by K. C. Crowne
“Positive,” she said, her voice trembling just a bit. “They brought me in through the back though.”
It was indeed an old, rundown motel down the road a bit – just as Samantha had described. It was a one level place with an empty pool out front, rusted out lawn chairs, boarded up windows, and holes in the walls. There was no sign, and weeds sprouted up everywhere in the cracked blacktop of what used to be the parking lot. There was absolutely nothing that would even give you an idea that it was a motel anymore. The place just had an air of abandonment and desertion about it.
We'd brought two cars – Jason's truck and Seth's car. Once we got set up and were ready to go, Samantha was going to drive back in Seth's car. She had strict orders to drive straight back to the hotel. She wasn't to stop for anyone or anything along the way. She was to keep driving until she got to the hotel. From there, her parents would usher her back up to the room where they'd lock themselves in and wait for us where they'd all be safe and sound. It was the best solution we had. It was really the only solution we had. We were trying to minimize the risk as much as possible.
“Alright,” I said, glancing at Seth as he handed over the keys to his car over to her. “You know the drill. Don't stop until you get to the hotel.”
“Got it,” she said, her voice trembling a bit.
“I mean it,” I said. “No stops. Not even for a drink.”
“There's plenty of gas in the tank,” Seth said. “So, you shouldn't have to stop to fill up anywhere.”
I wondered if being there brought back traumatic memories of her kidnapping. I wondered what she was feeling as we sat there looking at the decrepit, run down place. She stared at the motel and shuddered, climbing into the driver's seat eagerly. She was in a hurry to get out of here, and I couldn't say I blamed her, considering the circumstances of her last visit there.
“Drive safely,” Seth said.
She drove off, and we watched the car until the taillights disappeared in the distance. So far, we hadn't seen a soul, though that didn't necessarily mean they hadn't seen us. I scanned the building, looking for any sign of life, any sort of movement that would tip us off to the presence of Santiago's men, and saw nothing.
So far as I could tell, there was nobody there and I was beginning to get a sick feeling in my gut that the place really was empty; that we'd gone on a wild goose chase. It was a shot in the dark to begin with, I knew. It was the only play we had though.
“She said they usually entered in the back,” I said. “Maybe, they're on the other side of the buildings.”
“Then let's roll out,” Jason said.
This time, we were better prepared to deal with Santiago's men. We had some guns, just in case things went sideways, and we didn't have to worry about being in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Hopefully we wouldn't need them, but we were being a little more realistic this time. Better to be prepared and not need the weapons, then need them, and not have them.
The three of us walked in silence, in formation, just like our old days. As we moved, we listened for any sound whatsoever, and we heard nothing. Only a silence so deep and so profound, it felt like we'd all been dropped into a sensory deprivation tank. When we got to the back of the hotel, there was a broken door hanging open and swinging in the hot desert breeze. Jason took the lead, edging around the side of the building as we got closer and closer. There was no sound coming from inside, and nothing to indicate there was anybody else there whatsoever.
He turned the corner and we followed quickly. As we swept into the room, no one was waiting to ambush us. We walked into what appeared to be a kitchen area, or used to be, anyway. The entire place was empty now. The room had been completely gutted except for a dingy table in the middle with a few rusted chairs set around it. One single light bulb hung from a socket that dangled overhead, with a string attached. Jason pulled on it and a dingy, murky light filled the room – just enough to chase away a few of the shadows and helped us see a little better.
“Looks pretty empty to me,” I whispered.
Just then, a sound pulled our attention to the hallway. Footsteps. It was an unmistakable sound. Just a single pair, but they were headed our way.
Jason pressed himself against the wall closest to the hallway, while Seth took the other side. I moved behind the busted out refrigerator and brought my weapon to bear. I held my breath and we remained perfectly still and silent.
The footsteps grew louder until they reached the doorway. There was a momentary pause before a woman's voice called out.
“Who's out there?” she asked. “Show yourself.”
It was Julia.
Not lowering my weapon, I stepped out from behind the refrigerator and showed myself first. When her eyes fell on me, her face completely changed. It relaxed, a lot of the tension instantly melting away as she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“I thought you were Antonio's people,” she said.
“Why would you be afraid of Antonio and his guys?” I asked.
“The same reason you are,” she said. “He's a dangerous man.”
Jason lowered his weapon, but I wasn't entirely sure it was safe yet, so I kept mine at the ready. I didn't point it at her, aiming the muzzle down at the ground, but I made sure I could bring it up again in the blink of an eye if needed.
“We tried calling you,” I said. “Where's Chris?”
“I told you, I don't – ”
“Bullshit, Julia. Antonio told me most everything.”
Her eyes widened, and a look of surprise crossed her face. I was bluffing but was hoping that perhaps I could trick her into believing me. It was worth a try. I didn’t exactly have any other cards to play.
She averted her gaze, lowering her eyes and staring at the floor instead of at us.
“I - I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.
Jason, having picked up on my game, went along with it. “He said if we wanted to find Chris, all we had to do was find you,” he said. “Obviously, you know a hell of a lot more than you're telling us, so it's time to start spilling, senorita.”
