The Heat

by Alice Ward

  Holy shit.

  Right then, the full enormity of the situation hit me.

  The leader conversed briefly with one of the guards, as I tried to catch Atlee’s eye and convey to her all that was going through my head. Her eyes were set on the ground, though. Her face was pale, and she looked nearly catatonic.

  After they finished speaking, two of the guards started to drag Atlee away from me.

  “Wait. Wait. Fuck. Wait,” I shouted, lunging for them. Atlee’s eyes met mine, and although she stayed silent, terror was written all over her expression.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she cried out, “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.”

  Her words broke my heart. She had nothing to be sorry about. This was on me. All me.

  I fought harder against the men holding me, the zip ties like a knife around my wrist, but I managed to break away, run toward her as she began to scream and fight too.

  I was dragged to the ground, the heavy weight of a man coming down on me, a fist hitting the side of my head.

  “I’ll find you,” I screamed into the dark night. “I’ll never stop looking.”

  I could still hear her screaming my name, even after she was gone.

  It was a promise I would do anything to keep.

  As I was hauled to my feet, something inside me ignited. Before, I still held out hope that I could reason with them. That I could say the right words or offer the right number, and they’d let us go. But right then?

  I wanted to rip their fucking heads off.

  They’d messed with the wrong people.

  I’d fight to my last breath to free Atlee and get her home safely, but I needed to be strategic. With a gun trained to my head and my hands bound the way they were there would have only been one result… my instant death. I couldn’t help her if I was dead.

  Instead of taking me into the mansion, I was forced toward a side building and pushed into a room with bars, water trickling down the wet, sand-covered floor. I fell into a puddle, rolled to my side and sat up as an older man with salt and pepper hair in clean beige military fatigues entered. He was smoking a cigar and had a snarl of distaste on his leathery face.

  He sat down on a chair in the corner of the room and tightened the straps at the wrists of his gloves and started to speak in Malay.

  I sat back, leaning against the damp wall, thinking of Atlee. “I don’t fucking understand you, you prick.”

  His snarl spread into a smile, not a kind one. “You are American?” he asked, his accent surprisingly good.

  “Yeah.”

  He leaned forward so I could see the whiskers of a failed mustache on his upper lip. His face was a perfect target for someone whose hands weren’t tied behind his back. “What is your name?”

  I frowned. I wanted to spit at him, but I had no liquid left in my mouth, and I knew it would only bring more trouble. “I refuse to answer any of your questions until you bring the girl back.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black Glock, which he rested on his lap. “I do not think you are in a position to make bargains with me. Tell me your name.”

  I was wasting time. Atlee was likely getting deeper and deeper into danger with every minute that passed. I made the gesture to throw up my hands, forgetting they were restrained, and pain sliced up my arms. I ground out, “It’s Wyatt Watts. Yes, I am American. And I’m offering a hundred thousand ringgits if you’ll just let us go.”

  He studied me for a long time, then shook his head. “Mr. Watts. You are the billionaire businessman from America who owns Watts Enterprises. Is that correct?”

  I looked up at him from the puddle I was crouched in. “How the fuck did you know that?”

  His smug smile widened. “Mr. Watts. We are not as primitive as you Americans think, and we have friends in many places. Many people who are sympathetic to our cause. Unfortunately, you do not have any friends here. Do you understand?”

  It was beginning to dawn on me, just how large an operation this was. The Arabic on the wall only solidified it in my head. I’d read a news story about a group called Abu Sayyaf, a terrorist organization that was known to have operations in Eastern Asia. They were responsible for bombings, assassinations, and more. They kidnapped for ransom and traded slaves to finance their operations.

  And they existed everywhere. Many people sympathized with them or stayed on their good side for their protection. If Farish or any of the other people at the plantation were tangled in it, they could have easily alerted the men to our identities and whereabouts.

