by C. C. Piper
A spike of panic drilled through my skull. I didn’t know where I was.
My mind played back the reel of my most recent memories. I’d been walking to the condo after orchestra practice when someone had come up behind me. They’d shoved something over my mouth, and I’d passed out.
What had they done to me?
Gripping the hem of my shirt, I glanced down at myself. Except for being dry now, all my clothes seemed exactly as they had been. I looked down the neck of my t-shirt. My locket was still there and my bra remained intact, but my phone was missing. I’d shoved it in there earlier today. So, someone had touched me at least enough to remove my cell.
It was an awful feeling.
What if they’d…I thrust a hand into the waistband of my jeans, but my panties were still there. They didn’t appear to have been shifted or handled. And other than a mild headache, my body felt the same. I hadn’t been hurt or…violated. Surely, I’d be able to tell if I had been.
Feeling only slightly relieved, I took in my surroundings, taking hold of my locket to stabilize myself. The room might not be overly spacious, but it gave off a homey air. The duvet on the bed felt plush and thick, the mattress like a cloud. On the pale teal walls were pastel pictures of seahorses, dolphins, and jellyfish. A lamp in the shape of an old-fashioned oil lantern sat on the nightstand and a quilt lay on a chest at the foot of the bed, the pattern a series of sand dollars.
I felt cold, and I chafed my hands over my arms, tempted to throw the quilt over my shoulders. In one corner was stationed a rocking chair, its cushions one shade lighter than the walls. A Queen Anne armchair had been positioned in the opposite corner. There were no windows, no way to determine where I might be.
I listened but heard nothing. Not one sound. It felt strange to be encompassed by so much silence. I was used to city life with all the inherent noises that it entailed. So, either I was in a room that had been soundproofed or I was somewhere extremely quiet. Which begged the question of what this place was and where it might be.
I peered up at the door to see a rectangular mirror sending my own reflection back at me. It appeared to be my only means of escape. Did the silence mean that I’d been left all alone? Might whoever had taken me be so negligent as to allow me to simply wander away?
I sincerely doubted that, but I had to know one way or the other.
I pushed myself to my feet, feeling a wave of dizziness roll over me as I did. Nearly stumbling, I grabbed ahold of the post at the end of the bed to steady myself, then made my way to the door. I reached for the knob, but it was locked. I’d been knocked out and taken here against my will. Of course, it was locked.
I shuffled towards the opposite side of the room where another doorway stood, this one without a door. Inside lay a walk-in closet. It wasn’t huge—the one I’d had back at the main house was probably triple the size—but it was lined with feminine garments. Whose items were these? Did someone else live here? Were all these things another woman’s?
I saw everything from formal attire to sundresses, nightgowns to jeans and casual shirts. Along the floor, I detected a shoe caddy with tennis shoes, heels, sandals, hiking boots, and even galoshes. I peeked at some of the garments to see they were all the same size. My size. The shoes were also my size. A coincidence?
Why would someone capture me, then put me in such cozy accommodations? I slumped into the rocking chair, drifting back and forth as I tried to calm myself. None of this made even a modicum of sense.
Someone must be nearby. They’d locked me up in here with all this nice window dressing, the appearance of civil treatment. Yet, I knew what this was now. It was a prison, no matter how comfortable. Though they had yet to show themselves, I’d become someone’s prisoner.
I didn’t know how much time had elapsed since I’d been brought here. Drew must be worried out of his mind. Instinctually, we always knew when the other was in trouble. He’d probably been trying to reach me nonstop. My parents were probably concerned, too, if they knew.
Maybe that was the point.
This was likely all about money. Why else would someone abduct me? They hadn’t hurt me when I’d been out. All the horror movies Drew had made me watch with him sprung into my head. Movies where people were kidnapped and tortured simply to give the bad guy a thrill. Sometimes, the films would depict the victims being awakened so they could react as they were being harmed, so they could scream as they were tormented. My heart leapt in fear at the thought.
The only solace I could take was that in all those movies, the villain kept his victims in some sort of dungeon or basement. Somewhere with bare cement walls where they’d be chained up like animals ready for the slaughter. Unless my captor meant to screw with my head by softening me up first, that didn’t appear to be what was happening here.
Not that I had any way of finding out. Not until they showed their face.
I glanced around the room again, observing its lack of a restroom. What was I supposed to do? Pee in the corner? And what about food? Had I been brought here so I could slowly starve to death or die of dehydration? That was not how I wanted to go.
Not that I had a choice.
Abruptly, my emotions swerved from fearful to angry. Why were they doing this without telling me what they wanted? Why was I being punished? I stood again, wrenching at the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge, so I called out, “Let me out! Let me out of here!”
I railed and ranted, screaming at the top of my lungs. I pounded on the mirror with my fists, nearly breaking the glass. Maybe this was why the doorknob moved—someone must be on the other side.
There was a click as if it was being unlocked, and I took a few paces backwards, both anxious and frightened to meet my captor. My foot caught one of the legs of the footboard, and I lost my balance. Before I could fall to the floor, however, a hand reached out and grabbed my elbow. A big hand. A male hand.
