by A Rosendale
‘The dog!’ she thought. She hoped Bailey was still safe with Miles. He would have put up a fight when Lusana went to fetch Cooper and Ramsey.
Nine hours later, the door opened to admit Johnson. It was the first time she’d seen him in several days. He grinned and tossed a makeup bag onto the bed, then hung a long sundress on the back of the door.
“Get yourself cleaned up, Dr. Decker.” He laughed and motioned to his own eyes. Hers had dark bags under them. “Not sure I brought enough makeup. Do your best. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”
She shouted a string of curses at him in her exhausted mind as he left the room. Then she set about making herself presentable.
* * *
Cooper woke eagerly Monday morning. He dressed in the slacks and shirt that had been washed and pressed for him and hurried downstairs. He was eager to see his mom for the first time in over a week and leapt the final four steps. But she was nowhere to be found. Frowning, he started toward Mr. Johnson’s office. An unfamiliar voice met his ears, so he crept around the door to listen from the hall.
“…done upstairs.”
“How’s it going?” Johnson’s voice asked.
“In my opinion, it’s going well.”
“He’s…”
“Weak, but otherwise healthy, just as you asked.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ve always wanted to beat that man in a fight,” Johnson said hesitantly. “Could I…”
The stranger said, “I don’t see why not. Now is as good a time as any.”
“And you think I could take him?”
A scoff. “Easily. Just…just let me see him shortly before.”
Johnson laughed. “Perfect. Tomorrow?”
Cooper heard footsteps coming down the stairs and hurried away before he was caught eavesdropping.
* * *
“Mom!” Cooper exclaimed. He met her at the bottom of the stairs and hugged her tight.
She squeezed him and held him out to examine. His young face looked healthy, despite the slight stress lines on his forehead. The dark blue dress shirt, tie, and slacks looked natural on him. In fact, he looked surprisingly like his father.
“You’re so handsome,” she told him.
He smiled. “You look really nice, too, Mom.”
The compliment felt as foreign as the smile on her lips. “Thanks, Coop.”
“Ah, Dr. Decker,” Johnson greeted as he exited the office in a gray suit and tie. He looked her up and down, admiring her slim figure adorned in a midnight blue sundress and silver sandals.
She glared at his appraising stare and crossed her arms.
He frowned at her closed off stature. “Hmm, your work leaves something to be desired around the eyes,” he insulted. “Let’s go.”
Cooper took her hand when they got in the backseat of the limo. Johnson paused to talk to his driver and Alma took the opportunity to whisper in her son’s ear.
“I need you to distract Johnson today at lunch. I have an idea.”
He squeezed her hand and nodded in acknowledgement as the man joined them.
* * *
“The Palm?” Alma said in surprise.
Johnson offered her his hand, but she pointedly refused and stepped from the limo alone. He ground his teeth. “Flescher’s treat.”
A flood of memories accompanied Alma inside. She and Dirk had returned to the Palm a handful of times, but their first date had been by far the most memorable. She could practically feel his warm hand on her back as he steered her through the sea of tables.
Michael Flescher was seated at a table neighboring the window seat the couple had shared. He lumbered to his feet when he saw them.
“Dr. Decker!” he exclaimed and drew her into an encompassing hug. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She bit her lip and stepped back, eyes cast down at the white clothed table.
“Please, sit.” He pulled her chair back and motioned across the table to Johnson and Cooper. “It’s so good to see you, Alma!”
“You, too, Congressman. Well, I suppose it’s not Congressman any more, is it? You were a senator in Washington for a while. Where has your career taken you, Michael?”
“Ambassador,” he answered enthusiastically.
“Wow! Congratulations! What country?”
“Norway. It’s a bit chilly, to be sure, but a beautiful country.”
“I’m sure! That’s wonderful!”
A waiter interrupted. Johnson ordered a scotch on the rocks, Flescher a glass of wine, Alma doubled his order, and Cooper asked for a Pepsi. When he returned with the drinks, they ordered lunch.
