The HUSH Series: (HUSH, HUSHED and JANE.)

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The HUSH Series: (HUSH, HUSHED and JANE.) Page 43

by Sandra Raine


  "It's not your fault that that mission was botched, Viktor. I mean, you did what you could despite the circumstance. American Agents are no different than those abroad. Agreed?"

  "Agreed."

  "I think what we should do. . .or you should do is concentrate on finding the truth. Perhaps then after we can find a medium, get our daughter back, and bring those fuckers down."

  "I admire your valor, Sissy, but I think it's going to take a lot more than justice. This is a business, Sissy, a business worth billions. And unfortunately our daughter is just a needle in its dirty haystack."

  "I wish you weren't so negative in your tongue, Vik. It would be nice to hear a little positivity," Sissy casually affronted as she rose to her feet, leaned across Viktor's desk and picked up the warrant and ripped it in two.

  "Think you can wait another sixteen years, Sissy?" Viktor interrogated Sissy as she left her stance and crossed to the double oak doors.

  "I think I can wait an eternity," Sissy said tracing the brass door knob with her fingers. "If that's what it would take." she then added turning around to meet Viktor's gaze that continued to burn a hole through her back. "You will keep in touch, right, Viktor?" Sissy pressed with a hint of doubt clinging to her tone. Viktor sighed out and merely nodded with that same hint of doubt. Sissy smirked and turned back around to leave, and then the question had hit her. And it was a question that she should have posed since the very beginning when she first grabbed wind that Viktor was hot on a fifteen-year-old trail. A question only a lover of girls would understand.

  "Tell me something, Vik," Sissy said turning back around to face Viktor more intimately despite the distance from across the room. "This. . .Jane girl. What did you feel? I mean, when you first saw her. When you first gazed upon her. . .What did you feel? Did you feel eager. . .anxious. . .Did you feel like you wanted to. . .fuck her?"

  ". . .No."

  "And those other girls. . .those other Jane's before this Jane. Did you want to fuck those girls?"

  ". . .Yes." Viktor admitted, settling his cigar aside in the black marbled ashtray, his body rousing uncomfortably in his seat. He knew Sissy was going somewhere with her personal interrogation of him, of his openly private life set against the backdrop of a dirtiest temptation that not only brought him - in the past - so much sexual pleasure but also a lifetime of disgust. And now the question was: Where? Where was Sissy going with this interrogation?

  Sissy, having read Viktor's disquietedness, something she knew he would have never confessed to her or to anyone, something he would have easily taken to the grave if it hadn't been for the issue at hand, kept a straight and controlled face.

  "Well then make no mistake, Viktor, this Jane, this Jane number six is. . .your daughter."

  Chapter 2

  3:15 A.M.

  November 17th, 2012

  El Monte, California ~

  At first I didn't know what to make of the scene before me which to me looked like a front row seat to a live execution: There was a shallow trench, about fifteen feet long dug out in front of me. And kneeling before the trench, on the opposite side, were the men responsible for their greed's. Men who laid waste upon my body, day after day, year after year. . .they were all there; systematically lined up in a single row, cowering side-by-side, and staring comatose into the fate that awaited them. And I didn't know how to feel as my entire body was feeling just as comatose.

  I unnervingly glanced around only to be met by the distant gazes of masked men holding guns - some keeping careful watch within the perimeter of the woods while others fanned out around Mr. Parker, Mr. Ray, Dominic, Justin, Josh, Doug, Abel, Cain, and last but not least, Mr. Church. Suddenly the calm crisp air swaying around the woods went from serene euphoria to extreme ruthlessness and ugliness as two of the masked gunmen began executing the men, one-by-one, in the back of the head like the never constant end of sex traffickers plucking girls and boys straight from the bosoms of their innocence. And one-by-one the bodies simultaneously buckled back then forth, falling face first into the trench which instantly turned into a river of blood.

  And again, I didn't know how to feel?

