Chapter 121

Chapter 121
Chapter Title: Do Not Cancel

Reynolds

As Tate and I quickly left the conference room, I saw Nick walking into the station. The sun had already risen, its light pouring through the station windows.

Nick was freshly showered, his eyes still bloodshot from lack of sleep. He was sipping from a huge tumbler, steam curling from the sip hole.

I glanced back at the conference room.

Shit. I’d forgotten my coffee. Too late now.

“Nick, I need you to ping the location of Hank Williamson’s registered phone,” I said before he could even settle behind his desk.

He paused, brows lifting. “Williamson? Reynolds, you know I need a warrant—”

“Not this time,” Chief Morgan said from behind me. “I just got a call from Divine Williamson. Hank received a phone call from Kimberly’s kidnapper. He was told to bring money to an undisclosed location. The kidnapper said he’d call again when Hank was on the highway.”

Nick quickly dropped into his chair and started typing.

“How much did the suspect want?” I asked.

“A quarter of a million,” the Chief said.

“That’s it?” Tate said. “The Williamsons are worth more than that.”

“Maybe it’s not about the money,” I pointed out. “Maybe the suspect wants to lure Hank in so he can abduct him as well. We need to treat this as a possible abduction.”

“I got a ping,” Nick said. “Hank’s close to Pocomoke. He's currently on the highway."

“The docks,” Tate exclaimed. “Once the kidnapper gets Hank on a boat, they’re gone.”

“Did Divine say what car he’s driving?” I asked Chief Morgan.

“Kimberly’s Audi.”

“Notify Pocomoke PD,” I instructed Nick as I headed for the exit. “Tell them the suspect may be armed and dangerous. And notify me immediately if Hank’s location changes.”

I gestured to Tate. “Let’s go. You're riding with me."

I turned on my wig-wags and sped the Mustang out of the station parking lot. I knew I could get to Pocomoke in twenty minutes or less.

Fifteen minutes later, we got a call as we entered Pocomoke.

“Pocomoke PD has located Hank,” Nick said through the phone. “Tate, you were right. He’s at the docks.”

When we arrived, several marked cruisers were parked at the entrance beside a white Audi. I climbed out with Tate right behind me.

I showed the officers my badge. “Detective Reynolds and Detective Tate, Crisfield PD.”

“The senator’s son is over there,” one of the officers said, nodding toward the end of the pier. “He seemed a little distraught, so we decided to let him have a few moments to himself.”

“Have you secured the area?” Tate asked.

The officer nodded. “Just the regulars. We didn’t find anyone armed. We asked around. None of them saw anyone suspicious or unfamiliar.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll take it from here.”

The docks were mostly deserted, save for a few fishermen preparing their boats and gulls circling overhead.

Hank stood near the end of the pier, his back toward us, staring out at the water.

He looked like hell.

His clothes and hair were disheveled. A leather weekender bag lay on the wooden dock beside him. On top of it sat a small box.

“Hank.”

He turned. Tears stained his cheeks.

“Reynolds,” he choked out. He quickly wiped his eyes and nose before running a hand through his blond hair, trying to compose himself. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize.” I kept my voice gentle. “I know this has put you under a lot of stress. Is that why you and your father are on a two-week sabbatical?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before they dropped toward the dock.

“Actually, we’ve been trying to search for Kimberly ourselves,” he said. “My mother had Ace and Kimberly’s sister work the leads while my father and I searched through the ports and islands near Crisfield."

I rubbed my forehead. They had been secretly conducting their own investigation.

I had to admit, Gray had me. I’d started to believe his theory that Hank and Kimberly were in cahoots.

Apparently, Gray was wrong.

Tate spoke next. “Is that the money the suspect asked for?”

Hank nodded. “He said to bring the money if I wanted to see Kimmie again. But when I got here, I only found this on the edge of the dock.” He crouched and picked up the small wooden box.

I pulled out my phone and took a picture. “Do you know who called you?”

“No.” His jaw tightened. “The voice was unfamiliar. He called me from a blocked number.”

“We’ll need to subpoena your phone records.” I pulled on a pair of gloves and held out my hand.
“What did he leave you?”

Hank hesitated before handing me the box. Plain wood. No lock. Written across the lid was a single name.

Hank.

I opened it and took another picture.

Inside were four small plastic bags. Each contained a lock of hair.

One was blond. One was curly brown. One was black. And one was dark brown—identical to Hastings's.

Tate leaned closer as she pulled on her gloves. “What the hell?”

“Four kidnapping victims,” I said. I stared at the bags. “Four locks of hair.”

“Four?” Hank repeated, confused.

“You did hear that Emma and Cole were abducted, right?" I asked.

Hank nodded slowly. “But who owns the fourth?”

I didn't answer. Instead, I handed the box to Tate and pulled out my phone.

The suspect might have blocked his number, but we could still have a chance of tracing the call.

Nick answered on the second ring.

“Did you find Hank?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s safe.” I turned away from the others and lowered my voice. “I need you to try to ping the exact location of the caller from the last call Hank received. Can you do that?”

“I can. Just give me some time.”

I ended the call and turned back to Hank and Tate.

“Let’s see what else is inside the box.” I removed the plastic bags and checked beneath them.

Something was underneath. I quickly took a photo.

Tate pulled it out. I placed the four locks of hair back inside the box.

It was an envelope. Cream-colored. Black border. Heavy stock.

I recognized it immediately.

It was an invitation to Senator Williamson’s birthday celebration. Exactly the same one Hastings had received from Sweet and Savory.

Tate opened it. Nothing distinctive.

