Held Against You

by Season Vining

  I squeak and run to the bedroom, slide the painting over, and punch in the code. I open the safe and know that I’ll find the key and Samuel’s favorite antique gun inside. Only, it’s not there. The cash, the photo of his mother, and my necklace with the key are all there. No gun.

  “Shit!” I whisper slapping my hand to my forehead.

  Samuel probably has it hidden somewhere in the house. That does us no good now! Every bit of hope flees my body and I’m left with nothing.

  “Hurry up, Kitty Kat! He’s a bleeder!” Natasha yells.

  I grab the key and run back to the room. She has placed one of the kitchen chairs over his body now and is sitting in it. The footrest bar presses against his throat and I can tell he’s struggling for air. Red ribbons of blood pour from cuts all over. I gasp and cover my mouth to keep the sob inside.

  “Do you know how long it takes to bleed someone out? Or how to slide a knife into someone’s flesh in places just short of major organs?” Natasha jumps up, waving the bloody knife in my direction. She snatches the key from my hand. “You think he’d ever love you? He’s heartless. Lovely to look at, but dead inside,” she says. Her voice wavers, her eyes look crazed. “Now,” Natasha says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and smoothing down her bloodied shirt.

  Samuel gasps, his eyes flutter open, and he lifts his cuffed hands enough to push the chair off of him. Natasha raises her foot and kicks him in the stomach.

  “He’s losing a lot of blood, Kitty Kat. I bet he’s feeling cold right about now, too weak to fight back. Soon he’ll go into shock and lose consciousness. No more Oz.”

  She pushes me onto the sofa and takes a seat on the table in front of me, legs splayed, her elbows resting on her knees. The knife hangs down, forgotten as she inspects the key.

  “All of this work for this little thing,” she says. “All the searching and pretending to be your friend. Bypassing your alarm system wasn’t difficult. I was here when you were out honeymooning,” she spits. “I left the door open on purpose, knowing it would drive Oz crazy. Getting you drunk, weeks of waiting were all part of the plan. It was like a lovely vacation on your mother’s dime. You gave a good effort. But you’re no match for me. After all, I was trained by the best.”

  Natasha stands and pockets the key before placing the knife to my throat. I can feel the blade against my skin and her hot breath on my face.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt much, Kitty Kat,” Natasha says smiling.

  There’s a loud thwack as the front door slams against the wall.

  “Her name is Katherine, you bitch!”

  We look over to find a trembling gun pointed at us.

  27. HIM

  My head is pounding and I’m freezing. There’s blood everywhere. I can smell it all around me. I hear a strange voice come from the front door and slide my eyes that way.

  There’s a woman in the doorway holding the forgotten gun. She looks exhausted but determined. There’s a fierceness in her expression that’s familiar.

  “Who the hell are you?” Natasha shouts.

  “Mom?” Kat shouts.

  “That’s not Callista,” Natasha says.

  I want to tell Kat that I don’t recognize this woman either, but the words refuse to form.

  “Drop the knife,” the woman shouts.

  Natasha grunts and holds her stance. “I don’t care who you are,” she spits. “They both have to die.”

  Two shots ring out. Silence. Then Natasha’s lifeless body drops beside me. Between the blood loss and hitting my head in the struggle, I fight to keep my eyes open, to make sure Natasha is dead and Kat’s okay, but I’m fading fast.

  The woman drops the gun, hurdles the overturned chair, and runs to Kat.

  “What are you doing here? How did you find us? I thought you—”

  “I know what you thought, Katherine. I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.”

  * * *

  I wake to sunlight pouring through the bedroom’s glass door. A breeze blows the curtains and they dance around the frame. I can hear the waves against the shore, a static white noise that wants to lull me back to sleep. I turn over to find Kat asleep. I raise my hand to brush hair from her face and see two bandages on my arm.