Tears began welling up in her eyes, and her lower lip trembled as she shook her head. I watched Julia's face cycle through grief, pain, and fear, and wasn't sure if she was sincere, or if she was simply a very talented actress.
“Cut the theatrics,” I said. “We're not buying it. We're his friends, we want to help him.”
“Help him or save Mallory?” she said. “Because I got your message, and I know what you intend to do.”
“We're not going to hand him over, if that's what you think,” Seth said. “We'll figure something else out, but there is no way in hell we'd never hand over a friend like that. Never in a million years.”
She looked at him, then back at me, an inscrutable look on her face.
“I'm telling you the truth, I don't know where he is. I came here hoping to find him, but as you can see, it's empty,” she said. “But I figured this is where Antonio would have kept Mallory, and once Chris found out, I thought – ”
“Wait, Chris knows about Antonio holding Mallory?” I asked. “How is that possible?”
She gave me an annoyed look. “He heard my voicemail, okay?” she snapped. “He got to it before I did.”
“So you do know where he is? He's alive?” I said.
A profound wave of relief washed over me knowing that Chris was in fact, alive. The reprieve was unfortunately short-lived.
“I did, but he was furious and left the safehouse where I'd hidden him,” she said, her voice mournful. “I was trying to protect him. I really was. I knew what kind of trouble he was in and only wanted to keep him safe from guys like Antonio. But I couldn't stop him once he heard they had Mallory. He was mad that I didn't tell him about Samantha, but I did it to protect him. To keep him safe.”
“And now you lost him again?” Jason snapped. “That's just fucking great.”
“If they're not here,” Julia said quietly. “I know a couple o
ther places we could go, but we have to hurry.”
“Let's talk them over in the truck. We're running out of time,” I said, leading the way out the back door.
17
Mallory
I awoke in what I assumed to be a basement. All I knew for sure was that it was somewhere dark and without any windows. There was a faint odor in the air – it was musty and reminded me of the smell of disuse.
The darkness made it hard to tell if I was truly awake or not, but the pain throbbing in my head – after getting cracked in the back of the head in the passageway at the cartel safe house – told me that I was probably awake. Finally, my eyes adjusted, and I could make out my surroundings.
No, I wasn't in a basement. As my eyes came into sharper focus, I realized that I was in a warehouse. I wiggled my hands and couldn't feel my fingers. They were tied too tightly. My feet were also tied to the chair I was seated upright in. I was unable to move and panic washed over me.
I knew screaming would do me no good or they'd have gagged me. I could scream until my lungs were bleeding, and the only attention I was likely going to get was from my captors. My feet weren't tied as tightly as my hands, but I wiggled both and couldn't find a lot of slack to work with. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to slip the ties.
I fought at the bindings to no avail. I couldn't even loosen the ones on my hands. I was tied down tight and not going anywhere anytime soon.
I kept working though, flexing my hands and feet, straining against my bonds, trying to loosen them. After what felt like an eternity, I began to have a little bit of progress with my feet. Not much, but if I had some time, I might be able to eventually loosen the ties enough that I'd be able to get my feet free.
Unfortunately, a door opened and slammed shut down the long hallway behind the door in front of me. I stopped moving and waited. I didn’t want anyone to see what I was doing and tighten my bonds. Antonio stepped into the room, his eyes riveted to mind. He stood before me for a long moment and then knelt down in front of me, a greasy, condescending little smirk on his face.
I reacted, spitting straight into his ugly mug, and he hit me hard across the face with a vicious backhand. For a second, I saw stars and the edges of my vision wavered. I feared I might black out again. A strong wave of nausea hit me hard too, meaning I likely had a concussion from the earlier fight.
“We still don't have your friend,” he said. “What are we going to do about that?”
“Eat shit and die maybe?” I spat. “But, that's only a suggestion. Feel free to do with it as you'd like.”
“Such a smart mouth for such a pretty woman,” he said.
He reached out and stroked my cheek, sending goosebumps of revulsion crawling all across my skin. He suddenly seized my chin in his hand, gripping it hard, and turned my face toward him. The feeling of his rough skin on my face sent chills down my spine – I did not want him touching me, at all.
“Maybe I need to find a way to shut you up,” he crooned. “Maybe, I should keep your mouth full? What do you think about that?”
I resisted the urge to say anything else. I stared at him with my chin raised, and a defiant look on my face. He knew he could beat the hell out of me and win. Even with the training I got in the Corps, I was no match for a man of his size. Especially tied down. If this got physical, it had the chance to get really ugly, really fast.
“Smart girl. I thought you'd learn to shut up pretty quickly,” he said, standing up. “Now tell me, do you have any idea where we can find your friend Chris?”
I didn't answer him, and he swung his hand back as if to deliver another backhand to me.. The words just came tumbling out before I could bite them back.
“What is it?” I sneered. “Do you want me to shut up or tell you what I know? Or do you want to just keep smacking me like a bitch?”
“Tell me what you know,” he said, putting his hand back down and leaning low to get in my face.