  If this was Abu Sayyaf, they wouldn’t settle for a mere twenty-five thousand American dollars. They would milk every dollar they could from my family, and they’d trade Atlee to the highest bidder where she’d spend the rest of her life as a sex slave. And they wouldn’t think twice about beheading us if we got out of line.

  I blinked away the sweat that was pouring into my eyes and tried to keep my voice even. “Tell me.”

  “We are people you shouldn’t have messed with. And now that you have, you will pay a rather dear price.”

  I let out an uneasy breath. “Look. We weren’t looking for trouble. Our truck just went off the road. We just want to get back home.”

  The excuse didn’t help. Not that I thought it would. Just being American, and in their way, was enough. His superior smile said it all. He had me right where he wanted me.

  “A million,” I blurted. “A million dollars. U.S.”

  The man wiped delicately at the side of his chin. He smiled. “Mr. Watts. I see you like to throw around money. But we’re not interested in your money just yet.”

  Not interested in money? If that was true, that was it. I was done. I had nothing left in my arsenal to throw at them.

  So much for doing this the easy way. “What else could you possibly want from me?” I ground my teeth together. Women weren’t the only targets for sex slaves. I knew men and boys were taken to fulfill the proclivities of some rich bastards.

  “We need your influence. You are a man with friends in high places, no doubt. Your American government values you and would certainly not want to lose you. But they have been doing everything possible to put an end to our work here. Our work is far from done, and we would like them to back off.”

  I flattened against the wall, anticipating what was next.

  “Therefore, we are going to ask you to speak to your commander, on television, to beg for your life, and for them to stop interceding in matters that do not concern them. Can you do that for us?”

  My throat seized as I imagined those videos I’d seen of hostages being beheaded. I could feel a noose tightening around my neck. “What about the girl?”

  He let out an exasperated breath, stood, and came closer to me. He crouched over me, his breath hot and rancid in my face. “Mr. Watts, you should no longer concern yourself with the girl as you have no control over what happens to her. What you do have is the power to influence whether you live or die. Do you understand?”

  From my place in the corner of the dank cell, I looked out the small window in the door. Beyond a veil of palms, the moon was rising higher in the sky, fat and white. A day ago, I’d been walking Atlee home under that moon. She’d been letting that fresh mouth fly and getting me so riled up, deliciously riled up. We were free, with thousands of choices set out before us. Now, I hadn’t a single one.

  That night had been amazing. Perfect. Funny how you never noticed perfection until it was too late.

  I lifted my chin and repeated, “Not without the girl.”

  His face turned to stone, and without warning, he slammed the butt of the gun down on the side of my forehead.

  The pain was exquisite, eardrum-bursting. I reeled back, vision blurring as warm blood immediately started to seep over my eye.

  Sure my jaw had been knocked out of alignment, I opened and closed my mouth to check. As I did, he brought the gun down again, this time on the other cheek. It didn’t hurt quite as much. Then he brought h
is foot back and kicked me in the ribs, making me lilt and finally fall over until I landed face-first in the puddle.

  I’d never had my ass kicked by anyone, ever. And especially not when I had absolutely no way to fight back. I wondered if he kept going, I’d eventually be numb.

  Fighting the pull of sleep, I struggled back up to sitting. I had to keep upright if I was ever going to get out of here.

  “I understand,” I finally said, fastening my eyes, cold and deadly, on my captor’s.

  “And can you do as we request?”

  I nodded. Again, I had no choice.

  I thought that if I ever got a night like last night back, I wouldn’t waste it. I’d take her in my arms, kiss her, and never let her go.

  “Good,” he said. He turned and left, locking the door behind him.

  I took a deep breath, trying to recover from the pain. I wiped at the side of my face with my shoulder, and my shoulder came back smeared with blood. It didn’t feel bad, but what did I know? I couldn’t touch it since my hands were still tied behind me, and I could barely feel them now. Maybe my brains were hanging out.

  No, I wouldn’t think of that. I needed to get my ass out of here before they brought in a camera crew and filmed me begging for my life on worldwide television.

