by Drake, J. L.
“Taken,” he says for me.
“Yes, my friend Lynn came by with a copy of Us Weekly with me on the front showing off my backside. It had been Photoshopped, of course, my dress wasn’t that short. I was so angry that after so long the media would still peg me as a sloppy drunk. I barely drink as it is!” I shake my head. “Of course my father was furious and told me we’d discuss it over dinner the next night. That never happened.” Goosebumps slowly inch up my arms. I take a long breath, trying to reign in my emotions. “I hate that my last conversation with my father was him being disappointed with me again.” The doctor hands me a tissue.
“It’s hard being in the spotlight when you’ve never asked to be there.” He sighs. “Sad that people care more about celebrities than what’s going on in their own country. Troops being sent over to fight for our freedom get less media coverage than the Kardashian family.” He slowly stands, stretching his legs. “You did well today, Savannah, try to get some rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy the sun while it lasts.”
“Thanks.”
***
My foot leans against a small table allowing me to gently rock myself. I lean my head back, smelling the oncoming rain. A low rumble echoes over the mountains warning of the storm that was brewing. It has been a long time since I’ve watched a good show of force from Mother Nature. Being from New York we have the four seasons and I missed them terribly in my prison; my time without so much as a window was terrible.
“May I join you?”
I look up to see Logan standing next to the swing holding a blanket, a thermos, and two mugs.
“Sure.” I sit up, making room for him to join me, surprised and a little pleased that he was being so thoughtful. I know how busy he is all the time.
“I love a good storm,” he says, opening the thermos. “Abby told me you love your coffee. Seems we have something in common.” He hands me a mug and I wrap my chilly fingers around it seeking its warmth.
“Thank you.”
He leans back draping the blanket over my lap. “The temperature can drop quickly in Montana this time of year.”
Wait, what?
“Montana?”
He shifts, making the seat sway. “Sorry, but you hadn’t signed the NDA yet.”
“Now that I have what else can you tell me?” I think I have the right to ask now.
He lets out a long breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I say without missing a beat. “But first you can tell me who you are.” I wave my hand around. “Abigail filled me in some. She said you’re top of the line trained, and some of you are Special Forces.”
He sips his coffee taking a moment. “We’re all special forces,” he corrects me. “My grandfather was the founder of this group. We’re called ‘Shadows.’ The US government wanted a group of highly trained professionals who could slip in and out of Mexico gathering information on The Cartels, Los Sirvientes Del Diablos, and a few other drug and kidnapping rings. At first that’s all we did and then they started to use us to retrieve hostages and bring them back across the border safely. That’s when this place was built. We needed a safe place to bring the kidnapping victims back to while we tie up the loose ends. We like to call them our ‘guests’ when they are with us, then as soon as it’s safe they go home to live their lives and we move on to our next job.”
“Why Montana? Why not somewhere closer to the border, like Texas or California?”
“Because that’s the first place they’d check. Who would think to look in the back mountains of Montana? Plus we have a pretty good advantage if attacked.” He waves at the view where you can see for miles all around us.
I try to remember back to my journey here but I still blank out after the cabin of the plane. I think about the other people that were here before me and what it was like for them.
“Were there any that didn’t make it? You know, when they got back home.”
He nods. “Yes, some refused our help and went back before it was safe and were taken again or were killed. Some couldn’t handle what they’ve been through and ended it themselves.”
Lovely. He must have caught my expression.
“We have a high success rate, Savannah, eighty-five percent go on to live normal lives.”
“Who was the last ‘guest’ who stayed?”
He looks at me carefully.
“York mentioned something about the last one not being as pretty.”
He rolls his eyes.
“York,” he mutters to himself. “We haven’t had a lot of women here before, mostly wealthy businessmen. The two women we did were in their fifties and they were the wives of some important people. You’re the first that’s young and, well, pretty.”
I blush at his unexpected compliment.
He clears his throat. “Needless to say, the guys were all happy you decided to stay.” I don’t look up. “Plus you give York shit, and that’s just plain fun to watch.”
“Am I the only vic—” I hate that word, “person like me here? Are there others?”
“Just you for now.”
I nod thinking about what he said. The clouds start rolling in around us. It is a spectacular show; so many different shades of grey changing the color of the lake. I wrap my arms around my mid-section feeling my mood shift again.
“He makes me nervous,” I confess.
He peers down at me. “Who?”
“York.”
“Does he?”
I nod.
“Savannah, look at me, please.”
I peel my eyes off the floor, meeting his stare.
“If he does or says anything to you that makes you feel uncomfortable you tell me right away, okay?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I shake my head, feeling stupid even saying anything.
“Regardless, you tell me. You tell me if anyone here makes you feel uncomfortable.”