  But what I did know was that I wasn't feeling exactly comforted 'cause something just didn't seem right about the whole scenario - from the masked gunmen right down to the men cowering before the shallow trench. I stole a glance at the masked gunman standing to my right. He was quite tall. And brawny. But it was his eyes. . .his damn his eyes that reflected that one soul. . .that one soul suddenly bringing everything to light as if I had just been pushed out of its window. And instead of falling forward into the future I instead fell back into the past, and right into the very hands of a sadistic named Prostitution. It was in that cruel and vindictive instant called Fate that my whole world came sledging down on me like one enormous avalanche. . .killing me.

  As my eyes chillingly settled back onto the seven innocent men staring comatose into the trench had I understood that I had been the one who had been betrayed 'cause I was no longer looking at my oppressors, I was looking at seven skeletal reflections as seven deadly sinners stood all around me, choking me with their Gluttony, their Greed, their Envy, their Lust, their Pride, their Sloth and their Wrath with each stripping their masks and exposing the fears I had come to fear the most:

  Mr. Parker

  Mr. Ray

  Dominic

  Justin

  Josh

  Doug

  Mr. Church

  . . .they were all alive.

  * * *

  This was my fifth night waking up in a pool of sweat, drowning in one blood curling scream after another. And this was Anna's fifth night running into my bedroom to comfort my nightmares; nightmares that were growing more vivid each night.

  "Shh," Anna shushed as she held me in her arms and rocked my trembling body. I felt like a battered child lost 'cause I was just cradled there in Anna's arms sobbing and sobbing as if I couldn't find my way back home no matter how hard I tried.

  "It's alright, Jane," Anna continued to console as her soft hands stroked my hair slowly, continuously until I felt strong enough to hold my emotions. I gradually eased myself from Anna's embrace, wiping my eyes as I thought about my next move: to head back to bed or confront my nightmare?

  "I have to go," I said suddenly, leaping up from my bed and heading straight for the walk-in closet and grabbed a duffle bag. I yanked a couple of pairs of jeans from off their hangers along with a couple of blouses and bundled them to the bottom of the bag.

  "It's three-freaking-thirty in the morning, Jane," Anna reminded as she stood at my closet's door looking at me as if I'd totally lost it! Maybe I had? "I mean, where is it that you have to go at this hour?"

  "I just. . .I just have to go and talk to someone," I stammered, unsure myself on exactly where I was headed even though I had a pretty good idea.

  "You mean Viktor?"

  "Um. . .someone like that."

  "Does this Viktor already have this much hold on you that you just "out-of-the-blue" decide that you have to go and see him right this instant, Jane? I mean, the man lives in New Orleans for bitching out loud!"

  "I'm aware of that!" I snapped. And there beneath the vehemence of Anna's differentiation and my persistence, Bree suddenly crossed my mind. "You need to watch Bree for me, Anna," I stated matter-of-factly and non-negotiably.

  "What?!" Anna scoffed.

  "I'll only be gone for a few days. I'll be back before you know it."

  I rushed past Anna from the closet and tossed the duffle bag onto my bed and quickly got dressed. I then rushed out of my bedroom and into the bathroom. I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, brushed my teeth and my hair all within a matter of a few minutes before I rushed back into my bedroom where I found Anna sitting on my bed, clutching one of my oversized pillows against her body. And for a moment there, Anna's entire demeanor caught me completely off guard as I resorted back to that place to that semi-barren of the Arizona desert, hidden beneath the base
ment to a house brilliantly fabricated; imprisoned within a tiny cell with only my black Teddy Bear for comfort. I took a deep, deep breath pushing that image of myself aside to focus on the issue at hand which consisted of me not really caring to hear what else Anna had to say. I mean, I had to go. And I had to go now before that dream started fading away into the likes of Bree watching me walk out the front door; I didn't want her to see me leaving not with us barely becoming a real family. I knew that trying to explain my actions to her about my leaving would be complex 'cause she wouldn't understand, and I really didn't expect her to considering that she was just a child. Even trying to explain it to Anna was difficult 'cause she, too, didn't understand only 'cause I never disclosed my nightmare to her. I guess I did it to spare her fear and concern as she was having nightmares of her own from time-to-time; something I understood 'cause I had a pretty good idea what her nightmares consisted of where her parents did not.

  Since Anna's return back home things between she and her family were pretty good. But as time passed, things started to become complicated after she disclosed what had happened to her.

