by Jenny Lynn
Charled leaned forward, his lips almost brushing mine - almost, but not quite. He waited a split second to see if I'd bridge this small distance between us. I didn't budge.
He sighed, then turned in his seat and exited the vehicle with the driver following not far behind him. I exhaled in a rush, suddenly aware I had been holding my breath. Optimistically, I glanced at the driver’s seat to see if he left the keys - but he was too well-trained to make a mistake like that. Scanning the space I realized there were no weapons, no cell phone, nothing that could be of any use to me.
Suddenly there was commotion outside. I looked out the window and watched as Charles spoke to the group; that’s when I noticed there was a man on his knees. His face was bruised and bloodied, and when his eyes looked past the group and noticed me sitting in the car, I clearly saw the fear on his face.
Charles reached down and grabbed him, pulling him up roughly by his t-shirt. There was shouting, I couldn’t make out what was said, but the injured man was frantically shaking his head. In reply, Charles punched him in the stomach, letting the man crumple to the ground.
It all happened so fast; the driver handed something to Charles and I felt the blood drain from my face when I realized it was a gun. Charles said something, looking down at the man, his face expressionless. The man started to shout, pleading- then there was a bang as the gun went off.
Silence.
Or I thought it was silent, except I must have screamed, because everyone had turned and looked in my direction. Charles used his foot to push the dead man into a hole that had been dug behind him, leaving the others to finish up. He placed the gun in the waistband of his pants while he walked back towards me. He pushed a strand of hair back off his forehead, his eyes locking onto mine. That’s when fear found me, sunk its teeth in deep and refused to let go. What happened next wasn’t rational, it was my instincts kicking in. I opened the door to the car, and I did what Charles had expressly forbidden me to do.
I ran.
My legs pumped, shoving off the ground and carrying me as fast and far as I could. There were derelict buildings everywhere in the distance; I would weave between them until I was out of sight, and then I would hide in a place where he would never find me, staying quiet and still as a statue. The shouting from behind me only encouraged me to keep going, to not look back. I wove left and right, to make myself into a more difficult target in case he decided to shoot me. To shoot me, and then probably bury my body where no one would ever find it - like he did to that poor, helpless man just moments ago.
I ran for my life. I was fast. Unfortunately, even with my head start, Charles was faster.
He tackled me and I fell against the ground, hard, the air leaving my lungs causing my vision to blur. I reached up and hit him, frantically digging my nails into his shoulder and neck. Charles growled as he turned me over roughly, pinning me to the ground under him, grabbing my hair and forcing me to be still. My heart was racing, we were both breathing hard, I saw pure rage in his eyes. He was going to kill me, or worse.
“You couldn’t fucking do the one thing I asked, could you? After I let you speak with you sister? After I’ve been so kind to you?”
“Kind?” I shouted, my body stinging from where I hit the ground. “You’re a fucking monster.”
He arched an eyebrow, the car rolling to a stop beside us. The driver came out and stood by our side, calm and collected, as if he had half expected this.
“You want a monster, Ella?” he said. Charles leaned down, his mouth near my ear. “I’ll show you what kind of a monster I can be.”
He pushed back the strands of dark hair that had fallen over his face in the struggle, then he accepted something from his driver, keeping me firmly pinned beneath him. I never saw the needle, I only felt him slide it into my neck while he glared at me. I gasped, more from shock than from pain. That was the last thing I remembered, his devil smile watching as my eyes fluttered, then closed.
24
Beckett
I had two personas, each separate and distinct, that I had made my peace with. I was so used to living either one life or the other, that over time the lines blurred to such an extent it was hard to pick out the pieces of who I really was. Both were masks, both were exaggerated elements of my personality. My wants. My desires.
Billionaire. Businessman. Killer. Orphan. Lover. Fighter. Hero. Monster. Who was I, really? I couldn't say. But nowhere on that list would I add in teacher.
Maybe I should have met Shane at the airport myself, established a bond from the start of this process. I wondered if he was disappointed, seeing a driver waiting for him, his name scrawled on a page in neat bold letters.
No, it couldn't be that way between us. There was no time for niceties, only the mission. We didn't have time for gentleness, and I didn't have it in me right now to offer him.
When the elevators opened, I looked up from my seat. He dropped his bag on the ground in the entrance and we stared at each other for a moment. Two broken people, full of anger with nowhere to go. To people ready to fight, and if it came to it - ready to die.
"Are you ready?" I asked him, not in the mood for a big speech.
"Bishop said you needed my help, and that it was risky. Real risky. He didn't tell me anything else, when I asked he'd just grunt."
I chuckled. The old man never used more words than he needed to. Some things never changed.
"There's a man who took something that belongs to me," I said, closing my laptop and walking towards Shane. "Out of country, high security, violent, and outside the law. It won't be easy, but I want back what he stole."
Shane looked me over, then cocked his head to the side. "What's her name?"
"Ella," I sighed, standing in front of him. "Her name is Ella."
"You love her?" he asked.
"Yes, enough to risk my life. Enough to risk yours too. I need you to understand that, to know the situation you're getting into. It’s not too late to change your mind."