A loud clap of thunder makes me jump, nearly spilling my coffee. I set it down on the table and pull the blanket over me pulling my knees up to my chest, something I’ve done to protect myself since I learned to fear that terrible click of the key in the lock. The rain comes down like someone just turned on a faucet full blast. We both shift toward the middle of the swing getting out of the way of the splatter. His arm rests behind me and he turns into me slightly almost like he is shielding me; it must be second nature for him. Although it is a small action, it makes a little bubble of warmth grow inside me. Huh.
“Can you see them?” I ask peering into the trees and forcing the feeling aside.
“I can because I know where to look. That and I’m trained to sense their movements.”
“So the whole time you’ve been sitting here you can feel them around us?” He nods, looking off to my right and pointing into a thick wooded area.
“One there.” I squint but can’t see anything.
“There.” He nods to the right a bit with his head. “Two down by the beach.”
“Are you playing me?” I ask with a skeptical look.
He smiles pulling out a small radio and switches the channel. “Beta seven, come into the clearing.” Sure enough, a man off to my right, exactly where Logan first pointed dressed in camouflage comes walking out. “Back to post.” The man turns and disappears back into the woods.
“I stand corrected,” I say through trembling lips. It is starting to grow very cold.
He stands offering his hand. “Come, let’s get you inside, you’re freezing.”
***
After a hot shower and some dry clothes I head down to the living room to my favorite spot in front of the fire. Before I can even sit down Scoot appears out of nowhere, pouncing on my lap. He walks himself around my waist under my open sweater—apparently he is cold or maybe he is marking me with his scent, either way it tickles and makes me laugh.
“Now that’s a sweet sound.” Logan grins, sitting on the couch across from me. He has changed into a pair of jeans and a black long sleeve sh
irt. He looks his age, thirty something? His shirt shows off just how fit he is. No doubt, these guys always seem to be training for something.
“Feels kind of nice,” I admit but don't make eye contact. Scoot hears Logan's voice and pops his head out by my side. The little bugger made my pink tank top white along the bottom. “Hey,” I pat his head, “I thought we had a truce about the fur.” He looks up at me and meows. A bright light fills the room followed by a crack of thunder that shakes the windows. The rain beats hard against the windows making Scoot run and hide under a chair. I want to do the same. I stand up feeling uneasy; it is growing dark even though it was only two in the afternoon. I look out at the woods thinking about the men out there. “This place is being monitored by cameras, right?”
“Yes,” Logan comes and stands behind me, “twenty-four seven.”
“Then why aren’t you calling in the guys? I mean its pouring rain out, it’s got be freezing for them. Have they even eaten lunch?” I see a smile grow on his face in the reflection of the window.
“They have huts to protect them from the rain and proper rain gear. These aren’t mall security guards.” He chuckles. “A stormy night is a walk in the park for these men. Besides it’s their job and they do it well.”
I twist my face. “But we’re not in any danger right? I mean you said only a handful of people know where we are so why do they have to be out there—”
“Just because we can’t see danger doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he explains, cutting me off. Folding his arms, he comes to stand next to me. “The men who took you are part of The Cartels, a group who openly kill their own people in broad daylight in the middle of busy streets. The police have no control over them. Shadows have been doing this for almost three generations…just think how many people we’ve pissed off.” He looks down at me over his shoulder. His eyes soften. “Don’t worry, I make sure they get fed properly—besides, their shift ends in two hours.”
I nod feeling a little better about the guys but not so much about what he just said though. “Abigail mentioned that you are updating the security equipment. Is that just protocol or because I’m here and I bring extra baggage because of who is after me?”
“A bit of both.”
I figure since he’s on a roll answering my questions I might as well go for the one that’s been eating me alive since I arrived.
“Did my father ask you to come for me?” A crack of thunder makes me stumble over the last word.
“I can’t answer that,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“When will I be able to speak with him?”
“Soon, when we know it’s safe.”
“There’s that word again,” I mutter, jumping at another clap of thunder. Christ, my nerves are shot! I hate feeling so jumpy. I start to grow angry as my emotions twist around. “How much did those bastards ask for my ransom? Tell me what am I worth?”
“Savannah,” he turns to face me, “don’t think like that.”
I stare up at him point blank in the eye, now I know I’m angry.
“Fifty thousand,” he murmurs quietly. I feel my stomach drop, tuck, and roll over the hardwood floor.
“Nice to know I’m missing my life for seven months and I’m only worth fifty thousand! So that’s what, roughly over seven grand a month.” I shake my head. “No wonder they barely fed me.” I’m bitter, angry, and sad. I try to fight back the tears but it’s no use.
He touches my shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze…he is struggling with something, I’m guessing about having to tell me my total net worth. Then suddenly it hits me. “If I was only worth fifty grand, why didn’t my father pay it? Why did I have to rot away in that cell for almost a year?”
“It’s not as simple as handing someone the money, Savannah. There are always tricks and schemes and in a lot of cases the victim is killed long before the families even agree to pay to have them returned. They make a fake proof of life video or take pictures before the victim is killed and use them throughout the negotiations.”