  At first, no one in Anna's family - and Anna had a pretty huge family - did not believe what they had heard until Anna started showing signs of depression and isolation. Then, she started lashing out at her parents, her sisters and brother and other members in her family. She even got into a fist-fight with her sister when she alleged that Anna probably made up the ordeal and actually ran away instead just so she could go and be with that motorcycle guy. By that point Anna had had enough of her family and so she decided that she no longer wanted to live with them.

  Since the three of us worked at the bakery and got paid, Anna and I agreed to getting a place of our own. But living in L.A. did not come cheap, rent wise. In the end, Anna talked her aunt into renting us her house; she agreed and we moved in right away. Now three months later I was leaving. And Anna was not pleased.

  Anna was silenced for a moment. And when she was done torturing me with her silence, she tossed the oversize pillow aside, stood up from my bed and crossed to the bedroom door. And just as she was in the throes of walking out, she unexpectedly turned around and stated point blank: "If you're not back in three days, make no mistake. . .I WILL be coming for you."

  "Anna?"

  "Three days, Jane." Anna repeated, closing the door quietly behind her.

  PART 1

  Chapter 3

  November 18th, 2012

  New Orleans ~

  The cab came to a standstill about thirty feet from the entrance of Kasa Manor, a Second Empire-style-ish mansion located in the Garden Distract - the house of Viktor Kasa.

  It took me a good minute to compose my rattled nerves and grasp the courage to woman-up and get out of the cab. Luckily for me the driver was patient with my hesitancy despite the other fares he continually turned down each time he was dispatched. I took a deep unsettling breath, paid the driver generously, and stepped off the cab with my fear literally hanging in the bowels of my throat. But even I had to remind myself that I had to press on; had to find answers to the nightmare plaguing me. Eventually I took a step forward toward Viktor Kasa's mini mansion, then another and another until I was dead center stage on a driveway manned by a handful of Viktor's men: a sign that Viktor was home.

  "Yeah. What do you want?" A brawny gunman in his obvious late twenties queried me wearily and without so much as a smile. But he did make it a point to have his gun visibly exposed which could have been worse as he could have had his manhood intimidating me and not so much as his gun.

  "I. . .uh. . .I'm. . ." I stammered before I cleared my throat. "I'm here. . .h-hmm. . .to see Vik. . .I mean, Mr. Kasa."

  "Mr. K is not expecting visitor's today. Go away. . .before you get hurt. Understand?" And for some reason my fear of this prick and Viktor Kasa's over-extravagant home looking down at me actually began to irk me something awful. . .particularly the word, 'Understand'. That alone got under my skin and made my rage pinch.

  "Personally, dude, I don't give a fuck if Viktor is expecting me or not! I need to talk to him. And I need to talk to him. . .Now!"

  "What's going on?" Another one of Viktor's men suddenly interrogated the prick. This other man, or thing, 'cause he actually resembled a Pit Bull, was slightly shorter, and stacked with more brawn gazed at me curiously.

  "This bitch - "

  "Bitch?!" I fumed.

  "Is demanding to see Mr. K," the prick concluded despite my rude interruption..

  "About what?" Mr. Pit Bull casually inquired, now shifting an eye between Mr. Prick and myself.

  "I don't know. I mean. . .the bitch just showed up."

  "You call me 'Bitch' one more time and I'm going to have you fired!" I threatened, sounding way to confident that I could. But fuck, it was worth a damn shot!

  "Are you fucking serious?" Mr. Pit Bull mused. Just then an all to familiar face walked into the commotion without so much as a threat threatening his demeanor. And this particular guy was beyond confident, beyond reckoning: the guy was Jonah. . .Viktor Kasa's right hand man.

  "Let her through," Jonah ordered the two idiot savants mechanically as he waved me to step closer toward the double steel gates.

  "Excuse me?!" Mr. Prick spat in disbelief. "You mean you're just gonna let this bitch walk through. . .without having her checked?"

  "You call her a bitch one more time, Sergi, and I'll hand over your tongue to Mr. K. Understand?" Sergi stiffened a nod and gritted his teeth against Jonah's threat. And just as I was sure he would continue to bitch, he instead did the next best thing by keeping his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Mr. Pit Bull, was fast at the security pad's box, punching in buttons almost frantically. The gates buzzed, and slowly thereafter, they began to open up.

