The Woman Trapped in the Dark

by J. D. Mason

  “It’s stupid, DJ, and just ridiculous. Why would you even tell me some mess like this, and why you’d even consider doing it is beyond me. If you get caught, then who’s going to take care of your family?”

  Her words hit home, because all of a sudden he looked sheepish and like his head was full of second thoughts.

  “I’d love to have the money, but not like this. The risk is too high.”

  She left him there, meaning every word she said. Until she walked into her house and Thomas met her at the door with a slap across the face.

  Five hundred thousand dollars could put a lot of miles between Naomi and her husband, Thomas. It wasn’t enough money to last a lifetime, but it was plenty to leave him and to build a new life for herself and her kids. She would change her name and her boys’ names. She’d go someplace where no one knew them, and they’d start over from scratch. Brand-new.

  Twice a day, Naomi was tasked with going to that old restaurant and taking her a sandwich and a bottle of water. The woman hadn’t eaten today, but Naomi would see to it that she ate tomorrow. They needed to keep her alive if they were going to get paid. Naomi’s and her sons’ lives were at stake; her freedom was at stake. And that was worth everything.

  No More Dawn

  ABBY BOLTED UPRIGHT, panicked and blanketed in darkness. Disoriented. Confused. Abby had no idea where she was. Had she fallen asleep? Was she dreaming? Not a dream, but a nightmare. She took several deep breaths before tentatively stretching out her arms and spreading her fingers, widening her eyes, straining to see. Gradually, she began to adjust to the darkness.

  “Oh, God,” she gasped over and over, repositioning herself to kneeling. Abby cried out, “Help!” She sobbed, her throat constricting with fear. “Help me!” she cried out again. “Somebody, please! Please.” Her voice trailed off into sobs.

  In time, Abby managed to calm herself, to get her bearings as she bought her focus back to her surroundings. She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the heels of her hands and shifted into a cross-legged position and finally noticed the tenderness on the soles of her feet. Abby grazed her fingers over raised cuts and punctures on them from that daring escape of hers. If that man hadn’t shown up, she might’ve gotten away. She swallowed and drew her knees to her chest, suddenly realizing how cold it was in this room.

  Teeth chattering, trembling, and thinking back to the foolishness that put her in this position, Abby shook her head in disgust. “Don’t go by yourself, Abby,” she scolded herself, repeating Jordan’s warning, sobbing, pissed that she hadn’t listened. Resolve set in. “Dumb. Dumb move, Abby.”

  Pushing herself up, Abby limped over to the door and tested it to see if maybe she’d gotten lucky and those people had forgotten to lock it. Of course they hadn’t. Resting her forehead against it, she accepted the fact that, barring some miracle, there was no way that she was getting out of here tonight. So she turned and hobbled back over to the mat, carefully lowering herself down onto it, grimacing as she took the weight off of her feet.

  Why the hell hadn’t she listened to him? She leaned back against the wall behind her and fought back tears. Crying wasn’t going to help, but dammit if she didn’t feel like bawling her eyes out.

  “Things are different now, Abby. We have to take precautions now that people know about you.”

  To her, Jordan was overthinking the situation and making a big deal out of nothing because she wasn’t the rich and famous one in the relationship. He was. So what would anybody want with her?

  Each moment was a constant struggle to push away thoughts of not getting out of this room alive—or worse. Would it really go that far, though? Would they kill her? She couldn’t allow her mind to give in to that kind of thinking. So Abby forced herself to focus on something else—on him.

  She’d agreed to move in with Jordan, temporarily, just to see what it would be like, because she was being silly thinking that she wasn’t already living with him when she really was. For the last two months she’d set up camp in his place, leaving her house in Blink to drive the two hours to Dallas to stay with him every couple of days because she couldn’t stand to be away from him. Jordan’s trips to Blink had lessened as he became more involved with a new division he was setting up to support a contract with the federal government that he’d won, not only to develop a new fuel source for space vehicles but also to come up with a new long-range engine for rockets.

  He worked long hours, but she liked being there when he came home at the end of the day, or when he found time between meetings and stole time with her in his penthouse above his office. Abby was at his place three or four days a week on average, but as long as she took her toothbrush with her when she left and headed back home to Blink, it was like she was still holding on to her own life, or sense of separation. Deep down, Abby didn’t want to be separated from him, though.

  You couldn’t be around Jordan and not get lost in his shadow. That’s what scared her about being with him. In Blink, she was Abby, and she owned properties, and people knew her, she had her family and her business. In Dallas, with Jordan, she was a woman waiting for him to come home at the end of the day. Abby wrestled with herself to hold on to her own separate and viable identity and not to be swallowed up by the whale-size persona of the man she loved. He loved her, too. And knowing him the way she did, Abby knew that Jordan had to be going crazy right about now worrying over where she might be. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was at her house now with the police.

  They’d see that she’d fought, and hard, too. Maybe one of those fools who’d taken her had left behind evidence, something that would immediately identify him, and they’d find him, arrest him, and make him tell them everything. She refused to give in to crying again, but fear filled her chest. They had to be caught. If they weren’t found, and if they disappeared, then she’d be here, locked in this room, alone, and nobody would ever know where to even look for her.