  I suck in a breath and sit up. All the happenings of last night play through my head. Flashes of guns, knives, blood, and Natasha make me nauseated. I throw back the sheets and check her sleeping body for injuries. She seems to be perfectly fine. Jumping from the bed, I run down the hall and into the main room where I have to clutch the wall to stay upright. I squeeze my eyes closed and reopen them to the surreal scene before me.

  The house is immaculate, every piece of furniture clean and in its place. Natasha’s body is gone. There’s no blood on the tile floor, no evidence that she was here—besides the trace scent of bleach and other cleaners. The biggest shock is seeing the woman from last night cooking at my stove. She looks at home here.

  I approach with caution and take a seat at the bar.

  “Oh, Samuel! So glad you’re up. How are you feeling?” she asks. I stare with my mouth hanging open, unsure if or how to answer.

  She looks like an older version of Kat, only her eyes are different. Her wavy brown hair skims the tops of her shoulders as she sways back and forth in a nervous dance.

  “Who are you? Where’s Natasha? Is Kat okay? What happened?” I ask, trying to clear the fog from my head.

  “Oh, I’m rude. My name is Callista, the real one. I’m Katherine’s mother.”

  “Um, it’s great to meet you,” I say, though it comes out like a question. “If you’re Callista, who hired me?”

  “My sister-in-law, Marilyn, the conniving twat.”

  I laugh and almost choke at the use of the word twat from a middle-aged woman standing in an apron in my kitchen.

  “Yeah, I guess that makes more sense. Is Kat okay?”

  “She’s fine. Just exhausted. And to answer your other question, Natasha is dead and gone. Can’t say I enjoyed taking another person’s life, but she was going after my baby,” Callista says, her voice grave.

  “It was the strangest thing. Kat insisted we call the police, but I think they’re crooked around here.” She gives me a half-smile. “An odd man named Officer Mendez showed up, loaded the body into her black Mercedes, and drove off. But he didn’t look like a police officer at all. All he said was ‘Tell Oz thanks again, and he should consider my debt to him paid.’”

  “Wow,” I say, remembering the gratitude in his eyes when I delivered his child’s kidnapper all those years ago. Now I feel the same deep sense of appreciation.

  “That’s what I said. Anyway, you look a little peaked.” Callista sets a glass of orange juice in front of me. “You should drink that. It’ll help you feel better.”

  I nod and drink down half the glass. “Thanks.”

  “Good morning, Katherine. Well, afternoon.” She looks past me.

  I turn to find Kat standing in the doorway. She doesn’t say a word as she takes a seat beside me.

  “I think she may be in shock,” Callista says.

  I kiss Kat’s temple and nudge her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She nods, but her expression remains stoic.

  “You want some breakfast, sweetheart?” Callista stands in front of Kat and twists her lips sideways on her face. Like mother, like daughter. She’s nervous and rightly so.

  “Kat?” I ask rubbing circles on her back.

  Every muscle in her body is tight, her neck is stiff, and I can feel her pulse drumming wildly.

  “My mom is here, in Mexico, offering breakfast to me and my fake husband. I’m in the damn Twilight Zone.”

  I laugh and finish off my orange juice.

  “And you? You feel okay?” Kat asks, searching my face.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “She’s not the one who hired you?”

  “Nope. The woman I met was really tall with black hair.”

  Kat spots the key
and necklace sitting on the counter between us. She stands, grabs it, and holds it out to her mom.

  “This is what you came for, right?” Kat accuses, her fist shaking.

  “Sit down, Katherine. We need to talk,” Callista demands in that tone that only a mother can possess. It transports me back to the days of lessons learned from my own mom. I put my hand on her shoulder and guide Kat back into her seat.

  “Katherine, you have to listen to me. I didn’t hire anyone to kill you. It was all Marilyn. She posed as me, gave him my name, met him on our boat.” She points at me with her spatula. There are tears in her eyes as she begs Kat to trust her. “Sweetheart, Katherine, I would never want to kill you. You are more important to me than that stupid key. I only wanted it because Marilyn was obsessed with finding it. I knew she was desperate and I figured we could negotiate with her.”

