by Ellie Danes
My heart sank. I was never going to see her again. Bree had made the right move, getting away from me, but I still felt attached. I wondered if I could call the diner and ask if she had checked in with the older waitress. Would they think I was a crazy stalker? Or would they assume that I had done something to her and was trying to cover my tracks?
It would be hard to make anyone believe that Bree was the only person in the world I truly cared about. I hardly believed it myself, but I couldn't deny it. In the span of a few short days, Bree had worked her way into my life so that I couldn't imagine it without her.
I turned toward the rougher part of town, away from the cafes and the bank. I needed to find a ride right away, and there was no way I could head to the bus station. I knew those men were still looking for me.
Every thread of common sense in my head told me to turn around, but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to head straight back to that diner in Topeka. I would wait there until Bree showed up.
I stopped in the middle of a crosswalk and a blue sedan honked at me. I retreated to the curb I had just jumped off and clenched my fists.
I couldn't go after Bree. I had to let her go.
If those men were still after me, and I knew they were, then I couldn't endanger Bree any more than I already had.
Besides, Bree wasn't the help I needed now. Now I needed someone who could tell me where drugs like that would come from. I needed to find someone who could help me connect myself with El Paso, the girl in the photograph, and the fat rolls of cash.
I knew my buddies at the base could help. I flew with some genius-level men, and they would know how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. I'd been embarrassed before, when I couldn't remember where I'd been. But now that armed men had tried to grab me, I was sure my SEAL team would be ready to back me. I might have done something wrong, but we didn't let anyone mess with each other.
For a few seconds, I felt the weight lift. I wouldn't face this alone, and Bree would be safe. Then it all came crashing down.
I couldn't hitch a ride. No one was stopping where I was. And I couldn't move to the other part of town because I was sure those men were still looking for me.
And I couldn't ask anyone in my squadron to risk their career for me. By now, I was officially AWOL, and to even speak to me would yank a fellow pilot off the roster.
I'd been walking in circles.
The only thing I could think to do was head back toward the bank. I had to see if Bree's car was still there. If it was, then I knew she'd made it out of town without being seen. If it was gone, then my heart was gripped in panic.
Those men had seen us heading to her car. They were well-dressed, organized, and there had been no hint of their intention until the guns were already pulled. There was no doubt in my mind they were professionals. That meant they had clocked Bree's car, and they would be watching it.
I slipped through the alley and ducked beside the bullet-riddled wall. There was no one suspicious around, but I took my time edging around to where Bree's car had been parked.
It was gone.
So were the men who had been watching it. I didn't see anyone out of place, but there was a pile of hand-rolled cigarettes next to a dark tire track. Someone had been waiting in a car at an angle that would have given them the perfect view of Bree's car. I looked down at the dirt and grime of the alley and saw both the tread marks from her car and the other headed in the same direction: out of town, toward Topeka.
I started to run. It didn't matter that people noticed me. The men would assume I was in the trunk of Bree's car or hidden under a blanket in the backseat. They weren't watching for me here anymore.
I tore down the street and headed for the sun-faded flags I had seen on the edge of town. There was a car dealership there.
As I ran, I did a quick calculation in my head of how much money I had in those heavy rolls. Now it didn't matter how I'd gotten that money or where it had come from. I needed a car, and I needed it fast.
I had to get to Bree before those men did.
Chapter Fourteen
Bree
The shock and adrenaline wore off just about the time my gas light flickered on. I was about halfway home, and I hadn't seen that strange car since leaving town. Still, a cold squeeze of fear caught my heart as I pulled into the gas station. The overhead lights were unnaturally light, and I felt horribly exposed.
Don't be paranoid.
I pulled the lever for the gas tank and got out of my car. My legs were stiff from driving, but also from the fear that had kept me tense the entire ride. I leaned against my car, exhausted from worry.
How could I just leave Nathan like that?
He'd saved me from the gunmen without a second thought. I winced every time I remembered how he pulled me behind him to keep me safe. Nathan was willing to take a bullet to protect me, and how did I repay him? By sneaking out the door when he was in the shower, planning how to keep us safe.
I wanted to turn back but the sky was already getting dark. I'd still be on the road when night fell, and, even if I turned back, there was no way I would know where to look for Nathan.
My fingers itched to call the motel and ask the clerk there, but I didn't want to do anything stupid. I couldn't figure out how to help Nathan if I got picked up by the police.
I was still weighing my options, all of them insane, when I heard a man clear his throat. He was standing next to the passenger side of my car, and I jumped when I realized how close he'd gotten without me noticing.
I summoned every ounce of attitude I had to cover my fear. "Yeah? What do you want?"
A slow, appreciative smile spread across his face but he didn't say a word.
"Listen here, creep. There are cameras all around here, and I'm not afraid to scream," I said.
The man chuckled as a dark hood dropped over my head. His two companions grabbed me tight, and I felt strings tighten around my neck. The hood wasn't coming off, even if I could get my hands free from the man's cruel grip.
