Page 45 of Wick
"I believe you." I rest my head on his shoulder, both of us resting but never falling asleep.
I'm not sure how much time passes as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, but it feels like forever. The room is basked in darkness. The only light filtering in through the room is coming from a crack in the curtains hanging on the window. How are we supposed to sleep knowing someone is out there wanting to harm the club? What's worse is knowing they are willing to harm women and children in the process. None of which should surprise me knowing who could be behind the attacks on all the club members tonight.
Still feeling wound up and uneasy, I throw the covers off my body. Pulling away from Malik's embrace, I sit on the side of the bed. "Where are you running off to?" he asks, his voice alert.
"I'm not running. I just need to look in on the girls one more time." Still fully dressed, minus my boots, I stand and grab my gun from the nightstand. Hearing the covers shuffle, I look back, and Malik has his back pressed against the headboard.
"You're safe here, Vayda," Malik watches me clip the holster to my waistband. "Sorry. Habit." I cross the room. "I'll be right back," I tell him and exit the bedroom.
The clubhouse is eerily silent, and I pause, thinking I heard a noise. Standing stock-still, I listen for a moment, only hearing myself breathing and conclude I'm letting my nerves get the better of me. Usually, I'm not like this. Paranoid. Maybe being responsible for the well being of my niece now is what's making me leerier. Perhaps that is also why I keep having these sick feelings in the pit of my stomach that something is not right in the first place. I've never been responsible for anyone other than myself unless outside my usual line of work.
Continuing down the hall, I grab a hold of the knob to the room Sydney and Piper are sleeping in, and turn. Cracking the door open, I peek inside, finding Piper in the twin bed closest to the door. Opening the door a little further, I glance to the other side of the room, finding the other bed empty. Walking farther into the room, I see no sign of her. Crossing the floor, I rub Piper on the shoulder, waking her. She rolls slightly on to her back.
"Vayda?" Piper rubs her eyes, trying to focus on my face.
"Piper, where is Sydney?" I ask her, trying not to panic.
"Um. She was asleep before I dozed off. Maybe she woke up needing to go to the bathroom." Piper offers a reasonable explanation because their room doesn't have its own private bathroom. If they needed to go, they would have to walk down to the end of the hall. "You want me to go see?" Piper asks and goes to sit up in the bed.
"No, Sweetie, that's okay. I'll go. Try to go back to sleep." Leaving the bedroom, I close the door and make my way to the end of the hall. The bathroom door is closed, but I notice no light is shining from beneath the door. Knocking softly, I whisper her name, trying not to disturb anyone else nearby. "Sydney?" No answer. Opening the door, I find the bathroom empty. I flip the switch on the wall, but the light doesn’t come on. I flip it on and off a couple of more times, getting the same results.
"Everything okay?" Malik's deep timber from behind startles me, and I turn around, ready to swing. "Woah, it's just me, baby. What's got you so damn jumpy?"
"Dammit, Malik. Don't sneak up on me like that; I could have hurt you." I lower my fisted hand to my side. It's dark as hell in the unlit hallway, but I can hear the amusement of my comment in his voice when he grabs my hand.
"Really?" Malik pulls me into his body.
"Sydney isn't in her room, Malik. I thought maybe she would have gone to the bathroom, but she isn't here either." I tell him.
Keeping hold of my hand, he tells me. "Come on, let's check downstairs. Maybe she couldn't sleep and found her way to the kitchen or somethin'." He tugs on my hand and leads me down the hall to the stairs. "There's no lights on downstairs." He observes as we descend. At the base of the steps, Malik turns to his right, feeling along the wall for the light switches. I hear him flick them a few times, and nothing happens. "Shit, light must be blown."
"The lights were not working in the bathroom upstairs," I add.
"Could be the breaker then. The damn thing trips from time to time. I'm going to the back to check it out. You head into the kitchen and see if Sydney is in there." Malik informs me, and he heads toward the back near the small storage room, and I head into the kitchen.
Just for kicks, I check the lights, and not surprised they don’t come on either. The kitchen is small, and what little moonlight that is shining through a couple of small windows lining the wall above the sink, I can make out most of my surroundings. Sydney isn't here. My stomach sinks and my gut tells me something isn't right. Rushing out of the kitchen, my eyes dart around the darkened room where the bar and pool tables are. I dash toward the couch sitting against the wall, hoping I'll find her curled up on the cushions. My head whips to the side when I hear the creaking of a door, and a gust of wind brushes my arm. The front door to the clubhouse is cracked open.Shit.I run to the door, fling it open, and call out her name. "Sydney!" My heart races against my chest as panic sets in. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I rush out into the open yard, finding no one.
Looking up, I notice the light that usually illuminates the property isn't working. It's pitch black out here besides the glow from the moon casting it's light on the Mississippi River that flows several yards to the left of me. I catch a flash out the corner of my eye. Looking to my right, I see nothing but Malik's truck. That's when I notice the passenger door on the driver's side is hanging open. Pulling my gun from the holster strapped to my hip, I flip the safety and slowly advance in the direction of the vehicle. When I make it to the open door, my barefoot steps on a smooth object. Before looking down and without removing my foot, I peer inside the back of the truck, finding it empty as well. Checking my surroundings, I then squat. A dim light shining lets me know I stepped on a cellphone. Picking it up, I realize it's Sydney's. I had told her I would grab it for her but forgot. The screen lights up again, with a notification of a new text message. Something inside me causes my thumb to swipe the screen, and tap the notification icon. The moment I do, my heart sinks to my stomach at the image on the screen—Sydney's frightened tear-stained face as she sits on a dirty floor. Below the text image is a message.
You have something that belongs to me.
My son for the girl.
You have until sunrise, or you'll find pieces of her floating down the river.
By the way, you can keep the whore.
I take off toward the clubhouse, with the phone clutched in one hand and my weapon still in the other, crashing through the partially opened door, causing it to slam hard against the wall behind it. "Malik!" My lungs burn at how loud I scream his name.
Suddenly the lights in the clubhouse come on, and just as Malik runs into the room, I hear a commotion upstairs and stomping feet running down the stairs. "What?" Malik is at my side. "Did you find Sydney?"
I shake my head, holding my emotions back, and hand him the phone. "She isn't here." My voice cracks, and I feel like I'm about to lose my shit. By this time, Riggs, Nova, Kiwi, and Fender rush over.
"What the hell is going on down here?" Riggs demands, standing in nothing but a pair of jeans. Malik's face hardens as he stares at the screen.
I look to Riggs. "Cortez has Sydney."
"How the fuck did they get your niece?" he questions, and I rush to explain my theory.
