By Chance Box Set 1

by S A Clayton

  “I just feel…” I can’t find the words. Mama Jenn holds out her arms, and I concede, allowing myself to be wrapped in her embrace.

  “I know,” she states as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I know you feel helpless, useless, and afraid, but you need to be strong for her. You need to fight for her.” As if on cue, my phone rings, and I jump out of Mama Jenn’s arms and rush to the kitchen where it’s lying on the counter.

  “What’d you find?” I ask, not letting Jamie get a word in edgewise.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” he barks as if nothing important is going on and he just called to shoot the shit.

  “Jamie,” I warn, not in the mood for his antics.

  “Jesus, I was just gonna say a hello would have been nice.” I grunt my reply and wait for him to continue. “I found the guy that left the comment,” he starts, and I sigh in relief. When I got off the phone with JJ hours ago, I sent Jamie a text with a screenshot of the comments on Clara’s video, specifically the ones that mentioned seeing her later. I told him that I wanted him to do whatever it took to find the son of a bitch who sent her that message and send me his location. I had a sick feeling that wherever the guy was, would be where we’d find Clara.

  “Thank God,” I whisper, hoping he has even better news than that.

  “But…” My stomach sinks, and I lean my head against the kitchen cabinets. “I don’t have his location yet. I’m close. His name is Brandon Phillips, and he’s local. I can tell you that much.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, wanting to know as much about this fucker as I can.

  “I found his social media accounts. All the geotags are local, but I’m having a hard time tracking down his actual address. I’m close. Give me another hour.” Without thinking, my fist goes through the cabinets as I scream into the phone.

  “She might not have an hour! You have twenty minutes.” I hang up. My chest heaves, my breathing labored. The new silence is deafening. I think back to my 9-1-1 call where they casually told me to wait seventy-two hours before reporting Clara as missing. I knew that when I called Jamie, he was my only hope. My fingers grip the edge of the countertop, my knuckles going white. I look down at my hands and see blood dripping from my knuckles. When I raise my gaze, I notice the fist-sized hole in the solid wood cabinet in front of me.

  “Damon, maybe you should sit,” Liam urges, tentatively clasping his hand on my shoulder. I sag against the weight of the unknown. It’s suffocating, and I know the only way for me to breathe properly is to discover where Clara is being held.

  “I can’t…” I grit through my teeth. “I can’t sit until I know where she is and that she’s safe.”

  Liam says nothing, just looks back at JJ, who’s sitting next to Mama Jenn, talking quietly. I notice her dry her eyes more than once, and I wonder if my outbursts are making everything worse.

  “Maybe take a minute, go have a shower, calm down. Leave your phone here. If it rings, I’ll get you.” My eyes lock with Mama Jenn’s, and she gives me a curt tilt of her head. I dip my chin.

  “That phone makes a sound…” I mutter, watching him try hard not to roll his eyes at me.

  “I’ll run in and get you. I want her back too, you know.”

  “I know, man. Thanks.” I take my leave and head into my bedroom. The moment I walk into the room, I freeze. Clara surrounds me. I can see her clothes on my floor, her brush on my dresser, and I know if I smell her pillow, it will have hints of her perfume. I bypass the bed, making my way to the bathroom and start the shower.

  I don’t know how much time I spend with the spray pelting my skin, but by the time I get out, the water has long gone cold. My head pounds with the idea of my life without Clara, and I can feel myself start to lose control. I rip the towel off the wall and shut off the water as I wrap the terrycloth around my waist. My reflection stares back at me, and all I see is heartache.

  “Please don’t take her away from me,” I beg whoever is listening. I’m not a religious man, but I will become one if it means that I get to see Clara again.

  Pounding sounds outside the bathroom door, and I hear Liam shout. “Get out here. Phone!” I don’t care that I’m half-naked. I don’t care that tears stream down my cheeks. I run into the living room and take the phone from Liam’s grip.

