by S. R. Watson
The photos are of Grayson and Vanessa. In one photo, he is unzipping the back of her dress. In another photo, he is closing the curtains. There are various photos of them at some sort of cafe, museum, and wait—what? The fucking Eiffel Tower. They’re in Paris. The place he was supposed to take me after graduation. A piece of paper sticks out between them so I pick it up. ‘Taken a few days ago. Thought you may want to see how much the professor is missing you’.
My whole world shatters. Grayson is in Paris while I’m being held captive. How can this be real? The photos don’t look photoshopped. If he is in Paris, does even know I’m missing? What if he left before Jordan could tell him and she can’t get through to him. This makes no sense. Surely, he would have seen my car in his driveway. Maybe he just ignored it. I sink to the floor and pick up each individual photo, committing them all to memory. I will never forgive him for this, either way. If it is so easy for him to move on with Vanessa, then we don’t belong together. Surely he can’t know that I’m missing. He isn’t that heartless. That is beside the point though. It doesn’t make me feel any better. One sob wracks my body before I commence into a full on ugly cry. The harder I cry, the louder I get. I can’t help it. I’ve held strong until this point, but now the damn has broken. I’m pretty sure this little gift came from Roc. He wins. If his plan was to break me, then mission accomplished.
I hear the locks turning, but I can’t bring myself to move or care. Alex walks in and just stands over me looking at all of the photos. “Motherfucker,” he mumbles. He kneels down and pushes a bowl of oatmeal toward me. He then begins scooping up all the photos and stuffing them back into the envelope. “Ignore this shit,” he suggests.
“So, they’re real?” I want so desperately for him to tell me no—that it’s just some sick joke that Roc has come up with.
“Yeah, they’re real. Roc is a dick for showing these to you. Just stay strong. This is almost over.”
“And that is supposed to make me feel better. Don’t you think I’ve already figured out what will happen to me once this is over,” I sniff.
“You’re going to make it out of here, that’s what. Look, I can’t tell you shit, but just trust me. I know you don’t have a reason to, but just try. Okay?” There’s a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes, almost convincing.
“Does Grayson know that I’m missing?” I challenge.
“Yes. Now that is all that I can tell you. Don’t let Roc get under your skin. Wait until you get out of here and seek answers for yourself. Now eat before you make yourself sick.” He puts the last photo in the envelope, grabs the old bowl of food from the chair and heads out the door. I’m left sitting on the floor, sniffling and trying to decode his message. So Grayson does know. Did he find out before or after his little impromptu trip to Paris with that bitch? At least I know that my original theory was right. They’re trying to shake him down for the money. Question is, am I worth it to him? Just how dispensable am I? I know these are toxic thoughts, but it is the way I feel right now. Hurt and anger battle within for the dominant emotion over this whole situation. I still can’t get over the fact he took her to Paris. The one place on earth that is my dream come true.
Hell, he could have taken her to Italy…anywhere, but Paris. This feels intentional and like a big ‘fuck you’. He had to know that I’d find out, even if I hadn’t been taken. I push the bowl of oatmeal aside and crawl back to the bed. I curl into a ball. I don’t even give a shit that my stomach is protesting in pain and hunger. I want the darkness, damn it. I don’t want to feel this. I cry until sleep finally has mercy on me and takes me under.
* * *
“Siobhan…Siobhan? I need you to wake up.” A woman’s voice wakes me from my slumber. I rub my eyes and turn toward the voice. At first glance, I’m caught off guard. She has long red hair like mine, but with green eyes. The similarities are astounding. We could probably pass for sisters the resemblance is so strong. Oh God…am I already dead and my angel is here to take me? The light nudge this woman gives as she calls my name a third time, wakes me from my semi consciousness. Well if she isn’t an angel, has she come to save me or is she with the other two?
“Who are you?” I ask groggily. Please be here to rescue me. Something tells me she isn’t, but I can hope.