  I looked around to assess what I had to work with. Just about nothing. I’d left my shirt to dry in the Defender. The pockets of my tactical pants had been searched, and they’d taken the penknife away. I had my boots, two soaked socks that were probably swimming with leeches, and… that was it.

  I lifted my head to the ceiling. And that’s when I saw it.

  The only thing in the room besides the chair was a metal sconce with a burnt-out torch, hanging on the wall. I stood up to investigate it closer.

  Maybe…

  With my shoulder, I pushed against the torch, lifting it up out of the sconce and letting it fall to the ground. The section of metal that was still attached to the wall was thin and jagged looking. Not as sharp as a knife, but it might be sharp enough for what I needed it to do.

  Kicking the chair over to the wall, I climbed onto it, wavering for balance as it rocked on the uneven ground. Turning, I bent forward until my bound hands reached the height of the metal of the sconce and began to rub the zip ties over the rough surface.

  Although my injured shoulder hurt like hell, I continued to saw at the ties. There were three of them, and when the first snapped free, I nearly yelled in celebration. Instead, I shouldered the sweat from my eyes and continued to saw.

  At one point, I heard the sound of people coming near. I jumped from the chair and went to the bars at the door. All I saw was a moonlit pathway, flanked by palm trees, rustling and swaying in the breeze.

  False alarm.

  While I was there, I inspected the door. It was heavy, the lock and hinges solid. From the window, I could smell the sea, hear the waves lapping at the shore. I pressed my face against the door, looking as far as I could in each direction. I was out in a small stone storage shed, across a courtyard from the main building. That had to have been where they’d taken Atlee. I could only imagine what kind of hell she was going through right now. The thought of any of those men touching her fed the flame inside me.

  I heard the sound of someone clearing his throat and looked around. Then I saw him. A guard was crouched down the slope about ten yards away, holding what looked to be an AK-47. From my perspective, all I could see was his bald spot.

  I looked as far as my perspective would allow me. Just one guard. Maybe…

  Moving as quietly as possible, I climbed back up onto the chair, balancing easier this time on the uneven ground underneath me. I sawed harder, gritting my teeth in satisfaction as the second tie snapped free.

  One more left to go.

  Sweat blinded my vision, but I didn’t stop, ignoring the burn as I felt my wrist begin to free. Snap. The last of the plastic fell to the ground, and pain flooded my arms as blood rushed back into my hands. Holding back a groan, I rolled my aching shoulders to loosen them.

  Now, I needed a weapon.

  I examined the sconce and attempted to pull it from where it was secured to the wall. Damn thing appeared to have been cemented in. No good there. After examining the pieces left on the floor, I realized there was nothing helpful there either.

  The chair.

  Turning it upside down, I realized it could prove to be useful. As quietly as I could, I broke it apart, thinking I’d use the legs as a club.

  I looked down at my military belt, then pulled it from the loops in my pants. It could serve several purposes. The prong of the buckle could be used as a small knife while the belt itself could choke someone out.

  A bitter laugh escaped me as I looked at my meager weapons.

  Was I really going through with this? Bringing a fucking belt buckle to a gunfight?

  I sucked in a breath and tried to calm myself. I thought of Atlee, naked on that blanket, curled around me. Atlee, giving me shit. Atlee, getting all in my face for eating meat. Atlee, getting all in my face when I’d made her come.

  If I ever wanted to touch her, hold her, be with her again — and dammit, I did, more than anything — this was the only chance I had.

  So, I waited.

  Soon, I knew a guard would come back, probably at regular intervals to check on me.

  I stood at the door. Waited.

  And when I heard footsteps coming my way, I knew this might be my only chance.

  I laid down on the ground facing the door, keeping my hands behind me.

  Come on, you bastard, I thought grimly.

