by Suzanne Hart
I was so tired, exhausted. Maybe there had been drugs in the food, or maybe I was just having the worst day ever.
After my tears and sobs had slowed, I was struck by the main thing in the room. The silence. I could hear my own heart beating it was so quiet. If those cameras could move, I couldn’t hear them. If the world was ending, or if Jack was coming to rescue me, I couldn’t hear it.
I closed my eyes again, listening to my own heartbeat. It was gradually replaced with the tick-tock sound of my therapist’s grandfather clock he had in his rooms. My eyes got heavy, my breathing slowed.
“That’s it, Mia. Letting the sound of the clock regulate your breathing. In. And out. In. And out…”
The plush bedding had been replaced with the stiff leather of the couch. The clichéd therapist’s couch that I had lain back on so many times, spilling my guts to a complete stranger for four thousand dollars an hour. Deep in hypnosis, I’d told him about the first time I’d kissed a girl, on the gym mats at boarding school. The guilt I’d felt, the thrill of her warm lips against mine. The softness of her breasts pressing against my own, our nipples rubbing under thin fabric. The wetness I’d felt. The tingling, all bursting over me as I’d come in my gym shorts, just from lying on top of her, her legs spread open, pushing my mound against hers. Kissing her.
Reliving that thrilling moment, it was replaced with the guilt I’d felt. How dirty it was supposed to be. How I’d used that imagery to pleasure myself to climax every day, going into my adult life, before there was Jack. Before he took her place in my mind.
Oh, Jack!
I wound my hands around the thickness of his cock, pulsing in time to the clock, with my own breathing.
Jack, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been with a man.
Nine
Jack
“Mr. Slade? Cops.”
What Brown lacked in brains, he made up for in eyes and ears. He’d pre-empted the police presence, and was gently reminding me that: not only was finding Mia important, but being able to do so without interruption was equally important.
I looked at Rich; he was frowning at the screen, shortlisting possible routes or stops for a helicopter in the radius we’d figured.
“Go do what you have to, Jack. I’ll stay here, deal with the cops and keep you posted.” He eventually turned to face me, his eyes softening. “What is it you do again? In all the excitement, I forgot to ask,” Rich asked, feigning seriousness.
I tried not to smile. “I head security for Antonio Leone, Mia’s father.” I placed my number down, which was on a plain card in front of him. “Call me when you have anything, Rich. This is a big deal for the family.”
Rich’s face grew serious again. “I know, Jack. My life’s on the line if things go bad here. I know that. I’ll do everything I can, call in every favor and more to get her back, Jack. I need you to know I will.”
I had to turn away. I felt my insides caving under the thought of the worst that could happen, including what was already happening. I picked up one of Rich’s cards from his desk as I left. I didn’t look back at him.
“Brown, let’s go! Talk soon, Rich.”
Brown and I took the stairs we’d both come up, hearing the elevators ping just as we headed down. The cops --the real cops, were suddenly cottoning on to the fact that something was wrong, and that they were too late. I knew how they felt.
We had to double back a couple of times to avoid walking right into them, but we eventually got back to the car without being stopped by the local authorities. I could hear the pounding from the trunk before we even got to the car. I popped it, gave Cartwright his medicine, then ordered Brown into the car.
We cruised out of the underground and nursed the first few blocks. Once we were clear of the cops, I opened it up. I wanted to go straight back to the Leone estate, but I had to drop off the garbage in the trunk, plus Brown was pissing me off already.
I called the doctor’s number, his line at the house. The nurse picked up. Good, at least she stuck around. “I need you to keep Mr. Leone sedated a little longer… until I let you know otherwise. Doctor Cartwright? He’s fine; we’ll be relieving him at the house with another doctor this evening. He’s just taking a break… Yep. Uh-huh. Well, just do as I ask, and you won’t have to join him. Got it? Thank you.” I hung up and shifted up a gear, Brown resumed his grip on the ‘Jesus bar.’
