by Chloe Barlow
Just when he started to peer at each monitor for any kind of components he could use in their escape, the door opened. A.J. and this new third asshole entered. He was elegantly dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved cashmere sweater — a far cry from the jeans and sweatshirts of the other two ogres she’d brought.
“Hello again,” she said cheerfully, then turning to lean back against the desk. “You really kept me guessing there for a bit. I knew you were sweet on that fed in there, but to run off with her to keep her safe? Now that, I didn’t see coming. If you weren’t so gorgeous, I might never have tracked you two down.”
“What?”
“The gas station clerk your girlfriend is so worried about? She took a picture of you a couple days ago, posted it on Facebook, telling her friends all about the mysterious stud, who wandered into her store. Don’t you just love facial recognition software? So, it took a little more work than I imagined, but here you two are.”
“Lucky us,” he muttered, as he narrowed his eyes.
“Humph,” she grunted. “Well, I hope you like your room. I believe you met Louis earlier.”
“We weren’t formally introduced. He was too busy shackling me,” Trey groused.
“Oh well, Louis is all business, what can I say?”
“Say what you expect me to do, so I can get Claudia out of here, and to medical attention.”
“Just watch.”
A.J. turned on two of the monitors, each showing Claudia in her cell from multiple angles. She had a tray of untouched food on a table next to her and was seated in a chair.
“Look at her trying to delay the rise of her blood sugar — staying calm and refusing food. She’s a stubborn bitch.”
Trey smiled, in spite of himself — ever amazed at just how tough Claudia could be.
“But she does need insulin,” she taunted in a singsong tone. “Without it, her blood glucose will skyrocket. At first she’ll become thirsty and tired, until she can no longer fight the need to sleep. Soon after, diabetic ketoacidosis will begin, leading to pain, nausea, hallucinations, coma, and finally, death. And you are going to watch it all from here…unless…”
“Unless what?”
She took out an old-looking pistol and placed it on the table next to her. “Does this look familiar? It’s the Russian Tokarev TT-30 those fuckers shot me with back at Stanford. Do you remember now, Theodore?”
“Theodore…” he muttered, “no one calls me that…”
“But your mom? I only just found out Theodore used to be your name before your dad changed it. Some knowledge is even beyond me.”
“How…”
A.J. flicked another monitor on, this one displaying his mother in a posh hotel room somewhere, clearly terrified. Two men were in her room, standing guard over her.
“Oh, your mom, Abigail, was nice enough to refer to you by your birth name at the hotel we deposited her into today. I supposed she never accepted your father exercising his will in such a petulant way once he got her out of the way. You Adler men are all the same — domineering little fucks, thinking you know what’s best for everyone. Enough about that, though…because the thing is, Abigail really does like sexy, young men. A couple weeks ago, one of my operatives connected with her — seducing older women for me is kind of his specialty.”
Trey’s heart leapt at this news. He and Stephen had managed to turn an operative from A.J.‘s team named Colin recently. They’d used his desire to protect his first love — a young woman named Feng Huang, whom Stephen had strategically recruited to become a secret agent for his team — from being a Lexis target, as incentive to help them.
Colin was A.J.‘s go-to guy for using romance to steal information. If he was involved with abducting Trey’s mother, then maybe Trey had this situation under control, after all.
Yet, Trey’s hopes sunk just as quickly, when he remembered Colin and Feng were in Vietnam, far away from his mother’s torment.
“But that’s not all,” she crowed, turning on the last two monitors. These revealed multiple angles of Althea and Griffen’s house, with one frame showing Johnny sleeping peacefully in his bed.
“What the fuck, A.J.!”
“I know. It’s a shame I have to threaten such a sweet boy, not to mention that pretty mother of his and her handsome fiancé. What are their names, Tea and Griffen, right? They make such a perfect picture of a family, and I know they mean the world to you. What with you playing at nice-guy uncle, and all.”
“What in the ever-loving fuck are you even thinking, A.J.?”
“Hey, calm down. I don’t want to do any of this,” she assured him, her voice filled with passion. “But it’s necessary.”
“How in the hell could threatening all these people…a fucking child…ever be necessary?”
Her brow furrowed in honest confusion at his denseness.
“It’s simple. I need to force you to finally make a choice. Just like I had to.”
“A choice?”
“Life is just a series of choices, Trey. Each one creates the path we must follow. When you left me for dead with those Russian bastards, I had to decide — do I mimic who they are? Become like them and steal their nest…or do I die? You’d be amazed what paths you’re capable of following when the whole world — all your hopes and everything you’ve believed in — all desert you.”
“I didn’t leave you for dead.”
Disgust made her face look like she’d smelled something foul. “You didn’t? But you were rescued,” she challenged. “You refused to give them the virus they wanted. Which left me for them to torture, and use — for whatever my body or mind could get them. And when you did finally track me down, you had the nerve to try and fuck with all I’ve worked so hard to build.”
“A criminal empire? Good for you,” he retorted, his voice heavy with disdain.