  So many things could go wrong. Abby had to try to get out of here. If she could somehow escape and make her way out to a road or something … She’d done it once, already. She’d gotten out of this room, and she could do it again. She had to do it again, and this time, she had to run faster, be smarter.

  “They can’t keep me here,” she said, realizing that she was crying again. “That ain’t happening.”

  She took deep breaths to calm herself. Abby couldn’t think rationally if she wasn’t calm. Her hands and feet were so cold. The only thing she had was a mat to lie on. She crossed her legs, tucking her feet underneath her thighs as much as she could to try to keep them warm. Abby pulled her arms from the sleeves of her T-shirt and folded them around herself against her skin underneath it.

  She closed her eyes and thought back to the conversation she’d heard after being caught.

  “Nay,” she murmured.

  “We can’t fuck this up, Nay.”

  The man had said that. The woman’s name was Nay.

  “It won’t happen again,” the woman said.

  “She’s going to be more careful,” Abby surmised in deep contemplation. “Know your enemy.”

  Abby was going to have to be smarter because she’d nearly gotten away and they were going to be much more careful now.

  Her guess was that they wanted to keep her alive at least for the time being. If they’d wanted her dead, they’d have killed her by now. Maybe they’d called Jordan asking for money. They’d have probably told him not to contact the police. She’d seen enough movies to know that that’s how it usually worked. She was being held for ransom.

  “Good grief,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. How silly it all seemed on the surface. Abby felt like a character in a bad movie script. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous, insane, all this was, and the more she realized that she should’ve stayed her ass in Dallas.

  Love Come in a Hurry

  GUESTS AT TED MCCALL’S cocktail party sounded to a highly preoccupied Jordan like birds chirping. S
omehow, he managed to find a way to interact and at least look as if he gave a damn about this event or these people. Jordan made his way out to the massive deck overlooking a large lake to escape the claustrophobia of that crowd, their questions about him and his business endeavors, and the weight of Abby’s abduction pressing down on him. He’d been here an hour and decided that that was long enough.

  “The insatiable need of the wealthy to get dressed up in fancy suits, dresses, and pretense to talk a lot of nothing and stupid shit never ceases to amaze me.”

  Jordan turned to see Lars Degan coming out onto the deck.

  “Maybe we do it to remind ourselves of who we still are and what we still have,” the old man concluded.

  “How’ve you been, Lars?” Jordan asked unemotionally.

  “Getting older by the second, son.”

  Jordan made a lame attempt at a smile. “Why should you be any different from the rest of us?”

  Lars Degan and Jordan went way back to the beginning, to when Jordan, at twenty, suddenly inherited his father’s kingdom and damn near drove it into the ground.

  Lars sighed. “Oh, I think you’ve likely found a way to escape the perils of old age, young man,” he said with a chuckle. “Clean and righteous living certainly does have its benefits.”

  “Sarcasm has always been your strong suit, Lars. Fortunately, I’ve become immune to it.”

  “That’s because you’re smarter than most,” he said unemotionally. “Always have been. Congratulations on that new federal contract,” he quickly added. “You’re in the space business now. Oil and gas weren’t enough for you?”

  “Oil and gas have their limits. Space does not.”

  For a moment, the two men made eye contact and locked on to each other in silence.

  Lars turned his attention back to the view in front of him. “And we both know, you have no limits,” he said introspectively. “Isn’t that right?”

  Thirty years ago, Jordan had looked to Lars Degan almost as a father figure. After Julian Gatewood died, Jordan depended on Lars to help teach him how to run a corporation. The old man nearly destroyed him, but time and invaluable lessons Jordan had learned from Degan had dulled any animosity he’d once held against the man.

  Jordan finished the last of his drink, turned, and patted Lars on the shoulder. “Good night, Lars,” he said, turning to leave.

  “Leaving so soon?” Lars tilted his head to one side. “Was it something I said?”

  Jordan shook his head. “Early meetings in the morning. That’s all.” He smiled and left.

  On the drive home, the empty seat next to him resonated with Abby’s absence. She wasn’t just back at home in Blink, Texas. She wasn’t even a phone call away and he couldn’t just reach out to her the way he’d become so accustomed to doing. For some strange reason, his mind locked on to a memory and he allowed it the space it needed to play out while he continued his journey home.

  “Hey, boss,” Phyl said over the phone.

  Jordan had arrived at the governor’s mansion nearly an hour ago, and Abby still hadn’t arrived.

  “Where are you?” he asked, stepping away from the crowd to a more secluded corner of the room.

  “We’re about five minutes out.”

  “Tell him it was my fault that we’re late,” he heard Abby say in the background.

  “She’ll be there soon.” Phyl sighed.

  “Well, if it isn’t the country’s newest billionaire,” a black man, maybe slightly older than Jordan, said, approaching Jordan with a handshake as he ended the call.

  Jordan’s expression must’ve begged the question.

  “Senator Sam Addison,” he said proudly. “We met at the launch ceremony for Variant’s new Synthetic Fuels division back in October,” he reminded Jordan.