“I don’t mean to pry, Dr. Decker, but what brings you back to Boston? What are your plans now?” Flescher asked innocently.
Alma ignored Johnson’s fixed stare. “Well, Dirk happened to keep the apartment here. I needed to come back to wrap things up there. Eric offered to keep us as guests. As for the future…” She cast a brilliant, fake smile at Johnson before turning back to Flescher. “I think Cooper and I will head back to Oregon at the first chance. We’ve got our lives to put back together. I mean, NOAA doesn’t even know what happened.” She hoped Flescher would check in with NOAA, offer to help out, and find that she and Dirk had simply gone missing. “When do you return to Norway?”
“Next week.”
Food arrived before he could continue. Johnson took charge of the conversation and drove it towards Flescher’s help in reintroducing himself to American politics.
When Cooper finished his meal, he excused himself quietly. Five minutes later, he came hurrying back to the table with a grin.
“Mr. Johnson! Mr. Johnson, you have to see this awesome painting! You’ll love it!” He grabbed Johnson’s hand and forcibly drew him along through the restaurant.
Alma smiled at her son’s ingenuity and turned to Flescher quickly. She took his hand firmly to concrete her urgency.
“Michael, we’re in real trouble.”
His expression was almost laughably startled.
“Dirk is alive. Johnson has taken us captive. He’s torturing Dirk for putting him in prison twenty years ago. He’s threatened to kill Cooper and I. We need your help, Michael. Please!”
By now his jaw had dropped and he was staring in utmost disbelief.
Alma glanced over his shoulder and saw Johnson returning with Cooper in his wake. “Please! You know me! This is no joke! We need your help!” Her hand trembled as she grasped his fingers. “I need your help! Please!” She released him suddenly, smoothed her dress, and took a drink of wine. By the time Johnson and Cooper returned, she was picking at her salad quite naturally. Flescher sent a startled glance at Johnson, then, as practiced through years of politics, he wiped his face of emotion and smiled.
“What was so ‘awesome’?” he asked Cooper.
“This painting of Benjamin Franklin playing chess with Thomas Jefferson!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Johnson and I play chess together!”
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“Yeah!” He passed a quick wink to his mom and she shot him a forced smile.
When the meals were cleared away, Flescher cleared his throat and declared he had to get back to the office. They all walked to the sidewalk together. Flescher shook Johnson’s hand, then Cooper’s. Then he embraced Alma. He put his lips to her ear as if kissing her cheek. His whispers tickled her neck.
“I’ll do what I can. Give me a few days. Can you hold out that long? I’m so sorry.” Then he actually kissed her cheek and smiled as he stepped back and spoke normally. “It was so delightful to see you, Dr. Decker. Perhaps once more before I leave for Norway?”
“I’d like that,” she answered quickly.
“I’ll set it up with you, Eric.”
Johnson nodded and held the limo door for Cooper and Alma. To her relief, the drive back to the mansion was uneventful; he didn’t know about the secret plea.
“I’d like to see Dirk,” she declared when they w
ere back.
Their host just laughed and continued to his office.
Alma drew herself up. “I demand to see my husband.” Her voice gained an old fire she hadn’t felt since lecturing at Boston University.
Johnson turned in surprise and raised his brows at her.
“Now,” she added succinctly.
Her shoulders pulled back, her distinct collarbone lit by a silver necklace he hadn’t noticed before now, a crease of stubbornness in her eyes. Johnson felt both a chill of unease and a flush of attraction. He couldn’t resist the temptation to either take her or cause her pain. The doctor in prison had described such a sensation as belonging to a psychopath. He brushed off the thought and made a choice.
“You, go to your room,” he ordered Cooper.
“I want to see my dad, too,” he argued.
“Go!” Johnson yelled.
But it wasn’t until Alma gave a nod that he begrudgingly obeyed.
Johnson looked at Lusana, who had descended the stairwell at their entrance. “Prepare Travers for a visitor.”
The man bolted up the stairs.
