"Okay. Let's try to explore," I suggested. "Carefully. If we accidentally kick anything, they might come running. Do you still have your phone?"
"No," Joss said. "That was knocked out of my hand before he hit me with the bat. You?"
"It's on the nightstand at the penthouse. Why didn't you just tell Eddie?" I asked, realizing how ill-equipped the two of us were for getting ourselves out of this sort of situation. I mean, there were at least two of us. But everything I knew was stuff I'd watched Belle learn while training with Seeley or watching TV shows. I had no training myself. And Joss was barely more than a kid himself. I doubted working at a liquor store prepared him for freeing himself from kidnapping.
At least he had that ex-footballer build.
It was the one thing we had going for us.
"He told me to come alone. I panicked. I didn't want to take any chances."
"Did you hear Betty on the phone?"
There was a long pause before he admitted, "No."
"I'm not blaming you," I told him, touching his arm. "If it was Belle, I might have done the same. But what if you didn't hear from Betty because the guys already got to her?"
"If they got her, why is Anton still alive?" Joss reasoned.
"I don't know," I admitted.
Any number of things could have gone wrong.
"But why would they take us?" I wondered out loud. "That makes no sense."
"Unless they did get inside and get Betty out, if maybe Anton just got away. Maybe he took us because he thinks we have a connection to the club?" Joss suggested.
"Maybe," I agreed, feeling around with the tip of my toes before moving forward a step, not wanting to step on anything that might make noise. "Was he out front when he called?" I asked.
"No. I, ah, I gave him the address."
"Joss!" I hissed. "There are children in that penthouse," I added.
"I know. I know. I wasn't thinking."
"So, he called, threatened Betty, and asked you where you were?" I asked, wanting to get everything straight in my head, sure that there might be something to work with if we analyzed everything.
"He said he knew I hadn't killed any of the Henchmen yet, and that he was going to kill Betty if I didn't meet him."
"That's it? Nothing else? How did he sound?"
"He asked for the address. He must have been close because by the time I got downstairs, he was pulling up. And, I don't know. He sounded pissed."
"Do you remember how he looked before he knocked you out?"
Joss stopped moving then, his body stiffening.
"He had blood on his collar."
"Like a streak?"
"No. Like he'd maybe been shot or stabbed? I'm not sure. But there was a lot of it. I only caught a glimpse as he was turning."
"Hm."
That was good, right? It meant the guys had most likely made contact, that, maybe, they'd gotten Betty out safely, even if they'd missed Anton.
"What if they half-succeeded," Joss suggested. "And Anton figured out that I'd worked with them. So, now he thinks I know things. You know, from the inside perspective..."
"So he wants to torture information out of you."
"Of us," Joss clarified.
"Right," I said with a sigh. I'd screwed up Anton's plans too. He'd been abusive toward Belle. I had a feeling I would get it even worse for what I'd done. Especially if he had lost men. "We need to get the hell out of here," I added, reaching out for his wrist so we could move together in silence, looking for a clue of where we were, an exit, something to defend ourselves with. Anything.
The windows were boarded up. And it seemed like the only door was the one Anton had exited from. I doubted he was stupid enough to leave it open. Or unattended.
"There has to be something we can defend ourselves with," I grumbled.
"We need to split up. It's a huge room," Joss reasoned.
Everything in my gut told me that we were better off staying together. But my head had to agree with him.
See, the only problem with the plan was when the shooting started, we were an entire room away from one another.
He was too far to save me.
Chapter Fifteen
McCoy
We had no idea what Anton was into, or how he managed to get so many men to work for him. But it was no small operation he had going on in some old stucco home. Not massive by any definition, but not a small place either. It cost some stacks to put down on it. So he was into something.
And, clearly, he wanted to get into arms dealing if he was stepping to us.
The house itself was unkempt with weeds stubbornly bursting through the cracked driveway and front path. The stucco had chipped off in spots and the lawn was overgrown.
But there were at least six different men we spotted from afar.