  I didn't know how to thank Jonah for being my Knight in Barbaric Armor, and he must've sensed it in my coyness 'cause he just smirked, adding, "This way. Mr. K's been expecting you." And while I was tempted to interrogate that very remark 'cause it sounded all to suspicious, I instead made like Sergi and kept my mouth shut and followed Jonah across the vast stretch of a driveway paved in stones that reminded me of back home, in Arizona, when Arizona was my home before all the dirty secrets and blasphemous betrayals.

  Jonah and I didn't talk. We, I mean, me, I just kind of toted behind him like a puppy, clutching my Ed Hardy purse [a gift from Viktor Kasa] and my duffle bag close to my body while a couple of Viktor's other men followed loosely behind.

  We entered, and I assumed, through a service entrant quarters 'cause in no time a gourmet kitchen came into my view. Two housekeepers, a young blonde woman and an older Latina woman immediately stopped tending to some dishes and nodded simultaneously at Jonah, both mustering, "Mr. Jonah and Miss, good day to you's." Jonah grunted, and I grinned and extended the same greeting.

  Once we exited the enormous kitchen, the trip across Viktor Kasa's mini mansion seemed a lot more extensive than my first trip - almost nine months ago - but that was via the foyer. But since we entered from the kitchen, there were lengthy halls and multiple rooms to cross. And they all seemed to zigzag. That by the time we reached Viktor's office I was literally dizzy.

  The office was exactly the way I had first and last remembered it. Nothing had been changed. Nothing had been added. And the smell of expensive wood and various furniture polishes continued to linger. There was however, a hint of spent cigar smoke still lingering in the air but I didn't mind. It was far better than inhaling cigarette smoke.

  "Jane," Viktor began to say but cut himself short when Jonah relayed something to him in that Czech jargon I still could not grasp. I mean, I had eight months to study the damn language. Why I never did, even though I knew that I should have, was beyond me. Perhaps it was the long hours at the Bakery with Anna and her family and occasionally Bree. Hours I intentionally abused as a way, as a means, to escaping some of my past.

  "I'll let him know," Jonah said matter-of-factly thus pulling me from my thoughts.

&n
bsp; "Wait!" I said suddenly just as Jonah was getting ready to exit Viktor Kasa's office. Jonah then stopped cold turkey in his tracks and cocked his head curiously at me. Very suave, as to not bring defenses up, I carefully unzipped my duffle bag, and carefully pulled out a white box with red engraving with the name, 'Anna's Panaderia' written across the top of the box. The lettering was beautiful, almost life-like if wasn't for the complimenting green fleur de leaf hanging off the 'A' in Panaderia.

  "It's uh. . .it's bread. . .Mexican bread. . .pastry from the bakery I work at. Anna's bakery. I figured, Mr. K, that you and Jonah might like to try some." I presumed nervously between Jonah and Viktor's comical gaze.

  Jonah smirked, walked back to me and took the box from me. "Coffee and pastry, Mr. K?" Jonah mused hospitably, slipping me a casual wink which coerced me to loose my breath for a second. "You, Jane. . .Coffee and pastry?" he then asked me coercing my nervous knots to tighten but with flattery.

  "Uh. . .hmm. . .sure. I mean, I haven't exactly eaten." I reminded myself.

  "Jonah, have the ladies whip up something for Jane." Viktor then ordered as he headed back to his desk, taking his seat and sitting down.

  "Thanks," I said to Jonah who again smirked before walking out of Viktor's office, leaving me to stand there savoring Jonah's bittersweetness which reminded me of Dominic, of Justin.

  "I wouldn't show to much interest in Jonah, Jane, if I were you," Viktor then stated nonchalantly as he leaned further back in his seat and toyed with the tips of his manicured fingers. His nails gleamed. His fingers appeared uncalloused. His hands definitely looked soft. No blue collar worker here.

  "Why not?" I affronted leaving my stance and casually crossing to Viktor's desk, carefully pulling back one of the two empty chairs from it's parallel position. "You think I'm not good enough for him?"

 

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