  I don’t bother with words. I grunt as Jamie says the five words I’ve been waiting hours to hear. “I know where she is.”

  NINETEEN

  CLARA

  I’ve been down here for hours. The sun is slowly sinking from view, and I know if I don’t do something soon, I’ll regret it. He told me his name is Brandon, as if that would make me forget the fact that he hit me over the head and locked me in his basement. Yet, every time he comes down to check on me, his eyes search mine as if he’s waiting for his feelings to be reciprocated.

  Fat chance.

  Brandon leaves for the third time in as many hours, and I know from the last two times that I have about thirty minutes of peace. He never touches me, although he alludes to it every chance he gets, making me wonder if he took me only to keep me locked up, or for some other nefarious reason. I take stock of the room for the thousandth time and try to figure out a way out of here. My eyes keep going toward the two small windows near the ceiling, and I know they’re my only shot at freedom.

  I know from experience that I can fit through one of them easily—summer camp when I was a camp counselor when one of the kids locked me in a basement—but I know I’m not tall enough or strong enough to hoist myself up and out. I need a ladder…but wouldn’t you know it? There’s no ladder in this psycho’s basement.

  My eyes search the room, and I notice a couple of boxes across the way. I slowly and quietly make my way over to test them out. I pick one up, only to find that it’s empty. Fuck! I think to myself, this is not gonna help at all. My eyes scan the room once more and come up with nothing. I sigh and lean back against the concrete wall. My back bows because of the iron pipe sticking out, and I spin around to examine it.

  I can climb this sucker and get out.

  Knowing this is my only shot, I look at the staircase and listen. No sounds to speak of, so I decide to go for it. I take my bound wrists, lift them above my head, and wrap my fingers around the rusted copper fitting. The moment I hoist myself up, my fingers gripping tightly, my bare feet braced against the concrete wall, I know this won’t work. I need full motion of both my hands. I can’t do this if my hands are bound.

  Frustrated, I fall to the floor, wincing as the plastic cuts into my skin. My head bows as I examine my wrists, trying to find a weak spot in the restraints but finding none.

  There has to be a way to get out of these ties.

  I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, twisting my hands futilely. Then it hits me. I remember seeing a video once on how to escape zip ties. At the time, I thought it was just a joke, but now, it just might save my life.

  All I remember from the video was someone lifting their hands above their head and swinging their arms down across their lower abdomen. I lift myself off the floor, bracing my legs apart, and raise my hands above my head. The moment my wrists hit my middle, I know it didn’t work. The pain that radiates through my wrists and torso sends a cry from my lips, and my eyes dart to the door at the top of the stairs. When I don’t see or hear anything, I look down at the white plastic and try again. This time when I raise my hands above my head, I close my eyes, picturing the bonds breaking.

  When the ties stretch against my skin and then break, a sense of relief washes over me as my body relaxes. I probe my fingers against the raw, exposed skin of my wrists and then look back up at the window, steeling myself for what I’m about to do. I listen one last time, making sure there’s no one around, and then climb the pipe. It takes a few tries before I make it anywhere near the window, but when I do, and my eyes take in the expanse of field in front of me, I wonder if this is a good idea. There’s no cover, nowhere for me to hide, and the thought of what coul
d happen if Brandon catches me sends shivers through my entire body.

  Am I being stupid here? Should I just wait until the police arrive?

  I shake my head. No. I refuse to wait for someone to come and rescue me. I’ve taken care of myself for years, and that includes today. I wonder for a split second what Damon’s doing right now while I scale a wall and plot my escape. Is he worried about me? Is he looking for me? God, I hope so.

  I hang onto the pipe with one hand and reach for the latch that opens the window with the other. When it gives way, and I smell the fresh scent of newly cut grass, I let myself smile.

  This could work.

  I jump down to the concrete again, making sure to land as softly as possible, and then shake out my fingers. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet as I stretch my neck from side to side.