  “How did you find us, Mom? How did you know where we were?” Kat says, her voice accusatory and disbelieving. I can see her hands trembling as she folds them in her lap.

  “I stopped by the office one day and overheard Marilyn on the phone with Natasha. When I realized what she had done I flew into a rage,” Callista answers. She sets down her spatula and stands across the bar from Kat. Her hands rest on the edge of the counter, fingers clawing at the granite. “I threatened to go to the police and tell them everything unless she told me where you were. She bragged about posing as me, said it was easy to play a cheap whore.”

  Kat drops her chin to her chest and exhales slowly. “Why did she do it?” she asks.

  “Money. It’s all about the money. That key represents over one hundred million dollars to her. And she wanted revenge for Dennis’s death. She confessed that the hit man turned on her and escaped with you to Mexico.” Callista stops and takes a deep breath. I can almost see her reliving this information bit by bit. “But then, someone else approached, offering to kill you both and get the key for the same amount of money. She took the deal without hesitating.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how you found us.” Kat’s voice is just a whisper now. She’s unsure of her mother and everything else. I move my hand to her thigh and sweep my pinky back and forth across her skin. She slides her hand over and hooks her pinky around mine.

  “Natasha called Marilyn with weekly updates on where you were, what you were doing—basically, a progress report. I convinced her that I’d come here and get the key if she called off the hit. She agreed, but I knew it was a lie. I came to Cabo a week ago. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

  “Well, your timing couldn’t have been better,” Kat says.

  “It was easier to find Natasha, because Marilyn is paying for her hotel. I found her a couple of days ago and followed her here last night.”

  Kat raises her eyes now and looks at Callista. The cheerful woman who greeted us this morning has been replaced by this dejected yet hopeful mess.

  “It’s all hard to believe. I want to trust you, but these last few years … I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “I know I lost my way, Katherine. I let the money and the power get to me. I let Dennis knock me around and didn’t do a damn thing about it.” She reaches across the counter and lays her hand on top of Kat’s. “I swear on Mimi’s grave, I would never hurt you, sweetheart. Never.”

  * * *

  “You sure you can’t stay, Callista?”

  “I’ve got to get back to the States. Important business to take care of,” she says, holding up the key before dropping it in her bag.

  Kat stands next to me, clinging to my arm. She’s still unsure of everything, but she agreed to let her mother have the key. Callista promised that she’s going to deliver it to the police and hopefully that means Marilyn will go to prison.

  Callista throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight.

  “Take care of my little girl,” she whispers.

  I nod at her as Kat looks on.

  “Katherine, I’m so glad you found your happiness. I know we haven’t agreed on anything these last few years, but please know that is all I ever wanted for you. I love you so much.”

  She wraps her arms around her daughter and soon Kat returns the hug. The two women stand there for a few minutes exchanging sniffles. When they finally part, we wave good-bye as she jumps into the waiting cab.

  Kat stands in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, and watches until the cab disappears around a curve. She waits for the dust to settle on the road, until there is no sign of her mother at all, before she comes inside.

  The last two months have felt like a tornado, spinning and disrupting everything. I’ve lost my former life, everything I’ve ever known, my career, my freedom and anonymity. But in those two months, I’ve also lost my desire for any of those things without Kat.

  For years, I’ve been fighting ghosts. My mother, my father, my past always looming over me. I never stayed anywhere long enough to belong there. I never wanted to, until now.

  “Is it hammock time?” she asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Not to be confused with Hammer Time.”

  I stare at her and Kat shakes her head before leading us out of the house onto the sand. We kick off our shoes and climb into the hammock.

  “We’ve got to work on your movie and music education,” she says.

