“Jake Ryan and Samantha.”
He nods and writes on the back of the mug shot paper.
“Where did you meet?”
“The seafood department at Whole Foods.”
“How charming…” Foreman scoffs as he writes again. “Who was her last boyfriend before you?”
“Paul,” I answer rolling my eyes in mock annoyance.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Jack and Kelli,” I answer nodding.
“Who said ‘I love you’ first?”
There is no easy or right answer. Whatever I say, Kat has a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. I twist the gold band around my finger, the metal cuffs biting into my wrists.
“I did,” I say. I give him a giant benign smile. I toy with my expression, because I’m unconvinced that I look like a man in love trying to prove his wife’s innocence. Instead, I feel like he can see straight through the roles we’re playing.
Foreman stands, the metal chair scrapes across the linoleum like a game show buzzer. Our round of questioning is over.
“I’ll be back after I have a visit with your sweet little wife,” Foreman says with too much enthusiasm. My legs twitch and my fists shake in my lap.
I sit in the cold room alone. I wonder where my contact is and if he abandoned us when we got caught. I try to work out a new plan. The only answer is an outright battle that will cause violent bloodshed and my imminent end. I convince myself that if it comes to that, I’ll do it without hesitation. Anything to get Kat to safety.
I watch the minutes sweep by on the large clock. Each one feels like another nail in my coffin. After twelve minutes, I’m a combustible mass of nervous energy. I want to scream and break things, mainly someone’s face. I have got to get out of here.
The door swings open and bangs against the wall behind it. I watch as Kat shuffles in, looking apprehensive. She frowns and shrugs a shoulder at me. Foreman joins us again, taking a seat on the other side of the table. I glare at him, though he ignores me completely. His eyes never leave Kat.
“Well, it seems you may know each other better than I thought,” Foreman spits.
Kat nudges my foot with hers. I smirk at the floor.
“That doesn’t mean I trust you are who you say you are. It simply means that I will allow you to be more comfortable until we know for sure.” He motions to the guard who approaches and removes our handcuffs. “I.T. says our system connections will be up and running within the next half hour, so you won’t have to wait long.”
A shrill ring cuts through the room. Foreman quickly retrieves a phone from his jacket pocket. He stands and takes the call, pacing in front of the mirror. I jump when I feel Kat place her hand on my thigh.
“What are you guys doing over there? Get it fixed now!” Foreman yells into the phone.
“Jake Ryan and Samantha?” she whispers.
I nod. “Whole Foods?” I ask.
“Yep,” she mouths so quietly I barely make out what she says. “Thirty minutes.”
I place my hand on top of hers and squeeze.
“Fine! Screw protocol! Call the authorities directly and let me know,” Foreman growls, ending the call.
“We’re contacting San Antonio to find out the status of Katherine Percle. We should have our answer in a few minutes. We’ll see what you both have to say then.”
I see Kat shudder as her fingers squeeze into my leg. She’s blinking rapidly and I know she’s fighting to keep the tears away. The quick rise and fall of her chest is apparent, her breaths coming faster each second. I can’t sit idly by and wait for the inevitable. Kat’s life is on the line. I know it’s now or never.
“Can I get some water?” I ask. “It’s hot in here.”
Kat’s head whips toward me. She knows. She remembers the story of me and my partner. Foreman motions to the guard who leaves the room. He reenters a minute later with a paper cup. As he approaches the table, Kat flips her hand over and holds mine, tugging hard.
“No,” I hear her whisper. I shake my head, knowing this is the only way. “Don’t,” she pleads again.
I stare at the daunting cup of water as the guard places it on the table. This is it. For everyone I ever wronged, for failing to protect my mother, for my only two friends, and for Kat’s freedom, I raise the cup in a silent toast and drink it down.
I begin coughing and spewing water everywhere. My face turns red and my eyes tear up, blurring my vision. Kat withdraws her hand from mine when the guard begins his approach. Even through my charade of distress I can easily see his gun and the snap that holds it in place.
The guard reaches my side as I slump over the table, still choking. I can feel his hand pounding me on the back and know that his gun is inches from my shoulder. Just as I reach for it, the door crashes open and Kat gasps. I freeze, my choking forgotten.
A large man barrels in. He’s the size of a linebacker, his oxford shirt pulled around his biceps. He towers over the other men in the room.
“Foreman, we heard back from San Antonio!”
18: her
Foreman jumps from his chair and meets the large man at the door. Meanwhile, the guard next to Samuel returns to his post. Samuel wears his disappointment plainly. He’s lost his opportunity and I’m thankful for it.
The man at the door is tall and extremely muscled. He doesn’t seem to be a guard, more of a business type. He glances in our direction as they whisper furiously back and forth.
“That can’t be right,” Foreman says scrubbing his face.
“I confirmed it myself,” the man says.
“Fine, take care of them. You,” Foreman shouts to the guard, “come with me.”
We watch as the guard and Foreman leave the room without a backward glance. We can hear his curses and heavy footsteps as he hurries down the hall.
The new guy comes forward, extending his hand to Samuel.
