by Violet Paige
I leaned over to pick up the sack. Inside was a bar of soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a new pair of clothes. I glared at the T-shirt and jogging pants. I’d already circled my living space fifty times. There was nowhere to hide. If there were cameras, they’d get a full view.
The tray of food wasn’t much either. A ham sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips. A bottle of water had fallen over when they shoved it in the room. They gave me just enough. I scrubbed my hands in the sink and sat on the floor to eat.
After I finished dinner, I took my time running hot water in the sink. I washed my arms and legs and dressed in the clean clothes. I turned my clothes inside out and laid them on the couch. I rolled the laundry bag as a pillow and curled on my side. It felt like it was nighttime, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I wasn’t sure of anything. All I could do was wait.
Days passed the same way. I was given three trays of food a day and a change of clothes only every other day. I beat on the door until the side of my fist was bruised and my voice was hoarse. I begged for them to let me out. I threatened them. Swore I’d have them buried alive or wiped from New Orleans’ existence. I made a lot of threats over my kidnapping.
Nothing I said mattered. No amount of planning or waiting for that damn door to open mattered. Someone was watching me, that much I knew. The food never arrived unless I was on the other side of the room. They had enough time to deliver food and clothes before I could sprint across the floor.
I’d never felt that level of isolation. The misery of being forgotten. Of becoming a living memory. Each minute, hour, and day that passed I knew I was slipping away. I’d never felt so powerless in my life. I made a vow to myself during my kidnapping when I escaped that Kennedy Martin would never be powerless again. It was a vow I kept.
12
Knight
Kennedy spoke. She told me her story. My stomach turned at almost every word. I couldn’t believe it. This was four years ago? Someone took her? Kidnapped her? Was there a ransom? How in the hell did this even happen? I had to contain my anger and resentment—none of it was directed toward her. I tried to listen and not explode.
Finally, she looked up, even though she hadn’t gotten to the end.
I wanted to fold her in my arms and make promises I might not be able to keep, but I knew she had survived without me. Did she need me now? Was that why it was so easy for her to keep me at a distance? My stomach felt as it I had been punched hard. There was a tight knot I couldn’t get rid of .
“How long were you in that room?” I asked. I had tried not to interrupt. I had to force myself to keep my fucking mouth shut.
“A week,” she answered. “I thought it was around six or seven days, but I wasn’t sure until I returned home.”
I swallowed hard. “How did you do it? How did you get through the days?” I still didn’t know how she had escaped. I’d let her tell me at her own pace.
Her eyes lowered. I was scared there was something else she was going to tell me that would rip my heart out.
“The truth?” she posed.
I nodded. “Always the truth. I can take it.”
She pressed her lips together and inhaled. “It’s a little hard to tell you.”
I inhaled, steeling myself for something horrific. “It’s okay. No rush. We have the rest of the night,” I assured her.
She shook her head. “I can already tell it’s not what you think. It was you, Knight.”
“Me?” I leaned a little closer toward her.
“Yes. You.” She shrugged. “I’d lie down on that awful vinyl couch and dream about what it would be like to see you again.”
“You dreamed about me?” I couldn’t believe it.
She nodded. “Yes. It passed the time. What would happen if I saw you again? I used to dream about it. Every night I was trapped in the basement I had dreams about you. Dreams that were so vivid I would wake up, my chest pounding, my heart racing. I thought you were next to me, or maybe had just walked into another room. I think I actually called your name a couple times, or at least I thought I did. Then reality would start to break the illusion. I remembered I was locked in a basement, and my skin would cool, and I’d have to find a way to go back to sleep. I’d try different things. Walk through the dream step by step, trying to make sure I remembered it. Or I’d create a new one. One where I could make sure everything happened the way I wanted to picture it—not some distorted dreamverse where weird characters showed up or the setting was someplace abstract. I had this one fantasy. One that changed in bits and pieces the more time passed.”
“Did it work? Your dream?” I smiled at her.
“It was the only thing that worked.”
“What was it? The dream you had.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I want to know all of it,” I responded. It was the truth I wanted. Her truth.
“Okay, then. But you can’t laugh,” she warned. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It seems silly now. This was a long time ago.”
My hands curled over her knuckles as I leaned against her. I squeezed the palm of my hand over hers. “Tell me. Please.”
She nodded. “The one that played over and over in my head was one when we decided to see each other. We needed to. It was better than accidentally bumping into each other somewhere or being our fathers’ pawns. You had moved out of your apartment, but you asked me to meet you there. It was a place we could be alone. Quiet. Private. No distractions. No one would think to look for us there.”
I listened while she explained the dream.
