturer's top speed of 170 mph. Emmy made good use of the power as they sped through the night while Dan and Carmen assembled the equipment they'd need for the job.

  “What are we going with? Pistols all round?” Dan asked.

  “Sí,” Carmen answered. “My Korth is in the case with my rifle.”

  Dan opened up the lock boxes under the seats, and Emmy leaned forward enough for Carmen to strap on her custom-made holster and load it up. Would she need any of the goodies tonight? Hopefully not, but it always paid to be ready.

  “Candy bar?” Dan offered. “I found them in the door pocket.”

  “Yes!” Emmy said, and Dan held one out for her to take a bite. A Reese's Peanut Butter Bar—exactly what she needed. “Perfect.”

  “Getting closer,” Mack said. “They're three miles ahead, moving slower. I think they're on foot now.”