  Jordan couldn’t remember meeting Addison, but he’d heard the name. “Nice to see you again, Senator,” he said cordially.

  “Oh, the pleasure’s mine, sir.” He rested a firm hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “And congratulations are certainly in order. Gatewood Industries was already impressive, but this new government contract really takes it to new heights.”

  The man talked too loud on purpose, making sure that he was seen and heard, wearing thin on Jordan’s patience.

  “Well, thank you, Senator,” he said humbly. “But winning the contract was the easy part. The real challenge will be living up to my end of this very difficult challenge.”

  Addison’s head reared back as he laughed.

  “It’s a tall order, for sure,” Addison finally composed himself and said.

  Jordan might have missed it had he blinked, that all too familiar glimmer of something warning Jordan not to let his guard down around men like Addison. He’d seen it too many times to ignore or to miss.

  “Well, the taxpaying citizens of this country are counting on you to make it happen. Now’s not the time to start second-guessing yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t have bid on it if I wasn’t confident that I could make it happen.”

  Maybe it was what Jordan had said or how he’d said it, but all of a sudden that cocky attitude of the senator slithered down his spine like a snake.

  “You’ve got the attention of a lot of people, son,” he said, sounding dangerously condescending.

  “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, Senator,” Jordan retorted.

  Just then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Phyl.

  “We just pulled up in front. Abby’s on her way in. Look up.”

  “Excuse me,” Jordan said abruptly, leaving the man standing there with his mouth open, and heading over to the massive double-sided staircase.

  He looked up at the landing. Moments later Abby appeared and Jordan froze where he was.

  “Damn,” he murmured to himself.

  He was hardly a poet, but she looked like something otherworldly stepping out from the crowd and onto that landing. The sky-blue dress layered with stones that sparkled like stars looked magical against the contrast of her smooth, dark skin. There wasn’t much to it. It was simple, with a dramatic V neckline highlighting Abby’s full and lovely breasts, thin straps left her soft shoulders exposed, and the dress fit like it was painted on to her. She’d cut her hair months ago, but it was perfect, revealing the delicate slope of her pretty neck and curve of her cheekbones. Without hair to hide behind, Abby’s big brown eyes were even more dramatic, her lips more pronounced.

  Jordan was so captivated by her appearance that it took him a few minutes to realize she’d spotted him in the crowd and was looking to him for some indication of which staircase she should use. It wasn’t until then that he realized he wasn’t the only man in the room captivated by her. Her lips curved into an appreciative but hesitant smile when she realized that she had his attention. Jordan began moving to the left staircase. Abby followed, and as she started to make her way down the steps toward him, he subtly raised his hand to stop her. She wasn’t supposed to come to him. It was his role to go to her.

  The two of them stood on the staircase for several moments before either of them said a word. Jordan couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  She looked uncomfortable by his staring. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this dressed up in my life,” she said nervously.

  Jordan absently raised his hand to her waist.

  “You look so handsome,” she murmured appreciatively.

  And she took his breath away. Jordan compulsively leaned close to her and planted a soft kiss on her cheek and shoulder. Abby sighed and pressed against him, sending shock waves up his spine.

  “You stay close to me,” he said softly. “And hold on to me.”

  He straightened up and stared into her eyes.

  Abby smiled. “You know I’ve got no problem staying close to you.”

  He wished she were close to him now. More than anything he wished that. Five months ago, his corporation, Gatewood Industries, had been awarded one of the largest defense contracts i
n years to help develop not only a new fuel alternative for rocket engines but also a new engine, one more cost-effective than what was currently being used and more powerful. The contract was worth billions; so, consequently, was Jordan’s net worth. Before the ink had even dried on those contracts, Jordan’s face was plastered on magazines and the Internet, touting him as the wealthiest black man in the country.

  He found it odd that Buffett and Gates were never referred to as the richest white men in the country, but ultimately, none of it mattered. Jordan was the same man he’d been before that government deal, and right now, he was up to his eyebrows in starting up a brand-new division and knocking heads with a ton of engineers, physicists, and scientists, looking for a starting point on this project.

  He had a “very big life,” according to Abby, and she was terrified of it. But he had no intention of letting it swallow her up, despite her misgivings. Jordan was quickly mastering the art of tightening the wide-reaching net that had anything to do with him, and shrinking it to a size she was comfortable with.

  He thought he’d been careful. Jordan had made a promise more to himself than to her that he’d keep her from being overwhelmed by the residuals of being with a man like him. And he’d failed. Jordan tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he turned into the parking garage of Gatewood Industries. If anything happened to her, if they—she—didn’t survive this then what would happen to him?

  * * *

  Abby struggled to stay awake, but the cold was making it difficult. She’d hobbled around on her sore feet in circles in that small space for at least an hour, trying to keep her blood flowing and to warm up. Abby relied on her memories to keep her company, the one of the night she and Jordan had gone to the Governor’s Ball in his mansion.

  Making her way back over to the mat, she sat back down against the wall, crossed her legs, and pulled her arms back inside her shirt. That night was so fresh in her mind that she recalled every detail as if she were living in that moment all over again.