by Ruff, K. S.
I turned and eyed the bed behind me. Was I willing to give Michael everything he wanted? Did I even have a choice? I turned back around to stare at the fire, hoping to find some answers there. Finally, I looked at Michael. He was quietly watching me over the top of his wine glass.
I took a deep breath as I attempted to establish some boundaries. “I will not sleep with you, Michael.” I said it as firmly as a person could to someone who was willing to kill thousands of people to get his way.
Michael looked amused. “Sleep with me? What do you mean? Sex?”
I was certain my face turned red. I could feel the heat flooding my cheeks. “Yes, Michael, sex. I will sleep in this room… in this bed with you… but I will not have sex with you.” Like an idiot, I thought that sleeping in the same bed together might appear to be a compromise.
Michael chuckled softly. “I will respect your wish tonight, mon coeur, as it is late and we are both tired from the trip.” Michael leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before whispering seductively in my ear. “But I can also promise you this, mon amour. Soon, there will be no part of your body that I have not caressed and kissed. You will want me more than you have wanted anything or anyone. Then, and only then, will we make love.”
Chapter 6 – Come home
Kadyn didn’t bother going home. When the federal agents cleared out of Kri’s apartment, he called Patrick to let him know what he had found. He asked Patrick to relay the information to Senator Rockefeller but asked that he tell the other staff members that Kri was sick. He wanted to minimize the chances the kidnapping would be leaked to the news media.
Kadyn changed into some fleece pants that he kept at Kri’s place and collapsed on her bed, the same bed they shared most nights. Her pillows still smelled of her perfume and the lavender scented shampoo she used in her hair. Kadyn reached for Kri’s pillow and tucked it against his chest. Hours passed before Kadyn finally fell asleep. When he did, he was still clutching Kri’s pillow to his chest.
* * * * * *
Kadyn woke early the next morning. He stayed in bed for a good hour, unwilling to part from the only place where he could still feel Kri. He thought about where things had stood between them when she disappeared. Kri hadn’t known it, but he had been planning to propose. They had only been together for ten months, and he knew she needed time to heal from her abusive marriage and from Morris’s abduction. So he had been waiting for the right time. He had assumed they had all the time in the world. And now? She was gone.
Kadyn sat up and leaned against the headboard as he sifted through the long list of things he needed to do. He wasn’t planning to call Kri’s family or her friends in Montana. He was going to put that off for as long as possible, let them think she was safe for as long as he could. Kri left her purse and her cell phone behind, so he’d know when people started leaving messages and getting concerned.
Kadyn turned off the alarm he had set for work. Then he called Phil.
The phone only rang once. “Kadyn, you were supposed to call me back last night. What the hell happened?”
“Phil, you haven’t told anyone that Kri is missing have you?”
“Only Marie,” Phil responded warily. “Why?”
Kadyn chalked that up as unavoidable since Marie was Phil’s wife. “Okay. I’m going to let Cenia, Roger, and Mason know tonight after work. I don’t want it going any further than that.”
“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” Phil prodded a bit irritably.
Kadyn blew out a long breath. “She’s been kidnapped, again.”
Phil sighed. He had suspected as much. “Any connection to the bombs at the Pentagon?”
“The two events are definitely connected. The bombs at the Pentagon were intended to send me a message and to keep me sufficiently engaged so I couldn’t intervene.”
“I’d say that was a remarkably effective diversion. “I’m assuming Justin Morris hasn’t secured his release from jail and taken her again…”
Kadyn shook his head. “No. This is Michael Garcia’s work. He made sure I would know it was him.”
“How so?” Phil asked curiously.
“He left me a present at Kri’s house, all tied up with duct tape for a bow.”
The phone line grew quiet as Phil waited for further explanation.
“He left our lease officer tied up here so she could give me a message.”
“And the message was….” Phil prompted impatiently.
“That everyone I know and love will die if I try to find her.”
“Holy shit,” Phil breathed out.