“I don't know anything,” I said. “We thought you had him.”
“Obviously, we don't,” he said.
“Clearly,” I said.
A scowl crossed Antonio's face as he turned to leave. He shot one last look back over his shoulder, promising rage and retribution. I pursed my lips and blew him a kiss.
* * *
I sat there for I didn't even know how long. All I knew was that my butt was growing as numb as my hands and feet. Antonio had come in a couple of times to give me some water, and to let me relieve myself in a bucket. He never spoke a word, he barely looked at me, and he refused to engage me in any meaningful way other than to threaten to backhand me every now and then.
As I sat there though, trying to figure out what in the hell I was going to do, I heard voices. Men's voices. Maybe, it was a shift change and somebody was coming in to relieve Antonio as they waited until their deadline before killing me.
I had no idea how long I'd been there, or how much of that initial twenty-four hours Antonio gave Jason and the guys I had left. I was keenly aware of each and every second passing by though, knowing that the next time the door in the wall across from me opened, it could be bringing my death along with it.
I jumped and felt a spike of adrenaline when the door opened. Antonio came through and was followed by Chris, who was followed by one of Antonio's heavily armed goons. Antonio and his guy took up positions on either side of the door and watched me closely. When Chris' eyes fell on me, I saw the sorrow and grief he felt. His eyes shimmered with tears and he just shook his head.
“I'm so sorry, Mal,” he said. “I never meant –”
“It's okay,” I said. “It's okay. I know you didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“This shit's all sweet and all,” Antonio said from the doorway, “I think I may shed a tear.”
His guy snickered, and I felt the heat in my cheeks flare up once more. I ignored them; tried to tune them out as I focused on Chris.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “You coming here was monumentally stupid.”
“It was the only way to help you,” he said. “I couldn't let you take the heat for me. Couldn't let them do anything to you because of me. I just couldn't.”
“But Chris –”
“He came in willingly, chica,” Antonio said. “His life for yours. Seems like a fair trade.”
“Chris, what in the hell were you thinking?” I practically screamed.
“That before I die I wanted to show you how much I love you,” he replied.
“There are far better ways you could have done that,” I said. “Ways that didn't involve you getting killed.”
“She's right,” Antonio said, his voice carrying amusement. “You should have tried flowers or chocolates or some shit.”
Antonio's man giggled again. The sound of footsteps in the corridor beyond the door caught our attention. All of our eyes shifted to the doorway and when I saw who was stepping through it, my face must have gone through a thousand different emotions.
“Julia,” Antonio said, a smile upon his lips. “Look at what the cat dragged in. Your father will be pleased.”
“Hardly,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Release them.”
“I'm afraid your father –”
“My father doesn't know that it wasn't Chris who took the shipment,” she said. “It was me.”
All of our eyes widened in shock as we stared at the woman who'd nearly gotten all of us killed. Rage didn't even come close to describe what I was feeling in that moment. It was a start though.
Antonio and his men exchanged glances, obviously not knowing what to do. They'd been under orders to bring Chris in, and yet, Julia was standing there confessing. I had a feeling Antonio was going to split the difference and take them both to Santiago and let him sort it out.
“Julia,” Antonio said, “I'm going to have to take you to your father too. It's up to him to decide –”
Damn, I hated being right all the time.
“I know, Antonio,�
� she snapped. “And I don't care. I did what I did. I admit it.”
“Julia,” Chris said, his voice sounding devastatingly heartbroken. “Why would you do that? Why would you set me up like that?”
“I didn't mean to set you up, Chris,” she said. “It just – it happened to work out that way and I'm sorry.”
“But why?”
“Because I wanted the money,” she growled. “Because I was sick of waiting for my father to retire. I didn't know how long it was going to be before he pulled the plug and turned it all over to me. Could be years. Probably would be. I got sick of waiting. It was mine and I deserved it.”
“Julia –”
“How many of my father's men do you have here, Antonio?” she cut him off.
The assassin shook his head, trying to keep up with the change in conversation.
“I asked you a question,” Julia said, her voice tight and sharp.
“Four,” he said. “Not including me.”
“Good.”
Shots rang out in the front of the warehouse that was quickly followed by the sound of men shouting and screaming. Antonio looked from the doorway to us and then back again. He sent his man to go check out what was happening. Antonio was clearly having a hard time wrapping his head around what was going on out there.
“Sounds like your guys are taking an ass kicking out there, Antonio,” I said.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “What did you do, Julia?”
“Trying to atone for the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life” she said, her eyes riveted to Chris'.
“You bitch,” Antonio hissed. “You stupid bitch.”
Julia was standing in front of me. Chris was to her right, and Antonio, looking for the world like he'd been sucker punched, stood behind her. His face was a mask of dark rage and other conflicting emotions. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that he cared for Julia, and her betrayal seemed to hurt him on a deeply personal level.
He raised the weapon, pointing it at the back of her head. As if sensing what was coming, Julia closed her eyes. Chris started to move, but Antonio held up a second weapon, pointing it directly at his chest to keep him from moving. It was almost like a reflex though, as his attention remained firmly on Julia.