“What do you mean he’s fucking gone!?” White was calling me from the Lakehouse. Seemed Mikey had miraculously disappeared when nobody was watching. Two men were dead. I breathed a sigh. “And the doctor? Right, well fucking don’t do anything until I... what? A fucking what!? White! White!” The line was dead. I couldn’t go much faster, but pushed as hard as I could, inching us closer to the Lakehouse.
“Bad?” asked Brown. Seriously, this guy should’ve been a fucking detective, or a comedian.
“Uh. Yeah, bad!” I snapped, not even bothering to look at him. “Reach under the seats, there’s a sub and an assault rifle in a case, make yourself useful and put ‘em together. Be ready to shoot at anything when we get to the lake, okay?” Brown was on it.
I was going so fast and throwing up so much dust, I figured a slow and quiet approach was useless. As we neared the Lakehouse, we could hear shots and see some men down. A helicopter was taking off from the roof. I could make out some other men in fatigues, firing from the chopper. They were gone before we could get out of the car and even raise our guns. This was because of the high tree line obscuring our sights as the chopper hugged the landscape, right before skimming the lake and slinking over the low rise of hills, opposite. A full moon was rising over the silhouette of the ranges as evening fell.
I felt my phone pulse. Not now, whoever the fuck that is, just not now!
Whoever they were, they were gone. The odd shot popped, then silence. I went to the trunk, popped it and put my pistol in Cartwright’s mouth, his teeth cracking on the steel barrel before he started to gag as I pushed it further.
“Start talking, doc. I’m having a very bad day, and something tells me you haven’t been completely straight with the Leone family so far, hmmm!?” My finger was reflexing to squeeze. I wanted to paint the trunk with his skull, but I needed to know things first.
Cartwright’s eyes bulged, his hands coming up in a pathetic surrender. He was gagging, now sobbing on the barrel, like some penny whore who decided she didn’t like the taste anymore. He’d talk, I knew it. I pulled the gun from his mouth, but pressed it so hard against his head that he winced, crying out for me not to hurt him. He would talk.
I grabbed him up and out of the trunk; at least he wasn’t a pisser. I’d ruined one car already from pissers. Keeping the gun to his temple, I forced him forward, yelling at him to look at what he’d done, while my men littered the grounds. Some dead, most wounded. All of them too ashamed to look me in the eye.
“Look! Look! Cartwright, you fucking look at what you’ve done! Death would be a release for you right now, but you won’t escape that easy. You’ll sit down and you’ll tell me every fucking detail, understand!?” I pushed him by the back of the head with the gun, and into the house.
Grabbing his collar, I dragged him into the kitchen, picked up an overturned chair and pushed him down into it. He was sobbing still, mouth bloodied from the barrel.
Brown rushed in behind me, but I dismissed him with my hand without looking. “Go see to the others, see who’s still with us. And find fucking Rollins. I want a real doctor here, right now!” Brown spun on his heel to leave. “And get me a fucking helicopter! I’ve fucking had it with this driving bullshit. Get a bird up here, NOW!”
“Yes boss!” Brown was glad to be free of me, and I could tell it right away. It was also the second time that day he’d been assigned nanny duty, picking up dead and dying men, as well as putting up with my orders at the same time. He would work out, Brown. I just had to let him be who he was sometimes.
I pulled up another chair, spinning it so I could
lean on the backrest, rocking on it with impatience as I eyeballed the sniveling Doctor Asshole Cartwright. He was trying to think of a story, something that was half-true, but mostly bullshit; so he could live, but also not give up whoever he was protecting. Not completely, anyway.
“Tut-tut, doctor,” I cautioned him, letting him know I could read his thoughts. I waved the gun barrel back in his direction. “This doesn’t really frighten you, does it?” He gulped, then nodded.
“Of… of course it does. Please don’t hurt me anymore, I’ll tell you everything I know. My daughter… please!” He was sobbing again, then it came.
“Ahhh, shit Doc! I had you marked as a real man. Never mind.” The darkness spread from his crotch, down his left leg, a yellow-brown pool dripping from the bottom of his pants.
