HASSAN
I watched the compound disappear in the rearview window.
As midnight came and went, and the compound settled, those who were watching us left one by one, Addie the last of them. It was getting late and a lot had happened in the past few hours. It was poor judgement on their part to think we wouldn’t get out.
Maybe we wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for Mikhail.
He had been the only one of us to not get captured and after hours of wondering where he had disappeared to, there was a strange sound that came from the back of the storage unit, like a sharp cracking sound—and it came again, this time louder before there was the sound of something falling. We scrambled ot our feet, still bound in our zipties, surprised to find Mikhail on the floor.
He’d hid for long enough that it wouldn’t arouse suspicion and snuck in through a massive airshaft on the backside of the compound.
Everyone was relieved to see him and I was too—but I couldn't’ completely relax knowing Fred was still out there, potentially with Henry.
Mikhail cut our zip ties, nodding towards the vent he had army-crawled through to get to us.
“You fit your huge ass through that tiny tin can?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah. Took a lot of Crisco. Mikhail put a hand on my shoulder as Sam began to climb into the vent. “Let’s go get this guy.”
When we got to the house, Abella, her children and Lorna were on their way out.
“Where’s Fred?” I tried not to sound too panicked.
Abella sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “He’s gone. Henry took him—I don’t know where, but—” and she began to tear up again.
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, it’s all right. Did you see what car they took?”
“N-no, no.” She shook her head. “We left before they did, but came back—the car was almost out of gas and we weren’t sure what to do—”
We made sure the staff and Abella were safe, the children asleep and secure in the living room before regrouping. Hours passed, the minutes flying by like seconds; it was a struggle to pull together ideas of where they could have possibly gone, and the possibility that we wouldn’t be able to find them was infuriatingly real.
I had promised to protect Fred.
It wouldn’t make sense for Henry to take Fred someplace new. He was a man of habit, of careful planning; he didn’t operate the same in environments he didn’t know well. It had to be somewhere he considered safe and isolated, easily accessible and easy to defend.
Two in the morning came. The coffee was low.
My hand ran over the map on the wall, pausing in the middle of the green paper woods.
The memory of a place deep in the woods resurfaced, like a flash of lightning.
“Shit.”
“What?” Sam looked up from his notepad.
I didn’t have time to say anything. They’d already had such a large head start.
Snatching my keys off the hook by the office door, I ran to the car, peeling out into the darkness heading for the one place of Fred’s that Henry had grown familiar with. Had been in before.
His cabin in the woods.
23
Fred
Once we had officially entered Sequoia National Park, our destination was no longer a secret.
Henry talked about the trees and the park as if he knew them well; I’d asked if he’d been there before, remembering with a sickening turn in my stomach that he had been to my cabin—had followed Hassan and I there.
He pulled up in front of the cabin, windows dark and when we went inside, we had nothing to unpack. It was still warm outside, even at night, this time of year. Perfect camping weather.
Henry rubbed his hands together, looking around the cabin. I wasn’t sure what to do, but when he looked at me, I forced a smile. “You hungry?”
No. “I… I could eat.”
He nodded happily. “Good. I stocked this place up before tonight—I always prepare ahead of time.” He threw open the fridge door, boasting packages of hot dogs, cans of beer and bottles of water, gallons of it, and various other foods. I paled, wondering how long he intended to keep us here. Would he ever let me leave?
He grabbed the hot dogs and a bottle of liquor, and we went out by the fire pit. I remembered being here with Hassan—relaxing and talking about nothing. It had been the first time I felt like I had wanted to kiss him. I wish I had, to make up for lost time.
“Hey. Come here.” Henry waved me over. I pulled myself up from the log and crouched beside the pit next to him.
He pulled out something that looked like a key, but with a long and smooth nub coming out of the handle. A small sheet of metal was attached to the stick. He pressed it into my hands.
“I want you to light it.”
“I….” I held it in my hands, shrugging nervously. “I don’t know what this is.”
Play it coy, I told myself. I knew he was obsessed with me, but I needed him to like me. I needed to stay in his favor. Who knew what he was capable of when angry.
“It’s flint,” he chuckled, taking it from me, making a striking motion with the two pieces. “You do it till you’ve got sparks. It’s gonna start the fire.”
I tried. Several times. I almost had it once, small sparks showering down on the wood, but it never took. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Henry’s smile fading. I went to strike it again, determined—
“Stop.” He took the flint from me quickly. “Just stop. Let me.”
Henry lit the fire quickly and without issue, disappointment evident on his face. He gestured for me to sit on the log again and he followed sighing as he sat beside me.
“You’re gonna have to get better at shit like that, Frederic.” He stared into the fire as he spoke. It was fine, as long as he wasn’t looking at me. “Life isn’t going to be as easy out here,” he said, “especially when society falls. You need skills to stay alive. I can help you but you have to be able to help yourself, too.”
A silence fell between the two of us.