"I'm cool with all of that," he said casually. "It's not much of a life anyway, if I'm honest."
He was shuffling on his feet uneasily. I was good at reading people, there was something unspoken between us and I needed him to say it. I didn't have time for negotiations. If he wanted something, he needed to tell me now.
"You don't know me, you don't know her. Why risk it - what are you getting out of this?"
Shane looked around the space, a mixture of awe and resentment. Money. He probably wanted to be compensated; risk and reward.
"I can pay you," I offered. "Half upfront, half once we're done."
"I don't want your money," he said uneasily. "If I wanted money, I could have kept up with the fights. They paid well, and I was good at it."
"Alright," I said. "What is it then?"
Shane finally got the courage to look me in the eyes, and I regretted my impatient tone. It was easy to forget he was younger than I was, and despite us both having a rough upbringing - Bishop collected damaged goods the way some people collected classic cars - I had been born into a relatively privileged life. I lacked many things during my formative years, but food and shelter weren't on the list. From what little I knew about Shane, that hadn’t been the case for him.
"If there's anything in my power to get you," I added, softer now. "Anything you need, if you help me, I'll do whatever I can to help you."
"I want to be like you," he said after a long pause.
I blinked, not sure how to take what he said. "I don't understand."
"I want to be... normal. I want to have a life, a real life. I'm tired. Tired of fighting for nothing, for being so fucking angry all the time. Tired of drinking or taking drugs just to numb it all. I know Bishop helped you.”
"He did, but it took time," I said. "And at a certain point, you need to realize you have to take ownership of your life. Taking orders gives your life structure when you need it the most, but deciding what kind of a person you want to be, and what kind of life you wan
t - that's on you. Shane... I have to warn you, normal is hard for people like us."
"Fine," he shrugged. "Fuck normal. Teach me what you can, help me establish some kind of a life for myself. Something that's mine. I'm tired of being a fucking puppet for rich assholes who call the shots."
I arched an eyebrow and he laughed.
"After this, I mean. You can be the last rich asshole that I listen to."
"I'm honored," I told him with a smile. "So if you're in, we need to be on the same page with a plan. And since we have no clue what the hell we're walking into, we may need to improvise a bit. Are you ready?"
"Let's do this," he said. There was fire in his eyes. The kid had spirit, and if I could channel it, maybe, just maybe, we had a chance.
We had been going for hours, poring over possible tactics that would be useful without knowing the layout of the space we were walking into.
We'd be limited on weapons, there was no way we'd be walking in with guns, but I had a stockpile of cleverly disguised items we'd be able to make use of. I talked Shane through each one we'd bring, a crash course.
"Where the fuck do you even get stuff like this?" He widened his eyes as he twisted the face off the clock, each number popped out and was in fact a powerful dissolvable tranquilizer tablet. "I mean, you've got to admit, this is some James Bond level tech."
I took it from his hands. "You'd be amazed what you can buy, with the right connections. And be careful with that."
I slipped the glass face back on, twisting a dial at the side. When I pulled, a thin black length of wire slipped out that I snapped tight between my hands before letting it slide back inside, coiled and deadly like a viper.
"Okay I'm definitely wearing the Secret Agent watch," Shane grinned, then snatched it back from me. He was enthusiastic, I had to give him that.
My phone rang, I glanced at who it was before deciding whether to answer it. I had alerted my office I'd be taking a leave of absence for an undetermined amount of time - a vacation to focus and realign our business priorities. The board was appeased with that explanation; as long as our profits kept increasing, they didn't care much where I went or what I did. The call wasn't from the office.
"I need to get this," I told Shane. He was roughly handling a pen that I had told him only minutes earlier would combine two explosive components hidden inside if slammed down hard enough. "Try not to blow anything up, including yourself."
He saluted me, and I walked away to get some privacy.
"Berkley, thank you for getting back to me."
"I figured whatever Beckett Carter needed to speak to me about was important, and I should get back to you as fast as I could. Sorry for the delay, I've been involved with a trial most of the day. You mentioned needing to talk to me about something... tricky. What is it?"
"I need this to be off the books, officially, but I also need you to be aware of it officially. Are you comfortable being in a somewhat grey area on this one?"
He sighed, quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Can I attribute this to an anonymous tip? Is that grey enough for what you need?"
"It'll work," I said. "But when I tell you the details, I need your assurance you won't act on it until the time comes."
"How will I know that, exactly?"
I leaned against the wall, my eyes shut. "That’s easy, Berkley. You won't hear from me again."
Another bout of silence on the other end of the line. I let him have it. Time was of the essence, but some things can't be rushed. I was putting him in a difficult position, but I needed to. If I failed, I needed someone else out there who knew what I had done, and who I had tried to save.
“I take this to mean whatever you’re doing, wherever you’re going, has an illegal element to it?”
“To try to save someone, I needed to get close to some dangerous people. I’m leaving town to try to get her back. If I don’t succeed, I’ll have a message drafted that will give you everything you need to know. If I don’t cancel that message at a certain time, it will send - and that means things went badly for me. I need you to do what you can, to try to help her if I can’t.”
