Wild Keepers

by Dee Bridgnorth

  He had sent his minion to extract information from the bookseller, after it seemed that Julia, the brothel keeper, wasn’t getting results. Even he had thought Sienna would have left the city by now. He expected that she might have gone to the bookseller, even stayed for a few days, but not this long. She obviously had no idea how to disappear properly. Once a sewer rat always a sewer rat, he thought to himself.

  He walked over to the drinks cabinet, swiftly checking the time on the antique clock on the mantelpiece. Barely past twelve noon. He didn’t usually drink this early, but today was special. He poured the top shelf brandy carefully, swirling it around in his crystal tumbler, then tossed it back. The kick hit him immediately, warming his blood.

  And so, she was back. Just like that. His minion had been surprised when she had run from the back of the store, begging him not to hurt the old bookseller. The man had knocked him out for good measure, then taken Sienna away, unprotesting.

  Jack smiled. She thought that she had saved the bookseller, but she was wrong. He would exact his revenge against him. Maybe not today, or even next week, but eventually. And when the old man least expected it. It was always a lot more fun that way, seeing their astonishment. Watching them think they had gotten away with it.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. No one ever got the better of him. No one. Especially people who harboured his pets.

  His eyes rested on the gilt framed photograph above the drinks cabinet. A family portrait. His dear wife, Didi, and their two dear children, Andre and Simone. A pigeon pair. Didi had produced his son and his daughter dutifully, as was expected, then sought solace elsewhere. She came back for special events—especially political fundraisers—but otherwise, she lived her own life. He had heard that she was attending the haute couture fashion parades in Paris this week.

  He rolled his eyes briefly. She liked to spend his money. He would receive the bills from Chanel and Dior and God knows who else and pay them, as was expected. Didi rarely kicked up a fuss, except when he questioned her spending. Then she was a hell cat, spitting venom.

  His son and daughter were tucked away in their respective boarding schools. Andre in the military academy that he had attended, and his father before him. Simone attended an elite girls’ school across the country. He rarely saw them. Christmases and family vacations were about the extent of it. They got good grades and didn’t cause him any trouble, as was expected.

  His eyes hovered on the family portrait a second longer, then slid away. He promptly forgot all about them.

  Jack poured himself another brandy, thinking. What was he going to do with Sienna? She had to be punished, of course. She couldn’t be allowed to think that she could do this without consequences. She had only tried to escape once before, not long after she came here, and he had been swift in his retribution. He smiled, thinking of the blubbering mess she had been when released from her month-long solitary confinement, and how sorry she had been.

  She had never tried to escape again, so he had been taken by surprise when she had launched herself into the sea that night on the boat. But then, he had thought over what had happened that night, and realised. She had obviously heard her friend Lola screaming and had taken fright. It sometimes happened. Even the best trained pets bolted occasionally. He didn’t think she had planned it. But had she heard what they had been talking about, before Lola had to be taken away?

  He placed the empty glass carefully on the cabinet. It was time to see her. It had been over an hour since she had been returned. Long enough for her to shower, or bathe, and get her bearings. He stretched restlessly, picturing her in the peach silk dress he had bought her. She knew it was his favourite and would probably put it on to appease him. He could see her now, her silky brown hair brushing against it, her large brown eyes glittering. Sienna was a stunning woman.

  He stirred again. He had to stop thinking of her like that, but it was hard. Sometimes he yearned to pull her into his arms and have his way with her, but her words always haunted him, and he would stop himself. Her visions were more important than his needs, and besides, he had other women to satisfy him that way. Plenty of other women.

  Jack frowned. Lately, there had been so many women he could barely remember them. He was democratic in his choices. He frequented high class escort services, and had two mistresses besides, who both thought they were his one and only. One was a famous movie star, and the other was a well-known lawyer. Both were beautiful women in entirely different ways, but they were alike in their nagging. And it was always the same nag: when was he going to leave his wife and marry them?

  His frown deepened. Why did it always come to that? He was never going to leave Didi, and he had never pretended that he was going to. Both Veronique and Emma knew the score. They had happily welcomed him into their beds and their lives knowing he had a wife and children. A family.

  It wasn’t that he loved Didi. It was just that he knew that his chances of making it to president were severely diminished if he was a divorced man, onto his second wife. It was just the way the world worked. And Jack Fitzpatrick’s political ambitions overrode everything else. It was his destiny, after all. A legacy that he had been given, and that he intended to fulfil.

  Which was where Sienna came into it. She was helping him get there. He consulted her before every big fundraiser or political rally, to see what was going to happen. If he didn’t like what she saw, he would make sure to change it.

  He was controlling his future, slowly but surely. His own pet psychic was helping him do it. So much so that he had started relying on her more and more. For smaller decisions that normally he wouldn’t think twice about.

  Jack scratched his head, thinking about it. Was he getting too reliant upon her?

  He took a deep breath. She had to realise that he was still the one in control. If she suspected for even an instant how much he had started to depend upon her, the delicate balance of power would start to shift. And he couldn’t afford to let Sienna have any power over him.

  He slowly exhaled. He had to let that be known. He reached for the door handle and walked out. It was show time.

