Gathering Storm

by Alexa Land

  “Yes you are, your food’s amazing. And now you know for next time: hire a wait staff.”

  “I tried to, but I made the mistake of hiring mah friends. They’re a bunch of flakes, not one of ‘em showed up.”

  “Are you short on waiters?” a voice beside me asked. “Because I’d be happy to help out.”

  I turned and flashed Trevor a huge smile. “You’re an angel, you know that?” I introduced the two by saying, “River, this is Trevor. Trevor, River the caterer. He’s trying to do this whole thing single-handedly.”

  “Oh no,” Christopher said, coming over to the table and trying to get behind it. “It’s bad enough that you’re working, Hunter. I’m not going to put your friends to work, too. Just let me back there and I’ll man the refreshments.”

  I held Christopher back by the shoulders, and said, “Don’t make me tell you again, Andrews. You’re not pouring drinks at your grand opening. I’m just not going to let you!” I spun him around and tried to propel him back into the crowd. “Now go mingle. Or else!”

  “This is all my fault,” River said. “I’m so sorry, Christopher. Just so you know, I’m not cashing your check. This has been such a fiasco.” He slumped against the wall in defeat, looking flushed beneath his tan, and stuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

  “I can help,” Trevor said. “I’ll take some food out into the gallery, so you won’t keep getting this bottleneck in front of the table.” He pushed up his sleeves and quickly loaded an empty tray with little plates of appetizers, then hoisted it onto his shoulder and worked his way into the crowd. Even as shy as he was, Trevor was clearly the kind of person who’d always help out in a pinch.

  “Wow,” River said, watching my new friend maneuvering through the gallery. “That guy’s awesome. Cute, too.” His gaze lingered on Trevor another moment, before Nana seized his arm and yanked him out from behind the buffet table.

  “Hi, cutie,” she said to him, taking off her Chanel suit jacket and putting it and her purse under the table. “So, you’re short-handed, ay? I overheard the whole thing. Don’t you worry, me and the girls, we’ll help you out. I owned a restaurant for years, I know all about pleasing a crowd. Now let’s see if you can actually cook.” She popped a stuffed mushroom in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, then proclaimed, “Wonderful! You have the gift, Sonny. I would’ve added a hint more parmesan, but that’s just me. Now you go do what you have to do in the kitchen, I got this.”

  Her girlfriends all went to work, too, grabbing bottles from behind the makeshift bar. I was about to protest, but then they fanned out like a team of synchronized swimmers and began refilling glasses. “You’re a miracle worker, Nana,” I said.

  “I know. Go take a break, sweetums, you look like you could use one.” Someone started to reach for an appetizer, and Nana slapped his hand and told him, “Where are your manners? If you want something, ask nicely.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man replied meekly. I recognized him as the arrogant big time art critic Christopher had been speaking with earlier. I was grinning ear to ear as I went off to find Brian.

  At the end of the night, right after the last stragglers had cleared out, we collapsed in the center of the gallery. Christopher was flat on his back, shoes off, head on Kieran’s thigh. His fiancé was also on his back, and I was curled up nearby, on Brian’s lap. Nana and her gang had departed a few minutes ago, as had the security team, and the night had gone off without a hitch.

  “River, stop working!” Christopher called. “Come and sit down, the dishes can wait. You did an amazing job, by the way, everyone raved about the food.”

  The caterer paused for a moment, balancing a big tray of dirty glasses. “They did?”

  “Yup. And you damn well better cash that check I gave you, because you earned every penny. Three people asked for your number, by the way, and I gave it to them. Expect more work coming your way soon.”

  “The only way I’d ever take another catering job is if Trevor helps me again,” River said. “I would have run screaming from the building about two hours ago, if it wasn’t for him.” He called to Trevor across the room, saying, “I’m payin’ you for tonight, by the way, the full amount that I was going to split between my three useless friends that didn’t show up.”