I looked up. A man had materialized at the threshold like some dark, frightening specter. On his head, he’d donned a baseball cap while tinted shades covered his eyes. His navy t-shirt had the familiar insignia of the shield from Marvel’s Captain America. Over this he’d pulled on what I clearly recognized as an expensive Armani suit and Chuck Taylor high-tops. It was the most peculiar combination I’d ever seen.
I registered all this in a millisecond, at the same time absorbing the way the contact of his palm on my bare elbow elicited a feeling I’d never experienced before. It reminded of the charge given off by expelled static electricity, a zap, and even once he released me, my system continued to buzz with it.
“You okay?” he asked in a rich baritone, as if he cared. Which I’m sure he didn’t. Still, his voice sounded almost musical in nature. Under other circumstances, it might’ve intrigued me, but not now.
“No, I’m not okay. I’ve been locked up in here against my will.”
He yanked his sunglasses off, mumbling something akin to, “Can’t see a damn thing in here,” and gazed at me with light, crystal green eyes—I’d never seen anything like them. Now that I could make out his entire face, I felt a niggling of awareness at the back of my brain, as if I knew him somehow but couldn’t determine from where. I stared at him, willing the information to come to me, but it didn’t.
“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” My query came out more like a demand, though I felt more afraid than I’d ever been in my life.
“Your father is why.”
“My father?”
“Yes. He’s been involved in some less than above-board dealings with his competitors. Until he’s willing to work things out to their satisfaction, you’ll be staying here.” He paused. “With me.”
“So you’re what? My guard?”
Another pause, this time longer. “Yes.”
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I asked him, examining his features.
He should’ve looked silly in his attire, but somehow, he didn’t. Black hair peeked out from beneath his ball cap, and the lines of hi
s face might’ve been considered handsome if he hadn’t just kidnapped me. Or agreed to stand watch for those who had. He had several inches of height on me, his broad shoulders making him a physical force to be reckoned with. He had a long straight nose, a square jaw, and full lips—like, almost ridiculously full, yet they suited him.
The beginnings of a beard darkened the lower half of his features, giving his face an edge of danger, like he wasn’t a man to be toyed with or underestimated. But then, he was dangerous. Good men didn’t work for those who abducted the daughters of their business rivals, so there was no telling what he might do. There was also no way to know what he’d been ordered to do.
He pivoted on his heel, clearly intending to leave me behind, but I snatched at his arm. “Wait, don’t leave me in here. Please.”
Pinning me with those eyes of his, he stopped, the expression on his face intense. “I’m sorry you’ve become involved in this.” He was sorry? Then why did he agree to be a guard for whoever had kidnapped me? “But there’s no going back now. You’re here, and what’s done is done.”
He almost seemed to be talking himself into or out of something, I couldn’t tell which.
“As long as you follow the rules, you won’t be harmed,” he went on. “As soon as your father relents, you’ll be set free.”
“Can I call him? I can talk him into doing what you want much faster,” I suggested, wondering if he’d see through my ploy.
He merely looked at me with raised brows, which answered my question. Whoever this guy was, I couldn’t call him an imbecile. “I have some business to attend to,” he said, and with that, he marched out, closing my door behind him.
Instantly, I pounded on the door again, yelling at him to let me out. He didn’t, and after maybe a minute had gone by, I tried the doorknob myself. Miraculously, it gave way. Had he forgotten to lock it? Was he still here? Equally excited and terrified, I dashed along the hallway, not even taking time to note where the different rooms were or what they might contain. I had to get out of here, and this could be my only chance.
I came across the door at the far end of whatever type of structure this was, finding it heavily secured. Even though I’d been given slightly more leeway and room to spread out, there was no denying the obvious.
I was still trapped.
8
Christoff
After retreating to my room, I banged my forehead against the thick window. Outside, the ocean waves crashed into the rocky cliffs, the white breakers beating against them as though determined to cave them in. The island, though visually stunning, had no sand along its beaches. Instead, the archipelago was bordered by inhospitable bluffs of basalt at least five stories high. No one would be able to safely leave here, except in an air transport.
I heard Rachel wandering through the place, trying this door and that before heading back toward the opposite end of the building. Once I could tell that she was no longer near, I began to question everything. Why I’d contacted the Wish Maker. Why I’d ordered this young woman to be captured. That I was now responsible for her. How this tactic might force Jack Brisbane’s hand.
What if it didn’t, though? What if this didn’t work after all? What if I’d gone through all these machinations for nothing?
I was in way over my head.
I’d thrown myself right past the point of no return with both feet, and now I had to face the music. I was fucked. Royally and completely. Because no matter what happened going forward, despite the involvement of a likely undetectable third party, I’d been the one to commit a serious crime. If this went to court, I’d be the one charged with an unforgivable offense.
Jesus.