  ***

  He didn’t see her at first. And then he realised that she was standing by the window, looking out at the garden. Just as he had been doing not long ago.

  He frowned slightly. She obviously hadn’t changed, and she was wearing a faded pair of blue jeans and an old sweater. Not exactly power dressing. It seemed that she had already forgotten his rules about what she was required to wear. He would need to remind her. Just one of many things, to get her back into line.

  She turned away from the window, just a little, but she didn’t look at him. Still, he knew that she was aware that he had entered the room.

  “Sienna.” He made sure his voice was low and unthreatening. “My dear. Where have you been?”

  She turned around fully now, and faced him. He caught his breath slightly. Even in the faded jeans and tatty sweater she still looked radiant. Her long, silky brown hair fell straight down her back, and her face was scrubbed free of makeup. She raised her velvet brown eyes to him, steadily.

  “As if you don’t know, Jack.” Her voice was neutral.

  He approached slowly, as if circling a skittish animal, who might take flight at any moment. When he was almost upon her, he stopped, smiling gently.

  “The bookseller won’t be harmed,” he said slowly. “You have my word.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Oh, Sienna.” He smiled again, his eyes resting upon her. “You look tired, my dear. It’s not so much fun being out in the wide world as you thought, was it?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. Things are so much…quieter here. The streets were busier than I remembered.”

  He nodded. “The city is a madhouse now. And you have become used to the country, I am sure. It’s amazing how quickly people assimilate to their surroundings.” His smile deepened with satisfaction. “Now that you have gott
en it out of your system, you can relax back at home.”

  She smiled. “Of course. I am a bit weary. Could I be excused from duties for today, at least, and rest?”

  Jack laughed, tossing his head back. “Maybe for a few hours, Sienna. But you have been gone for over two weeks now, and there is much that I need to know.”

  Her smile faltered slightly. “Just to gain my strength a little bit, that’s all.”

  He reached out, placing a hand upon her arm. “Naturally.” His eyes scoured over her. “You have been living rough, by the looks of it. Did you find those jeans and sweater in a thrift shop bin?”

  Sienna stared over his shoulder, her eyes hard. “I checked, of course, but it seems Vera Wang and Ralph Lauren haven’t opened boutiques on Mission Street just yet, Jack.”

  He gazed at her, his eyes hardening. Was she making fun of him?

  “No, I wouldn’t think so,” he said sharply. “But you are back home now and are required to look the part.”

  He turned around, abruptly, and started walking towards the door. When he was almost there, he stopped. He gazed back at her, a smile playing around his lips.

  “A bath, to start with,” he said. “You smell like a sewer. And put on the peach Marc Jacobs dress. I will send for you in two hours, and you need to be presentable.” He paused. “Understated makeup, of course. I know that you came from a whorehouse, but I don’t need you to look the part today.”

  Sienna reddened slightly, staring at him. She didn’t speak.

  His gaze arrested on a mirror near the door. For a moment, he was distracted, staring at himself in the glass. Not bad, he thought smugly. Not bad at all. He was in his forties, now, but he didn’t look a day over thirty-five. The media were always commenting on his youthful good looks. It’s in the genes, he thought. All the men in his family were ruggedly handsome and aged well.

  His breath caught, for an instant. Was that a grey hair, near his right temple? He frowned, walking over to the mirror, examining it. With one swift movement he yanked it out, letting it flutter to the ground.

  “Two hours,” he barked, yanking open the door. “And I don’t want to be kept waiting.”

  He walked briskly out, slamming the door behind him. The discovery of the grey hair had soured his good mood. And Sienna wasn’t as humble as he would have liked. Anger swept through him as he strode down the hallway. It was insolent, appearing before him in those revolting, smelly clothes. She would have to pay for that.

  His eyes narrowed. It seemed that Sienna was racking up a whole list of offences that she must pay dues for. After the fortune telling this afternoon, it might just be time to collect.

  ***

  Sienna leaned back in the bath tub, sighing. She stared around, taking in the marble vanity and large, gold edged mirror. The bath tub was marble veined, too, and looked out over the garden. She watched the gardeners carefully lowering a large tree into a hole, shouting at each other as it swayed precariously from side to side. Obviously, Jack had given specific instructions as to how these trees were to be positioned.

  She reached out slowly and grabbed a handful of bubbles, blowing them into the air. They dispersed rapidly, as if they had never existed. Just like me, she thought despondently. I am disappearing entirely.

  She bit her lip, thinking about the meeting with him. She knew better. She knew that she should have showered immediately and changed, knowing that he would come to see her soon. He was fastidious, and nothing angered him more than sloppiness or dirt. But she had been so weary and miserable at being back here that she hadn’t bothered.

  She would choose those old jeans and sweater a million times over the designer clothes jammed to overflowing in the large walk-in wardrobe. Her wardrobe. But not hers, of course. They were merely costumes that she was required to wear to play the part he desired.

  It was opulence beyond imagination here, but it was a cage. A gilded cage.

  At least she had bought herself two hours, she thought glumly, ducking her head underneath the water. She emerged spluttering, wiping bubbles from her face. Then she carefully got out, grabbing a towel and drying herself vigorously.

