Forget About Me

by Lina Langley

  He grabbed his clothes from the bottom of the bed. As he was putting them on, he looked at the jacket Sean had left hanging on the lounge chair by the wardrobe.

  He couldn’t have gone that far.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  He got dressed as quickly as he could. He did a poor job of it. He didn’t zip up his pants, he didn’t even fucking put his shirt on properly. He began to pace around the room, looking for any clues that Sean might have left behind.

  If he had left, Knight had to believe he would have taken his jacket. He kept looking around.

  He went close to the nightstand and took a sharp breath in when he realized that he didn’t have his phone. It was off, but it was right there, on the nightstand, and Knight could feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

  He knew he needed to keep calm, but it was fucking difficult. He shook his head, then grabbed the phone and turned it on, wondering if it was going to have any clues.

  The phone came to life almost instantly. It buzzed in my hand. He took a deep breath as he thought about where Sean could have gone. Maybe he’d freaked him out. He had told Sean he wanted to be together for good, and while he had relentlessly pursued him, maybe Sean just wasn’t ready for that.

  He looked down at the phone. It taunted him with a pin number. He took another deep breath. He had known all of Sean’s passwords, but that had been when Sean was a kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore and he deserved his privacy. Knight had never thought--he would have never even considered--asking him for his phone’s pin number.

  He didn’t want to call on IT yet. Once he did, a protocol would go into place, and things were likely to get a lot worse before they got better. It wasn’t what he wanted, but what he wanted didn’t matter.

  He needed to find Sean.

  He needed to make sure that he was okay.

  He threw his phone on the bed and began to pace around the room, biting down on his lower lip so hard he broke the skin. He tasted coppery blood on his tongue as he took his phone out of his pocket and began to look for Cooper’s contact card.

  His phone buzzed in his hand. It was Don.

  “Did you hear from him?” He asked as soon as he answered the call.

  “Roch,” he said. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  Knight rubbed the bridge of his nose. “As soon as I know what’s going on,” he said. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “He called me,” Don said.

  Knight licked his lips, which were dry, the taste of blood lingering.

  “He called me and he--okay,” Don said. “It was really weird.”

  “Did he tell you where he was?”

  “He said he was with his boyfriend,” Don replied. “But he sounded scared, and--”

  “Where did he call you from?”

  “I don’t know,” Don said. “It was a blocked number. I normally wouldn’t answer, but I was worried it was him. And it was. I asked him which boyfriend and he said, don’t pretend you don’t know. But only after a little while.”

  “I’m going to need your phone.”

  “What?”

  Knight pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I need to find him,” he said. “And it seems like it’s personal.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You said he called you under duress?”

  Don was quiet for a second. “I mean,” he said. “I think so. I don’t know. He sounded upset.”

  Knight sat down at the edge of the bed.

  Sean was alive. That was good. That was better than good.

  But it wasn’t everything. If what Don was saying was true--and he had no reason to believe that his little brother was lying--then Sean had made a call under duress.

  And whoever had him didn’t want to let him go.

  Because he wouldn’t have been making excuses about who he was with if he wanted to be there.

  Knight looked at his hand. He had grabbed the fabric of his pants and was bunching it up in his fist, which he hadn’t even noticed.

  The idea of Sean with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach, but another boyfriend would have been so much better than whatever the fuck was actually happening.

  “Roch? Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And I’m going to need your help.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sean waited a few seconds before he got out of the car. Logan was walking around it after he had given Sean permission to call Don. He had been breathing down Sean’s neck and Sean hadn’t been able to really tell him anything.

  Logan had been glaring at him, his face so close to Sean’s that Sean was able to see the individual hairs in his stubble. The man was usually clean-shaven. In Sean’s memory, he was always well-put together.

  But Sean’s memories of Logan had faded. He was no longer part of his life, and when Logan had gotten back to his dad’s place, all that he’d cared about was Rocky Knight.

  He had assumed that Logan had forgotten him too.

  He had assumed that everyone had forgotten him.

  Everyone but Rocky Knight.

  But now he knew that wasn’t the truth. He could never be forgotten. He had always known that his life might be in danger. He knew the point of the secret service surrounding him the majority of his life. He just didn’t think that the person he would fall victim to would be an ex-boyfriend.

  They were in Logan’s estate somewhere up north. Sean didn’t recognize it--most of his time spent with Logan, he hadn’t been at all sober. He could remember some of it, the wild nights they’d spent together, waking up in the morning with a throbbing headache, sneaking into each other’s dorms at schools.

  He could even remember Knight barging into the room they had both been in when they were just kissing, then sighing and leaving the bedroom. When Sean had asked about that later, Knight had just said he had stopped being able to hear him and he had gotten worried.

  Sean hadn’t felt bad then. He did now.

  He felt bad for ever accidentally worrying Rocky Knight. Now he was worried himself and he had no idea how he was going to get out of this.