“Mr. and Mrs. Turner, we are truly sorry for the mix-up. You are free to go.” Samuel shakes the man’s hand as I look on in disbelief. “Now, if you’ll come with me I’ll show you the way out.”
We rise, both of us in a daze of disbelief, and follow him from the room. I grab Samuel’s hand, needing something to keep me upright. We exchange cautious looks until we reach the large metal exit door. There’s a thin window there. On the other side, the sun is shining and people walk about as if our lives aren’t at stake.
“Follow the sidewalk to the left and you’ll find your truck parked there with the keys already inside. Again, we apologize for the confusion and hope you enjoy your trip.”
Samuel and I stand rooted to the shiny linoleum floor.
“How?” The question slips out and I cover my mouth a second too late.
“According to my phone call, Katherine Percle was captured and returned to San Antonio authorities two days ago. She is currently awaiting arraignment.”
“Jason Wharton?” Samuel asks.
“That’s me,” the man answers, patting himself on the back.
“The network connection?”
“That was me, too.” He laughs, proudly.
“Did you shut down individual networks and disable network bridging?” I ask.
Jason looks surprised, and shakes his head with a grin. “No, I unplugged the main router and the backup and cut power to the voIP phones in the control room. Too easy.”
“Nice,” I say.
“Thanks, man,” Samuel says.
“Now, go.”
Samuel ushers me through the exit and down the sidewalk. The heavy door slams shut behind us and I resist the urge to run. When we reach the truck, we throw ourselves inside and buckle up. He tears out of the parking lot, takes a left, and floors it. A thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas hit me as we settle into the crowded streets of Mexico.
“Holy shit!” I yell. “I can’t believe that just happened! I mean, I thought we were done for!”
“Me too,” Samuel answers.
My breath catches in my throa
t. Laughter and tears seem to mix into one mess of a reaction and burst free from me. I place a hand on my chest, willing my heart to calm down.
“And the questions, I can’t believe we got past that!” I say. “Then when you said you needed water, I almost had a fucking heart attack, Samuel! Goonies never say die!” I pump my fist in the air, celebrating.
Samuel pulls over onto a side street and parks. “We’re safe now. You’re safe.” He looks relieved and still a bit stunned.
“How do you know that guy?” I ask.
“He was the contact I told you about. I found the guy who raped his wife when the police couldn’t. We never met in person, but he did tell me if I ever needed anything, to let him know. I called in my favor.”
I bounce in my seat and clap my hands together. “I can’t believe it! I just can’t!”
Without thinking, I reach over, grab his face between my palms and plant a kiss on his lips. He sucks in a breath before his lips respond, kissing me back. Flashes of our night together appear behind my eyes and create a burning need inside my belly. Before we get lost in this high, I sit back and take a few deep breaths. His eyes meet mine and there is a hunger there, a demanding desire that he’s fighting.
“What now?” I ask.
“I’ll get us to Cabo, get you settled at my house and be on my way.” I cross my arms as he starts up the truck and pulls back onto the main road. My smile fades as I realize he intends on parting ways.
“Oh, okay.” I’m quiet a moment before realization hits me. “Wait! You’re giving me your house?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Absolutely not, Samuel. I do not accept.”
“You don’t have the option to decline, Kat. Unless you’d like to be broke and homeless in Mexico.”
“I can pay you rent or something. I’ll get a job,” I insist.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he says, frustrated.
Samuel types our destination into the GPS system and follows its directions until we reach the highway. I pull the large purse into my lap and dig through it. I take out a bottle of hand sanitizer, use it, and throw it into one of the truck’s cup holders. Then, I find a granola bar. My stomach growls in anticipation as I quickly unwrap the treat and take a bite.
“Mmmmm,” I hum.
“I’m starving. Do you have another one of those?” Samuel asks.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Come on, Kat.”
“Are you going to let me pay you rent?”
“No,” he answers firmly.
“Then, I think I’m all out of granola bars.”
“Seriously?” he asks.
“Seriously,” I say, feigning innocence. I take another bite, rolling my eyes and chewing exaggeratedly. “God, it’s sooooo good. This could possibly be the best fucking granola bar in the history of granola bars and you’ll never know its salubrious greatness because you’re so stubborn. I mean, look up tasty in the dictionary and I guarantee there’s a photo of this very granola bar.”
“Salubrious? Fine, Kat, you can pay me rent. Now, give me one.”
I giggle at his weakness, dig out another bar, and unwrap it. “So, another road trip, huh?” I ask as I hand it over.
“Yep,” he answers, shoving half of it in his mouth at once.
“How long will this one be?”
“About five and a half hours until we get to Guaymas, then we’ll take a plane across the Gulf to Cabo.”
“Wow,” I say.
“What?”
“You’ve always got all the answers. Are you ever unprepared, taken by surprise? Ever do anything without planning it first?”
“You,” he says staring out at the highway.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I sure as hell never planned on you.”
I blush so hard my ears burn. He shakes his head slightly and taps out a rhythm on the steering wheel.
We ride for another hour, until we can’t take the growling of our stomachs anymore. Samuel pulls off into a town in search of nourishment. As we drive through, I search each building, looking for recognizable words. Growing up in the Southwest, I learned the basics of Spanish from being surrounded by people who spoke the language. And, of course, all the bad words.
