Erased

by Elle Christensen

The thought is brief but true. I was a fool to leave the comfort of his warm body. I made a mistake and ran right into the arms of the ones set on hurting me. Sure, Slade may be Gideon, but deep in my heart, I feel like he’d never hurt me again.

  He loves me.

  “He’s not answering,” Jack growls, holding up the phone to show that it went to voicemail.

  “Fuck!” Bruce roars as he stands. The knife blade flashes with the reflection of the sun that’s barely peeking into the hotel room, making me shudder. “Open her laptop. We’ll message him through that.”

  As Jack kneels at the bed and pops the laptop open, my eyes veer to my left. The door is only a few steps away. But I return my gaze to watch Bruce walk over to him and bend over, barking out what he wants it to say.

  Now.

  I scramble to my feet, ignoring the dizzy wave from having been hit in the head earlier, and grab the door handle in what feels like record speed. Once the door opens with a swish of air, I fucking run. All noises are dulled as I tear past the other hotel rooms.

  I’ll find Slade. He’ll save me.

  “Not so fast,” Jack snarls from behind me.

  Fuck! He’s close. The elevator is nearby, but the stairwell is even closer. Just a few more steps and—

  A strong arm hooks my waist and yanks me back. I crash hard into Jack’s chest. My lungs fill as I prepare to scream so loud that I wake my mother from the dead. Yet no sound escapes as Jack’s palm smashes over my mouth, snuffing any and all attempts.

  Tears blur my eyes, but I keep struggling in his grasp. I won’t make this easy for him.

  And then I see them.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  And four.

  Four foreign men in suits. The same men from the bar last night. Number One has his gun raised. Number One squeezes his trigger.

  They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. It’s supposed to be of all the best memories of your life. I should have had flashes of watching my mother’s concert videos. Flashes of making Uncle Bruce ride Magic Mountain for the fourteenth time in a row. Flashes of Dad taking me to every single piano practice with a proud smile on his face.

  Instead, my future flashes before me.

  Dark, steel-colored eyes are in that future. Images of hard but passionate Derek Slade lifting my veil in the small church. Visions of holding a dark-haired angel in my arms and seeing a teary-eyed father nearly brought to his knees by the birth of his first child. Thoughts of watching a sunset on a rickety porch swing while holding the weathered hand of an old but still fierce man.

  My future is supposed to be Slade.

  And now, that too would be stolen from me.

  The shot is silent, and the men are still approaching, but Jack releases me. Then I hear a thud behind me as Jack crashes to the floor.

  “Joss Parker?” Number One asks with a thick Korean accent.

  My heart nearly explodes from my chest in relief at the fact that they have not chosen to shoot me too. However, they are not here to save me. These men are probably worse than what I just ran from.

  “Jill Anderson.”

  He raises a gun just inches from my forehead, so close that I can feel the heat from his last shot. “You are same,” he replies coolly. His English may be slightly broken, but I don’t miss the malice.

  Number Two comes around and roughly grabs my bicep to turn me around. We’re going back to Jack’s hotel room. Speaking of Jack, I get glimpse of his crumpled body in a pool of blood, a gunshot wound in his forehead.

  Fuck!

  “Please let me go,” I whimper, but even I am not naïve enough to think it will work.

  Slade, please find me.

  As we reach Jack’s room, Number One steps up and knocks on the door. No answer. Bruce, the man I always thought could do no harm, is hiding like a fucking coward behind that door. He knows these men are here.

  “Konu, shoot lock,” Number One instructs Number Two, and I wonder why they aren’t speaking in their native tongue.

  Konu raises his gun and fires off a succession of three shots into the door handle. They must have silencers on the guns because all that can be heard is the damage being done to the handle and no echoes of bullets. And considering the empty hotel parking lot, there probably aren’t many people to even hear the noise.

  When Konu kicks his foot hard against the door, it flies open, revealing Bruce, who is cowering on the other side of the bed.

  “Yejun,” he says sharply with arms raised, “don’t kill me. I found the girl. We’ll get the password right now. You’ll get what you need. Pay me half of what you owe me. Besides, you still need me. I can work the program.”