“My name is Celine,” she says wrinkling her nose. I raise my arm and sniff. Yup, it’s me. I stink. I haven’t been allowed to shower since I’ve been here and I’ve been wearing the same clothes since they’ve taken me. “Yes, you do smell, but hopefully we can get you home today,” she confirms.
“So you’re working with Alex and Roc?” Shock registers on her face that I know the names of the other two kidnappers.
“I don’t work with anyone. We’re all here for the same purpose—yes. Today is the drop so it is important that you do everything that you’re told so that nobody gets hurt.” Celine looks me in the eye, waiting for my reply. “Do you understand? No funny business.”
“Fine. I just want to get out of here alive,” I quip.
“I want that too. Come on, they’re waiting for us downstairs. I’m going to have ask you to put this over your head.” It’s that damn pillow case again. I hate that freaking thing, but I don’t want a repeat of my forced compliance. I stand up and do as she says. After the pillow case is over my head, she begins to lead me out the door. I take each step carefully, my hands steadily searching for something to hold on to. There is nothing. Celine puts one of my hands on her shoulder to help lead me. When we get down stairs, the change in temperature, and the slight breeze, alert me that we’re now outside. I’m helped into what I’m guessing is van due to the vastness of the space, before my wrists are tied to something behind me. The material feels like rope and is digging into my skin tightly. The pillow case is left over my head. I know squirming will only make it worse so I try to focus on something else—like, I may actually be set free.
I hear the door finally slam. The van rumbles to life. I strain to make out the voices in the distance, but I can also feel breathing in close proximity. Someone is back here with me. I stay quiet and work to stay upright with each bump of the road. I’m sitting on the floor with my legs straight out in front of me and my arms tied behind me so my balance is already off. The ride seems to go on forever. My nerves are on edge with each mile we drive. Celine said today was the drop. I’m guessing that was code for the exchange—me for the money. Are they really going to let me go? Are they really going to let Grayson walk away? Shit, is he the one making the drop? They will probably kill us both. I can’t help but be pessimistic. I hope he has a plan…like the FBI waiting to get these motherfuckers. I may not forgive him for being with Vanessa in Paris, but I don’t want him to die trying to save me either.
These possible scenarios are driving me crazy. I’m so freaking scared, yet I want this all to be over. After what seems like hours, we finally come to a stop. I hear two doors close on the van—driver and passenger. I wait a few minutes, but the door to where I am remains closed. I try to shake the pillow case loose from my head, but it is futile.
“Stay still, Siobhan. This is almost over,” a male voice says lightly. It’s Alex. I knew I wasn’t back here alone. I could feel his presence.
“When? How long before you let me go?” I want to keep him talking.
“Soon. Just do exactly what you’re told. They will be coming for you any minute now.” I hate that his answers are so vague.
“Can you take this pillow case off my head at least?” I ask. The damn thing is just making me more anxious.
“Not yet. It’s almost over,” he repeats. “Try to stay calm.” I guess he can sense that I’m silently freaking the fuck out. My adrenaline is in overdrive. Fight or flight has kicked in. Just as Alex promised, the van door slides open. They’re here for me. I can feel someone grab my arm to assist me out after untying me from whatever they had me shackled to, but the pillowcase and restraints remain in place. “Remember what I said,” Alex says from behind me.
The grip tightens on my bicep and I almost holler out in pain. “No talking or funny shit when I pull this thing off your head,” Roc warns. I’d know his evil voice anywhere. It drips with disdain for me.
“Shut the hell up, Roc.” That is Celine. I didn’t know she was with us. So both Alex and Celine are walking with us. That makes me feel a little better. I don’t trust Roc. “Let’s hurry up and get this done so we can get the hell away from here.”