  Trevor glanced up from the big stack of plates he was balancing on a tray and gave River a smile. “Well, if you insist.”

  As the two of them headed upstairs to the kitchen, I hopped off Brian’s lap and found an unopened bottle of champagne, jettisoned the cork and brought my friends some glasses. “Let’s drink to the most successful gallery launch in the history of western civilization.” After I poured the drinks, I set the bottle on the floor beside Christopher and raised my glass in a toast.

  “Not quite,” Christopher said with a grin as he rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand.

  “Well, but pretty damn successful, though,” I said.

  “All of you had a hand in it, and I’m so grateful for your help,” he replied, raising the glass I’d handed him.

  There was a loud popping sound all of a sudden, and the champagne bottle suddenly exploded into a million pieces. My heart leapt in my chest as I dropped my glass and looked all around the room. It was strange how everything slowed down, how it seemed to take such a long time to realize someone had come into the gallery.

  And that he’d opened fire.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kieran was the first to react, throwing himself on top of Christopher, acting as a human shield. Brian went for the gun he’d been carrying in the small of his back, but the next bullet hit him and he lurched forward onto the floor, the chair rolling away from him. He wasn’t moving. I screamed his name and lunged for him, but someone grabbed me from behind, hoisting me up off my feet.

  I struggled wildly, then felt a sharp stinging sensation in my neck. A moment later, a big hypodermic needle was dropped onto the concrete floor with a clatter. As all of this was happening, Trevor ran down the stairs, yelling, “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

  As I screamed at Trevor to get back, the assailant raised his arm and tried to fire at him. I pulled and clawed at the arm holding the weapon, and the shot went off in some random direction. Trevor ducked down on the stairs, and then River appeared above him and dragged him back up, out of sight.

  My vision was becoming blurry now, my entire body giving out at once, going slack, my mind a jumble of confusion as whatever I’d been injected with took effect. I tried to fight it, tried to stay conscious. Brian, I thought, right before I sank into blackness, trying and failing to focus on his body sprawled on the floor. Brian, please be alive.

  I came awake slowly. It felt like swimming up through deep water, taking so long to reach the surface. The pressure was the first thing I noticed, something weighing on me heavily, making it hard to draw air into my lungs. And then I began to feel the pain. My body felt as if I’d been in a fight, dull aches pulsating from my face, my stomach, my chest.

  As I awakened a bit more, memories flooded me. Brian, shot, hitting the floor. Oh God. Was he dead or alive? I wanted to cry out as terror seized me, but I didn’t have enough control of my body yet to make a sound.

  And Christopher, Kieran. Trevor and River. What had happened after I passed out? Did the assailant keep firing? Were my friends still alive? Had anyone survived that? My grief totally overwhelmed me.

  When I was finally able to raise my lids, I blinked up at an unfamiliar, water-stained ceiling. And then I became aware of the stranger lying right on top of me, fast asleep, snoring. That was why it was hard to breathe. He was clothed, but I was completely naked. Oh God, had I been raped? I had no idea.

  Sadness and hopelessness flooded me, tears trickling from the corners of my eyes, running back into my hair. I went to brush them away, and that’s when I realized my hands were tied.

  It’s all over, I thought. He got me. The stalker killed my friends, and he took me prisoner, taking me
someplace no one would ever find me.

  I cried quietly for a while as the effects of the drug continued to wear off. My head was pounding and my mouth was so dry. And I hurt, all over. I felt myself giving up. Giving up….

  But then, I thought of Brian. My sweet Brian. He’d survived so much in his life. Maybe he’d survived this, too. Maybe….

  I tried to hold on to that. Brian was a survivor, and not all gunshot wounds were fatal. Maybe he was alive. Maybe he was looking for me.

  I stopped crying and raised my head up, just a little, taking in my surroundings. I was on a bed in the middle of a cluttered living room, inside what looked like an old, run-down manufactured home – the kind of thing we used to call a trailer. It was dark out. The curtains were ajar on one of the windows, and I could see a moonlit forest outside.

