"Not really. The people who run galleries and museums are pretty straight laced and yellow. Doesn't take much to scare them, and they don't generally have real muscle. Besides, because we always bring the original back, the actual authorities never get involved. I'm pretty sure they don't even know this is happening."

A stiff breeze blew over the dock and ramp, just strong enough to blow the scarf from her head. 

"Oh, shoot. I'll be right back."

Stella tried to catch it, but it was just out of her grasp and floating further away. She took a few steps back down the ramp to go after it, ducking through the crowd boarding the ferry, and thinking she could get it then catch back up with Gavin. As soon as she came off the ramp, she felt something pull her away, and a rag cover her mouth and nose. Instinctively, she took a deep breath to scream; but a strong smell tingled her nose, and she felt extremely dizzy. Too confused and suddenly weak to scream. 

-----

"Go! I'll deal with the rest! " 

One of the suited men called out toward the other side of the dock where three other men were getting Stella into a motor boat. 

Gavin was already moving when Stella took a few steps away after her scarf. After he'd overheard "waste him" from one of the guys in a suit, Gavin had had his hand on his gun inside his pocket. Outnumbered, there was no way he was going to play nice and try to take prisoners. He moved quickly toward the one man in the crowd trying to flank him, pressing his pistol into the man's stomach and pulling the trigger twice. A painful way to die... but at least it muffled the gunshots a little. The crowd heard the shots and took off running, but then men in the boat took longer to respond, as they were focused on Stella. 

As Stella got hit with what Gavin assumed was chloroform, he waited patiently unless they laid her down, unconscious, in their motor boat. No use in having her injured if they dropped her. Gavin emptied his pistol, aiming high to avoid Stella, hitting each of the three men at least once. When he saw another man in the crowd making his way toward him with a gun, Gavin ducked behind a corner as he dug the knife out of his boot. When the man's gun protruded around the corner, Gavin's left hand grabbed the gun while his right drove the knife into the man's chest. He pulled the knife out and tossed it into the ocean before sticking the man's gun in his pocket.

Gavin rushed over to where Stella was lying in the motorboat, which was just starting to float away. As he stood in the boat, he noticed the crowd had returned and was now staring at him. Thinking quickly, he dug into Stella's purse and removed the fake United States Department of Revenue Badge. He held it up confidently, since no one was close enough to the boat to make out the words on the badge. But shit, it did look real.

"Anyone hurt up there?! No?! Good! My name's Jeff Jefferson, Federal Bureau of Narcotics! You just witnessed a drug cartel attempt to abduct this woman; now I don't have time to follow standard protocol here, because I need to get this woman to medical attention immediately! Please do NOT call the police; you will clog the phone lines and delay response time to the call that I made inside for backup 5 minutes ago! I need to go help this woman now... God Bless America!"

Out of words, he dumped the bodies over the boat and stared down at the foreign controls. He hit something that looked like a lever and the boat accelerated forward; the wheel, at least, seemed similar to a car. With the boat moving slowly away, Gavin took off his jacket and placed it beneath Stella's head for her comfort. They didn't get her too bad, so she should be up soon.

Hopefully she would- and hopefully she knew how to drive a boat. Because Gavin Byrne did not.

The warmth of the afternoon sun was comfortable, and Stella didn't want to open her eyes. She must have fallen asleep reading under the big oak tree again. It was her favorite escape when he dad was drunk, or her Mom had men over. She'd once asked for a tree house, but that never happened. A warm blanket on the cool grass was just fine, though. Strange, she thought to herself, the birds weren't singing. Stranger still  the ground seemed to be moving. How was that possible? No, something isn't right.

The haze started to lift, and Stella's eyes popped open with a start. There was nothing but sky, and salty sea air. The ferry, the statue...Gavin, the men in suits; it all came back pretty fast. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her head pounded like a kettle drum. Gavin says standing at the wheel of the boat, looking around them. The statue was behind them and a bit to the left. There was no sign of the men in suits. 

"What the hell was that? Are you ok?" 

​​​​

Gavin's knuckles on the wheel were white enough to match the motorboat by the time Stella awoke. 

"Heyyy. I'm fine. You're fine? You seem fine? Do you know how to drive a boat? Asking for a friend..."

"Um...well  seeing as this is the second boat I've ever been on, that's gonna have to be a no."