  Number One, now known as Yejun, lifts his gun and points it at my uncle. Tears, even still, cascade down my cheeks. I can’t watch him die.

  “Bruce, we brought Ch’anyom. Remember him?” Yejun questions.

  “I remember he couldn’t crack the code William put on the program. You still need me. Besides, I might be the only one able to get that information from him,” Bruce sniffs smugly.

  When Konu pushes me into the floor, my palms sting from the rug burn.

  “You Americans are so cowboy. So stupidly confident,” Yejun chuckles. He seems humored by Bruce as he lowers his weapon.

  Bruce’s eyes find mine when I audibly sigh in relief. For a brief moment, I see the man I remember before he pushes it away again.

  “This stupid American has loaded the virus on this laptop and has e-mailed William to dial the number to my disposable phone.” Bruce gestures at my computer on the bed.

  Number Four, or Ch’anyom, strides over to it and kneels beside Bruce.

  “Go sit with girl,” Yejun orders to Bruce and waves a trail from him to me with his gun.

  Bruce nods and reluctantly walks over to me. As he nears me, Yejun raises his gun and shoots him in the back. As Bruce grunts and stumbles toward me, I let out a scream. Then he collapses right beside me with a groan.

  “What did you do?” I shriek at Yejun.

  The bastard shrugs his shoulders at me. “I only need him for little while longer. Just until he bleeds out. Then no more.”

  Angry tears roll down my cheeks as I look down at Bruce, expecting to see my uncle dead. However, he turns his face toward me. He’s still alive.

  With Bruce no longer a threat, Yejun turns back to Ch’anyon, who’s tapping wildly on the computer. They are engrossed on their task and aren’t paying much attention to our exchange.

  “Jossy girl,” Bruce whispers as he reaches into his back pocket. Once he’s retrieved his wallet, he pushes it across the carpet toward me. “I’m sorry, Joss. I love you.”

  A pained sob chokes me as I take his wallet.

  “Open it,” he breathes out.

  My hands shake as I open the old leather wallet I gave him for his birthday a few years ago. When I open his wallet and see a picture of my six-year-old self sitting on his lap on our back patio, I gasp in surprise. Dad took that picture when we were grilling burgers as we celebrated my birthday. It was a happy day that I remember well. Bruce had bought me a Christmas Barbie—one he had to have found online seeing as I’m a summer baby.

  “She looks like your mother.”

  That present caused one of the few fights I ever remember my dad and Bruce having.

  I cherished that doll.

  “I love you, Jossy girl. I lost my way a bit, but I never stopped loving you.” His voice is so raspy and his chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath.

  I nod at him because I know. Somehow, I know. Soon, he’ll die and I won’t be far behind. I hope we’re going to the same place.

  “Look at the picture behind it. It’s when you were sick with the flu and infected the entire group of students in your music program. Remember?”

  He’s delusional. Or is he?

  I flick my gaze around the room and see that nobody is watching me. Flipping over the picture, I
see a small flash drive tucked inside the plastic.

  “Infected the entire program.”

  I nod again and slip it out of the plastic. When he reaches toward me, I don’t hesitate to squeeze his hand. Relief floods his features as tears roll out of his eyes.

  “I love you too, Uncle Bruce.”

  Then he smiles and closes his eyes.

  Frustrated Korean words explode from across the room. I tear my eyes from my dying uncle to see Ch’anyom angrily pointing toward the screen. Somewhere in there, I hear the word ‘webcam.’

  “All stupid Americans,” Yejun grumbles as he stalks over to Ch’anyom.

  He glares at the screen before leaning forward and clicking on the volume. Suddenly, a familiar voice blasts into the room from the computer speakers and my heart stops in my chest.

  Slade.

  “You all are a bunch of stupid fucks. I’ll kill all of you if you lay one goddamned hand on my girl. Do you fucking hear me?” he snarls.

  His girl.

  Yejun frowns as if he tasted something sour. “William.” He says my father’s name as if it is poison.