  Knowing these might be my last minutes on earth, I closed my eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Atlee

  My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and everything moved in slow motion. My vision was a blur as the men dragged me across the courtyard, through an industrial kitchen and a mess hall with rows of long tables and benches. They brought me down a long hallway, and into what looked like the office of someone important, with a heavy wooden desk and leather chair. Then they forced me into a dark, tomb-like room.

  I kicked and screamed as they threw me against the wall.

  I wondered if I would ever see the outside again.

  When had my life gone off on such a horrible tangent? Right then, I would’ve given anything to rewind to when I was in New York, feeling overworked and underappreciated at SS&F, with Roger Stapleton riding my ass.

  No. That was going back too far. I didn’t regret meeting Wyatt. I didn’t even regret sleeping with him. In fact, if I could have, I thought I would’ve rewound to that moment, when we were lying naked in each other’s arms under the jungle canopy. I would have told him that I didn’t fault him for the rain forests. I would’ve told him he was a good man. I would have told him that he was right about people meaning more than convictions.

  I wanted to tell him that being with him, like that, was the last truly good moment of my life.

  The man, the leader from the group of men who’d taken us, peered down at me from the doorway, a cruel grin on his face. I was glad I’d lost my glasses when he reached down and slowly unzipped the jacket I was wearing. He spread it apart and gazed hungrily at my breasts as my chest rose and fell with every quick breath.

  Then he took out a blade.

  I closed my eyes. Even without my glasses, I couldn’t stand to look at him one second longer.

  He moved in closer still, pressing his face into my hair, wrapping his arms around me. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t even think as his hand gripped my wrists still tied behind my back.

  He sliced at the ties, and suddenly, my arms were free.

  He moved away a few inches, a look of satisfaction on his face that he’d succeeded in scaring the shit out of me. But he clearly wasn’t finished with me yet. Eyes heavy with lust, he touched the blade to my tank top, moving the point over one nipple, until it was balancing on the very tip.

  “Mmmm,” he whispered throa
tily, in a voice that made my stomach churn.

  He trailed the knife point up to my breastbone, between my cleavage. I tried not to exhale as he dragged the knife down, catching the fabric on the blade and dipping it down, lower, lower, exposing more and more of my breasts.

  “Nice tetek,” he ground out, eyeing them hungrily. Saliva glistened in the corner of his mouth.

  I pressed myself harder against the wall.

  He leaned in, breath hot on my ear. “I am not the one you have to be scared of,” he said in his broken English.

  Just as the words left his mouth, two other men came in behind him. He snapped the knife closed and thrust it into his pocket. One of the other men was carrying a bottle of dark amber alcohol. He took a swig of it, then offered it to the others. They started drinking, motioning to me.

  They smiled and laughed, speaking animatedly in their language as I sat in the corner, waiting for one of them to decide my fate.

  I scanned the room. I thought it might be a closet, long and narrow, though I could see very little, especially at the far end of the room. There were bound books in the corner closest to me, the titles unreadable. A shaft of moonlight slit through a small window at the top of the room, illuminating the shape of various uniforms, all hanging above me. I craned my neck to look at the window. If it were lower, maybe I could fit through it and…

  One man cursed loudly and slammed the bottle on the desk. Liquid sloshed everywhere. He shoved the man who’d brought me here, who went for the knife at his hip. The other man got in his face, and the two of them began to have what looked like a drunken argument.

  My eyes trailed back to the window. There were boxes stacked up underneath it. If I got far enough, I could climb them like steps and wedge open the window.

  My heart was beating a million miles an hour. Could I do something like that?

  Yes. I would have to try. Bare your shark teeth, Atlee. Now, it’s a matter of life or death.

  I sat up, ready to back deeper into the closet, toward the boxes, when another man walked in. He was much older, graying, and wearing beige military fatigues. There were medals on his chest of all colors that made no sense to me; I had no idea what militia he was a part of. In a harsh, barking voice, he yelled at the men, who straightened at once, fell in line, nodded curtly, and left.