“In the dream, all your things were still in the rooms, just like you had left them. All I had to was open up the windows and doors and it was as if you had never left. You told me where the hidden key was so I could let myself in. I arrived before you did. The sun was starting to set. I left the door open on the balcony so I could hear the music floating up from the street. I unloaded groceries, the things I had brought from the cooler, my favorite bottle of champagne. I knew you would be there soon. I made a cheeseboard because I didn’t know how else to pass the time. I wondered if we would eat all of it, or you would think it was crazy I’d spent so much time making this presentation for you, which had nothing to do with why we wanted to see each other. I poured a huge glass of chilled wine, but only took a few sips. I was worried to drink too much before you got there. I didn’t want to be numb in any way. I wanted to feel everything when I saw you again.”
I could picture everything she described. I wondered if I’d had this dream too. Had it saved me in a dark place? Was she there somehow when I was rebuilding the vineyards and starting over after the fires?
“I heard your footsteps climbing the stairs. I looked up as the door squeaked. I was afraid to look at you. Afraid that I would start crying or laughing, maybe both made sense together. I knew we would look a little different, but somehow still the same. What if I wasn’t who you remembered? I had to stop myself from being terrified. I glanced up. It used to feel like when we were together, we could talk across a room with our eyes and no one would know what we were saying or thinking. That’s how it felt when I saw you. I knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling when our eyes met.
“I waited for you to drop the bag you were carrying before I barreled into your arms. I wanted to be wrapped up in you for a minute, or a year, I didn’t know. Just to know you were here. I could touch you. Hear you. Smell you. Everything in me was on fire. A fire I hadn’t felt since the last time I was against your chest like this. Your hands moved to my face, just like the first time you kissed me. You never let me look away from you before, and you didn’t want me to now. I hadn’t planned on kissing you this soon. We were supposed to drink and unpack. But those crazy magnets sewn under our skin were more powerful than us. Trying to absorb every second and take our time wasn’t really possible. You kissed me and kissed me again. We tried to talk about food or wine, or unloading more things in the car, but we kept kissing. You walked me
backward. Our hands were everywhere. You pushed me against the wall, and we tried to catch our breaths, but how do you quiet something like that?”
Her words tumbled out. She wasn’t looking for me to answer.
“We tried to say important words quickly, but they were drowned out by how I tugged on your shirt. Threading it over your head and throwing it on the floor. I’d worn a short dress for you. Your fingers dug into my thighs, up higher. I rocked into you. Everything was going faster than it was supposed to. All I could think about was touching your skin. I wanted to taste you, kiss you, lick you, know your body again until anything I had forgotten was erased and replaced by a new memory of how you felt against me.
“I wanted to know everything about you that I hadn’t learned in all the conversations leading to this moment. I wanted to stay up and talk and drink and eat. I wanted to laugh with you and listen to music and maybe dance in front of the piano once the sun went down. That was probably the right plan, the take your time and get to know each other again plan. But it was you and it was me. And I knew we could still do all those things, and probably focus better if you just took me in the next room first. Because if you didn’t, all I would think about over dinner was when you would kiss me again. When you would try to get me out of my clothes. If the foreplay would be as intense and powerful as it used to be. So, when you pressed into me against the wall I nodded yes, an emphatic yes, between tasting you, biting you, clawing at you. Your hands curled to my legs, lifting me to your waist. I smiled, this felt familiar. I loved when you used to do this. I curled my legs around you. With another long kiss, I wrapped my hands around your neck. God, I wanted off the wall now. I wanted more, so did you. You held me tightly and walked me to the bed. We could hear a saxophone playing on the street below. Dinner could wait. Wine could wait. The stupid cheeseboard could wait. We’d waited a year to be connected again—that didn’t seem like it could wait.”
“And then what?” My voice was low. I was almost afraid to speak. I didn’t want to fuck this up. Not now.
Her smile was sweet and sexy. “We were a tumbled and tangled mess after that. It was hot and fiery. Better than any dream I’d ever been able to create. I thought maybe it had finally replaced all the other dreams. All the times I lost you or woke up heartbroken. Maybe we could finally have a stronger unbreakable reality. That’s what I told myself over and over, until I started to believe it.”
“It’s almost like you predicted our night at the Vieux Carre.”
She smiled. “Almost.” Her tone was somber. We both had to sit in this for a minute. It couldn’t be washed away with flirty banter. I had to accept what happened to her.
I had a similar story, but instead of a dream, I had seen her in the Paris airport, or at least I had convinced myself I had. That girl wasn’t a dream. Perhaps a mirage. For months afterward, I would lie awake at night and replay what I should have done. What I could have done to follow the girl who looked like Kennedy in Paris.
I still didn’t know how to process what she said. The dream. The kidnapping. I had to hear the rest of the story.
My hands moved to her shoulders. “I’m glad you told me what happened. Can you tell me how it ended?”
“You’re not going to like the ending.”
“I don’t like any of it.”
She sighed. “I know. I didn’t think I could keep it from you.”
If she could survive it and come out on the other side the queen of the city, I could sit here and let her tell me what she had faced. I owed her nothing less.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know. I can’t believe my parents or even Seraphina never mentioned it. I should have known. Someone should have told me.” The anger started to work its way up my fingertips again.