“And this guy has the means to carry it out. He allegedly has ties to some terrorist group.”
“And that’s where I come in?” Phil asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes. That’s where you come in. I need you to dig up everything you can on Michael Garcia, identify any other names he might use, and try to pinpoint which terrorist network he is involved with.”
Phil sighed. “That’s a tall order, my friend.”
Kadyn closed his eyes. He’d rather not think about how impossible his request was. He took a deep breath and continued. “Use a secure network. I don’t want anyone getting wind of this. You can tell Marie but no one else. We need to keep this out of the news, otherwise he’ll hide her some place I’ll never find her.”
“I understand,” Phil responded. “I’m really sorry, buddy. I know how much you love her, and with everything you two have been through...” Phil’s voice trailed off.
Kadyn nodded even though Phil couldn’t see him. “I do love her, but I’ve failed her twice now. Why can’t I keep her safe?”
“I don’t know, Kadyn, but if anyone can find her it’s you,” Phil said encouragingly.
“Thanks, Phil,” Kadyn responded before ending the call. He leaned back against the headboard. Phil was incredibly skilled in cyber security and counter-intelligence. If there was any information to be found on Garcia, Phil would find it.
Kadyn reached for Kri’s pillow and inhaled deeply, smelling her perfume one last time before he forced himself from the bed. He wasn’t going to find her here. If he wanted Kri home, he was going to have to go get her. Michael Garcia had seriously underestimated him if he thought that threat would stop him from searching for Kri.
Chapter 7 - All Cried Out
I woke with a start. I sat up and looked around the room, which was now bathed in soft sunlight. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Relief bled into sadness as I fell back against the thick feather pillows. The tears came hard and fast. Why does this keep happening to me? First Tom, then Justin, and now Michael. Every single one of them had robbed me of my life in one way or another. Tom and Justin had hurt me. Would Michael hurt me too?
I rolled to my side and curled into a tight ball. I missed Kadyn so much it hurt. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing every last ounce of blood from my heart. How could I ensure Kadyn’s safety when I knew full well he’d come for me? The thought that I might never see him again… the thought that he could be killed because of me… that he might already be dead… each dark thought tore mercilessly at my heart. I reached for a pillow and pulled it over my head as I began to sob.
I eventually found myself standing in the center of the bathroom, with no memory of how I’d come to be there. I shook my head, then walked to the shelves to retrieve the lavender bath salts I had spotted last night. I programmed the water for the bathtub using the small electronic panel that Michael had shown me before we went to bed. The panel had been secreted under the tile alongside the tub. The musky scent of lavender filled the air as I sprinkled the bath salts into the warm water. I had long relied on lavender candles, shampoo, lotions, and bath oils to relax, but I knew it was going to take a lot more than lavender to soothe me now. I slipped out of the black silk nightgown that Michael had given me and sank into the steaming water.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I tried to relax. I hadn’t slept well with Michael sleepin
g next to me, and the hours I’d just spent crying had left me feeling even more fatigued. Still, it didn’t matter how wrecked I felt. I was going to have to deal with Michael sooner or later. An endless amount of questions were eating at me, and he was the only one who could provide the answers. I sighed heavily as I ran the sea sponge over my arms and legs. If only I could go to sleep, wake up, and discover this was all a bad dream.
I reached for the shampoo, poured a generous amount in my hand, and massaged it into my scalp. I closed my eyes and sank into the silky water as I rinsed the soap out. I worked the conditioner into my hair and reclined against the back of the tub. I sank back into the water as I rinsed the conditioner out. I huffed out a breath when I realized I hadn’t thought to grab a towel. I climbed out of the tub and walked gingerly across the bathroom. I quickly towel dried my hair and wrapped myself in the towel. I threw another towel on the floor. I nudged it toward the tub with my foot so I could soak up the trail of water I had left behind.