  I can do this. I can break out of here and save myself.

  I jump and climb up the pipe like I did four times before. My hands grip the edge of the windowsill, and I do a pull-up that I’ve only done once before—that day at camp—and hoist myself through the window. It takes a few shimmies for my body to get through the tight opening, but when it does, and I feel the fresh air on my skin, I do the one thing I should.

  I run.

  What I don’t expect is the sensation of flying through the air and landing hard on my back.

  “You think you can run away from me, you selfish bitch?” Brandon screams, picking me up by my forearms and heaving me off the ground as if I weigh nothing.

  “What did you think to do, run away, and I wouldn’t notice?” he snarls as his fingers dig into my skin.

  “I have sensors on all the windows, I knew the moment you opened it.” Of course, he did.

  Would it have made a difference if you had known? I think to myself as I stare into the eyes of my captor. Nope, I still would have tried.

  “Nothing to say?” he mutters, his breath cascading over the skin of my neck. “You’re mine. No one is coming for you…”

  “CLARA!” a voice yells from somewhere in the distance. I hear it one more time before a sense of calm washes over me.

  It’s Damon. He’s here.

  I don’t think. I just act. I spin out of Brandon’s grip and run. I don’t know where Damon is, but I know if I run fast and far enough, he’ll find me.

  “CLARA!” I hear again, and my steps falter. I trip over my feet and land hard on my knees. My gaze scans upward and I see Damon, running around the side of the house. His eyes meet mine just as I’m yanked up by the collar of my shirt.

  “That’s the second time you’ve run from me, Clara…” Brandon murmurs against my neck. My eyes only see Damon as he comes to a halt a few yards away.

  “You like the chase, baby? You like making me work for it?” I don’t say or do anything, only stare at the one man who has my heart. The cool metal feels foreign against my temple, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see the anguish staring back at me. I know what Brandon has in his hand. It’s not a mystery to me.

  “Brandon, don’t do this,” Damon says calmly, but when my eyes search his, I notice nothing but panic there. It’s running off him in waves, and I wish I could take that look and throw it into a woodchipper.

  “You don’t get to talk!” Brandon screams and pushes the gun muzzle harder into the side of my head.

  “She was mine before she was ever yours! I saw her first!” If I weren’t so afraid he would blow my brains out, I would tell him that he’s insane.

  “Brandon, think about this for a minute. You would hurt Clara even though you say you love her?” The question’s a legitimate one, but from the tense set of the body behind me, I can tell that Brandon’s past the point of reason.

  “I would rather her die than be with someone like you,” he snarls, his free arm wrapping around my stomach and pressing me closer to his chest. His erratic breathing makes me think that he’s losing control, and I know I don’t have a lot of time to get myself out of this.

  My eyes meet Damon’s one last time. I give him a weak smile and mouth the words I never thought I would ever get to say to him.

  I love you.

  His eyes bulge as I shift my weight and elbow Brandon in the stomach. He releases me long enough that I can spin on my heels and grasp the hand that holds the gun. As much as I like to think of myself as a strong woman, Brandon overpowers me, and we fall to the ground.

  I hear Damon screaming my name in the background as he gets closer and closer, but it’s no use. We’re brawling. Rolling around on the grass, hands desperately trying to get control of the gun, blows landing on both sides.

  Then, everything goes black.

  TWENTY

  DAMON

  The beeping of the heart monitor keeps me awake, even though my eyes feel like they’re weighed down by concrete.

  “You need to go home,” Liam says softly from across the room. He’s been here almost as long as I have, but to be fair, he and JJ take turns. I shake my head, resting it on Clara’s hand that’s clasped within mine.

  “I can’t leave her. I just…”

  “I get it.” He gives me a sad smile as he gets out of the chair, looking at his watch. “I’m going to get you some food, okay? I’ll be back.” I nod absently, kissing the back of Clara’s hand, hoping to God she wakes up.