I tried to imagine a future stuck here with Henry. Would he ever slip up? Would it be possible for me to escape? Would Hassan ever find us?
I asked quietly, trying to stay on the same level as him: “Do you feel good about all this?” My voice wasn’t accusatory. It was just a question. “All this… do you think it’s right?”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, turning to me. He looked guanter in the firelight. I felt tired, my body exhausted, but his eyes kept me awake. They were strange, unpredictable. “We belong together. I’m convinced of it.”
“Why?”
He plucked the hot dogs from the package, placing them on skewers. He placed one in my hand, guiding my fingers around it, his touch lingering. I tensed under them as he looked at me, so sure.
“I knew it the second I saw your name on the screen. Mind of a Soldier.”
“It was the first thing I’d ever directed.” I had done two movies since, including the one I was supposed to be working on now.
“I know.” Henry grinned, patting my hand before sticking his own skewer in the fire. “That movie really… it spoke to me. I saw it and I knew you knew me. Even if you didn’t know me yet. It was as if you made the movie for me.” His smile turned a touch bashful. “I knew I had to get to you. We know each other. And now….” He gestured to the woods around us, as if we were finally in a world of our own. “Incredible, isn’t it?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes… it is.”
It was a crossroads. He was being kind to me, and I wanted to keep it that way; and, though I could sense he was dangerous, I could see the humanity in him still. He wasn’t evil. He was sick, wrapped up in a delusion. I didn’t feel guilty or regret for making the film—because, I think, if it hadn’t been one thing, it would have been another—but I did feel bad for him.
Hassan had insisted that harsh measures needed to be taken. Punishment.
As we ate our dinner and went back inside, I disagreed.
/>
Henry needed help.
I couldn’t get him help if I was stuck in this cabin.
He had tried to coax me into playing cards, and I admitted apologetically that I was tired, which was the truth. Hitchhiking and hostage negotiation and sneaking around compounds really took it out of me. Henry seemed to understand, which I was grateful for.
We went to the bedroom and I wondered if we would be sharing a bed. He pulled back the covers and began removing his boots, the scene playing at domestic bliss. I crawled into bed fully dressed, murmuring my goodnights to Henry as he rolled onto his side.
I waited a long while, until his breathing had evened out, deep in his state of sleep, before I shifted experimentally. Was he a light sleeper?
I sure as hell hoped not.
It felt like a horror film, the tension in my back strung up tight as I slid my legs first from beneath the covers, feet touching lightly against the wood of the floor. I eyes my shoes as I sat up, waiting for Henry to turn over and catch me in the act, a lie about going to the bathroom waiting on my tongue.
There wasn’t any time to put my shoes on. I had socks and that was enough. Getting out of here was the priority.
The cabin was thankfully new, built within the last decade, so the floors didn’t creak all that much as I slid across them, each step quiet and careful.
I twisted the doorknob slowly, waiting for it to screeches on its hinges, but it didn’t, by some miracle.
I pried it open just enough for me to slip out.
The door was within my sights.
Freedom was within my sights.
Moving quick and quiet through the open-floor plan, I didn’t touch anything—not a light, not a jacket, not anything except the car key where it sat on the counter, blissfully forgotten by Henry, an oversight, a slip-up.
I held it in my hand. The literal key to my escape.
“Frederic.”
The tone of his voice was cold, like it belonged to a totally different person.
The blood in my body froze and I turned slowly, smiling at Henry. It was hard to see his expression in the dark, but I could see a sliver of it in the faint light that came in through the kitchen window: the earliest light of dawn, the sun rising far beyond the mountains and the trees.
“H-Henry.” I flicked my fingers in recognition. “Morning.”
“You’re up early….”
“Yeah, yeah.” I took a step into the kitchen. If there was ever a time for my acting skills to come through, it was now. I held the key in my hand tightly, reluctant to put it down in case he noticed. “Do you want some coffee?”
Henry didn’t answer; he only moved closer, slow in his steps as if assessing the situation. He backed me up against the counter, closing me in near the coffee maker. There was a sharpness in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before. His jaw was set tight.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to calm him down.
“Hold out your hand.”
I held out one. Opened it to show there was nothing.
His voice was frigid, a calm kind of anger. “The other one.”
My heart felt as if it stopped beating. I could see the door out of the corner of my eye, so close, but so far. “Henry—”
It happened so fast.
I only had time to flinch as his hand came around my neck suddenly, forcing me hard against the counter. I gasped for a good breath, clawing at his wrist but he held tight, his eyes hurt and wild.
“You don’t understand—”
“Henry….” My lungs were beginning to burn, eyes growing glassy as tears came to them. I kicked at him. He slammed me again, moving me by my neck. Despite my best intentions, I could feel myself panicking.
“You don’t—you don’t understand what I’m trying to do for you, Frederic.” His voice was rising in volume. “Why can’t you understand?!”
I could feel the blackness creeping into my vision. I was going to pass out soon and then what? Would he stop and let me live? Would he make it so I could never try to leave him again? Or would he hold tight long after I lost consciousness, and let me die?