  Just looking out the window, he could tell that Logan had brought him to a very isolated house. That was the power of money. Privacy was great, most of the time, but right then, Sean knew it could only spell disaster for him.

  He edged closed to the chauffeur, who hadn’t spoken a word. Sean noticed that he wasn’t wearing a uniform, which was strange. “Hey,” he said. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  The man looked at him. He had a long face and a button-nose, dark eyes and long, curled eyelashes. He shook his head slightly, then began to turn his body away from Sean.

  Sean put his hand on his shoulder. “Can you help me?”

  The man waved his hand in front of his face. “No English.”

  “Right,” Sean said. “¿Hablas español?”

  The man stared at him.

  “Est ce qu vous parlez français?”

  The man continued to stare at him.

  Sean closed his eyes, trying to speak as clearly as he could. “Nǐ huì shuō pǔtōnghuà ma?”

  The man shook his head. That was the best Sean could do. He had never been a particularly good student, and part of him was glad the man hadn’t answered him back in Mandarin, because his Mandarin was terrible and his pronunciation sucked. Maybe the man just hadn’t understood him because he had said that so poorly.

  “Please,” Sean said, going back to the one language he had a good handle on. “Please, you have to help me.”

  The man looked him up and down, then turned around. Sean swallowed. He could see the reflection of the driver’s face on the windshield and his expression had barely changed.

  His expression was completely stoic. He was completely stoic and Sean wanted to grab him and shake him. He wanted to scream at him, tell him who he was, ask him why he wouldn’t just put the car in gear and drive him back into the arms of Rocky Knight.

  Logan o
pened the back passenger door and grinned at him. “That’s cute,” he said. “You’re cute.”

  Sean took a deep breath. “What?”

  “You,” he said. “Are you making friends?”

  “Something like that,” Sean replied.

  “Come on,” he said. “Get out. I have a whole thing planned for you.”

  Sean looked him up and down. If Logan had been by himself, he might have been able to take him, but Logan wasn’t by himself. He was with this chauffeur who was clearly on Logan’s side.

  Sean’s feet were still bound and he remained dazzled by everything that had happened.

  “I just wanted to make sure the staff wasn’t around,” he said. “Someone in your position knows how important privacy is.”

  Sean blinked a few times. “Sure,” he said.

  “Oh, Seany,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I do wish you’d cheer up. It’s not so bad, is it?”

  Sean tried his best for a smile, but his cheeks were heavy and he was pretty sure the expression on his face was more a grimace than anything else.

  “Come out here,” Logan said.

  Sean looked down at his feet. “How?” he asked.

  “Just hop all the way to the side and I’ll cut you free,” Logan said.

  Sean picked up his head. For the first time since he had gotten there he took a close look at Logan. He was wearing jeans, a white shirt, a dark gray jacket, and his hands were behind his body. Sean wasn't sure, but he thought that Logan might actually have a knife. How dark the night was wasn’t helping.

  He didn't want to risk it and he was going to do what he was told. Comply, he thought. Comply until you get a chance to escape.

  He was going to wait until Logan was distracted, and then he would run outside and he would grab the car, which would hopefully be empty by then. He couldn’t be sure of course, but he thought it might actually work. Logan was easily distracted. He could remember that at least. He wished he could remember more, but every memory that he had of Logan was shrouded in a cloud of smoke, vodka, and MDMA.

  He didn’t want to do what Logan asked, but he didn’t think he had much of a choice. He shuffled and he was close to the passenger side door, then swung his legs to the side. Logan kneeled in front of him. Sean managed to think, for just one second, that he could kick him in the face. That would be the perfect distraction. Then he remembered, he was trapped in a car with the person that either didn’t speak a language Sean did or was, at the very least, pretending he didn’t, and he seemed to be totally okay with Logan’s plan.

  Logan grabbed something out of his pocket; it took Sean a few seconds to realize it was a Swiss army knife.

  Logan opened it, pressing the blade against Sean’s foot. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was pressed up against his skin enough to be cold and threatening, and Sean had to stop himself from jerking away from Logan right then and there.

  He realized how hopeless things were right then. Logan was in front of him, he was surrounded by nothing and the only way out was this fucking car with the chauffeur still in it. Things were going from bad to worse really quickly, or maybe it was just that Sean had realized the reality of his situation.

  He couldn’t look at his feet when Logan tore the binding with the tiny army knife. He had to look away, as if he was a little kid getting his shots.

  He could hear Logan, he could hear the knife working. He even felt his feet when they were released, able to move finally. They were asleep, much like his legs, and Sean wasn’t particularly surprised. He had expected that his body wouldn’t be particularly cooperative with him, especially because this was right in the aftermath of what might have been the most passionate and delightful night of his life.

  It felt like little more than a dream now, because everything seemed different now, though Sean wasn’t sure if his word for it would have been “real.”

  The sudden limb freedom did help ease his mind a little. He knew he couldn’t run, but the illusion of being able to run was something.