My phone pulsed again, I glanced at it this time. One message, one incoming call. It was Rich. “Little busy, Rich, what d’you have for me?”
“Nothing so far, just wanted to give you a heads up though, another helicopter was in your area, it went off radar but...”
“Yeah! Rich, we just saw it, thanks for the heads up. I was too late, again. Few dead here. They took Mikey, the Leone’s son. Mia’s twin brother.”
“I know who he is, Jack. What the fuck’s happening?” he mused out loud, his bitterness not even close to my own.
“Look, Rich, I gotta...”
“Sure, Jack.” He hung up without another word. It was great to find Rich alive and well, who knew he would’ve been head of Mia Leone’s security team? Fate, or coincidence? Like seeing him naked, there were a few places I couldn’t let my mind go. I’d just uncovered another one.
Let’s see what’s behind door number two, Jack! Actually, let’s fucking not.
“Okay, Doctor Cartwright,” I refocused, pointing my gun and steel eyes straight at him. “I’m all ears!”
Cartwright was helpful, but not overly useful. He’d been planted in the Leone household to keep Don Leone sedated and sick, not to get him any better. At a given time, a signal would be given, and he was to kill Don Leone, making it look like natural causes.
I pressed him, violently for names, places, and faces. He really didn’t know very much. He became hysterical, sobbing, then laughing, then sobbing again.
“What was it, doc? Money? Power of life or death over an old man, what?”
He slumped in his chair, losing control completely. His whole body shook with a pain, a torment that seemed to come from his very soul. He slowly raised his eyes to meet mine.
“My daughter. They have my daughter,” was all he could manage, before he broke down again, and his cries and moaning were almost inhuman. If he was holding anything back, it didn’t make any difference to him. I think he’d have taken his own life, right there on the spot. And especially if he could’ve just known that his daughter was safe, that she was alive. I didn’t know, either way.
My phone pulsed again. Message. Images. I stood up, almost dropping my gun. “Brown!? BROWN!” I screamed so loud, Cartwright pissed himself all over again.
“Yes, boss!” Brown replied, he was in the kitchen by the time I had screamed for him a second time. I had to get a grip, his look was uneasy, like he was staring at a guy who was coming apart. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and refocused.
“How far away is my helicopter?”
“Fifteen minutes, sir,” Brown said.
“Make it ten,” I said casually, as I studied the image on my phone. Two images! Oh Mia! You are a clever girl!
Without letting Brown know I was taking his advice, I tried dialing her number. It was dead. That was okay. I figured she’d used her phone while she’d had the chance. Now we had something, we had some real intel.
I forwarded the pictures to Rich, so he could get a better idea of the area they were most-likely headed. I figured it looked like they were headed out to the islands, over deep water, but who knows? They could’ve been landing on a boat, a fucking submarine for all I knew. This wasn’t Bernardi. Or rather, it wasn’t just Bernardi. These guys were pros, and they’d caught us napping after we’d fed ourselves sleepy, full of their bullshit buffet. I kicked myself again, for not seeing any of it. It was too late for pity, and now it was time to regroup, to find Mia. Then kick some serious ass.
I got Green and White to take the good doctor into a holding room. I’d have to deal with him later, once I knew what the fuck was going on. Doctor Rollins was in front of me; he looked pale and bloodied himself. I needed him now, though.
“You good, doc?” I asked, sincerely. He nodded. He was made of sterner stuff than Cartwright.
I heard our chopper coming. It would get me back to Mia Bella a lot quicker than a car, but no closer to Mia herself. Not yet, anyway.
Ten
Mia
The little I did sleep was filled with broken, disjointed dreams. Jack had pulled away from me when I’d told him I was a virgin. I was back in therapy, but the therapist had been replaced with my father, who was scolding me for letting Mikey turn out so bad. The girl from the gym mat was lying beside me on the couch. I could hear her breathing hard, in time with my own heartbeat.
There was the tick-tock of the grandfather clock. Her hand slipped down the front of my panties, and I gasped. My father swore in Italian as I sat bolt upright, a cry had escaped my lips. There was nothing, not even an echo off the white walls.
