There was more laughter. Matt let out a tight sigh. “Unless she's in physical danger, we don't strike out. Let's do this by the book.”
Sometimes it sucked to be a cop.
“What book?” Lake said. “You're the only cop here. My book is different from yours.”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “Lake's book is way more fun. It's thinner and has fewer rules.”
Matt gritted his teeth. It took all of his self-control not to set the men loose. “My book,” he said. “We follow my book.”
“Killjoy,” Jason muttered as they turned into Robertson Road.
In the distance, Matt could see the roof of the old mill. “You're sure they went this way?” he said, knowing Harry could hear him.
“One hundred percent certain,” his cousin said. “The only thing down that road is the mill, Robertson Gully and Braden Stream. People tend to pick buildings to conduct nefarious business. I don't know why. I would go somewhere more intimidating. Like Glencoe. Glencoe scares the crap out of me.”
“Harry,” Matt said tersely.
Harry cleared his throat. “Probably they need a safe place to keep her for a while and think it would be harder for her to escape from a building, so Glencoe wouldn't work for them.”
They better not be planning to keep Jena. Matt's blood boiled at the thought.
“Stop at the tree line.” Lake’s voice broke into his rage. “We'll go in on foot. Don't want to spook anyone into doing something foolish.”
“Something more foolish than kidnapping Matt's girlfriend?” Harry said.
They'd taken her to an old abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. The whole setup screamed cliché, and made Jena wonder if they'd learned how to be mobsters by watching HBO specials. Joe didn't bother making her walk; he carried her through the doors and into a room full of rusting machinery. Frank was leaning against the doorjamb of what looked like the old office. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, polished shoes and gold bling. Jena felt like she was looking at a stranger. The Frank she'd met had worn jeans and T-shirts all the time. But then, he'd also kept his pecker in his pants and didn't act like he had a role in The Godfather.
“Jena.” He oozed fake sincerity. “I'm sorry it had to come to this. I need to talk to you, baby, and you're not making it easy.”
Jena shrugged off her abductors. “There's a reason for that, Frank. The reason being I don't want to talk to you. Not now. Not ever. How about you jump on a plane back home and leave me in peace.”
He placed a hand flat on his chest, where his heart would have been if he had one. His smile was the one that used to make her feel weak at the knees. Now it made her feel nauseated.
“You wound me, baby,” he said. “I came all this way to get you back and you won't even hear me out. I need to tell you I'm sorry. I love you, baby. Come back home with me. We'll start over. Things will be better.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don't screw around on people you love, Frank.”
“It was an accident.” He worked at being sincere. If she didn't know him so well, she wou
ld have believed him. “An error in judgment. Surely you can't hold one mistake against me after years together?”
Jena pretended to think about it while anger built like steam ready to blow. “Ah, yes, I can hold it against you.”
“I wasn't thinking.” He moved towards her. She'd seen this before too. The lazy sexual walk, the heated look in his eye, the small smile promising sensual delight. She almost laughed. How had she never noticed his acting ability in all the time she was living with him? There was only one reason for her ignorance. She'd wanted to believe him. How pathetic was that?
“Baby, I want you back.” He stroked the curve of her jaw. “Tell me what I need to do to get you back and I'll do it. We were meant to be together. I can't function without you.”
Great, now his dialogue was being written by Hallmark. She narrowed her eyes.
“You want me back? Really? You'd do anything to get me in your life again?”
“You know it. I'm nothing without you. I screwed up, but I can change. Forgive me and we'll start over. Tell me what to do to make it happen.”
“That's easy, Frank. All you need to do is give up your club and move to Invertary to be with me.”
She watched as a whole slew of emotions rushed across his face. Fear, panic, anger. Then just as quickly as his control had slipped, it was back again, and his features were schooled into a look of regret and longing. A look that made Jena want to kick her own ass for ever believing Frank Di Marco cared more about her than he did for himself.
“I can't do that.” He sounded regretful; heartbroken, even—and if she believed him, she was ready to buy a bridge. He ran his hands over her arms until he held her hands. The touch of his skin against hers made her feel revulsion.