I rammed back against my assailant as hard as I could and felt the breath whoosh out of his chest. Then I jabbed my elbow back as hard as I could. The man's grip loosened, and I heard him stumble back against my car.
The man who had smiled now started to laugh softly. Then he spoke one word, ‘hello,’ and my skin crawled. I recognized his voice from outside the bank. These were the men who had tried to take Nathan away at gunpoint!
My stomach flopped as I remembered the one man's leering look. I was only leverage to them and when they realized I didn't know where Nathan was, I'd be as good as dead. Or worse.
A scream tore itself loose from my petrified lungs.
Rough hands grabbed me again and hauled me screaming away from my car. Where was the gas attendant? Were the cameras getting all of this?
There was no one around, no other voices that I could hear, and the men were talking amongst themselves in cool, confident tones. I didn't have any hope of a rescue.
"No need for the dramatics," the familiar voice said. I heard a van door slide open. "As long as our friend Nathan does what he is supposed to, you'll be just fine. If he doesn't, well, you'll have to take that up with him. In another life."
I tried to resist but the men bound my hands with a hard plastic zip-tie, then I was picked up and tossed into the back of the van. I landed hard on my side and all the air was knocked out of my lungs. I gasped inside the dark hood, struggling to breathe. I had to scream, had to let someone know what was happening, but the van was on the road before my voice came back.
It was too late.
The men chatted and laughed, most of it in Spanish, as if I was just another line on their to-do list. I lay in the back of the van like a bag of dirty laundry and tried not to cry.
My only comfort was trying to think the way that Nathan did. The three men hadn't hurt me, beyond the rough landing in the van, and one had even gone so far as to reassure me that I would be 'just fine.' As long as Nathan did wha
t he was supposed to do.
I bolted upright despite the suffocating hood. What if I told the men that Nathan had no memory of what had happened? He couldn't possible do what they expected him to do if he didn't remember it.
I opened my mouth, gagging against the rough material of the hood, and then stopped myself. There was no way they would believe me. I barely believed it was possible for Nathan's memory to vanish so completely.
Maybe, just maybe, he had remembered already and was on his way to save me.
I made myself as comfortable as possible, my hands having been zip-tied behind my back. The best thing I could do was think like Nathan.
He would listen to every word the men were saying and figure out how to escape. I tried to conjure up every snippet of high school Spanish I remembered as I listened to them talk.
The trio of men jumped between Spanish and English at a dizzying speed, and it took me five full minutes to start recognizing individual words.
One man was laughing, boasting even, about how crazy Nathan would be when he found out they had me. He spat out a long and obviously derogatory sentence before I heard the words 'double-crossed' in English.
They believed Nathan had double-crossed them, and they were going to use me to even the score!
What was he supposed to do? Why was Nathan working with these men?
I strained to hear them over the radio station one man flipped on. It wasn't clear whether Nathan had worked for them or with them, but the words 'double-crossed' kept coming up.
Then I started to hear other things, things that made my skin crawl. Girls. The men kept mentioning the girls. Moving them, keeping them hidden, and something about money.
I swallowed hard and tried not to throw up in the hood. What had I got myself into?
There was no denying now that it was all my fault. I was the one who was attracted to Nathan. I was the one who hadn't let him walk out of the diner. I was the one who had ignored his plan and gone back to my car. I remembered too late how Nathan had told me they would be watching the car.
"If we keep moving those girls, one of them is bound to get out," one man said.
"A deal's a deal," the man in the driver's seat said.
The one whose voice I recognized must have turned toward me because I heard him very clearly. "And now we have the leverage to see it gets done."
We drove for what felt like forever. My mind drifted as the men talked about football, not soccer, and what they would do when their bank accounts were flooded with money.
I almost drifted to sleep, the inside of the hood pitch dark and too warm. Then I felt the van exit the highway, slow to a cruise, and eventually pull into a parking lot.
I filled my lungs with air, hoping we were somewhere public, when the back door flew open and two of the men grabbed me out. Within seconds, I was shoved through a door and hit a bed.
I flipped myself over to the other side and scrambled to my feet. I couldn't see a thing and my hands were still tied behind my back but I lashed out with my feet.
The man whose voice I had heard at the bank chuckled again. "Maybe she'll be calmer with the hood off."
The darkness was ripped away, along with a few strands of my hair, and I stood blinking in harsh, fluorescent light. I was in another dingy motel room.
The man winked at me and headed for the door.
"Wait! Where are you going?" I cried out.
A surly man sat in the corner, his fingers drumming on the arms of his chair. He didn't look at me, didn't say a word, and sat with his stony face aimed at the closed door.
"What are you, my jailer?" I asked.
He said nothing so I marched around the bed and asked him again. "Are you supposed to keep me tied up in here?"
His eyebrows raised slightly at the volume of my voice, but he still didn't move. He looked so bored that an avalanche of fear crashed down on me. There was nothing I could do. If I screamed, he would probably gag me with as much enthusiasm as someone tying off a bag of garbage. I was nothing to him. Just a job.