“I did what I had to do. But you’ve been able to live comfortable as hell, right on that gray line. Keeping our Starling virus small…helping the fucking FBI all these months… Well, I’m putting an end to your privileged way of life, now.”
She lined up three insulin vials and a hypodermic syringe on the table, next to a cell phone.
“The insulin is from the cooler bag in your own duffel, actually. I think that’s pretty adorable — how you try so hard to look after your little bird with her broken wing…just charming. I can use the syringe for Agent McCoy, or the cell phone…for everyone else.”
A.J. met his eyes and calmly continued, “You just need to choose: Claudia, or your mother and that happy family over there. It’s up to you. Your sweet little one, or four innocent lives. Once you have to make that call, then maybe you can understand what you truly did to me…the harm you caused.”
Trey lunged for her, but the chain stopped him short right before his hands could reach her throat. Louis’s solid fist connected with the side of Trey’s face, dropping him hard on the floor. His head bounced comically against the wood, sending waves of pain through his skull and neck.
Pushing himself up on his hands, he looked at the five monitors, his heart hurting far more than the throbbing in his head.
“I was right when I told Claudia you were dead,” he growled. “Because nothing good that was in you from before is still alive.”
“And whose fault is that?” she screamed as she stood over him, snatching the pistol from the table and holding it to his head, before breathing deeply and composing herself.
“You want to kill me? Then fucking do it. I’ll give you all my money, my life…just let everyone go.”
“That wouldn’t accomplish anything, because you don’t give a shit about yourself. I needed you to care about someone else for this to work. Unfortunately, you’ve managed to live a pretty lonely and depressing life this past decade, and your dad still remains too elusive for me to capture,” she mused.
“My apologies,” he sneered.
“Do you know how long I had to wait? I killed that Irish girl, Maura, but it wasn’t enough.
You didn’t really love her. Oh, but now… You’re crazy over this girl in there…but are you willing to let four other people who matter to you die because of it? Are you ready to be responsible for that innocent boy’s death?”
“You’re fucking nuts. You’re beyond evil.”
“Quit your whining and deal with the situation you created.”
“What if I won’t choose?”
“Then I drop a fucking atom bomb on your life, and get rid of them all,” she spit out. “You don’t get to make the rules this time. You need to feel the pain you cause, because you’ve never saved anyone — all you’ve ever done is destroy them.”
She tucked the Tokarev pistol back in the waist of her leather pants and led Louis to the door.
“I’ll leave you to think about your decision, Trey. But don’t take too much time. Claudia doesn’t have any to spare.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hours after the pain of having her pump yanked from her body had subsided, Claudia was still reeling from the discovery Lexis was, in fact, Trey’s first love — and his greatest shame — A.J.
The knowledge Trey had kept that suspicion from her, made it all the more disturbing. As she tenaciously searched for possible escape routes from her room, or potential weapons, her brain continually veered back to the grotesque sound of that woman’s name on Trey’s lips.
Yet, she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in the hurt, disappointment, or anger resulting from his most agonizing omission to date. There was too much to do, and in light of her rapidly increasing symptoms of insulin deprivation, Claudia knew she was in a race against the clock.
The fact she’d eaten so little during the day meant she’d started with low blood sugar, but this only bought her a few extra hours. Her limbs were already heavy, her mouth dry, and head swimming. She hadn’t gone this long without any source of insulin since she was a child. That time it took a hospital to save her life. If she couldn’t escape A.J.‘s improvised prison, it would be the end of her.
Unable to escape through force, Claudia had transitioned to using her mind — trying to make sense of A.J.‘s actions. Sure, she was bitter and vengeful, but she was also far too smart and ambitious to risk her entire business just for the cheap thrill of forcing Trey to watch Claudia die.
No…there had to be more to it.
If A.J. only wanted to torment her ex-boyfriend, she could’ve just stabbed Claudia in front of Trey, while she stood there half naked. The memory of that exposure still made Claudia blush with frustration and shame, but she knew it was simply part of A.J.‘s process.
A.J. had clearly planned and orchestrated every aspect of this experience — from her flamboyant show of cutting off Claudia’s dress in front of Trey, only to leave her a luxurious spa robe in her room, to the well-placed cameras and sugary foods lining that same space.
She could’ve stuck Claudia’s arm with a glucose drip, bringing on the deadly effects of hyperglycemia in a much faster manner, but she didn’t.
It was clear Claudia was just a pawn in A.J.‘s contrivance to torment Trey as much as possible, and apparently Claudia dying right away just would not do.
A.J. had already framed Trey, potentially ruining his life. Killing Claudia would’ve hurt him, surely, but something Trey had said came back to her. He’d informed her of a tidbit of great value — A.J. always wanted “more.”
There had to be more to this, too.
Her business operations showed she and her people liked to feel good about what they did. Perhaps this was a form of divine justice?
Which meant there was a lesson she wanted Trey to learn. If Claudia could discern what it was, then maybe she could thwart it.
A knock on the door brought Claudia to attention. She clumsily pulled the robe tighter around her body.
“Come in,” she answered.
A handsome African American man she didn’t recognize walked in with a large plastic cup of orange juice.