Silence.
I couldn’t tell whether I’d slept an hour or a full night. I was exhausted, my emotions getting the better of me again, as I punched at the pillows, throwing the mink cover across the gleaming white floor. In its defiance, it crumpled, crouching in a shape, seemingly ready to run again. But it lay completely still.
I used the breathing technique from therapy to calm myself, slowing my heart rate and bringing my reason back to center, and in place of my emotions. I picked the mink up from the floor, hugging it for a moment, wishing it was anything from my own life, not from this place.
I had been resisting the use of the bathroom, but I had to go now, I couldn’t hold it out of spite, or to be strong. I was a prisoner now, for how long, I didn’t know. It would be pointless to waste my energy over stupid things like using the bathroom, and staying clean and fresh.
I would try a little reverse psychology, showing no outward emotional disturbance any more. I would bathe, and I would enjoy the facilities provided. I could feel the camera’s eyes watching me. They could look all they wanted, but they wouldn’t get a show from me, not anymore.
If I just treat this like a day spa, relax and stay focused, I might actually get to the bottom of what’s happening.
I selected a plush white robe, and hid myself behind the little bit of privacy there was. I changed into it while I filled the tub. The cotton was so soft and clean, I felt better already. Yes, a pretending everything is normal soak would do me some good. I could see the bath had spa jets too. Good. This could be more interesting than I thought.
I was feeling more than refreshed, and still a little flushed, thanks to some spa jet pressure in just the right place. I had dressed in a hugging gown and shoes that would have suited a gala dinner better, but why not? There was the right jewelry to match, and my favorite signature fragrance at hand. I almost felt at home. I just couldn’t go anywhere.
I heard the electronic pulse of the door, it swished open. Two men entered first, no guns showing today, but their jackets bulged. A third wheeled in a delicate chrome and glass tray with several silver domes over plates. It smelled delicious, whatever it was.
“Mr. Bernardi will be busy for the rest of today, but invites you to enjoy a good breakfast. Bon appetite.”
Before I could say a word, they’d left and the door had closed again. Rest of today? I’ll just stay in here, I guess.
My bravado was waning already. I had bathed, and dressed to the nines, ready to confront Carlo Bernardi, to have it out and get to the bottom of this. But I’d done it in vain, only to find myself as frightened inside
as I had been when I’d heard the door close for the first time the night before.
I lifted some lids. Omelette. French toast. I was famished. It took every effort, but I actually smiled. I put on the plastic Mia Leone smile, laid a large linen napkin across my lap, and enjoyed my breakfast. The coffee was excellent, and there was a Swiss chocolate croissant I favored over the French toast.
I had hardly finished dotting the corners of my mouth with the napkin, when the door swished open again, and the men returned to collect the trolley. Counting the silver before leaving, double-checking that nothing --other than food, was missing from the original trays.
Stretching my legs, I paced the now, dangerously-claustrophobic room a few times, walking off as many Swiss croissants as I could. I felt my anxiety rising, then retreating, and then being replaced with the fire the determined strength I was famous for. Only to feel that disappear again, and be replaced with the girlish, guilty fear of Mia on the therapist’s couch. Dirty Mia. Bad Mia. I put my fingers to my temples, rallying my thoughts.
I knew the power of my thoughts. I’d built a fashion empire from nothing but a vision and some time. I knew I had time on my hands where I was, for now anyway. And so I had to apply a vision that I liked. I replaced the encroaching, curved white walls, with windows, in my mind, looking out over the sun-bleached bay, with the imaginary trees and sunshine making me feel better instantly.
I turned my thoughts to Jack, to reach out to him with my mind, and see him coming to me. Coming, not just to rescue me, but to exact a little Leone style justice before taking me back home.
I promised myself, and Jack, in my mind, that I would come clean with him. I wanted him, and I think he wanted me too. I’d tell him point-blank that I’d never been with a man. And, that I hoped that him, being my first, would give it more appeal. Like a business transaction?