He stifled a yawn, and my stomach did another sick flip. He did not look like a man I should push too far.
I decided I liked the world better with that black hood off my head, so I went and sat down on the edge of the motel bed.
My wrists ached as the hard plastic chaffed my skin. Still, I tugged and squirmed and tried to get free of my restraints.
Why would Nathan come for me? He obviously had bigger problems.
I was going to have to save myself.
A tiny, ragged sob escaped my lips. My stony guard didn't even blink, just went right on staring at the closed door. I bet if I broke into full-blown sobs, he would have done nothing but sigh.
Then the door popped open and I shot to my feet, galvanized by fear. Had they found poor Nathan?
A man I did not recognize, in the same style dark suit the rest of the men wore, marched into the room. He came straight up to me, shoved me back down to sit on the bed, and then knelt in front of me.
"Where's Nathan?" he asked.
I resisted the urge to kick him, too scared to even move my lips when I talked. "I don't know."
He grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. "This is your only chance. Tell me where Nathan is. Now."
I whimpered, the cruel pinch of his grip bruising my chin. "He's lost his phone, I can't call him. I don't know where he is right now."
The man stood up. "But you know how to reach him."
I blinked, wondering how much I was giving away without even saying a word. "I don't. I can't. I don't remember the name of the motel we stayed in."
The man nodded at his silent colleague, and the stony-faced man opened a drawer and tossed him an ancient phone book. "You better hope this jogs your memory."
He opened the phone book to a list of motels, and I saw the name of where we had been. I bit my lip. He said it was my only chance. Things were only going to get worse.
Still, I couldn't betray Nathan twice in one day.
"That one," I said. I nodded toward the motel listing three down from where we had stayed. "I think that's the name, but I didn't see the sign or anything."
"Better start remembering the details, if you want to get out of this alive," the man said.
I might have only been able to buy Nathan an hour or so, but it was the best I could do. So, I gritted my teeth, looked the man straight in the eyes, and lied.
"That's it. I swear," I said.
Chapter Fifteen
Nathan
The maroon sedan had breaks that squeaked and an odd smell when the heat was turned on, but I couldn't be picky. The high mileage meant it was cheap, and I knew it would run. In an emergency, I was even sure I could still identify enough under the hood to get it back on the road. Plus, it had a huge gas tank, and I'd be able to get hundreds of miles away before stopping for gas.
"Say the word and I can speed up the paperwork for you," the used car dealer said. He leaned on the hood of the maroon sedan and thought he had my number.
"Cash," I said.
He stood up and held out a hand for me to shake. "Done."
I held back my hand. "Comes with a full tank of gas, right?"
"Got somewhere you need to be?" The used car dealer squinted his eyes at me.
I knew I was acting suspicious and, as soon as he got a glimpse of the cash rolls, he'd be sure to mention me if anyone came asking.
It didn't matter because I would already be gone.
When he finally handed over the keys, I got in and turned the ignition. The car rumbled to life but I had no idea where to go. I drove across the dealership lot and chose a parking spot in the shade by the exit.
I needed a plan.
It didn't help that any time I thought about the best move, it was interrupted by thoughts of heading straight to Topeka. I needed to know that Bree was all right.
Finding Bree again wasn't the smartest move, so I forced myself to push her from my thoughts. Instead, I pulled o
ut the postcard and stared at the picture.
Why would I stash a postcard from El Paso in with bricks of cocaine and cash?
The cash almost made sense. If I had stolen it, that would explain why the gunmen were after me. But why wouldn't they just shoot me and take it back? So, I either won it or earned it. Both those possibilities made me uncomfortable.
I adjusted the sedan's driver seat and gripped the steering wheel. Gambling had always been a problem for me, it was one of the reasons I made a great pilot, but I didn't remember getting into a poker game that deep.
I still didn't remember anything. And I certainly didn't remember why I would have two bricks of cocaine. Gambling was a heavy vice but I had never gotten into drugs.
As I fiddled with the radio station pre-sets, I wondered about the cocaine I had left hidden in the motel. I hadn't kept it for personal use so the only other possibilities were that I was trying to sell it to cover a gambling debt, I had stolen it to use as leverage, or it was evidence.
My last idea made the most sense. I had kept the cocaine as evidence, and that would explain why the gunmen were after me but not trying to kill me. They had to make sure I hadn't already spoken to the authorities.
I shifted the sedan into drive and eased out of the used car dealership. It occurred to me that the cocaine could also be a useful way of disguising what I had really smuggled out as evidence. I needed to get back to the motel and check inside the bricks. Maybe the key to the El Paso postcard and the little girl's haunted expression was inside the cocaine I had hidden in the vent.
It was risky but there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't head back to base because I would be facing a court martial, and I didn't want to endanger my buddies' careers. And, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't go to Topeka and get Bree any more entangled in my problems than I already had.
I figured the gunmen wouldn't be looking for me in a maroon sedan, so I drove straight toward the motel. At first, I circled around it, looking for suspicious cars, but I didn't see anything. Then I spotted two men at the far end of the motel parking lot.