  A forest? Where had this man taken me? How long had I been unconscious? I took a few quick, shallow breaths as a panic attack rose up, threatening to engulf me.

  No.

  No!

  If I was going to survive this, I had to keep it together. No one was going to find me here. If I was ever going to get away from this maniac, it was going to be up to me. My only chance was to stay calm, find my inner strength, and focus.

  I forced down my panic, then tilted my head and took a look at the bindings on each wrist, tying me to a metal headboard. The rope had been tied quickly, sloppily. He’d been in a hurry to get to whatever he did to me. I twisted my hand around. The ropes weren’t very tight. I could get out of them. I glanced down at the heavy, sleeping figure on top of me. I had to do this without waking him, it might be my only chance.

  What felt like an eternity passed as I worked silently, my heart racing. Every time the man shifted a bit, I froze, fear coursing through me. But I kept going, picking at the knot on the rough ropes until my fingertips were raw.

  Finally, finally, I freed my right hand, then reached over to my left, slowly, so slowly. If he woke up now, it was all over. It was easier to untie my left hand, now that I had the use of my right, and soon I was able to slide it out from under the coiled ropes. I tested my ankles. They weren’t bound. But how to get out from under this person?

  He shifted a bit, and I quickly jammed my hands under the ropes, so it would look like I was still tied up. I let my body go slack and shut my eyes. If he thought the drugs were still working, maybe that would give me the element of surprise.

  The man awoke, pushing himself up, probably looking at me. I felt his mouth on my body then, licking me. I fought back a shudder, willing myself to remain perfectly immobile. One of his hands slid between my legs, roughly fondling my genitals. His other hand grabbed one of my nipples, squeezing brutally. It was all I could do not to tense up, not to cry out. Please, I thought, please let this be over soon.

  “You fucking whore,” he mumbled, sitting up. I knew he was about to strike me by the low growl that came from his throat. It was almost impossible not to react when the hard slap connected with my face, whipping my head to the side, but somehow I managed it.

  He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back up, and slapped me again. I dug my fingers into the ropes so my hands wouldn’t be pulled free of the bindings. Fortunately, he was far too wrapped up in hurting me to notice.

  When he dropped me back onto the mattress, my head landed turned to one side, my hair strewn over my face. He petted me gently as he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you, babydoll. But you gave me no choice by being such a dirty, unfaithful whore.” The man pushed my hair back and kissed my cheek, then turned my head and kissed my lips. I smelled grain alcohol on his breath.

  Throughout all of this, I remained perfectly slack, not reacting at all, drawing on every ounce of my acting ability to keep my expression blank. I was stunned that I had it in me to pull this off, especially since every part of me wanted to scream and cry and struggle.

  Eventually, he got off me. I could hear him picking up something from a side table. After a moment, a clicking sound told me he was taking pictures. That infuriated me, every bit as much as his other violations of my body.

  He did this for a few minutes. Finally, I heard him set the camera down. His hand returned to my genitals for another hard squeeze, and I fought the urge to leap up and hit him.

  But then he let go of me and crossed the room, the trailer creaking with each step. I raised one eyelid a fraction of an inch, and saw he was headed to the adjoining kitchen. I closed my eye. The man took something from the refrigerator, and I could hear what I assumed was a beer can being opened.

  He sat down, a chair creaking under him, and picked up some kind of wrapper, which rustled in his hands. Several long minutes passed as he ate and drank. I wondered when he’d start to get suspicious that the drugs hadn’t worn off yet.

  Throughout all of this, I was becoming more and more lucid, the drugs pretty much totally out of my system by now, replaced with a blinding headache. I kept trying to come up with some sort of plan. Part of me wanted to just leap up and attack him, but I knew that was crazy. He was much bigger than me, and I had no idea where his gun was. I decided it was best to keep pretending I was unconscious for now, then run for it when I got the chance.