  “You don’t speak with him until I have proof of life. Got it, asshole? Bring my girl over here and you better pray to fucking God she has every single one of her fingers, or so help me, I’ll cut you into so many fucking pieces they’ll never be able to put you back together again. Got it, Humpty fucking Dumpty?”

  Yejun rolls his eyes and waves me over. “Come, girl.”

  I squeeze both hands into fists to hide the flash drive and shakily stand. My eyes want to look back down at Bruce, but my heart seizes and prevents me from doing so. I won’t be able to handle seeing him dead. Instead, I straighten my back and walk over to the two men.

  “Move,” Yejun orders to Ch’anyom.

  He obliges and scoots away from the laptop. Then Yejun gestures toward the floor in front of the computer. I nod my head in understanding and kneel down beside the bed.

  Slade. Beautiful Slade.

  The man who stole me from my bed. The man who saved me from my uncle. The man who protected me and warned me about Jack. The man who made love to me one minute and fucked me into oblivion the next.

  The man I love.

  “Cupcake.” His voice is soft, shaky, and apologetic.

  Tears gush from my eyes. I want to crawl right through the screen and into his strong, protective arms.

  “Derek,” I sob.

  The connection is scattered, and for a brief moment, he freezes. My body fills with horror at the thought of never seeing him again. Thankfully, the screen flares to life again and he begins talking.

  “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I love you, Joss.”

  Joss.

  “I love you, Joss.”

  Derek loves Joss—me. Another sob escapes, this time louder than the last.

  “William!” Yejun barks out from beside me.

  Slade growls, “Chill the fuck out, asshole. He’s right here. When I’m done talking to my girl, you can talk to him. He’s going to give you your goddamned password. Just let Joss go and we can all go home happy.”

  “Fine. I will let her go after speaking to William,” Yejun promises.

  My eyes fly up to his, and with one brief look, I know he’s lying. This man plans on taking a program that will destroy our nation’s economy and putting a bullet in my head the moment he has what he wants.

  “You have thirty seconds, cowboy. And then you give me William.”

  Thirty seconds.

  My sweet Slade doesn’t waste any time and launches into what he wants to say. “Cupcake—”

  Twenty-nine.

  “Slade, stop.”

  Twenty-eight.

  “Hang in there, little kitten. I’m coming for you.”

  Twenty-six.

  The flash drive feels like a ticking bomb in my fist.

  Twenty-four.

  “Derek, I love you too. I should have trusted you.”

  Twenty-two.

  He begins rambling about how he’ll save me and spend the rest of his life taking care of me, but I’m a woman on a mission. I nod absently as I slide my fists on either side of the computer. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I produce the drive between my finger and thumb.

  “Baby? Are you listening to me?”

  Sixteen.

  When he bounces on the screen, I realize he’s driving. Poor guy is looking for me. He’ll never find me in time though.

  “I’m sorry, Derek.”

  I push the flash drive into the slot before Yejun or Ch’anyom realize what I’ve done. The effect is immediate.

  Slade’s beautiful face disappears as the screen goes completely black.

  Just like my heart.

  “Fix it. Fix it now!” Yejun yells in my face.

  I don’t know much about computers. I followed solely in my mother’s footsteps instead. But I know I need to stall, so I rack my brain for all the little things I picked up over the years and fiddle with the computer. This buys me about five minutes until Yejun recognizes that I’m simply wasting time.

  “You are bad, bad girl,” Yejun snarls as he yanks a handful of my hair and hauls me to my feet.

  “I’m tired of bad fucking people raining on the parade that’s my life. Do your worst, but your worst will never be taking down our entire country. You can kill me, but I know I’m going to a place where my mother and uncle are—unlike you. When someone finally, and they will, puts a bullet in your head, you can have fun burning in hell!” I yell and then spit right in his eyes.

  He glares at me before jabbing the barrel of his gun painfully into my chin. “Stupid American girl,” he mutters.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for my death. Then a blast resounds from behind me. In the blackness behind my closed lids, I search for the blue eyes of my mother. Instead, steely ones find me.

  “I’M SORRY, SLADE.”

