Jeff Shelby - Thread of Hope

He wasn’t alone.

The distance prevented me from getting a good look at her face, but she didn’t appear familiar. She looked a little older than he was, long blonde hair, brushed out and glossy. She wore a denim jacket with a tight tank top beneath it. A short skirt revealed long, athletic legs in spiked heels.

Derek put his arm around her as he walked her to the passenger door of the Yukon, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle. He opened the door and helped her up into the SUV, his eyes settling on her ass when she wasn’t looking. He shut the door and hustled around to the other side.

My fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel. The kid’s girlfriend was missing and he was already moving on without missing a beat. I had about sixteen reasons now to knock the crap out of Derek Weathers.

He backed the SUV out of the drive and headed out the way I’d come in. I let him put a decent amount of distance between us before I started the car and followed.

We wound our way off the island, over the bridge and headed north on the five. He quickly exited into downtown and I followed him west right to one of the massive hotels near the convention center, maybe a mile away from where I was staying. Derek turned the Yukon into the parking garage. Two cars followed in quick succession before I pulled in after him. He parked on the ascending ramp of the third floor of the garage and I quickly steered past and parked at the end of the row of spots. The spaces in between us filled in and as I got out of the rental, Derek and his new girlfriend were almost to the entrance of the hotel, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

I followed at a safe distance.

Derek and his friend navigated the merchant area on the ground floor toward the opposite side of the hotel and a bank of elevators. When they reached the elevators, though, they didn’t get in one. Instead, Derek unwrapped his arm from the girl’s waist, produced a cell phone and made a call.

I watched from behind a window in a gift shop.

Derek snapped the phone closed, said something to the girl and she nodded. They stood there for a moment, whispering to one another.

The girl’s posture and demeanor had changed. If I hadn’t been watching her since she stepped out of the house, I wouldn’t have noticed. When she’d gone to the car with Derek, she was relaxed, languid, moving easily. Now as she stood there whispering to him, there was a subtle amount of tension in her shoulders and in her stance. She wasn’t angry with him and it didn’t look necessarily like anxiety.

But something had changed in her body language and I didn’t think it was for the better.

Derek watched people as they exited the elevators. After several minutes, he perked up at the sight of a single man stepping off the furthest elevator. The guy was tall, a bit too skinny, dressed in an open neck collared shirt and jeans that seemed smaller than necessary. His dark hair was swept straight back, held there by gel or mousse or some other concoction. He smiled at both Derek and the girl.

He and Derek shook hands and Derek’s hand went immediately into his pocket when they let go. They exchanged a few words, the guy held his right arm out at an angle and after an awkward pause, the girl looped her arm in his and they stepped into an open elevator. Derek offered a little wave as the doors shut.

I slid into the chair across from Derek and said “You’re a fuckin’ pimp.”

The hamburger, a massive concoction oozing mayonnaise and ketchup, froze halfway to his mouth.

I’d watched him leave the bank of elevators and circle the perimeter of the lobby, talking on his phone the whole way. He’d stopped in front of a small open-ended cafe and sat down at a table near the entrance. His food had just arrived and the server had just walked away as I slipped in across from him.

“A fuckin’ pimp,” I repeated.

He blinked once, then set the burger down on the plate. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you’re a stupid fuckin’ pimp,” I said. “You passed her over, inside the hotel, to the john, by the elevators. Full view of maybe a dozen cameras.”

He blinked again and glanced back toward the elevators.

“And you took the guy’s money,” I said, shaking my head. “Right here. In the hotel. On camera.”

His eyes flickered nervously. “I didn’t take anyone’s money.”

“Really?” I resisted the urge to rip the pocket off his jeans. “Empty your right front pocket then. I’ll bet everything I own that you’ve got more in that pocket than I’ve got in my wallet.”

He lips pressed together and his cheeks flushed. “Fuck off.”

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” I said. “We’re walking out of here right now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Either you stand up and go with me or I'll march your ass to security right now and invite them to review the last twenty minutes of tape on their elevator cameras.” I leaned across the table. “You think they’re gonna call the cops? Wrong, Derek. They’ll take you into some backroom or some tunnel beneath this place and make sure you understand that you are never to walk in here again and fuck around publicly like that. I’d be surprised if you ever walked without a limp again.”

I had no idea if that was true. We weren’t in Vegas. But it worked. Fear crept over his face, his eyebrows close together, his eyes a little wider, the muscles around his jaw twitching.

“Get the fuck up and walk, Derek,” I said, standing up.

He stared at me for a long moment, then pushed back from the table and stood.

“Back to the parking garage,” I said. “Now.”

He took a couple of tentative steps in that direction, then elongated his stride, maybe thinking about running or trying to lose me. I stayed even with him.

We exited the hotel and walked up the ramp toward his car. I put my hand on his back and pushed him past the Yukon toward my rental and walked him around to the passenger side.

“Hey, man,” he said, turning toward me. “I don’t know…”

I punched him in the side of the neck and he swallowed his words. His entire body sagged, but I caught him under the arm. I opened the door and shoved him into the car, drilling him in the kidney as he fell into the seat.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His face was bright red, as if he was choking on something.

I shut the door, walked around to my side and slid in.

He was coughing now, one hand at his side, the other on his neck. I let him cough it out and the color slowly returned to his face.

When the coughing subsided, he looked at me without turning his head in my direction. “Where are we going?”

“Back in the hotel,” I said.

He turned his head now. “What?”

“We’re gonna go back in and get that girl out of whatever room you just sent her to.”

“That’s now how it works,” Derek said, sitting up a bit. “The guy already paid…”

I slapped him with my left hand, then grabbed him behind the neck with my right and brought his head down on the dash.

“Derek, if you haven’t figured it out, I’m kind of irritated,” I explained to him. “You lied to me about Meredith and now you’re selling out girls for sex. You are a piece of shit.” I leaned down and put my mouth right next to his ear, my voice a controlled whisper. “I don’t care that you’re a kid. Done with that, okay? Groan or something if you understand.”

He made some sort of howling noise that I took for a yes.

“Do not tell me no again unless you like being hit,” I said. “Because I could hit you all day and I think you’ve figured out that I'm capable of kicking your ass with no problem.” I paused. His breathing was rapid fire and his neck was perspiring beneath my palm. “We're going to go get that girl and you are going to stop lying to me. Understood?”