Sinister

by Sherell Cummings

  They walked us over to the panel van where we were stopped abruptly near the open back. The large white truck doors were open and inside I saw a few crates already stacked to one of the side walls, as another Brazilian hopped down off the bed. He didn’t blink at the sight of two strangers, and he wasn’t who I was looking for either. As he walked away and my English speaking friend came into view, his signature smirk graced his lips as he eyed me up and down knowingly. “Nathaniel.”

  “I see were on first name basis, but you have me at a disadvantage.”

  He huffed a small chuckle pulling a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips. “I am no one important compared to you. The big man's son all the way out here.” His eyes narrowed curiously as he lit it up, taking a huge drag and letting out a puff of smoke. “Now why is that? Your father didn’t seem to know about it, since he seemed to be expecting you at a dinner party tomorrow night. Wants us to deliver you.”

  My face remained indifferent as I kept my gaze on him, refusing to acknowledge his question. I didn’t care about him or this fucking conversation and I sure as shit didn’t care to answer any of his questions. The sooner they had Costas and me in that truck, the sooner Leo and the others could move in and find Michael. Costas and I were only a distraction. “Are we going to get a move on soon or is this the get-to-know-each other part of this abduction?” I questioned sarcastically.

  He pointed his finger at me shaking it as he spoke arrogantly. “You know you are more like your father than you care to admit.”

  “Yeah, and what do you know about it?” Something about the way he spoke those words left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea who this guy was but something in my head told me differently. Had we met before?

  Tossing the cigarette on the floor and stepping on it with his boot, he lifted his hands in defence and backed away grinning self-confidently. “Nothing. Have a nice trip—Load them up,” he ordered turning and walking away.

  We were shoved in the back of the van but didn’t leave until the rest of the shipment was loaded and ready to go. By the time the van doors closed, darkening what little space Costas and I shared, which wasn’t much since most of those crates took up almost the entire truck. “Hell of a way to travel,” said Costas as he made himself comfortable on the floor using the light on his phone to light up his amused face.

  I reached for my phone in the breast pocket of my jacket, navigating to Leo’s number. This van wasn’t heading to the drop off point first, which would have made this a hell of a lot easier if it was. He answered immediately. “How many in the truck?” I asked.

  “Two.” He was already moving, at the same time I felt the engine start up. “Are you sure you want to go through with that? I can easily have you followed and get you two out?”

  “No.” The van jerked, tyres crunching down as it started moving. “I want my father to think he’s won and to do that, I have to let them take me to him. You guys move in and find Michael and kill the rest, but make sure you secure that phone from the English speaking guy. Wouldn't want my father to know they're dead before we get there.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nathan

  “Ah fuck,” I cursed while pushing myself to sit with my back against a brick wall. Pressing my hand against the gaping hole in my left shoulder I winced at the searing pain that shot through my arm as my hand coated with blood. This wasn’t my first time being shot and it wasn’t any better than the last either. Luckily the bullet had gone straight through and this wouldn’t leave any permanent damage to my arm. The guy was a shit shot, and lucky for him Izzy was standing in front of him or else I'd have pumped him full of bullets.

  The pain in the back of my head from the fall was enough to impair my eyesight for a few minutes, causing me to blink trying to catch a grip on the spinning wall in front of me. My clouded mind was suddenly pulled to the buzzing phone against my leg. I preyed it wasn’t my brother because I couldn’t explain losing Izabella to her ex-boyfriend right now.

  Reaching down I slid my bloody hand into my pocket and pulled the phone out to a lit-up screen with my fathers name. Great, this was fucking worse. “Hello,” I answered blowing out a pained breath while trying to straighten my body into a comfortable position.

  “I'm assuming you found your brother and his bitch?” Yep never a, hello or a hey son. Always straight to the point.

  “Yeah, but I can’t talk right now—”

  “I need you to be at dinner tomorrow night. I’m throwing a party and you need to be present,” he said cutting me off without a care.

  I grunted while standing, pressing my back against the wall. “Sounds—fun. Listen I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it considering I just got shot—”

  “Are you dead or dying?” he said callously.

  “No,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “Then you can make it to dinner tomorrow night at eight.”

  “What’s so important about a fucking dinner? We have dinner all the time and it never ends well, so what’s going to be so different about this one? Are we finally going to act like a loving fucking family and talk without one of us being hit?” I said with anger flooding my veins. I didn’t know what I expected, but what kind of father doesn’t give a shit that his own son was just shot? And I was pretty sure the reaction wouldn’t be any different if I was dead or dying.

  “What’s important about this one, is the fact that we have a few special guests,” he said sounding amused.

  “And let me guess. What makes them so special is the fact that they're worth a lot of money that you want.”

  “No,” his voice grew sinister. “What makes one in particular special, is that she’s special to you.” I was confused and had no clue who he was referring to, but then it dawned on me. Pulling the phone from my ear I put it on speaker as looking down at the screen, only to notice I had no missed calls or messages. Checking my call log I saw the last call I received from Jovana was at least two days ago. No, this couldn’t be, she was hiding. How could he know?