He sighed. “It sounds high stakes, but I already get the sense it would be useless to try and talk you out of it.”
“I need to do this,” I said. I could hear a repetitive thud in an adjoining room; Shane must have gotten bored of the tech and moved on to my gym, where he was punching the bag with hard yet controlled blows.
“Then talk me through the other half of this,” he said. “You do what you set out to do, you get her out of there - whoever she is. Are those people going to let it go? You just walk away, no fallout?”
“No,” I said, tension creeping into my shoulders. “There will be fallout, trust me on that. And after I get her out of there, we’ll both make sworn statements - on the record. These people are getting punished my way, or your way, I don’t care which. As long as they’re punished.”
“Okay, then. I don’t like it, you knew I wasn’t going to like it before you called me. But I’ll be here, in your corner. I’ve always been in your corner, Beckett. Use your head, that’s all I ask.”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“She must be pretty damn special to you,” Berkley said. “Funny, I didn’t know Beckett Carter even had a love interest.”
I chuckled; he was always the detective, even down here in the murky grey area with Beckett Carter. With the Vegas Phantom. Backing both sides of me, without knowing. I could throw him a bone.
“She is everything to me,” I said. “And Frank - if you don’t hear from me, please do whatever you can to save her. You need to save Ella James if I can’t.”
I heard Frank gasp in surprise, and took that as my cue to hang up the phone. My missing person was on his missing person’s list, I knew she would be. I just filled in a blank for him. If I didn’t get to her, if I died trying to save her - and I was ready to die for her - he’d have an anonymous lead on his case, and he could try to rescue her.
The legal way required diplomacy, international negotiations, and to follow the letter of the law. I prefered my way. I prefered walking in the front door, finding Ella, and killing anyone who stood between us.
25
Ella
When I woke up, my head was pounding. I realized I was lying on a piece of solid wood and was confused. My body ached all over. I pushed myself onto my elbows to sit up, my vision blurry. Trying to stand, I noticed my legs and ankles were bound with thick rope. I was in a long, wooden box - a coffin. My heart started racing as I frantically reached for the knots, trying to free myself.
“I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid, Ella.”
I whipped my head to the left, sending a fresh wave of pain through my skull.
“Charles, what are you doing?” My voice was raw, raspy. My throat was tight.
“You’ve been out for a while,” he sighed, closing a book and putting it down on a small table. We were somewhere dark, damp, with a dirt floor. “I wondered when you would finally wake up.”
I scanned the room and noticed a long hole dug into the earth not far away. Charles followed my gaze, a sinister smile on his face. He was handsome and cruel, a sadistic monster, the devil incarnate. And I was afraid of him, now more than ever.
"I'm disappointed," he sighed, sensing my rising panic and meeting it with his eerie calm and composed demeanor. "I thought we were building trust between us. I gave you something I thought you wanted, your family, and in return I asked so little of you."
"I'm sorry," I gasped. My voice came out with a sob, and I realized then the tears were already streaming down my face. "I'm so, so sorry Charles. I panicked. I saw the gun, saw you kill that man - I was scared. I was so scared."
He walked over, looking down at me bound in the box. "And are you scared now, Ella?"
I nodded furiously, the tears flooding my eyes making everything hazy in the dim light. Charles knelt beside the box and reached forward. I flinched an
d he smiled as he brushed the hair from my shoulder, bridging the distance between us to whisper in my ear; "Good."
Standing back up, towering over me, he took a small box from his jacket pocket that was draped over the chair and tossed it at me.
"If you refuse to even try to give me what I want, Ella, I have no incentive to give you what you want."
With trembling hands I opened it under his steely gaze. It wasn't until he spoke again that I realized what I was looking at.
"You'll never speak to your sister again."
It was a tongue - a human tongue, ragged and bloody in the box. Dana's tongue. I gagged and threw the box as far away as I could, my head spinning, my stomach churning. I was crying uncontrollably now, thick heavy sobs that wracked my entire body.
Charles came back towards me, I struggled as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead tenderly.
"Shhhh," he whispered. "I warned you not to cross me, didn’t I Ella? It didn’t have to be this way, but actions have consequences. They always do."
"You're a monster," I shouted. "Did you kill her yourself? Is she really dead?"
"I don't see how that matters," he said. "Like I told you - you'll never speak to her again."
He pushed me down and my back hit the rough, grainy wood. Before I could react, he lifted the lid and it squealed on its hinges as he closed it on me. The last thing I saw was his face looking down at me, at his cold eyes, and then - nothing.
I screamed as I felt the box dragged, then jolted as it was pulled into the hole. I was still in shock, hopelessly unaware of the horrible fate that was in store for me, until I heard the rattling of dirt being dumped on top of the box - one shovel at a time.
"Charles, no!" I shrieked. "No, stop! Please!"
The noises and scraping continued, I begged until my voice was raw, then - silence.
"Charles?" I called out. No answer. Only darkness, stale air, and the sound of my ragged breathing within the confines of the wooden box - where no one would ever find me.