In my hand lay the satellite phone the Wish Maker had so thoughtfully provided for me, and I stared at the thing, at this lifeline to the mainland. I knew from my little tour of the facility that there was food in the kitchen and other necessary supplies. I’d left Rachel’s bedroom door unlocked so she could roam through every room but this one at her leisure; the girl wouldn’t starve. But allowing her slightly-freer rein that didn’t assuage my guilt.
I still felt like an evil bastard.
I’d allowed her to believe I was her guard, that I was a hired hand. I felt thankful that she’d assumed this about me, that she hadn’t thought of me as the party responsible for her kidnapping. Granted, her believing me to be some goon wasn’t much of an improvement, but still. Hiding behind this extra layer of subterfuge couldn’t hurt.
I couldn’t believe I’d gotten myself into such a mess. If my grandfather could know about this, he’d be rolling in his grave. Grandpa had taught me so much growing up. Right from wrong. To do my best. Never to give up. To see my intelligence as a gift instead of pretending to be stupid to fit in. My grandfather had always told me to set a good example.
Advice I’d just ignored in an epic fashion.
My memories of my mom and dad had grown dimmer over the years; I’d been so young when that semi had come from out of nowhere, taking them away from me. They’d been good people, though, I knew that. Just like Grandpa.
Which probably meant all three of them were rolling now.
Shit.
I’d been trying to figure out how to fix this situation for the past hour but hadn’t succeeded. Rachel had already seen me, spoken to me. She’d already realized she was being held captive. Now that I’d met her face to face, the consequences of my poor choices had been brought into sharp focus. I’d done this to her, hired some clandestine organization to kidnap her in order to seek retribution against her father.
I was so going to Hell.
My eyes fell on the satellite phone resting in my palm. It was too late to cancel anything, but I could certainly use some advice. I hit the only number on speed dial, listened to a series of beeps, and was connected.
“Mr. Green,” came the craggy voice I recognized as the Wish Maker’s. There was an echo on the line, as well as a brief delay. “What can I do for you?”
“I…” A million thoughts occurred to me at once, none of them coherent.
“Ah,” she said. “Bitten off more than you can chew?”
Yes, absolutely. But I stayed silent.
“You’re not the first to go to extraordinary lengths only to regret receiving what you’ve asked for. Whether to go forward or backward is your choice, but I advise forward.”
I rubbed my scalp. “How will I know if Brisbane has met the conditions put forth in the letter?”
“We’ll keep you informed. He is being watched extremely carefully. Would you like to be sent a daily report of his activities?”
At this point, I knew not to inquire about how they planned to collect such data. The Wish Maker’s resources seemed to know no bounds. I noticed there was no Wi-Fi out here, but having those reports once I got back would be beneficial.
“Please.”
After getting off the phone with the Wish Maker, I called Kit. This had been his contact, and in a roundabout way, his idea. He could provide backup support.
“I’m going to need you to tell people I’m on vacation,” I said without preamble.
“How long?” he asked, not missing a beat.
“Six weeks.”
“And how are things going with your newest…project?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.” Then, he switched gears, contradicting himself. “No. Hell if I know. Are you doing something I should worry about?”
“Let me put it like this: the less you know, the less culpable you’ll be.”
“Fuck, Chris. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Yeah, well, join the club.
“Will you hold down the fort until I get back?”
“Yeah, I’ve got this.” Kit said, his voice full of concern. But I wouldn’t tell him anything more unless I had to. This was a disaster of epic proportions without involving my CEO and friend, too. I could only pray to God that it didn’t end up making everything worse. “Are you okay?
”
No. Not even close. But onwards and upwards, right?
“Got to go.” I disconnected.
I approached Rachel’s room and the two-way mirror that provided me with a visual into it, carrying the five o’clock drone delivery of parmesan-encrusted salmon and rice pilaf wrapped in a thick, foil-lined box. Since I’d left her to her own devices, she’d taken it upon herself to block the view with some type of cloth, a towel from the looks of it. Obviously, she didn’t enjoy the idea of being watched without her approval.
I smiled at this insight into her personality; I liked that she was no pushover. I hadn’t intended to be a voyeur anyway, especially since the distasteful factor of this whole scenario was already ludicrously high, and her little act of defiance made me respect her. If this had been a real kidnapping carried out by real bad guys, it felt good to know she’d at least try to stand her ground. Even if she was some pampered little rich girl, at least she had some grit.
I knocked on her door.
“Unless you’re releasing me, feel free to go jump in the lake.”
Her voice held an edge of sarcasm in it, and before I could stop myself, I smiled again. I knelt down to the crack under her door, wafting the scent towards her. Yes, there were snacks and cold foods in the kitchen, but there was no microwave or oven. If she wanted hot food, she’d better get it while the getting was good.
“Hungry?” I called out. “I have dinner and it’s piping hot.”
Nothing. I waited for about thirty seconds, then stood to leave, figuring my temptation hadn’t been enough to lure her out, but then the door creaked open.
“Salmon?” she asked, the hope in her gaze discernible. Her irises were a much darker shade than mine, a deep mossy color with flecks of golden brown.