  The last seventy-two hours have been a nightmare. When I rounded the corner of that house and saw that gun pointed at her head, I felt my heart stop. Clara looked terrified standing there, pressed against that asshole, waiting for him to decide whether she lived or died. Seeing her lying in this hospital bed now, hooked up to so many machines, sends my mind spinning into an abyss.

  “Damon?” Clara’s cracked voice comes from above me, and I sit straight up. This isn’t the first time I thought I heard her voice since she was brought in here, but it’s the first time I’ve looked at her beautiful face and saw her blue eyes staring back at me.

  “Clara!” I stand, bringing her hand to my lips and kissing it again, feeling her fingers squeeze back this time. I push the call button beside her bed, letting the nurse on the other end know she’s finally awake. I sit on the edge of the bed and lean over her, gently kissing her forehead.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question, but needing the reassurance.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she jokes, making me smile along with her. “What happened?”

  Just as I’m about to explain everything, a bunch of doctors and nurses come in to check on Clara’s vitals, making sure she’s okay. Then Liam and JJ come in and take up even more time. After a while, I kick everyone out, needing to be alone with her.

  “Damon, what happened?” Clara asks again as I sit in the same spot on the edge of the bed by her hip, taking her hands in mine.

  “What do you remember?” I ask, needing to know how much of this I have to tell. Because if I’m honest, I would rather not relive any of it.

  “I remember you rounding the side of the house. I remember elbowing him in the stomach and us falling to the ground. After that, it’s all a blur.”

  I know what I need to tell her.

  “I watched you fall to the ground, him braced over you, still holding the gun to your head. I knew I needed to help you, but I stood there frozen. I didn’t know what to do…” My voice breaks, and her palm finds the side of my cheek.

  “Baby, I never wanted you to step in.”

  I shake my head. “No, I wish I had. I wish I could have been there sooner, found you quicker.”

  She catches the tear that falls from my eye as I bow my head into her chest.

  “Tell me what happened,” she whispers softly.

  I take a deep breath and tell her about the fight. How Brandon had her pinned to the grass, the gun still pointed at her head. But instead of shooting her like we all thought he would, he rammed the butt of the gun into her head over and over again until she lost consciousness.

  I will never forget the smile on
his face when his eyes met mine. I will always remember the look he flashed me when he was arrested and charged with attempted murder. That bastard’s face will stay etched in my mind until the day I die.

  Clara releases one of her hands from mine, and her fingers touch the side of her head. Tears well up as she feels the shaved area where they stitched her up.

  “It will grow back, I promise,” I whisper against her ear, kissing the side of her neck. “You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.” I raise my head and look deeply into her eyes. I can tell that she doesn’t believe me, but I vow to remind her of that every day for as long as she’ll let me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  CLARA

  “You’re free to go, Clara,” the doctor says, handing me my discharge papers.

  It’s been a week since the kidnapping, and I am finally going home. Or should I say to Damon’s place, since he insisted on taking care of me. Not that I really mind him waiting on me hand and foot…it might be fun.

  “You ready, Sunshine?” Damon asks from the door. When our eyes meet, that familiar pull I have toward him hits me, and I wonder if it will ever go away. He never left my side while I was in this room. He stayed every night and only left when JJ or Liam was here. And even then, he only went home to shower and change. I asked if he needed to go to work, and every time, he just kissed me and told me that I was more important than work. That was all well and good, but the man needed his job.

  “I’m ready.” I stand up from my seat on the bed and turn, taking one last look to make sure I didn’t forget anything, and then we head outside. I never thought to spend a week in a hospital, and I sincerely hope I never have to do it again. The food is atrocious, and I had to get Liam and JJ to sneak me in some regular outside-world food before I starved to death.

  “Your head okay?” Damon asks as he helps me into his SUV. He closes my door and runs around the front, getting in on his side. “You promise you’ll tell me if it isn’t?” he repeats as his fingers trace my shaved hairline.