  Panic and anger boiled to the surface as I clutched the phone hard enough to crack the screen, before I took it off speaker and brought it to my ear. “Who are you talking about?”

  “I think we both know. Feisty little redhead, I knew she was your type the moment I saw her picture. I wasn’t sure if you’d choose pussy over me though.”

  “What have you done to her?” I growled into the speaker.

  “Nothing—yet. And that all depends on your next move.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Now he’s compliant—”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Watch it, son because you don’t want this to end sooner than it has to. Lucky for you I just got word that your brother should be here by tomorrow afternoon seeing as his fucking plan didn’t quite work out. My men have him now and will bring him to me and you’re lucky I’m not sending them to get you as well. So, the choice is yours, and bring his bitch with you. Wouldn't be much of a party without her.”

  I lifted my bad arm unconsciously to relieve the pressure in my shoulder only to curse at the pain as more blood soaked through my jacket. I just wanted this fucking conversation to end. “Fine,” I yelled into the speaker before hanging up and hitting the phone against my head repeatedly. I didn’t need any more patronizing or any more of his fucking mouth doing that shit it always did, and I meant talking. He always did this, he found a weakness and used it to add extra holes to our already mangled bodies. It was what he did to my brother and first girlfriend and now he was doing it to me by taking Jovana, and as much as I wanted to get to her now I made a promise to my brother that I couldn’t go back on.

  I unclenched the phone from my fingers and looked down at the time. I’d been here for about twenty minutes since being shot which didn’t give me much time. They couldn’t have made it very far because although this street was empty, the others were pretty backed up because of a street p
arty that started a few minutes ago.

  Turning on the GPS app Nathaniel had installed last night, I pushed off the wall watching the little green dot that was Izabella’s phone, which was less than a block from here. When I got to the top of the street I looked left then right while standing on the pavement, and through the crowds I could see a line of tail lights that were barely moving an inch every few seconds. It was almost impossible to get off this stretch by car and I was lucky he wasn’t smart enough to get away by foot. Maybe it was because he thought I was dead.

  People swiped past me hitting my arm, some spinning and gaping as they noticed the blood dripping down my fingers onto the pavement. I had no time and I could care less what anyone saw. I needed to get to Izabella before he realized running was a better option.

  I turned right hustling through the people, bobbing and weaving from left to right, pain coursing through my arm with every person I hit on the way. I hated pain but could tolerate it longer than I needed to and usually I could do it for days. This bullet wound was nothing but a scratch and good motivator for payback.

  About six cars away I could see the idling black Chevy up ahead. With my gun in my good hand I took to the passenger side crouching down as step by step I got closer to the mark. Five cars away, the ones in front of me moved another inch when I made it to the forth. People danced in the street dressed in heavily beaded costumes to a drum beat that bounced off every nearby building. I’d been to Brazil once before, and it was around the same time of year. Didn’t remember much about it because I was mostly drunk and fucking heavily-beaded costume-cladded women to give a shit.

  As I approached the back of the car with caution, I couldn’t see the inside because of the heavily tinted windows, but I knew I couldn’t stall. I had to get Izabella out and get on a plane before something happened that I couldn’t control.

  Slipping between the rear and the front of the car behind whose passengers could care less about the man bleeding holding a gun because they were too busy eyeing the street dancers, I crouched onto the other side with both hands tightening around my gun. I didn’t want to give him time to make a move when he saw me approaching, so as quickly as I could I was at the drivers window, and with one swift hard jab the bud of the gun connected and shattered the window sending glass everywhere.

  I heard Izabella scream when the tip of my gun connected with his temple halting his actions. I smirked bending to see inside the car and with one quick glance at Izabella whose eyes were popping from her head, I turned to Christopher and cocked the gun. “Now, the bullet you put in me did some damage, but surprise—I’m not dead. Your aim is crap, you should really work on that. But this bullet—” I tapped the gun against his head while he kept facing forward with a scowl on his face. “Will definitely kill you.” I glance at Izabella. “Get out of the car, Izabella.” She didn’t question and she tentatively opened the door and got out, walking around the car and placing herself behind me. “Next time we cross paths— remember I owe you a bullet.” I stood straight, turned and grabbed Izabella’s arm as we moved through the crowd in the other direction. Few people who had seen the exchange stared at us with curiosity when we passed but I ignored, slipping the gun in my waistband before we crossed the street. “You know you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “Na, the guy's aim is shit.”

  “I can see that.” Swiftly we got through the crowds, looking back every so often to make sure we weren’t being followed. He had the balls to do it and I wouldn’t underestimate him like I did before. “Where are we going?” she puffed out as we turned down a crowded corner heading out of the heart of Rio. My hotel was a few blocks down and so was the rental I drove. It would be a lot easer to get to the airport from there seeing as the roads would be a lot clear.