We walk a little more before finally coming to stop. “Let me see her.” Oh God. It is Grayson. He’s here. Roc abruptly pulls the pillow case from over my head, but not before I feel the cold metal of his gun in my back. Were in a huge, empty warehouse. My eyes immediately zoom in on Grayson standing there with two large duffel bags on each side of him. He’s alone and he has some muscle head looking guy with a gun aimed at him. I hope he has back up waiting for the word to swoop in. If not, we’re both fucked. I can’t get a read on Grayson. With his flat affect, I could be a stranger…this could be a routine business transaction. He doesn’t look like a man worried about a gun being aimed at him or distraught that someone he loves is being held captive.
“Celine, go over and get the bags from him.” Alex instructs. “We need to make sure all the money is there.” Celine nods and walks over to Grayson. I see something pass over his face briefly, but it is gone in a flash. It was the tiniest of reactions, but I saw it. It was a break in his mask, but now it’s gone. He hands Celine the first bag and she brings it back and sets it on the ground next to Alex’s feet before retrieving the other bag. Alex kneels down to unzip them both. Holy shit that is a lot of money. The bag is filled with wads of money banded together with mustard colored straps that have $10,000 written on them. Roc actually loosens his grip to get a closer look.
“Is it all there?” Roc asks.
“How in hell do you think I can count five million that fast?” Alex replies sarcastically. He flips through the money bands. “I making sure that there aren’t any dye packs in here and that the entire stack is made up of hundreds and not blank paper.”
“Celine, make sure there are 250 stacks in that duffel while I count this one,” Alex continues. Celine nods her head in understanding and they both count silently.
“I have 250,” Celine confirms.
“Same here,” Alex agrees. He stands and pulls a hidden gun from his hip. Celine follows suit. “Rick, go bring the van around. I have the money bags in my sight. He so much as flinches and I will cap his ass.” The guy with the gun aimed at Grayson slowly lowers his weapon and begins to head in the direction of the van. So he was the driver. Now what? Where did sensible Alex go? What happens once the van is brought around?
“You know we can’t just let them go Alex. That was never the plan. Bogdan gave the command to clean this up as soon as the deal was done. The FBI will be hot on our trail if they aren’t already,” Roc points out.
“We never discussed this. We were just supposed to get the score, collect our 300k, and go our separate ways. No mess. These would be capital murder charges we’re facing.”
“Only if we get caught. Bogdan isn’t going to let that happen. They’ve seen our faces Alex. They know too much. Letting them go will only lead to us getting caught. You just get in the van with Celine and I’ll clean this up with Rick.”
“I agree,” Celine says. I look over at Grayson, but he still appears emotionless. How can he remain so calm? This is the end of the road for us.
“Let’s just hurry this shit up,” Alex acquiesces. He briefly looks over at Celine and she nods. The next few seconds happen so quickly. Rick pulls up and gets out to help Roc ‘clean up.’ Celine quickly draws her gun and shoots him while Alex unloads multiple rounds into Roc. I drop to my knees and scream at the gunfire exchange going on around me. I close my eyes tightly as I hear Roc’s body drop behind me. So Celine and Alex have gone rogue—probably to keep the five million for themselves. I keep waiting to feel the next bullet tear into my flesh.
The sound of voices screaming ‘stay on the ground’ and ‘don’t move’ has me brave enough to open my eyes. Help is here. As I suspected, several FBI uniforms storm the warehouse. There are too many of them to count. Celine comes behind me and begins to untie the rope. Why aren’t the FBI apprehending her and Alex.
“It’s all over,” she says. “I’m an FBI agent and so is Alex.” Holy shit! Grayson is at my side in seconds.
“Oh, thank God, you’re all right. I’m so sorry, baby, that this happened to you.” I allow myself to get lost in his embrace for a moment before I pull back. I’m so grateful that he came for me, but it doesn’t change the fact that he went to Paris with Vanessa. I won’t be a bitch about it because I owe this man my gratitude, but the possibility for our reunion is no longer an option. Right now, I’m just glad that we’re both safe. He takes one look at the redness of my cheek and growls.
“I’m fucking guessing the Roc guy did this,” Grayson speculates as he caresses my cheek. “I wish I could kill that bastard for hurting you.”