I slipped into the smaller of the two robes and rifled through the drawers until I found a comb. I gently worked the knots out of my hair. I dusted a thin layer of makeup over my face and brushed some mascara on my lashes in an effort to hide my red rimmed eyes. I wasn’t trying to look pretty for Michael, but I didn’t want him to know I’d been crying. I was certain that if he knew how vulnerable I really felt, he’d find some way to use that to his advantage.
I peeked inside the bedroom. “No Michael,” I breathed with relief. I wanted to talk to him but not until I was fully clothed. I crossed the room and ducked inside the closet. I quickly glanced over the clothes. I settled on a teal sundress when what I really wanted was a pair of baggy sweats. I searched through the drawers for panties and a matching bra. Then I snagged a pair of heels that resembled a watercolor painting in teal, coral, and ivory. I had to admit, Michael had exceptional taste in clothes. Everything fit perfectly. I still couldn’t believe Michael had figured out the correct sizes simply by watching me shop.
My hair was still damp when I opened the bedroom door and stepped directly into an incredibly broad chest. Michael was built but not this built. I looked up at the towering man. He was trying to look stern, but he was failing miserably. He took a step back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was wearing black cargo pants and a black short sleeved t-shirt, which appeared to be painted on. He had light brown eyes and caramel colored skin like Michael. His long dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail.
His eyes briefly took me in. “Bonjour, Madame Stone.” The deep, rich tone of his voice sent goose bumps skittering across my arms.
“Bonjour,” I responded hesitantly. I wasn’t entirely sure the greeting was appropriate when I’d just plowed into someone I didn’t know.
The man’s eyes softened as he met my gaze. “Monsieur Garcia has requested that you remain upstairs until his meeting has concluded on the main floor.”
I immediately pictured a throng of gun-toting terrorists milling about downstairs. “Oh, okay…” I stammered. “I don’t want to interrupt his meeting.” I eyed the man in front of me. “Your English is quite good. Do you mind telling me who you are?”
“My name is Rafael. Monsieur Garcia assigned me to you for your protection. He felt it prudent that your bodyguard speak English.” Rafael unfolded his arms and began texting on his phone. “Breakfast will be delivered to your room shortly.”
I shifted nervously as I glanced down the hall. I knew Michael had some dangerous connections, but I hadn’t anticipated having a bodyguard. I had been hoping to track Michael down so I could talk to him. But now? I didn’t know what to do. The bedroom was hardly a prison cell, but I had no desire to stay locked up in my room. Finally, I spoke. “Would it be possible to have breakfast in the library?”
He smiled. “Sure. The library is located on the second floor, next to the garden terrace. I’ll show you there.” Rafael turned and walked down the hallway. He sent another text message before tucking the phone inside his pocket.
I trailed after Rafael, but he shortened his stride so we were walking alongside one another. I gave the staircase a wide berth as we crossed over into the other wing. I didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone downstairs.
The tension in my back and shoulders eased when we entered the library. It wasn’t so much the books as it was the smell of coffee that I found comforting. A tray of food was sitting on a small coffee table, which was nestled between two oversized leather chairs and a very large window.
Rafael removed the lid from the tray and examined the food. “Bon appétit,” he remarked before walking out of the room. The doors closed softly behind him. I could only assume he remained standing on the other side.
I stared at the tray of food. Was he curious about what I was eating or questioning the safety of the food? As my eyes shifted toward the door, I wondered whether he had truly been assigned for my protection. I had presumed Michael had hired him to prevent me from escaping. My curiosity flitted between Rafael and the books.
I looked around the library. An insane number of books lined the walls from ceiling to floor. My fingers skimmed over the books while I perused the shelves. A good portion of the books were written in French. Some had Spanish or Portuguese titles, but very few were written in English.
I searched the shelves for some time before stumbling across a book that I thought might offer answers to some of the questions still swirling around my mind. The book was sitting on a large table in the center of the room. My fingertips lingered over the gold embossing before I picked the book up and settled into one of the oversized chairs.