  That chance presented itself a couple minutes later. He finished eating, then walked down the hall, away from me. I risked a peek again and saw he was headed to the bathroom. He left the door open, his back to me as he used the toilet.

  I slipped out of the ropes and bolted for the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I fumbled with the deadbolt, my hands shaking wildly, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.

  I’d just gotten the second lock open when he grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me back ferociously. I spun to face him despite his hold on me, my hair twisting so painfully I was sure it’d pull right out of my skull.

  And then I remembered. I thought of Kaia and all she’d taught me, and I lashed out, heel, knee, palm. Stomping on his foot didn’t do much, since I was barefoot, but the knee to his groin made him let go of me, and the fleshy part of my hand shattering his nose made him scream and stumble back, clutching his face as blood ran between his fingers.

  “You fucking whore, you’re going to pay for that!” he yelled.

  But I was already out the door, sprinting into the woods. It was dark and cold and utterly unfamiliar. God, where had he taken me? I was probably about to get lost in the forest, but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was getting away from that maniac.

  In just a matter of seconds, I heard him pursuing me. I’d never known such overwhelming terror. Adrenaline propelled me forward, as fast as I could go, but it was tough to move very quickly in this environment. I kept tripping and stumbling, but I also kept moving.

  A popping sound startled me, a tree immediately to my left splintering. Oh God, he’s shooting at me! I hadn’t expected that, I’d thought he’d want to keep me alive. But maybe he’d already taken what he wanted from me.

  “This is how you repay me for all I’ve done for you, Hunter? For all I’ve sacrificed, just so we can be together? You broke my nose, you fucking bitch!” It sounded like he was some distance behind me as he yelled that, but I wasn’t going to slow myself down by turning and looking.

  A few minutes later, something cut deeply into the sole of my bare foot and I cried out, stumbling and falling to my knees. But I was back up in an instant, limping now, pain shooting up my leg with every step. I tried to ignore it, focusing on running, on getting as far from that madman as possible.

  “You can’t escape me, Hunter!” he yelled. “Not today, not ever. No fucking way am I ever going to stop coming after you!”

  Yet another cold jolt of fear raced through me at that, as I ducked under a low-hanging tree branch, then banked right. I could hear his heavy steps crashing through the brush, not far behind. He was closing the gap.

  Minutes ticked by as I wove through the forest. A branch caught my forehead, tearing my skin. My vision blurred as blood ran in
to my eye. I tried to brush it away, but there was so much blood, and it just kept coming. A sob escaped me, but I dug deep and pulled out an extra burst of speed. I tripped and fell again a few seconds later. But I got back up. I kept going.

  Abruptly, the forest gave way to a twisting, two-lane paved road. I skittered onto the blacktop and began running down it, limping severely, pain radiating from every part of me. A quick debate raged within me. On one hand, I’d be easier to shoot out in the open like this. But I could run faster here, and a car might come by, so I decided in a split second to stick with the pavement.

  There were no cars though, no houses, nothing. There was just pain. So much pain. And there were the heavy steps of the man pursuing me, now slapping against asphalt. He was loping a bit now too, but his limp didn’t seem as pronounced as mine. One of us would give out soon, and I just prayed it was him.

  Suddenly, a huge, black SUV rounded the corner, coming head-on at me. I yelled and waved my arms, and the vehicle skidded to a stop, less than two feet in front of me. The doors to the SUV swung open as a shot rang out behind me. The bullet took out one of the headlights. I dropped into a tight crouch, and looked behind me for the first time. My stalker had stopped running, and pushed a pair of night vision goggles off his eyes.

  He raised his gun, lining up his shot. I curled into a tight ball, my path of escape blocked by the big SUV, uselessly wrapping my arms around my head, as if the duck-and-cover drill I’d learned as a kid would somehow protect me. When a shot rang out, I braced for impact, waiting for the bullet to tear into my body.