“I thought…”
“Tranquil shots to put them down. They’re still alive and will answer for all the shit they’ve done,” Alex fills in as he walks up.
“Did you know that Alex and Celine were FBI agents? You seemed so calm the whole time,” I inquire. Grayson and Celine exchange glances.
“They told me they had someone on the inside, but I didn’t know who. I just knew I had to play it cool so that I wouldn’t tip their hand. Plus I knew we had back up waiting for the precise moment to swarm in.” Grayson shakes Alex and Celine’s hands and thanks them. He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me into him. “Come on. Let me get you out of here. They’ll have plenty of questions for you, but I told them I wanted to get you a bath, change of clothes, food, and some rest first.” I sniff my clothes and wrinkle my nose. Ugh, yes I need a bath. After that, he and I are going to talk.
“Thank you for everything, Grayson. And yes, I’d appreciate a chance to regroup before I relive this nightmare.” He gives me a tight squeeze.
Chapter 3
So it turns out that I’ve been in New York the entire time—held in an abandoned home off the beaten path. A private jet was used to transport my unconscious body thousands of miles away from home. I have so many questions. I refuse to go anywhere looking like this so Grayson is taking us to his residence at the Waldorf Astoria. Of course he would have a place here in New York. The expanse of how far this man’s money reaches doesn’t surprise me anymore. When we arrive in valet, the attendant arches a brow in question when he sees me, but quickly recovers. I know I look like shit. I’m sure more curious stares will be directed at me so I’m careful to keep my head down as we make our way inside toward the elevators. We stop at the 42nd floor for the penthouse suite.
“Do you have a taste for anything in particular? I can get you a menu,” Grayson offers.
“It doesn’t really matter. A burger will be fine—just a plain ole burger.” His home is as gorgeous as I expected. The Italian decor is breathtaking, but something still feels off. I’m a ball of nerves right now. We have so much unsettled history between us that needs to be resolved.
“That will be easy enough. I’ll get that ordered for you and then I’ll draw you a bath.” Grayson disappears around the corner and I walk into the living room. I don’t want to have a seat because I don’t want to soil his expensive furniture.
The burger arrives within twenty minutes and of course it is gourmet and comes with a mountain of fries. I’m sure they don’t have anything regular here. While Grayson tips the delivery guy, I take the food into the dining room. I reluctantly have a seat. I feel so dirty. Grayson follows me and sits across from me.
“What’s wrong, Siobhan? You’ve been awfully quiet.” The absence of my nickname tells me that my mood change hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“We need to talk,” I say, taking a deep breath. “We can’t pretend things didn’t end the way they did.” Grayson runs
his hands through his hair as I pick at my burger.
“Baby, I didn’t mean any of it. The office blow up, the club—none of it. It was all for show. The dean gave you implicit instructions to stay away from me and you were rebelling against them. And for what? I couldn’t let you ruin your academic future.” I sit up straighter in my chair. Fury unleashes within me as the memories from my conversation with the dean flood my mind.
“Nobody told you to take the fall for me Grayson. As a matter of fact, I remember specifically asking you not to. That is why I came to see you.” I push the plate of food away from me. “How am I supposed to feel, knowing I cost you your job?” He snickers a little and I swear I want to slap him. This isn’t funny.
“Shiv, I didn’t lose my job. I simply agreed to take the remainder of the semester off to draw attention away from the rumors on campus. The university didn’t want a scandal and neither did I. The dean agreed that if I stayed away from you, he wouldn’t bring about any academic punishment for you. Those were the terms. My family donates too much money to that school for my job to be threatened.”
“Okay, well what about Vanessa?” I accuse.
“What about her?” he retorts.
“Don’t play stupid, Grayson,” I huff. “The day I got taken, I was there to see you and she was there. You took her to Paris, for God’s sake. Paris, Grayson—my place. Yes, that scumbag Roc guy showed me the pictures.” I watch as the color drains from his face.