  “The airport.”

  “What—wait why?”

  “Because we have to get back to Cuba.” She tugged on her arm and I released not wanting to break it. Standing in place, I paused turning to meet her glare. “What?”

  “Why are we going back there?”

  “Because my father requested us for dinner.”

  She snorted a laugh folding her arms over her chest. “What and were supposed to just drop everything to accommodate your psychotic father?” Her arms flew out everywhere as she spoke. I never understood why women liked to talk with their hands. I mean I understood words, maybe they thought hand signals made it better. It didn’t. “I can’t leave I have to wait for Nathaniel to get back. You remember, your brother who’s out probably being shot at right now?” Her arms dropped and she blew out a breath looking suddenly sick.

  “Are you okay?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes,” she said exasperated. “It’s just that being kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend and finding out all these crazy things, kinda made me forget why I was here.” She pointed at me. “And I hated you about an hour ago.”

  I smirked. “And now you love me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, now I tolerate you because you got me away from Christopher. Thanks for that by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. Now if you don’t want him to catch you, I suggest we keep going. And by the way, Nathaniel’s not here anymore.” I turned and kept walking.

  She grabbed my arm to stop me, but I didn’t stop which forced her to keep walking. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  “Our father has him. Actually, he let our father take him and now we have to go there.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean he let him? That wasn’t apart of the plan.”

  “Yeah well the plan changed and now we have to get back.” I was tired of explanations because the longer we were here, the longer it took to get there. I knew she didn’t understand the severity of the situation, but she will the sooner we got there. “Listen—” I stopped, facing her with a weary expression. “We can talk when we get to the plane, but right now we have to get away from here and I could fucking use a drink to ease the pain in my shoulder from this gaping hole that’s currently bleeding out.” We both glanced at my arm that was beginning to throb.

  Her eyes saddened. “Fuck, I forgot about your arm.”

  “Yeah well I can’t.”

  We continued walking briskly in silence, making it to my hotel within minutes and finding my car before she said, “What do you think your father's going to do to him?” She was holding the passenger side door open as I glanced at her over the car from the other side.

  I sighed wrenching the door open before my face hardened with anger. “Knowing our father—someone is about to die.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Izabella

  We were boarding a private jet at six in the morning after a rain storm in Cuba had all flights delayed until further notice. I’d never been on a private jet before, or maybe I had and wasn’t conscious to remember. I couldn’t think of any other way to traffic an unconscious woman from Phoenix to Columbia and then from San Diego to Cuba without one of these bad boys. Without a moment to spearspeare, I was strapped into one of the soft leather chairs while Nathan spoke to the pilot up front.

  Seems his father spared no expense to make sure we made it to that dinner table. At the thought of being in that room again and sharing a meal with that man made my skin crawl, but as it would seem none of us had a choice, not even Nathaniel. What happened to the plan? Nathaniel was supposed to come back for me, we would have left Brazil together and gone onto the next stage of planning, but something went wrong, or something went right. Nathan had said he let his father catch him, so what was the new plan, and why wasn't I apart of it?

  Gazing out the window, I never in a million years thought I’d be here with Nathan, but I guess I didn’t have much of a choice. I was the stupid one to believe Christopher was the same guy I broke up with six years ago. He had done so much, claiming that it was all for me, but how could it? How could he try to justify killing my mother? She may not have been a dream com
e true as a parent, but she was my mother, and he killed her. I couldn’t look the other way and accept what he did as a good thing.

  When did he turn into a monster? Maybe he’d always been and I was too blind to see it. Praxton saw it, but then again Praxton was lying to me too. How could he lie about something that had hurt me so badly? That morning after I found them Praxton followed me and replayed the story so well, it had to be true. The only reason I remained friends with Praxton was because he made me believe Chris was the instigator and he had been used. Prax was my only friend and I had known him longer than I’d know Chris. He was a part of my daily life and I weighed the pros and cons, and somehow he was a pro and Chris became the con.

  Nathan finally took his seat on the chair facing me as the pilot instructed us of take-off. A blonde haired woman dressed in an all black uniform offered us drinks, which I declined with wanting to keep a clear head, while Nathan had two and eagerly asked for a third.

  He had been tense throughout take off, rolling his shoulder and wincing every time he did while staring out the window. The moment the plane hit 10,000 feet, I was unstrapping my seat belt and walking Nathan into the private bedroom to take care of his wound. As we entered the bedroom, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful blue and yellow décor.

  “You taking me to bed, sweetheart?” he smirked charmingly taking another sip before placing the glass on a nearby side table. I pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Much like Nathaniel, Nathan was charming but in his own crude kind of way. He seemed almost playful most of the time, but still I knew how dangerous he was.

  Rolling my eyes I started moving around the room searching through drawers for a first aid kit. “In your dreams,” I said dryly. “You may look like my man, but you’re nothing like him.” Facing him with may hands on my hips I asked, “First aid kit?”