  Then the screen on the phone goes blank and I feel hysteria building, fighting its way to the surface. I can’t give in to it.

  I can get to her.

  I will get to her.

  I’m just around the corner from her GPS location. I press my foot even harder onto the gas pedal and screech into the parking lot of a seedy motel, pulling right up to the closest entrance to the blinking light on my locator. I don’t even shut the car off before I go sprinting into the building.

  At the top of the stairs on the fourth floor, I look through the little, square window in the door and see that two men in suits are standing outside a door three rooms down. Then I retrieve my gun from the shoulder holster and attach the silencer. The small window in the door is made of rigid plastic, so I use a small utility knife and cut a hole in the window.

  Thank you, MacGyver.

  I know I’m going to have to take both down within seconds of each other so that they have no chance to call out a warning. The two men are facing each other, talking. From this angle, their heads are just close enough. Once I’ve put the barrel of the gun through the hole in the widow, I aim. Taking a deep breath, I tune out everything around me and focus on my target.

  Pft. Pft.

  I fire off two shots in quick succession, only taking a millisecond to adjust for the second shot. One in the back of the head, the other between the eyes. Both men fall to the ground with a thud. Just because I don’t usually kill people doesn’t mean I don’t know how to.

  I open the door and run out into the hallway. Near the door, I almost trip over a third body.

  Jack.

  Jack is sprawled on his back, a bullet hole in his forehead, his blood oozing down his face and soaking into the dirty carpet. I have no sympathy for the scum adding to the dirt on the floor, so I step around him to the closed door of room 407. Then I take one moment to assess the situation, laying my ear close to the door.

  “When someone finally, and they will, puts a bullet in your head, you can have fun burning in hell!” Joss screams.

  My little hell
cat is out in force. But provoking them is going to get her killed that much faster.

  I peer through the peephole, and despite the vision being so far away, I make note of the position of both men. One of them is sitting at a desk on the far wall, fiddling with the computer, his back to the door. I recognize the other as Yejun. He is standing with his back to the door, and I can just make out a third form standing in front of him. It’s too small to be Bruce, although I don’t see him in the room. It has to be Joss.

  He lifts his arm and holds a gun up to her head. I can’t hit him without risking hitting her. If I can just get him to point the gun at me . . .

  I stand back and kick the door with all of my weight, causing me to shift forward and land heavily on my foot. I quickly balance myself and get a shot off.

  Pft.

  The man at the computer slumps forward, killed instantly. Then I train my gun on Yejun.

  He whirls around, using a tight grip on Joss’s hair to bring her around with him. I wanted him to shift the gun and point at me. Instead, he holds it under Joss’s chin and shoves it a little harder into the soft flesh. Fuck!

  Joss’s lids are squeezed shut, but at the sudden motion, she opens them and her terrified, blue eyes meet mine. I keep her gaze for half a second before returning to Yejun’s face. His eyes show surprise for just a moment before he shutters them and they take on a determined glint.

  “Let her go, asshole. You’ll have to get through me to get out of here, and you know I won’t let that happen.”

  Yejun barks out a mirthless laugh. “You want to save stupid little girl, you let me go. Simple.”

  I need a fucking opening. I need to get the gun pointed somewhere else!

  I am running through options in my head when the sound of a door banging startles Yejun, and his eyes flicker behind me. I’ve been doing this too long, so I keep my eyes and weapon on Yejun. I know who is there, and he is going to give me the opening I need. I feel the presence just behind me, waiting. Suddenly, he rushes around me and through the door. Just like I hoped, Yejun swings his gun toward the intruder. It’s enough.

  Pft.

  Yejun tips backward, his grip on Joss’s hair pulling her down with him. She lands with a thud on his chest, which knocks the wind out of her. I rush towards her and reach her at the same moment William does. For a split second, our eyes meet and we battle over who will pull her into their arms. So when he jerks out a small nod, I immediately gather her limp body in my arms and hold her tight. Then I run a hand over her head, her back, her chest, and on down, inspecting for injuries. They all appear to be minor, and I sigh in utter relief. Her eyes are glazed over in shock and I can tell she isn’t fully present.