I glanced at Hank, my brow furrowed. “Why would someone send you an invitation to your own father’s birthday celebration?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “I actually forgot about it.”

Tate flipped the invitation over. There was writing on the back in elegant calligraphy, matching the invitation.

DO NOT CANCEL.

Tate drew in a breath as I took a photo. “He wants the party to happen.”

“Looks that way.”

“Why?” she asked. "Do you think the suspect is setting this up just like the Delish event?"

Before I could answer, a convoy of black SUVs pulled into the parking area. Senator Williamson stepped out of the first one, Divine following him.

Ace climbed out of the second vehicle and immediately spotted Hank. He hurried toward us, pushing through the officers securing the area.

“What happened?” he asked. His eyes landed on the box in my hand then moved to Hank. “Hank?”

Hank said nothing.

Ace looked at me. “What's inside that?”

I opened the box.

His expression changed instantly. “Those are—”

“Hair,” I said.

“I can see that," he snapped. His eyes moved between the four bags. “Kimberly, Emma, Cole…” His voice faltered. “Why are there four bags?”

I lifted my brows, staring at him. “Because Agent Hastings has been abducted.”

Ace froze. “What?”

His shock was genuine. If he was helping his brother, he hid it well.

“Right from inside Kimberly’s house,” I said. “We’ve been searching for her.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Senator Williamson approached us, Divine following close behind.

“What is happening?” the senator demanded.

I held up the invitation. “Your birthday party. That's what."

He frowned. “What about it?”

“Don’t cancel it.”

His expression hardened. “Who told you that?”

I turned the invitation around and showed him the message. His face went pale.

Tate stepped closer. “Senator, we’re going to need to increase security at your estate.”

The senator looked from Tate to me. “Why?”

“Because whoever took Kimberly, Emma, Cole, and Agent Hastings wants this party to happen.”

“Agent Hastings was taken?” Divine exclaimed in surprise. Then, her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. What exactly are you implying, Detective?”

I turned to her. “It means everyone is supposed to be there.”

My eyes shifted toward her, the Senator and Hank.

“And you’re going to make sure they are.”

\----------

Kathy

I fluttered in and out of consciousness.

Water.

That was the first thing I felt the first time I woke—the slow, steady rocking beneath me.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious.

Then I blacked out again.

When I came to, I knew I was moving.

Someone’s arms were beneath me, carrying me somewhere. I could hear waves splashing nearby. Then I caught a whiff of cologne.

Male cologne.

I knew that smell. I had smelled it before.

My mind clawed through the haze, searching for it in my memory. But all I could grasp were images of me, Ace and Archer...

The three of us together. Me between the both of them.

Ace was in front of me, buried to the hilt in my pussy, thick and stretching me open while he kissed me like he was trying to crawl inside my mouth. Archer was behind me, cock shoved deep in my ass, the burn and the fullness making my eyes water as I pushed back onto both of them.

They weren’t being gentle. They never were once they got like this.

Every time Ace thrust up into me, Archer slammed in from behind, and I could feel them rubbing against each other through the thin wall inside me. Brothers sharing me. Filling both holes at the same time. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin filled the room along with the broken sounds I couldn’t stop making.

“Fuck, Hastings,” Ace growled against my lips, hips snapping harder. “Your pussy’s sucking me in so tight with him in your ass.”

Archer’s hand slid around my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there while he fucked into me with long, punishing strokes. “She’s clenching around both of us. You feel that, Ace? She’s gonna come on our cocks.”

I already was. The stretch, the pressure, the knowledge that it was the two of them—brothers—using me like this sent me over. I came hard, shaking, moaning their names while my pussy and ass both locked down around them.

Ace cursed and slammed in deep, coming inside my pussy in hot pulses. Archer lasted maybe three more thrusts before he buried himself in my ass, flooding me with his cum. The sound he made wasn’t pretty—it was a low, broken groan, as though the pleasure was so intense it actually hurt.

They stayed inside me after, still hard, still twitching, dripping out of both holes while they passed me between their mouths.

Then the memory vanished.

I forced my eyes open.

A hood covered my face. Sunlight filtered through the thin, dark fabric. It wasn't hot yet, and I could still feel the cool breeze coming off the sea.

It was morning.

I tried to see through the hood, but all I could make out were blurry shades of brown.

I listened to the person's steady breathing. He didn't even sound tired from carrying me.

Then the sunlight disappeared.

I heard footsteps, and the ground beneath us changed from whatever surface we had been walking on to wood.

There were no other noises. No murmuring voices of people chatting. No boaters shouting instructions. No other footsteps. Not even the familiar hum of a vehicle.

We were on a private dock, tucked away on someone’s property.

I felt myself being lowered into something small—a golf cart. The realization barely registered before my head rolled against the seat.

The world began to fade again. I fought it, desperately trying to stay awake, but I couldn't.

When I woke again, everything was still.

My head throbbed as I tried to move, only to feel metal scrape against my skin. I was handcuffed. I pulled against the restraints repeatedly, but I was too weak to break free.

When I opened my eyes, darkness surrounded me.

The room was enormous, with wooden walls, wooden floors, and a wooden ceiling.

A cabin?

I tried to remember how I'd gotten there, but my thoughts were still sluggish and fragmented.

Then I heard something from across the room. It was a moan. I turned toward the sound and saw someone standing there.

A dark figure emerged from the shadows and moved toward me. Before I could react, a needle pricked my arm.

I flinched as panic surged through me. I tried to pull away, but the hand holding my arm was impossibly strong.

I looked up as the figure leaned closer.

Then I heard his voice.

“Not yet, Kathy. But soon.”