Coercion, p.1
Coercion, page 1
COERCION
AMELIA WILDE
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
1
BRISTOL
When it comes to nightmares, there’s a range.
My siblings getting kidnapped and held hostage—tied up next to some kind of utility pole—is as bad as it gets.
“This is so bad.” I can’t see Will. Doesn’t seem to matter that he’s right in front of me. “This is so, so bad.” He just promised he’d stay. That we’d find them. My mind is taking longer to catch up. I’m afraid if I stop talking, I’ll disappear. “When they were little, I would—I’d have dreams about losing them at the grocery store. All the aisles would change places. I’d yell for them, and—” Mia. My voice would come out in a pathetic whisper. Ben. Please. Answer me. “I can’t yell for them now.”
Because they’re gone. It’s an ache in my stomach like a punch. Even in a house this big, I can feel that they’re not here. No footsteps upstairs. No voices. No laughter. Just my loud, shaky breath and pain in my gut.
Will’s hands stay steady on my face. “I know.”
“That note.” I’m going to relive this morning every time I wake up. The empty beds. The note in Mia’s handwriting. Dad needs help. We’re sorry. Be back soon!! “That’s all we have. How are we supposed to—”
“The note, and the photo.” Of course. The photo. The…ransom photo? The hostage photo? There weren’t any demands. Just Mia with tears in her eyes. Ben, pale and terrified. That utility pole.
The living room at the vacation house in Bishop’s Landing feels like a movie set. It’s perfect, with plush, overstuffed furniture in a lovely arrangement, like it was beamed here from a high-end furniture store. There’s a fireplace. Morning light streams through tall, clean windows free of fingerprints. Not a single smudge to mar the day.
There’s me.
There’s Will.
Both my hands are fists in his sweatshirt. Nothing I can do about that. If I let go of him, I’ll lose myself completely. I’ve already freaked out. Screamed into the fabric. He holds my face in his big, warm hands.
“Bristol,” he says. “Sweetheart.”
“Yeah. Yes.”
“We have to get moving.”
“You’re right, obviously. Of course. We have to get to them. I have to be the one to do this.”
“We’re going to find them. They’re going to be safe.” Will said this before, but he repeats it in a calm, patient voice.
“I lost them.” A flash of cold, buzzing panic crosses my chest. “I should just—I should be the one to go. It has to be me.”
It’s always been me. I’m the one they depend on. I’m the one I depend on.
“Look at me.”
I’m already looking at him, but my vision’s blurred by fresh tears. I blink them away again and focus on the blue-green color of Will Leblanc’s eyes. This should have been a dream come true. It’s what I always wanted and never thought I’d have. A beach vacation. Someone strong and solid at my side.
But not like this.
Not with the twins missing.
“You’re not doing this by yourself. I’m not leaving, and I’m sure as hell not letting you leave. I fucked up before, trying to get away from you, and I’m not going to do it again.” A shadow skates across his eyes, but Will’s resolute. “Not again. Okay? Take a breath. I’ll wait with you.”
I suck in a breath, but the air’s too thin.
Will shakes his head. “Deeper than that. Slower.” He takes a long, deep breath, and if I didn’t feel so light-headed, I’d be embarrassed. I don’t need help taking a breath. I’ve been breathing all my life. Except it’s hard to follow along. Will does it again, hands steady on my face, and I copy him. I don’t feel any better on the second breath, but by the third, my head’s starting to clear.
“Okay.” I keep breathing, deep and slow. This isn’t the time to fall apart. We’ve always made it before, me and the twins, even if it was in the nick of time. We’ll make it again. “I’m fine. I’m good.”
Will runs his thumbs over my cheekbones. “I need to make some calls. I need to make them now. Are you going to be okay while I do that?”
“Yes.” I force another deep breath. “But they haven’t told us what they’re trying to get.” No more crying. I can cry when we have the twins back. I’m going to get them back, damn it. They’ve always been mine to care for, and nothing in the world is going to keep me from them. “We don’t know enough.”
“We’ll find them.” Will pulls his phone out of his pocket, taps the screen with his thumb, and puts it to his ear.
I lean my forehead against his chest and inhale.
His free hand moves to the back of my head, and he runs his fingers through my hair.
Evan’s voice comes through the speaker of Will’s phone. “Donovan.”
“I need you at the beach house, and I need you to bring a team. The twins were taken. I got a photo about ten minutes ago.”
“Send it to me.”
Will’s hand pauses in my hair while he taps the screen again. “I don’t have time to wait here.”
“Are you in the house?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing, Will. Don’t step foot outside until I get there. I’m on my way. In the meantime—”
“Jesus Christ, Donovan—”
“In the meantime, I’m going to hang up with you and get some people together. Neighborhoods like that will have security footage we can look at, and I’ll have someone check the photo for any embedded location data. If you leave now, you’ll only make this more complicated.”