  I feel her lips on my neck, her hair tickles my face when the breeze blows over us. I grunt as her whole body presses down onto mine. It’s the most glorious feeling, and I know I’ll never grow tired of it. Her knees straddle my hips and her hands grip onto my biceps between the bandages. Kat places more kisses along my jaw, finally reaching my mouth and sucking gently on my bottom lip.

  “Will you go to the doctor today?” she asks.

  “If it will make you happy, Mrs. Turner.”

  She giggles and I open my eyes to find her smiling down at me. Her tanned skin holds a golden glow in the shade of the palm trees. Her long hair contains the last hint of red dye and now has natural highlights from the sun. The blue water and white sand beaches are her background. Even then, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Me haría muy feliz,” she says.

  “Your Spanish is much better. Maybe you’re spending too much time with your tutor,” I tease.

  “Enrique is tall, dark, and handsome. But I don’t think he plays for my team.”

  I laugh at her. “What gave it away?”

  “Well, I constantly throw myself at him, but he ignores me,” she answers, smirking.

  I roll my eyes and place my hands on her bare knees.

  “We made it, Samuel.”

  “We sure did, Katherine.”

  She wrinkles her face up at my use of her full name. I motion for her to come closer and when she does, I kiss her.

  “And you love me,” she says.

  “I do.”

  There, under the shade of those palm trees and the airy umbrella of our confessions, we consume each other unapologetically.

  After lunch, we head out to find a doctor. It’s hard to locate an open office, as most people are still on holiday. Soon I’m seen by an older gentleman who cleans all my wounds and stitches two of them. He doesn’t ask any questions and takes the extra hundred I offer to keep it that way.

  Exhausted, we head home and lie in bed together. With the back wall pushed open, a cool breeze drifts through the room and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore lulls us. I ask her about last night. Kat tells me that Callista shot and killed Natasha. She and her mother bandaged me up to make sure the bleeding stopped before dragging me to bed. After Officer Mendez took care of Natasha, they cleaned the house, erasing all evidence.

  “Not bad for a computer nerd and her mom, right?” she asks.

  “Not bad for anyone, Kat. You could have a new career on your hands,” I tease.

  She traces the inked lines down my chest and rests her hand over the compass on my hip.

  “I love you, Samuel Lucas Ozl
ey.”

  The newness of those words has me grinning and for once, I don’t care that someone can see how vulnerable I am.

  “I didn’t tell you my real name just so that it could be used against me in moments of weakness.” She shakes her head and licks her lips before kissing the underside of my chin. “I love you too.”

  * * *

  Kat lies on the sofa, reading a book. Her hair is up in a messy knot, glasses perched on her nose. I sit on the end with her feet in my lap, content to just be near her. I check the clock on the wall for the time again. My knee bounces up and down, vibrating us both.

  “Samuel, I can’t read when it feels like I’m in the middle of an earthquake,” she says looking over her book at me.

  “Sorry, Cupcake.”

  She makes a face at my pet name and returns her attention to the book. Apparently, I still haven’t found the right one.

  It’s been a month since our brush with Natasha. As promised, Callista returned with the key and handed it over to the police, claiming she found it in Dennis’ belongings. They questioned her recent trip to Mexico, which was suspicious with a daughter on the run. Callista worked out a deal on Kat’s behalf, telling them everything she knew about the stolen money. They were able to arrest Marilyn for embezzlement and a few other white-collar crimes. She’s currently in prison awaiting trial because her husband refuses to bail her out. Kat’s not free and clear in the eyes of the law, but they won’t be spending any more time on the hunt for her.

  Kat and I, finally free from fear, have settled in nicely. It’s a completely different path than any I’d ever envisioned walking, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

  A loud knock echoes through the house. She looks to the door, then back to me.

  “You expecting someone?” Kat asks.

  “I don’t know. You should go see.”

  Kat grins and hops up, skipping to the door. I watch her ass in those shorts and tamp down the beast inside me that always wants to claim her.

  “Surprise!” Kelli’s squealing shout fills the empty house.

  “Oh my God!” Kat says, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Come in!”