I wasn’t hungry, but I was eager to try the coffee that had been beckoning me from the moment I had entered the room. I reached for the carafe and poured the dark, life saving elixir into a cup that was entirely too small for my liking. I lifted the cup and breathed in the rich earthy aroma as I took a small sip. The coffee slid decadently across my tongue. I took two more sips, then closed my eyes as I savored the soothing effect.
I drank two cups of coffee before turning my attention to the book. I sifted through the pages until I found the section I was looking for. I lost all track of time as I fell into the book.
“Bonjour, mon coeur. I see you have found my Bible.”
I glanced up as Michael’s voice rolled over me. He was leaning casually in the doorway, as if he had been standing there for quite some time. Interestingly enough, Rafael was nowhere to be seen.
Michael crossed the room in four long strides. He reached for my hand as he knelt in front of me. “Why are you reading the Bible?” he asked with some concern.
My eyes met his. “I thought it might help.” I glanced back down at the Bible. Of all the questions that had been concerning me, there was one question that troubled me most. Michael had threatened thousands of lives in an effort to force me here. He renewed that threat when we landed in Paris. I knew what could happen if I refused to cooperate. As horrifying and manipulative as that threat was, I made the choice to walk away from Kadyn, my friends, and my family in an effort to protect them and countless others. I couldn’t live with the knowledge that my selfishness might cost others their lives, but I was still questioning whether I could do this in the long term. Could I walk away from my life, my values, and self-respect and give Michael everything? Would God expect this of me if it meant saving others?
After reading through the scriptures and praying, I had found my answer. God had sacrificed his own son to save millions. Jesus sacrificed everything. My sacrifice would be nothing compared to that. Besides, there was still the remote possibility that if I cooperated and gave Michael everything he asked for, that he would no longer enjoy the challenge that my resistance presented. He could tire of me and let me go.
I looked back down at Michael. Concern was now etched across his handsome face. Did he suspect my moral dilemma? I set the Bible aside with a small sigh, still hesitant to accept my fate.
Michael frowned as he eyed the
untouched food. “Ma chérie, surely you will not make me beg for you to eat?” He pulled the phone from his pocket and sent a quick text before pulling me to my feet. “Come, I want to show you something. The cook will bring a warm tray up for the both of us.”
Michael twined his fingers with mine as he led me into the garden terrace. I stumbled when I saw the glass ceiling. Michael steadied me. “Do you like it?”
I stood gaping at the breathtaking array of flowering plants. When I finally looked down to see what had caused me to lose my footing, I found the flooring had been replaced by grass. Smooth stepping stones led in three different directions. “It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
Michael smiled, obviously pleased with my response. He nudged me forward so we could wander through cascading roses, orchids, and hibiscus. The floral scented air was intoxicating. We walked through the entire garden before Michael navigated me to a mosaic table and two intricately designed chairs that were secreted next to a large rock waterfall. A tray of food was sitting on the table.
Michael pulled a chair out for me before settling into the other chair. He opened the lid to the tray and handed me a small plate with a savory smelling omelet. He took the second omelet for himself before moving the tray to a rock ledge next to the table. He glanced at me as he poured the coffee.
I scowled at the small cup. “Why are your coffee cups so small?”
Michael laughed as he handed me one of the cups. “This is a demitasse. French coffee is much stronger and richer than the coffee served in the United States. We don’t water it down like you do, so we don’t need large cups. I think you’ll find this coffee is far superior to the coffee you’ve been drinking. Trust me. You won’t miss the large cups.”
I set the cup down. I wasn’t about to give Michael the satisfaction of seeing just how much I enjoyed the coffee, which I had already sampled in the library. I was a bit annoyed with his condescending response, but I at least recognized my own rudeness in criticizing the cups. I glanced at Michael as I cut into the omelet. “Bon appétit,” I murmured in some misguided attempt to remedy my previous rudeness.