“They said I have forty-eight hours to produce five million dollars,” Lindi confessed.
Victor leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it’s time to talk to your agent friends.”
“No. If I fall in with the Feds, they will kill him.” Lindi paced back and forth. “I think Will was trying to send me a message.”
“Why do you say that?” Carlyle asked.
“He kept saying he didn’t want to be sent back to his room.”
Victor shrugged. “So? Don’t you usually send him there to think on his misbehavior or something?”
“First of all, Will doesn’t misbehave. He’s the most obedient sub I’ve ever met. Secondly, he hasn’t slept in his bed since almost the third night we were together. I’ve never banished him from my bed.”
Lindi enjoyed Will wrapped around him too much to kick him out of their joined room.
Victor stood. “Will’s smart. He’d know you wouldn’t blame him for his abduction. I think you’re right; he’s trying to tell you something. Let’s go check out his room.”
Victor and Carlyle followed Lindi into Will’s room. The bedroom had the air of disuse—not dust, because his baby wouldn’t allow that sort of mess, but the feeling of being abandoned from regular usage.
“What were you trying to tell me, Pet?” Lindi mused, looking around the bare space.
“He doesn’t have any personal things at all?” Victor asked, glancing at the empty desktop and blank walls. “Even Stephen has some crap he throws in his room.”
“Your sub is a nester. Mine is a minimalist,” Lindi said.
“Or he’s looking for a quick escape route,” Carlyle said. “I’ve seen motel rooms with more decoration.”
Victor snorted. “And you’ve seen a lot of motel rooms.”
Carlyle smacked Victor in the back of the head. “Not recently.”
He knew they were trying to make him feel better, but Lindi’s heart still ached for his missing sub. “Will kept mentioning his bed.”
Lindi dropped to his knees and peeked underneath the bedframe.
“There you are.” A small plastic box had been shoved far beneath the bed. Lindi reached as far as he could. His fingertips brushed the top of the box. Curling his fingers, he pulled the container toward him.
As soon as the object got close to the edge, Lindi pulled the box the rest of the way. Lindi lifted the container, then sat on the bed.
“Your boy seems to have some secrets,” Victor said.
Lindi wiped his hands on his pants. “I guess I found what he wanted me to.” Printed on the top of the plastic lid were the words, “Open in case of emergency”. “Oh, Pet, what did you do?”
“You won’t know until you open it,” Carlyle pointed out.
Lindi took a deep breath. Somehow, he knew his life would change after he opened the box. He popped off the lid. A phone sat on top of a pile of paperwork. One of the disposable kind with pre-paid minutes. Lindi picked it up and set it aside. A passport, birth certificate and driver’s license were all in the name of William Finn. The picture showed his Will on the identification.
“Hmm, sweet, pretty Will is hiding from something,” Carlyle mused.
Victor picked up the phone. “I think Will wants you to make a call.”
Something had frightened his pet enough for him to go into hiding. Doubt filled Lindi, what did he really know about his boy? Will never talked about his past. Maybe there was a reason.
A piece of paper taped to the back of the phone listed the name Aengus Finn and a number.
“I’m thinking it’s time to call your boy’s family,” Victor said.
“Great. I always wanted some in-laws,” Lindi drawled, trying to hide his unease.
Lindi didn’t want to call the very person Will might be hiding from, but if this wasn’t an emergency, he didn’t know what was. Turning on the disposable phone, Lindi dialed Aengus Finn’s number.
“Hello?” A deep voice with an Irish lilt answered the phone.
“I’m trying to reach Aengus Finn.”
“Who’s this?”
“My name is Lindi Samms.”
“How did you get my private number, Mr. Samms?”
Lindi took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t betraying Will. “My partner has been kidnapped. Your number was in his emergency kit.”
“Why would he have my number?”
“Because his name is William Finn.” Lindi’s hand shook with anger and fear. He needed Will back with him. He could worry about the repercussions later.
“Tell me what happened, Mr. Samms.” It wasn’t a request. The soft lilt took on a surprisingly sharp edge.