“I guess I’ll need to learn Spanish, huh?” I say, mostly to myself.
“It would be helpful,” Samuel says.
I spot a modern looking building with the word restaurant on the sign. “Elba,” I read aloud. “Oh, can we stop there?”
Samuel pulls in to the parking lot and we both hop out. There are a few people inside, who stare like we’re the sideshow at a circus. I smooth down the back of my dress to make sure it’s not tucked into my panties and swipe at my nose for snot.
“Hola. Buenos días,” Samuel says. The middle-aged woman behind the counter returns his greeting. Of course he’s fluent in Spanish.
“What do you want?” he asks me.
“Umm, whatever you’re having, I guess.”
I don’t pay attention as they continue to converse. Instead, I wander over to the large front window and take a seat in a booth there. The sun lights up the space and heats my skin. I catch the reflection of my red hair and it seems to glow. Samuel joins me and hands over a soda while he drinks coffee.
“This place seems popular,” I say, awkwardly searching for conversation.
Samuel only nods as he stares out the window. He seems distracted but I’m too chicken to ask about it. Instead, I leave him to his thoughts and carefully lay my paper napkin across my lap.
After our food is delivered, we both eat in silence. Once again, his handsome expression is a mask, telling me nothing. The sun lights up the side of his face, casting deep shadows on the other. One blue eye is beach glass while the other is cobalt. His wavy hair curls around his ears and neck leading my eye to that sharp masculine jaw covered in two-day stubble. An uneven white scar cuts through the left side of his chin and I take another bite of my burrito to keep from reaching out to trace it.
I wonder if he is as confused as I am. I have all these feelings swirling around and nothing seems to surface long enough to hold on to. The thought of trusting him seems foreign, and yet, so does the thought of being without him.
I finish my lunch and head to the bathroom. When I join Samuel again, he’s on his phone, his back leaning on the front glass. He’s speaking in Spanish again, so I stand next to him and wait. I watch a tumbleweed blow along the lane as if obeying traffic laws. Across the street, an elderly woman sits on a crate, drinking from a flask and talking to herself. Three kids pile into the flatbed of an old truck and take off down the road, laughing and singing to the music blaring from the speakers.
Suddenly, the elderly woman’s head snaps left and she stands, shading her eyes from the sun. I turn to see a black Mercedes with dark-tinted windows making its way down the street. In this town of dusty air and earthy colors, it sticks out even more than we do. I follow the car until it drives out of sight and try to shake the uneasy feeling it puts in my stomach.
“Ready?” Samuel asks, breaking me out of my daze.
“Yep.”
Back on the road, he finds some music on the satellite radio while I sit braiding a strand of my hair over and over. I’m not sure if it’s the bright sun or the full belly, but my eyes can’t seem to stay open. Soon, I give up the battle.
I’m jarred from my nap as the truck suddenly jerks.
“What the hell?” I say. One hand slaps against the window and the other rubs at my eyes.
“Sorry,” Samuel offers. “There was a lizard in the road.”
He shrugs and looks out at the horizon.
“You’re a liar,” I say. “You woke me up on purpose.”
“Me? Never,” Samuel says.
I stare at his profile and wonder if I spent three weeks or three years with him, would I ever really know the man beneath all those layers.
“You’re quite an enigma, you know that, Samuel?”
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“Okay,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything,” I say. “For helping me, for saving me, for keeping me out of prison.”
“Kat, I–”
“No, stop. I know what your original intentions were and I can’t hold that against you. You didn’t know me. You were hired to do a job, I understand that.” He nods. “You don’t owe me anything, Samuel.”
“Kat, I’m not helping you out of guilt,” he insists.
“It’s just, well, I don’t have anyone left. I could use a friend, ya know? Are we friends, Samuel?”
“I guess so,” he says, though he seems reluctant.
“Good. So can I call you Oz?”
“I like that you call me Samuel. My mom was the last one to do that.”
“Samuel it is,” I say. “Friends look out for each other, right?”
“Uh huh,” he answers, suspicious of my questions.
“Well, as your friend, I should tell you that you have a big glob of sour cream on your face.”
“What?”
He leans into the mirror and wipes the mess from his cheek. I burst into laughter unable to contain it any longer.
“How long were you going to let me wear that?” he asks.
I simply shake my head and cover my mouth, unable to answer through my laughter. When I’m finally able to catch my breath I offer my apology.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say still wearing a huge grin.
“Yeah, you look sorry,” he says.
“I am. I really am.”
“Uh huh.”
I turn my face toward the window to hide, because I know I’m not convincing.
“Kat?”
“Huh?”
“Payback is a bitch.”
I turn to find Samuel pointing the bottle of hand sanitizer at me. His arm flexes as he squeezes with all his might. The clear gel flies all over me as I scream and throw my hands up, trying to block it.
“Samuel! Stop!” I scream.
He stops when the bottle is empty and I’m covered in the quick-drying goo.
I press my hands to my face. “It’s in my eyes! It burns! Owww!” I cry.
I feel the truck veer to the side of the road and come to a stop. Samuel unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over.
Held Against You Page 18