“Drive faster.”
“I’ll call you back in one minute.”
Will shoves his phone back into his pocket and folds his arms around me. He’s still breathing in a slow, even pattern, but his heart beats fast and hard. What happens next probably involves black SUVs and men with guns and at the end, the twins are going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay.
Will’s phone buzzes. “Yeah?”
Evan starts talking, and I straighten up. What am I thinking, standing here? We need to figure out how my dad got in contact with Ben. Mia would have said something if he called their phone. Will arches an eyebrow at me, and I point upstairs. “I’m going to check their stuff.”
He nods, his hand splaying out one more time on my back before he lets me go. “No, I don’t care about that. If—”
They don’t need me for this conversation. I hustle up the stairs.
Both beds in the twins’ room are unmade, blankets shoved down. Mia’s copy of The Dark Is Rising is halfway under her pillow. Her backpack hangs on a hook near the closet, Ben’s is in a heap next to his bed. The beat-up school laptop that comes home with him some weekends sticks out of the open zipper.
It’s a place to start.
Even sitting on the mattress makes my throat tight. The twins deserve a life with nice mattresses and trips to the beach and not getting fucked over by our dad. That’s what I’m going to give them. This is the last time he screws with us.
I balance Ben’s laptop on my lap and flip it open.
It takes a beat to wake up. It’s a bare-minimum kind of computer. Hardly weighs anything, and it only has a few Google apps. One tap at the touchpad, and a window opens.
It’s the email app, asking for a username and password. There was a form to sign for school emails when I enrolled the twins. I type in Ben’s.
And the password…
They’re ten. It’s probably the simplest answer.
I type in Cafall, the name of a dog in Mia’s books and also the name of a baby bunny the twins found last spring, before we moved to the city. The bunny escaped one day, leaving our rented A-frame behind for good. Then I add his birthday, which is also Mia’s birthday.
Instant tears. I swipe them away with my sleeve.
It’s the right password. The email app opens to his inbox.
The twins don’t have much to email anybody about. Ben’s inbox has homework reminders, sent every Friday. There’s one generic welcome email from when they sent out the laptop.
All the other emails are from my dad.
“You asshole,” I whisper at his name.
He started emailing the week I was sick.
Dear Ben,
Sorry I haven’t been home in a bit. I had a few things to take care of after that storm. I know you’ll understand. You’ve always been so smart and responsible! Wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re doing okay. Love you, can’t wait to see you.
Dad
Ben waited two days, then wrote back.
Hi Dad, everything is fine. I hope you’re fine too. Love you, Ben.
The next couple messages from my dad tried a little harder. He asked Ben about his grades in math. Perfect, as always. When Ben told him that, Dad sent three paragraphs about how proud he was.
&nbs p; On Thursday of this week, Dad asked about Mia.
Is she reading any new books?
If he bothered to be here, he’d know that she’s not reading any new books—she’s reading The Dark Is Rising sequence over and over again, and has been since we moved.
Dad also asked about me.
Tell me what Bristol’s up to. Is she happy with her job?
Ben wrote back on Friday. From the time stamp on the email, he was still at school. Will was at the retirement party for Finn Hughes’s father. I was at my desk, thinking about Will. My plastic palm tree was there that day, too. I brought it with me so it could witness our beach weekend. It’s in my purse, in the bedroom. It hasn’t witnessed any of this.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Will moves past the bedroom door but doesn’t look in. “Send a separate team there, too. I’ll let my brother know.”
Hi Dad, Bristol’s really good. She has a boyfriend that she met at her old job. He has a lot of money but he’s really nice about it, he lets us play Minecraft on really nice laptops and he always has tons of food at his house and Mia can eat as many Eggos as she wants. And he buys those coffee things Bristol likes, but he doesn’t drink that kind, so it’s just for her. I hope they get married, I think Bristol would be happy if she got to stay with him forever.
Oh, Ben.
I close my eyes, shutting out the email so I can keep it together. This is the longest email Ben’s written and it’s painfully innocent. Painfully hopeful. My ribs feel like they can’t quite keep my lungs in place. Will passes by the door again, heading downstairs.
Okay.
The email continues.
We miss you so much, but if you’re busy, that’s okay. We are okay where we are, and if Bristol stays with her boyfriend maybe we could stay too. That would be fine, and you could come visit us when you have some free time. I got an A on my math test today. Ok gotta go, Ben
The most recent email, the one at the very top of the inbox, came in at just after three in the morning.