Stella got to get feet and slowly got her balance. The land was getting further and further away. She thought as quickly as she could with the last of the chloroform wearing off. 

​​​​​​"Maybe we find a strip of beach and just run into it? Assuming we can figure out how to slow it down?" 

​​​​​​

Gavin sighed. He didn't regret taking the boat; they sure as shit weren't going to hang around until the ferry pulled into the dock with ten cops waiting for him. But still.

"Well... yea. That's a good plan. We'll just slow down when we get near the beach and aim for a particularly sandy part."

With that settled, he turned in his seat, perfunctorily straightening the wheel behind him as needed, keeping one hand on it.

"How are you feeling? You only got a couple seconds there, so I'm sure you'll be fine. Who were those guys- and why would someone want you kidnapped?"

​​​​​​

"I can't say they looked familiar. I can't think of anyone I could have pissed off that much. Especially since I've never been to New York befo--" 

That's when it hit her. But how? Who in the world could have known?

"Oh no. No no no, that's...that's bad. This is bad."

Stella sat down in the seat beside the driver and rubbed her temples. 

"Remember what I told you about my Dad being a rat? He was working out of New York. Long Island to be exact. Do you think someone figured out who I am?" 

Gavin shrugged.

"Hard to say... but it seems like that's the only real explanation, right? Normally I would have guessed they'd be after me, but they seemed pretty focused on you. Who do you know that your father burned who would hold a grudge against someone's kid for something their dad did and have the power to send a team of guys after that person? I'm guessing someone comes to mind there? If not we can do some digging once we... hit land. Literally."

Stella sat and thought back through everything from her childhood that she could remember. She tried to remember names of people that would come to the house, or people that her Dad would talk about; but it was so long ago. Nothing came to mind, and all Stella could think about was getting back to her hotel and getting out of New York. 

But what if they followed her? If they found her in New York, they could find her anywhere, right? 

Her usual cheerful mood had fallen markedly, and she sat quietly fiddling with the hem of her dress as Gavin maneuvered the boat toward an old, shut-down beach. 

Gavin flashed a smile in Stella's direction.

"You've got nothing to worry about, Stella. Your Uncle Joe will make sure you've got some protection while your in Vegas. And hey, I won't let anything happen to you here. But just to be safe, why don't we get you out of New York? You can come down to Philly and lie low for a bit until you can learn more about who these guys are and what the best move is for you."

He cut the engine and sat down next to Stella, hoping a gentle bump as they hit the beach- which, fortunately, was a private one currently not being used.

Stella was glad, more than ever, that she'd found such a friend in Gavin. She should have known that this new life of hers wouldn't always be roses and clover. She should have prepared better. 

"I think that's probably a good idea. Let's get a car down here - no cabs- and go back to my hotel. I'll call and have them pack my things and bring them down to the car, in case any more of those men are there waiting for me."

She paused for a moment, then reached down to the floor of the boat and took her bag in her lap. 

​​​​​​"I'll need to get a message to Uncle Joe and let him know what happened, and where I'm going."

-One Week Later--

Finally, it was the day Stella was busting out of her partially self-imposed solitude.

Things had changed a bit since the incident in New York. When Uncle Joe was told about what happened, he insisted that she return to Vegas immediately, and sent two men to meet her at LaGuardia and escort her home. The same two men, she learned, had been assigned to her protection 24/7 until this problem was figured out. Stella was to stay in a safe house until it was confirmed that she hadn't been followed home. 

She was free to leave the safe house, as long as she had Donny and Paul with her, but fear kept her inside. She had some of her things brought from her condo, and arranged for the rest to be packed and put into a storage unit until she moved to her new home and place of business. She spent the first few days pouring over journals, old newspaper articles, and anything else that might give her clues as to who her father had turned States Evidence against.  The research was exhausting and made her anxious. It was the Escort Agency that gave her somewhere else to focus her nervous energy. She plunged herself into planning the renovations to the mansion and the details of daily business. Before she knew it, she'd been holed-up for six days, and Donny and Paul were given word that she was safe to leave and move into her new place. 

Catching a glance of herself in the bathroom mirror just before leaving, Stella groaned and decided the first order of business needed to be a stop at the salon and breakfast at her favorite bakery on the strip. That would cheer her up, and make her feel a bit more normal again.