  At least she had saved Shelby. It wasn’t for nothing that she was back here. She thought again of the henchman, threatening the old bookseller in the store. Shelby had been pressed against the store counter, and in his confusion had knocked a glass off it and had been surrounded by broken shards. Sienna’s heart had plummeted, and she knew that it was all over.

  Yes, she could have run out the back door of the store and kept running. She might have escaped the henchman. But how could she have done that? The man would have hurt Shelby, badly. He probably would have killed him. And then she would have to live with the fact that she had caused the old man’s death.

  As it was, the henchman had hit him on the forehead, causing him to fall to the floor. And then dragged her away before she could do anything to help him. It seemed that no matter what she did, she always hurt someone she loved.

  She knew in that moment that there was no point. Jack Fitzpatrick would find her, regardless. He would never stop searching for her, and he would harm anyone who stood in his way. He was relentless. It had been a stupid, pointless impulse to try to escape him.

  Men like him always won. It was as simple as that.

  Sienna stared at the Marc Jacobs dress, hanging on the back of the bathroom door. He had requested that she wear it specifically, and she needed to get him onside. It didn’t make sense to anger him anymore than she already had. This was her life, probably forever, and she needed to accept that. Part of that was doing what he wanted and not talking back.

  She took the dress off the hanger, rubbing the material between her fingers. It was beautiful, of course. Pure silk and the palest peach. She took a deep breath, and slid the dress over her head, pulling it down. Then she turned and stared at herself in the mirror.

  A pale woman gazed back at her. The dress clung to her curves as if it had been made especially for her. She would apply her makeup carefully—subtle pastel shades with matching peach lip gloss. Then she would take out the hair straightener and spend the next half hour methodically doing her hair, until not a single strand was out of place.

  Sienna took another deep breath. Yes, that was what she was going to do. But she didn’t move. She kept staring at herself in the mirror. And then, she slowly walked towards it, until she was standing with her nose pressed against the glass.

  At this distance, everything was blurred. Her features melted in her vision, and she could see nothing.

  There was calm here. A world without fear. A single tear fell down her cheek, hitting the basin without a sound.

  ***

  Zach raised the binoculars to his eyes, his vision sweeping over the grounds.

  He could see a team of gardeners working laboriously, placing several large trees into holes along the lawn edge. They had been working all afternoon, but they didn’t stop. They had obviously been told that they had to complete the job before sundown. He could see them rushing back and forth, shouting to each other.

  He sighed, lowering the binoculars slightly. There hadn’t been any movement in the house besides the gardeners. He had yet to spy Jack Fitzpatrick, or Sienna. He had no idea if she was being held here, or if the great politician had taken her somewhere else.

  He strangled down his frustration. He had been observing the house for two hours now. As soon as he had left Shelby, making sure that the old man was okay, he had done a quick search of Jack Fitzpatrick. His official residence was listed as here—a spectacular mansion on the outskirts of the city. The entire property was huge, set on over at least twenty hectares. And it was protected like the White House. He could see security men crawling all over it, as well as sophisticated surveillance cameras and infra-red trip wiring.

  There was no way on earth he would be able to breach it. They would know instantly.

  He took a deep breath, raising the binoculars again. And then, he sa
w her. At a window, gazing down at the grounds below. He strangled a sound, grasping the binoculars tighter.

  She looked different, somehow. Was she wearing a dress? He directed the binoculars towards her face. It was impassive; not a flicker of emotion. After two minutes, she dropped the curtain, and then she was gone.

  He swore softly underneath his breath. At least he knew that she was here. That was something. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t think of a way to get into the mansion without being discovered. If he played his hand now, it would all come crashing down like a house of cards. And he would be no help to her whatsoever.

  Zach dropped the binoculars, trying to think. His impulse was to rush in there and save her. Show her that he was on her side, and that despite her distrust of him, he was here for her. But there was no way on earth that he could do it safely.

  There was movement at the front door. He raised the binoculars quickly, just in time to see a man in a well cut grey suit walk out the door. A team of burly minders, all dressed in black suits, fanned out around him as if he was walking into the Pentagon rather than down his own driveway.

  Jack Fitzpatrick. He recognised him instantly. He had seen him in newspapers and magazines for as long as he could remember. Always smiling and charming, usually waving to a crowd. If only they knew, thought Zach darkly. If only they knew that this beloved politician led a secret double life, frequenting brothels and keeping women against their will. And that was probably the tip of the iceberg.

  The man walked towards a sleek black car. One of his minders rushed forward, opening the car door for him. Jack Fitzpatrick stepped in, and then he was whisked away, through the large gates. The minders followed in a car behind. They slowly snaked down the long driveway and disappeared completely from view.

  Zach lowered the binoculars again. He had to think of a way in there. But how?

  He tried to remember everything he knew about Jack Fitzpatrick. Obscenely wealthy and powerful, of course. And he most definitely had a wife and family; he had seen photos of them in magazines, all sitting around smiling, always looking like a still from an old Leave it to Beaver episode. The perfect family. At least on the outside.