Claudia smirked. A.J. was right not to trust her with glass.
“I guess I should thank you for being polite enough to knock. What’s your name?” she inquired sweetly, curious to see if she could make some diplomatic headway with him. The other two guys, Cam and Hugo, were worthless to her — clearly too comfortable with the darkest parts of A.J.‘s business to worry about her current maniacal pursuit.
Yet, Claudia knew she wouldn’t have too much longer with her wits fully about her, and this guy could be her last shot.
“Louis,” he responded, his voice lilting with a posh English accent.
“Should I presume your gentlemanly behavior is related to a proper British upbringing?” Claudia queried, crossing her ankles and putting on her most innocent expression.
“No, I’m just trying to be professional.”
“That’s a pleasant change, because you must’ve noticed this operation doesn’t appear to be too professionally motivated.”
His eyes flashed for a split second with what looked like agreement, but he quickly schooled his face back into a cool mask.
“If I get someone’s name for a job, it means they deserve what they get.”
“Maybe most of the time. I’ve seen the files of your team’s previous marks. You’ve definitely given some very bad guys some well-earned comeuppance. I wish I could do what you’ve done to some of the bastards I’ve come across.”
“I thought federal agents were all by the book?”
“Just because I took an oath doesn’t mean I don’t hate it when people get away with terrible things. I bet sometimes you’ve done the world a real favor.” Claudia stood and took the juice from him, before adding, “Are you hungry? I have plenty to eat. I’m just not feeling too well, you know. I’ve been nauseated and my body is aching from the hyperglycemia…but I would hate to be a bad hostess.”
“No thank you, Agent McCoy,” he responded, slipping into respectful formality.
“Oh, call me Claudia. If I’m going to die here, we might as well be on a first name basis, Louis.”
He swallowed and looked away from her.
“Louis, just so you know, I don’t deserve this. If you’ve heard anything about why your boss brought us here, then you know I don’t, and neither does Trey. This is her vendetta, and it’s going to threaten all you’ve worked so hard to build with this team.”
“That’s not my call.”
“It should be, if you ask me,” she retorted, sitting back down, the juice still in her hand.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Claudia.”
“What’s that? Call it like I see it? You know there is no value to you in watching me slowly slip into a coma… And think what you will of the American FBI, but your team is going to gain some very unwelcome attention when my murder is discovered. The kind of attention that can be quite career-limiting for a talented man like yourself.”
Claudia knew she was laying it on thick, and she prayed her educated guess that the cameras were a video feed, without any audio, was correct.
“You won’t have to die if that guy over there chooses you over those other people.”
“What other people?”
“I better go. Enjoy your juice,” he muttered, leaving the room quickly.
Claudia sighed. All she could do was hope the seed she planted could sprout quickly enough to make a difference.
She also was curious who the other people were. It couldn’t be Jenna and Wyatt. They were safe. Someone else Trey cared about? The list of people was short, and she tried to run it through her mind, but everything was just so fuzzy.
The stress of the conversation had taken a toll, simultaneously draining her last bit of energy while also encouraging her body to shoot another toxic jolt of glucose into her bloodstream.
With leaden legs, she moved to the bathroom sink and dumped out the sugary orange juice and filled the cup with tap water, her eyes never wavering from the camera on the wall above her. She peed for about the umpteenth time, aware it was a sign her body
was trying to rid itself of excess blood glucose any way it could. She finally washed her hands, and took a deep swig of water.
Resting her hand along the wall to support her, Claudia returned to the main room.
She placed the cup on the table, yet it landed on nothing, crashing on the floor and spilling water across her bare feet. Disoriented, she moved to sit on the bed, yet her bottom found nothing but the brutal impact of hard wood.
Claudia laughed, the sound was manic, frenzied even, as floating shapes flashed menacingly across her eyes.
The sound of the door opening made her slowly spin around, but there was no one there.
She realized her mind was not seeing the room as it really was.
Oh no, Claudia thought, pushing down the panic swelling from deep inside her.
It’s beginning.
Trey had been surreptitiously tilting his bed forward, so as to wedge the hard end of one of its metal legs into the floorboard to which he was chained, when he watched Claudia fall. He’d been making some progress, finally getting the leverage to lift the board up slightly.
Although the sight of her on the floor had stopped him short, it was the confusion and fear in her eyes that shocked him to his core.
He’d seen her go through a lot of emotions during their time together — anger, love, passion, humor — but terror had never been one of them. Somehow, he’d managed to let his faith in her innate strength and determination lull him into denying how dire her situation truly was.
The lingering light coming through the cracks in the windows was finally waning. Concern washed through him, clouding his ability to process what was the best thing to do next.
Then the wrath from within him came free, and any reason still remaining in him sprouted wings and flew into the wooden rafters above his head. With a feral howl, he stood and pounded his fist on the door repeatedly.
“A.J., I know you’re out there, you twisted, sadistic bitch. Get your ass in here. Now! I know you can hear me.”
He beat on the door with so much hatred and loathing, it was a shame he couldn’t harness its power and free himself with it.