Her eyes flashed to mine. “I’m glad you didn’t know. What could you have done about it? I’m fine now. I was fine then. You couldn’t have hopped on a plane. It would have only hurt you. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing.”
I groaned. “You were kidnapped. And I still don’t see how you can let Kimble off for it.”
“Because. He’s the one who found me,” she snapped. “I owe him everything.”
I sat back on the loveseat. “Kimble found you?”
“Yes. He did. Without him, I’d be rotting away in that basement still.”
“You haven’t told me who did it.”
She pinched her lips together. Her eyes moved to the window, even though the curtains were drawn for the evening.
“Who was it?” I pushed. “Which family.”
“That’s the problem.”
The knot spun in my stomach. It was getting tighter. “Which family?”
She looked at me. “I still don’t know.”
13
Kennedy
I hated telling the story. I hated hearing the words out loud. I hadn’t gone through the details in four years. The one person who had all the information before now was Kimble. He was the only one. The story lived in my head alone. It was easier to pretend it didn’t happen if I kept it close. Only, pretending it didn’t happen didn’t keep me alive. Remembering kept me alive.
“I don’t understand.” Knight’s eyes were dark. I saw fury and concern. “What do you mean you don’t know which family was responsible?”
“There was never a ransom. No one came forward. I still don’t know who it was. Kimble and I have a short list of suspects, but in all these years he was never able to pin it on one family. I have to assume it could have been any of them. All of them.”
“I’d like to know how he found you, especially without a note.” Did I hear distrust in his voice?
“You do realize that Kimble is the most loyal employee I’ve ever had. He saved my life. He found me when no one else even looked. They were focused on my father, not me. Counting his breaths instead of making sure I had more. He was it. I’m only here because of him. No one but Kimble.” My voice was more pained than I wanted it to be. Our conversation was spiraling. I had lost control of the narrative. His anger and fear we’re starting to dominate the room.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” Knight looked away, but not before I saw how tense his jaw was. “It’s fucking messed up, that’s all. Someone grabbed you out of your own house and four years later you’re no closer to justice?”
“Justice?” I huffed. “Don’t you think I’ve had my justice on this city?”
He turned slowly. I saw the recognition in his eyes. “That’s it. The loan rates. The ruthless buybacks. You’ve been making everyone pay.”
“I don’t trust anyone.” My eyes narrowed. “How can I? Why should I? Someone knows who the kidnapper was. No one has come forward. They all deserve to pay. Everyone is guilty until I know who did it.”
He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Damn it, Kennedy.”
“What? Would you do it differently?” I snapped. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit in the same room around a table of men who are responsible for the biggest nightmare of your life? You have to look in their eyes and smile. Act as if you’re fine. Act as if you don’t sleep with armed guards outside your bedroom door every night. Act as if the worst thing that happened when you were locked below the street was that you chipped a nail. You don’t know what that’s like. Don’t pretend you know. Don’t pretend that you’d do anything differently than I have done.”
He raised his hands in the air. “I don’t know. What I do know is that someone should pay for what happened to you.”
“They’re all paying.” I exhaled and spun on my bare heels. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell him. He was focused on revenge already. “Until someone comes clean, they all have to pay.” I grabbed the upright post of the bed. I just needed a second to lean on something. It couldn’t be Knight.
But suddenly his hands wrapped around my waist and his mouth nuzzled against my neck. I stiffened against his body, but he aligned against me, holding me closer, tighter.
“I’m sorry.” H
e kissed my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t know whether to trust the moment or not. My muscles relaxed against my instincts.
“If I had been here—”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not letting you play the what if game.”
“How do I turn that off?”
“You have to figure out a way not to go down that road,” I answered. “It will drive you crazy. Trust me.” He didn’t want to know all the different ways I thought things could have been different if he hadn’t moved to Paris.
His fingers grazed my waist as he rotated me in his arms. When my eyes blinked open, I was staring into his dark gaze. But the storm clouds were gone. They had been replaced by a different kind of intensity.
“It doesn’t matter to me if Kimble is out there or a hundred miles away. I’m here now. Nothing is going to happen to you again.”
“You can’t make that kind of promise.”
“I just did.”
“I’ve lived with what happened to me. I have measures in place. I’ve been handling it, Knight. I’m quite safe now.”
“But everyone knows your weakness.”
“What’s that?” I studied his eyes.
“It’s Kimble. He’s what holds up your security. Without him, the safeguards disappear and you’re vulnerable.”
I tried to wiggle away, but Knight’s hands clasped against my lower back. “It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about my security.”
“Only because I want to keep you safe. You can’t rely on him for that forever.”
“Can we talk about something else? Anything else?” I asked. Everything between us was shifting. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the idea that Knight would think I was anything but fiercely independent and strong. It was hard to be this vulnerable with him.