Oops - CinderScoria (the best books to read .TXT) 📗

me again. But her glossed lips just pulled back into a mischievous smirk and she turned again to talk to her sister in Spanish. I rolled my eyes and waited for them to finish.

“You know,” I said, butting in when it looked like Crazy was pausing to take a breath, “we don’t actually have a lot of money just lying around. Most of it goes to our record label. If this is about ransom, you should know— you’re not getting millions.”

“We don’t need millions,” Nani told me. But then Crazy shot her a sharp look and her entire face flushed, embarrassed.

“They’re going to need proof that you have me,” I said stubbornly. “And cops can trace phones— or don’t you watch CSI?”

Crazy crossed her arms and looked at me thoughtfully. “You’re right.”

I opened my mouth to argue some more, and then her response caught up to me. “I am?”

“Yeah, you are.” Her chocolate crystal eyes focused on something below my face. “I wonder how many people have custom-made necklaces with “Rocky” spelled on them?”

My eyes widened and I jerked my chin down, trying to see the choker necklace around my neck. “Wait, no, please,” I said pleadingly, not even ashamed of my begging. “My mom gave this to me, you can’t just—”

Too late, her hand closed around the beads that spelled my name and yanked, hard. Pain shot up my spine as the clasp gave and suddenly Mom’s necklace, the one I never took off, was in Crazy the Kidnapper’s hand. I glared at her, royally pissed now. She was lucky that I was cuffed to this chair because if not, I would’ve been beating her senseless, girl or no girl.

“Don’t worry, Superstar,” she said, giving me another smirk. “It’s going back to your family. You’ll get it when you get back.”

When. I tried not to sag in relief. When was good. When meant they really wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t push my luck. Crazy looked at Nani and said something in Spanish, then turned to me again.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “You know the drill.”

I bit back the sarcastic remark that sat on the tip of my tongue and watched as she walked out the door and shut it, the new hinges and screws squeaking quietly.

Fuming, I sat in the chair and twisted my wrists, just to see if I could pull a Houdini and slip out of the cuffs. Nani sat in her chair, watching me.

“This doesn’t come easily to you, does it?” she asked suddenly. “Obeying orders.”

I gave her a look. She seriously had no clue.
Chapter Two

It was amazing how fast news traveled. Shane Nelson sat on the grass with his baby brother in his lap, staring at the flashing blue and red police lights. The cops had taken eleven minutes to reach the park, and another eight to fight through the panicked, jam packed crowd of teenaged girls to reach the brothers. Yellow tape surrounded the equipment while men in black vests scurried over the scene with cameras and lasers and other CSI things. It would’ve been cool to Shane, who was a huge technology buff, if Rocky weren’t missing.

Blake wasn’t crying but Shane could feel his little brother shaking as he held him. Shane was twenty-three, and he wasn’t really a hugger. But his brother needed this. I need this. Something this huge has never happened before— not that he knew of.

It was all so bizarre. Shane hated using the excuse, “It all happened so fast,” but this time he didn’t have a choice. He barely remembered anything after the feedback burst assaulted his ears and sent him crashing to his knees. There was one thing, though. The girl.

He didn’t remember much about her except her face. Copper skin, sleek, black hair with curls that reached down to her shoulders and eyes that looked like brown crystals glittering in the spotlights set up for the concert. The two of them had locked gazes before she ignored him, and moved on to Rocky.

That was the thing Shane hated the most about the whole thing. Why Rocky? Why was he so important to her that she would pass up Shane? Why didn’t Shane do anything to stop her from taking his brother?

He must’ve blacked out, or maybe the disorientation got to him. The next thing he knew, Rocky and the girl were gone and the fans were going crazy. He found Blake sitting on the ground staring at the trees, fists gripping the grass for dear life as sirens echoed in the background. Shane didn’t recognize the look on his face— something a cross between complete and utter anguish, horror, confusion. He was in shock, Shane knew. So he did the only thing a big brother could do in this situation, and gather him in his arms and hugged him for dear life.

He wished he could hug his other one.

“Shane!”

The sound of his name jerked him back to reality and he looked up from his position in the grass. His father was bounding towards him and pretty much shaking the ground along with him. He had closed the gap between them in seconds, crowd and all.

“Shane,” he said, and before Shane knew it he was being crushed by his father’s meaty arms, Blake sandwiched in the middle.

Hank Nelson stood at a staggering 6’6”, and ninety percent of his 210 pounds was based on solid muscle. He was a handsome man with a clean shaven face but an obvious five o’ clock shadow etching on his chin. His hair was dark and his eyes were blue, just like his eldest and youngest, and his voice was a baritone that rang over crowds of voices.

Being hugged by him was like being crushed by a polar bear.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Hank scolded his sons as he finally released them.

“Sorry,” Shane told him. Blake didn’t say anything.

Hank rubbed a hand over his face and tried not to freak out. “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Rocky isn’t,” Blake said. His voice was dark and low and Shane didn’t like it one bit. “Rocky’s with that psycho girl who kidnapped him, and we just sat back on our ass and did nothing!”

“Blake Jeffery,” Hank said, using his son’s middle name. “Watch your tongue.”

“Watch my tongue?” Blake exploded. “Rocky’s out there somewhere with some kidnapper and you’re worried about me swearing?”

Shane put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and it immediately calmed him down. Blake took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and opened them again.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said dejectedly.

Hank nodded. “I understand. How about we just go home?”

Shane and Blake nodded dutifully. Inside, Shane’s stomach was churning. His dad was handling the whole kidnapping situation a whole lot better than he was. Or than Blake was. It made him wonder if his mom would’ve been just as worried as they were, had she be alive at the time, or if she would take it stoically like his dad?

“Excuse me,” came a soft voice from behind them.

The Nelsons turned to see a short, stout man wearing a pressed suit and a tie, a small black goatee and beady eyes. He had a badge on a string that hung around his neck, and his hands were shoved in his pockets.

He wasn’t the one who talked, though. The voice belonged to the female standing next to him— and she was much nicer to look at. Auburn hair spilled out from a ponytail at the top of her head, bangs framing her face and her bright blue eyes. She had fair skin and looked considerably younger than the man standing next to her. A badge hung around her neck, resting against the white cotton material of her shirt.

“Special Agent Kate Howard, FBI,” she told them, not unkindly. “This is my partner, Special Agent Rodney Turnbow. We need to ask you some questions… if that’s okay?” She said the last part looking at the towering Hank Nelson, who had his arms crossed in a defensive gesture as he stood slightly in front of the boys.

Hank tilted his head and eyed his sons. Shane stared back at him, stoic as usual. He got that from his father. Blake, on the other hand, avoided the gazes directed at him and glared at the ground, wringing the sides of his jacket with his clenched fists. He stood next to Shane but leaned into his older brother— protective, but also to remind himself that he still had another brother to keep.

“Alright,” Hank told the agents. “But not here. Let’s go to our house.” He looked at his watch and scowled. "On second thought, can't this wait until tomorrow? It's almost one in the morning."

"Of course," Agent Howard said, tilting your head. "It would be helpful if you showed us to your home anyways, so we know where we're going."

“We will require the use of your telephone lines,” the man said, “in case the kidnappers call for a ransom.”

His voice made him instantly dislikable, if his looks and his name hadn’t already scared somebody away. A nasal tenor, it made the skin on Shane’s arms crawl and made him want to wince at the grating sound. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the man didn’t censor his words in the least bit, causing Blake to flinch violently at the words “kidnappers” and