By the time Alma and Johnson arrived, Dirk was secured to the bed and angrily protesting while Lusana stood across the room. She ignored him and crossed to touch her husband’s arm and cheek.
“Are you alright?” Dirk asked before she could.
“I’m okay,” she answered quietly. “Are-”
Johnson interrupted. “Lusana, enjoy yourself.” He paused. “To a point. She’s mine in the end.” With that cryptic message, he pulled the door shut.
Lusana crossed the space between them before Alma or Dirk even realized what Johnson meant.
“No!” Dirk yelled, jerking against the restraints as his wife was embraced from behind.
Alma struggled while Lusana carried her to the couch. He shoved her down and ran a hand up her leg, lifting the skirt to upper thigh. Then he moved to straddle her. She lifted her knee abruptly and the man’s painful grunt joined Dirk’s furious exclamations and he fell into the coffee table, then to the carpet. He clutched himself while his eyes rolled back in his head.
She jumped off the couch.
“Good job,” Dirk complimented as she loosened his left wrist. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, but didn’t meet his eye.
“Alma?” He grabbed her wrist to stop the frantic fumbling at his right wrist restraint. When she still wouldn’t look at him, he touched her cheek. His fingers were soft and warm, just like before, and she nearly melted at the familiar touch. Her fingers stopped scrambling for his release and curled around the hand on her cheek.
The moment of sentiment cost them. Lusana recovered and lunged at Alma. He had just delivered a staggering blow to her face when the door flew open.
Johnson entered and his face flushed dark red. “Son of a bitch, Lusana! I said to a point! I didn’t say to…to…blemish her!” He grabbed Alma’s arm and wrenched her from Lusana’s reach. He grabbed her by the chin to examine the split lip the man had caused. Then he shoved her from the room. With a glare at his man, he followed her.
Lusana turned his rage on the man half-bound to the bed.
Chapter 78
Johnson pinned Alma to the hall wall, his foul breath washing over her while his hands probed through her dress.
“Get away!” she yelled while Dirk’s grunts sounded through the closed door. But Johnson’s bulk was pressed so close, she couldn’t struggle.
“You’ve always attracted me, Dr. Decker,” Johnson moaned. His lips tickled her neck and she cringed as chills broke over her. His hand roamed to her thigh while his lips mashed against hers. She tried to turn her head away, but his other hand grabbed her chin. His tongue pried at her lips, which were clamped tight shut.
“Open for me, damn it!” he growled. When she still didn’t cooperate, he pinched hard on the inside flesh of her thigh. She gasped at the sharp pain and he took the opportunity to kiss her again, shoving his tongue against hers.
As a last desperate defense, she bit down hard. The taste of blood joined Johnson’s strangled scream. He jerked away from her, dealing a jaw rattling backhand as he did so. Alma staggered and hit the carpet. The last thing she saw was Johnson cupping his bleeding mouth.
* * *
Anguishing tremors tensed Dirk’s aching muscles. By the time the electrifying buzz faded and his vision cleared of fuzzy, static-like dots, his wrists were free.
“Come on,” Dr. Smith ordered as he snapped his bag shut.
The hum in Dirk’s ears was clearly impacting his hearing. He raised a hand to run over his face. The doctor nudged his shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
Surprised, but eager to be out of the room, he rolled off the bed. His knees shook and he had to hold on to the bed while steadying himself. Finally, he started after Smith.
“Is Smith even your real name?” Dirk asked curiously.
The man scoffed in answer. He skipped down the stairs with the ease of a young, healthy man while Dirk was left to maneuver them slowly and gently. Although so much movement was difficult and foreign after over a month of inaction, by the time he arrived in the den, strength was returning to his limbs and clarity to his mind.
“Morning, Travers,” Johnson greeted. There was something odd about his voice, like it was muffled by something. Dirk wondered again about his ears.
“Where’s Alma?”
His lips curled into a knowing grin. “She’s in bed, recovering from our nighttime activities.”
“You-” Dirk started to lunge across the room, but Lusana’s dark form materialized from the shadows behind a bookcase and blocked his way.