Ben,
I’m so sorry to do this, buddy. I have to ask for your help. It’s really serious this time. I don’t want to scare you but I got in too deep and if I can’t figure this out, they’re going to kill me. I can’t do it alone. You have no idea how sorry I am. I never should have gone this far, but I wanted to make things right for you and Mia and Bristol. It all went wrong. Can you and Mia come and meet me? I know you two can solve anything you put your minds to. There’s nobody else I can ask. Come as soon as you can, okay?
Dad
Below his signature is an address.
I’m on my feet so fast that my brain feels off-balance. I take one second to get my bearings and grab Mia’s book from under her pillow. She’ll want this when we find her, and now that I have this address, we can go.
Shit—my purse. I need my phone, in case they call. A quick sprint to the bedroom, where I put Mia’s book in my purse, throw my phone in after it, and run.
I set a personal record for speed in descending a staircase and fly into the living room.
Will’s changed out of his hoodie and into a black, long-sleeved T-shirt. He has his own laptop open on the coffee table and his phone out next to the keyboard. Men’s voices come from the speaker. Evan, and somebody else. Two or three somebody else’s. I drop Ben’s laptop next to Will’s.
“I know where they are. That’s where they are.”
“Leblanc, I’m pulling up to the house. Rest of the team is two minutes out.” Evan Donovan sounds determined.
“I’ll be right there.” Will ends the call and scans the screen of Ben’s laptop. He enters the address into his phone. Then he flips his own closed, stands up, and looks me directly in the eyes. “That’s the address he sent, but they might not still be there.”
“I know that. But—”
“I’ll go with Evan and find out. You’re not coming.”
“—my dad’s not very good at this. He’ll have—what?”
“You can’t come.” He’s not kidding. Will’s expression has gone stoic and uncompromising.
“I’m definitely coming. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m staying here.”
“It might be an ambush. You could get hurt. You’re not going.”
2
WILL
Bristol is all green eyes and bedhead, and if she could shoot fire out of those eyes, I’d be a little pile of ash on the beach house carpet.
Part of me absolutely thrills to her ferocity. Bristol’s a sweetheart. Making her cry is better than being in the boxing ring. It’s better than blocking a hit and giving one instead. It’s better than anything. The fact that she can stand up to me like this, with her feet planted and her jaw set, only makes it hotter that I can kiss her and hurt her and fuck her until she’s a begging wreck.
Which doesn’t matter. Not with the twins gone. But Bristol still matters, and here she is, ready to run out the front door without looking to see who’s on the other side.
“Will.” I’ve never heard someone pack more of a warning into my name. It’s impressive. And, just this once, I’d rather she just sat on the couch and let me handle things. “I am going with you. That’s not up for debate.”
“No, what’s not up for debate is that you’re staying here, where it’s safe.”
“What makes you think I’ll be safe here?”
“The security team that’s arriving in two minutes.”
“Security teams can get ambushed, too. It’s not better if you’re the one getting ambushed and I’m sitting here doing embroidery or whatever useless thing you’re picturing right now.”
“You don’t have to do embroidery, if that makes you feel better.”
Does she even know how to embroider shit? Given what I know of Bristol’s life, she hasn’t had much time for crafts. But I wouldn’t put it past her to learn something like that. I wouldn’t put it past her to do anything.
Even put herself in danger.
“The only thing that’s going to make me feel better is going to find the twins. So if you’re going to stop me from doing that, then you can just—you can fuck off.”
Bristol turns on her heel, and I can’t help it. I grab for her elbow before she can take a step. Lock my grip around it. Hold her in place.
“Let me go.”
I step around in front of her instead. My hangover is back. No—that’s a fever. Or just a strange heat in my chest, working its way up toward my neck. The elevated heart rate is probably from my stomach forcefully ejecting a bottle of tequila into the sink not very long ago, and from the twins getting kidnapped. I don’t know what to do with my arms. I want to cross them over my chest, or get them in front of my face, but nobody’s going to punch me.
Bristol might, I guess.
I’ll make you wish you were dead, my dad’s voice whispers in my ear. Fuck him. This isn’t a fight, or a dark closet. It’s just an angry, frightened Bristol standing in the living room of a fancy-ass mansion, trying to get herself hurt.
“Listen.” The heat rushes up into my face, and I hate it. I’d be just as screwed with my hands behind my back. That’s what it feels like. “I don’t want to say this to you. I don’t want to admit this to you.” The urge to turn my back on her and get out of here has never been stronger, but no. I don’t ask for mercy during fights at the warehouse, and I won’t ask now. Bristol’s eyes get wider. Jesus, she’s beautiful. “But…I would not be okay if anything happened to you. That’s why you can’t come.”
Her expression softens. A light, pretty pink skates over her cheeks. I can’t breathe.
“That’s sweet.” I don’t know whether to be delighted or offended that she sounds so surprised to hear it from me. Bristol clears her throat. “That’s…really sweet, Will. I’m going anyway. You would go for your brothers, wouldn’t you?”