“Why don’t you love me?”
Hassan.
“Why can’t you see that this is all for you?”
Hassan, help.
It was all I could think, my body struggling less and less. I wanted to see him one last time.
Henry’s hand fell away from my neck when I was at the edge of falling asleep and I crumpled to the kitchen floor, blinking away the blackness fuzzing in my vision. It came back slowly, and I felt like I was drunk as I looked up, expecting to see Henry standing over me.
Instead I saw him moving, heard him shouting, but the words only halfway made sense. There was someone else in the house, that much was clear. There were more footsteps, another familiar voice, deep and commanding. I pulled myself up slowly, staggering and stumbling as I stood, my eyes catching the figure in the dark. I knew that body. I knew that face.
“Hassan?”
The hope bloomed in my chest so suddenly that it hurt, made it tight with emotion.
Hassan glanced at me then back at Henry, catching him just in time as Henry charged at him. They were similar in size, though Hassan had more weight on him and the two tumbled to the floor in a heap.
I needed to do something. I needed to help.
With my energy coming back to me, another rush of adrenaline, I stumbled around the counter into the living room. Hassan kicked Henry off of him, enough space between them for them each to stand again.
Henry quickly grabbed for an iron poker, left by the fireplace where it belonged, swinging it at Hassan—who jumped out of the way each time, though it was close. Henry was closing in on Hassan as he avoided it each time, the space closing.
Grabbing at a lamp on a side table, I ran without thinking, swinging blindly. It made swift contact with Henry’s shoulder, the bulb shattering, and with a shout, he turned hard on me, the poker slicing across my chest.
I fell back against the floor, away from the fight, pain erupting across the skin of my chest. It had cut through my shirt and my skin, blood seeping through, but it wasn’t deep. I winced, looking up in time to see that I had at least given Hassan a chance.
Hassan lunged behind Henry and in a lightning-fast move, disarmed him quickly, the poker flying away from them, sliding far across the room.
They were shouting, fists coming hard down on one another, but Hassan seemed to be overtaking Henry, his strength and stamina winning out.
Hassan’s arm came around Henry’s throat in a move that had him choking.
He needs help.
“Hassan,” I said, though my voice was small, shocked. “Hassan!”
Hassan looked at me, his own face wild with adrenaline. I looked from him to Henry, shaking my head.
“Don’t.”
I didn’t need to say the words for him to know what I meant: don’t kill him. Don’t do this. We can still help him.
I saw the thought pass over Hassan’s face. Finally he nodded and I could see the muscles in his arm relaxing, though he still held on just enough for Henry to not be able to get out—not that he was struggling anymore. His eyes were closing slowly, slowly, attempting to speak until not even that was possible anymore.
I watched him struggle with his last bits on consciousness, and I was the last thing he saw as he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
It was hours before we were able to leave.
Hassan had insisted on taking Henry to the police himself, since involving the authorities seemed the best course of action now that he was neutralized and no longer a threat, but I insisted on calling them, to bringing them to the cabin. We needed to keep an eye on him and we didn’t need to worry about him waking up and having an episode while we were driving on the highway.
The cops came in record time and as Henry awoke, he was arrested. His brain seemed sleep-addled, even as he tried to yell for me, calling me betrayer and traitor, among other things
.
I stopped him before he was placed in the back of the cop car, promising I would get him the help he needed. He didn’t seem happy about it, but I would make good on my word anyway.
The cops took our statements and took photos of our injuries and the cabin before allowing us to leave and when we were at the car alone finally, I allowed myself to breathe, something breaking inside of me.
Hassan turned to me just in time to catch me as I wrapped my arms around him. His body stumbled and fell into the side of the car, surprised by how tightly I was squeezing him, but I didn’t care.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, voice wavering. I had never been so happy to see someone in my whole life. I’d almost been taken from him. He’d almost been taken from me.
But we were still here.
His arms wrapped around me in return, holding me tightly to his chest. I felt him breath against my hair, sighing, allowing himself to relax for the first time in a long time.
Henry was gone.
It sunk in slowly.
“You’re safe,” he told me and I knew it to be true.
At home, things were under control thanks to Hassan’s team. They’d done a great job of securing the house and the staff and making Abella and the kids feeling at home. We were welcomed back with a heart hug each from Jackson and a very stressed Doc asking where the hell Hassan had disappeared to.
We told them what had happened at the cabin and though there was probably still more to discuss, I felt oddly calm. Tired, even.
I think Hassan noticed. With a hand on my shoulder, he told me to go rest, to relax with something from the kitchen while he and his team began to dismantle their office space.
I wanted to stay by his side, but it felt clingy to say it.
As if sensing it, he added, “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
Halfway through a mug of tea, Hassan made good on his word.
I nudged a mug across the island to him, a small smile on my face. “I didn’t know what kind you wanted, but….”
Dr. Perfect: A Contemporary Romance Bundle Page 83