“I did warn you what might happen, Travers. But you did nothing to help me find your family, at least not intentionally.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Lusana shoved him into the wall.
“I’d actually like to see you try,” Johnson said.
The voice was unmistakably thick this time. “What’s wrong with you? Sounds like you’ve got a pillow in your mouth.”
He received a glare in reply.
“I’ve always wanted to spar against you, Travers.”
“Is that so?”
“And now we have the opportunity.”
“Now that you’ve effectively stolen every bit of strength from me?” He scoffed and brushed Lusana’s hands away. “Brilliant plan.” Studying his tormentor, he said, “Really? You want to fight me?”
Even with his cheeks and eyes sunken, with wrinkles in his forehead and deep crow’s feet creasing the corners of his eyes, Travers had a confidence about him Johnson had always envied, and it drove him crazy. Somewhere in his subconscious, he thought that if he could just best him, he’d gain that same aggravating confidence.
“Yes. I have a gym in the basement. Let’s go.”
“I’ll wait here,” Smith said and sat in a stuffed armchair.
“Don’t you think this is a little childish, Johnson?” Dirk said as he followed the man through the mansion to the basement stairs.
“What? You don’t think you can take me?” he goaded.
“I certainly don’t think it’s a fair fight.”
“Why? You have years of training and combat experience, but perhaps are not as fit as you once were. I have no training whatsoever and am overweight. I feel like the odds are still in your favor, Travers.”
‘Not as fit?’ Dirk thought skeptically. ‘More like weakened beyond belief.’ “And yet, you have a doctor and sidekick standing by to come to your rescue.”
Johnson waved the observation away.
The stairs opened onto a landing that overlooked a gym that would easily accommodate the US Olympic team. Weight lifting machines and an array of treadmills and ellipticals bordered an open, padded floor.
“You know, some people collect worthless snow globes, shot glasses, exotic masks. But you, Johnson, you must collect worthless exercise equipment.” He ran a hand through a thin layer of dust on
a treadmill screen. “You clearly don’t use any of this.”
“Shut the hell up, Travers.”
Dirk grinned. He felt better than he had in months. Blood coursed through his veins, providing energy that had been sorely lacking.
Johnson stood in the center of the gym floor and rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t enjoy the humor and vitality he saw returning to his captive.
Lusana dropped into a chair near the stairs. He shifted uncomfortably, unclipped the holster from his belt, and placed it and the 9mm on the tread of a machine at his side.
“You’re sure about this?” Dirk teased. “No gloves or pads? I mean, I’m fine with a rugged exterior.” He touched the bright pink scar tissue on his temple. “But I wouldn’t want to harm Your Excellency’s fine complexion.”
“You’re in a rare mood today,” Johnson pointed out.
Dirk laughed. “I’m excited to see some scenery outside of that stupid bedroom.”
“Don’t get too excited. You’ll soon be wishing for that ‘stupid’ room.”
Johnson’s lunge across the mat cut Dirk’s next laugh short. Stepping aside, his opponent barreled past. Although he felt significantly better, he noted with dismay that his limbs didn’t respond as fluidly as before; his movements were jerky and slow.
When Johnson whirled around and started for him again, he balled his fists together and swung like a batter at Fenway Park. Blood spewed from Johnson’s mouth and he cupped his face with a whimper.
“You son of bitch,” he mumbled through the swelling tissue, then spat blood and saliva onto the mat.
“You’re right, Johnson. This is fun!” He danced backward when a beefy hand reached for him. But his sluggish movements finally betrayed him and Johnson tackled him to the mat. The immense body weight alone was enough to drive the air from Dirk’s lungs. It afforded Johnson the opportunity to hit him in the face a few times before he was able to wriggle free and roll away.
Johnson glared irritably as he gained his feet. Clearly, he was perturbed by his victim’s sudden show of strength and agility.
Dirk panted and felt warm sweat slide between his shoulder blades. A glance at Lusana showed the man lounging, bored by the slow motion combat playing out before him. He picked at his pale nails.