  Logan extended his hand toward him. Sean looked at it, wondering if he could say that it was fine, he could get out by himself, but slowly realized that he didn’t have a choice. He grabbed Logan’s hand, which was warm. The end of his fingers were calloused, probably from playing guitar. At least he could remember that much, Sean thought for a split second.

  “Don’t be shy,” Logan said. He pulled Sean out of the car, practically making him fall over. He caught him just in time, grabbing him by the waist. His bony, long fingers, were digging into Sean’s skin even through the fabric of his clothes.

  He was holding him tight. Sean realized why, he just didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about what was waiting for him inside Logan’s mansion.

  He wouldn’t have to think about it for too long. Logan put his hand on the small of Sean’s back, and began to gently push him toward the house. Even if he had wanted to turn around, he couldn’t have.

  He let Logan guide him. They went into a backdoor, which Sean noticed had plenty of gorgeous details on it. It was backlit with little artificial candles and it looked handmade in beautiful wrought metal, before Logan took him into a small hallway that must have been shaded during the day.

  The temperature had dropped, but Sean noticed they were still outside.

  “Everyone likes this place,” Logan said. “They are always talking about this fucking passageway. How awesome it is with the temperature control, even though it’s outside. I mean, I get it, my grandfather was a genius, not all of us can compete.”

  Sean didn’t say anything.

  “But it gets scary here,” Logan continued. “Especially in the winter. It gets so cold in this passageway, you could easily believe it’s haunted. I’m not saying I believe in ghosts, but if they exist, they are in the passageways of the hacienda. Why wouldn’t they be?”

  “What?” Sean was genuinely confused. He didn’t understand how Logan could go from very clearly kidnapping him to talking about the fucking architecture and ghosts, as if the latter two were at all important.

  “Forgive me,” Logan said. “I ramble when I’m nervous. You know that.”

  “You’re nervous?” Sean said slowly, trying his best to keep his composure. That was good news. If Logan was nervous, maybe he’d fuck something up. Maybe Sean would be able to find his way out of this nightmare after all.

  “I’m just saying,” Logan said, completely ignoring him. “I hope you’re not more impressed with my grandfather than you are with me.”

  Sean swallowed. He continued to walk a few steps ahead of him, walking far too quickly, trying to get rid of Logan’s hand on his back, of the way it felt. Even though it was just the palm of his hand, Sean couldn’t help but feel suffocated. He felt like he was drowning. He felt like Logan was holding him down, his hands around his throat, but it was just a light touch and Sean was acutely aware that things could easily get worse for him. “For what it’s worth, I’m not impressed by your grandfather.”

  “That’s a first,” Logan muttered under his breath.

  “As for you, I have to say the word I would use to describe you right now is… Incredible. I can’t believe you,” Sean said. He wondered if Logan would get his meaning, and there was a part of him that hoped he would.

  Logan had never been particularly smart, but neither had Sean, so he was aware that they were playing on a level field.

  “You’re lucky,” Logan said. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, and I hope you meant it that way.”

  Sean looked at him. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Logan to fuck off, but he didn’t think that he was brave or stupid enough to do that. Whichever one it was. “Of course it was,” Sean said between his teeth.

  Logan smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

  Sean didn’t say anything. They arrived at a door, a completely normal brown door that was far less intricate than the one they’d just wal
ked into, and Logan pushed it open.

  Without a key, Sean noticed. The door swung open, making a creaky little noise as it did.

  “It might be a little dusty. But I hope that it’ll be comfortable, even for someone of your standing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know. You’re the president’s son,” Logan said, wrinkling his nose. “I only want what’s best for you. I want you to feel comfortable. Are you?”

  “It’s a very nice house,” Sean replied, looking around at the furniture. Most of it was covered in white sheets, so it was clear that the family hadn’t been there for a while. The piano was uncovered. The fireplace had clearly been recently dusted, because it stood out as sharply white and clean compared to the rest of the sitting room.

  There were a few things here and there, a chair, a loveseat that was pushed up against the bay window, and the television, which was on the mantelpiece.

  It was on. The 24-hour news was playing on it without any volume.

  He noticed that Logan glanced at it for one second, then he pointed at the room and said, “Please, sit anywhere.”

  Sean didn’t want to sit. He wanted to run.

  But he knew he didn’t have much of a choice, and so he walked over to the loveseat next to the bay window.

  He couldn’t see a thing outside. It was far too dark. He wanted to scream for help, but they were so far away from civilization, no one would have been able to help him.

  “That’s it,” Logan said. “Get comfortable. We’re going to be here a while.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What do you mean you can’t find him?” Don asked, maybe for the third time.

  Knight dug his fingers into the leather-bound wheel. He didn’t know how many times he could possibly explain this to his brother. He understood that Don was scared, but Knight was scared too, and he had to try very hard to keep his composure.

  He had to pretend that his heart didn’t feel like it had settled into the pit of his stomach. He turned to look at his brother. He looked so much younger than Knight right then, his eyes wide and beads of sweat on his brow. Knight felt a stab of guilt in his chest.