My blood drains from my face as another flashback plays out in front of me.
He grabs the tops of my arms holding me steady. “Whoa, you should sit down.”
I shake my head not listening. “W-why was I spared then? Why not kill me? Then collect. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. When we came for you we planted evidence setting up Rodrigo’s brother. There’s been some bad blood between them in the past and we hoped to throw them off our trail. We knew it wouldn’t stand up for long but it should take the heat off for a while. We need more time to figure out what exactly is going on.”
Evidence, fake proofs of life, fifty thousand dollars—my head is swimming. Before I know what is happening I’m being placed on the couch and being told to put my head between my legs.
“Breathe, Savannah.” He runs his strong hand over my back. “You’re getting too much information too fast. You’ve been through a lot and your body and brain need time to catch up. I promise I’ll answer all your questions in time but that’s it for now.”
He is right; it is too much. I start to sob.
He pulls me into him holding me close. His smell engulfs me, it’s been years since I had a man hold me other than my father and it feels nice…almost safe.
***
I wake to a booming sound that could restart a heart. I lie on the couch staring at the fire trying to catch my breath. Lightning fills the room, followed by another earth-shaking boom. I sit up, looking around. I’m alone in this very large house in the middle of a freakin' battle-of-the-gods storm! I make my way slowly toward the kitchen. Abigail must have left the light on for me. The clock reads eleven. I glance outside when the lightning flickers illuminating the entire lake. I squeeze my eyes and cover my ears waiting for the next—“Ahhh,” I yelp when it rumbles all around me like a speeding train. It is so unpredictable. I hate it!
I hear voices coming from downstairs and follow them hoping to find Abigail. I could really use some company right now. They became louder when I reach the entertainment room. The door is partially open. I take a deep breath, stepping inside the door. There sits Logan, Mark, York, and three other men I recognize but don’t know by name sitting around a poker table, drinking beer.
“Hey there, Savi!” Mark gives me a cocked smile. “Did we wake you?” Everyone turns and stares at me.
I shake my head and jump at another boom. “N-no, you didn’t.”
“You look a little nervous,” York chimes in as he sips his beer, glaring at me over his bottle.
“Stop,” Logan warns. “Everything okay?”
“Umm, yes.” I jump again feeling my face blush. “Just looking for Abigail.”
“She went to bed a while ago.”
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling even more anxious about going back to my room, “Thanks.”
“Savannah, you want to join us?” Logan asks, giving a flick of the head. I know he is only being nice.
“No, it’s okay, you guys enjoy your—” Boom! I jump, closing my eyes for a moment.
Mark stands, making room between him and one of the guys.
I sigh, giving in to myself. Who am I kidding? I’d probably sit outside the door just for the comfort of their voices. “Thanks.” I watch Mark deal out a new hand and give me some green chips.
He tells me they play for fun once a week but once a month they play for money.
“Have you even played before?” York asks, fiddling with his cards.
“A few times.” My grandfather played once in a while he taught me the basics—mostly how to bluff. I look around the table at the three other guys. “Hi.” It felt wrong sitting without introducing myself.
“Savannah, this was the guy who was driving the night we brought you here.” Mark points to the man next to me.
“John.” He flicks his cigar off to one side as he offers me his hand.
“This was the man in the back, Paul.” Mark points, Paul g
ives me a wave. “York was in the Escalade in front of us.” York gives me a smirk. “And this is Keith.”
“AKA Beta seven.” Logan winks at me.
“Oh!” I say, remembering him from earlier in the day. Logan got him to come out into the clearing. Boom! I jump—why did this place have to have so many windows‽ I stop myself, shocked that I went there. Do I miss my prison walls? No way! Christ, stop! “Umm, well I guess this is a little late but thank you all very much for saving me that night. I owe you.”
“It’s all in a day’s job,” John the driver says with a tight nod.
“I know how you can make it up to us.” York wiggles his eyebrows. Logan elbows him hard in the side, he grunts cursing out loud. “Fuck, sorry! I was only playing.”
“Speaking of playing, shall we continue?” Mark asks, tossing a chip into the center. We play a few hands and I fold twice, mostly to watch the body language of the others at the table. Logan and Mark are hard to read but the others make little slips here and there. By the fifth hand I think I am ready to stay in and I chuck two cards and wind up with a pair of twos. Crap! But I go with it; they don’t know what I have, and plus it’s fun. Soon it is down to me, Mark and York.
“Come on, Savi,” Mark chuckles, “break that poker face.”
I remember what my grandfather said…grab at something serious that happened in your life and think about it. Pull that hard face from somewhere. So I do…not like it's hard.
He thinks for minute then tosses his cards “Fine! I fold!”
Great one down, one to go. I glance at York who is studying me. I toss two more chips on the table raising the bid.
“Hmmm,” York mumbles as he stares at me for a few more minutes, “you haven’t played a hand yet, so I think you have something.” He looks at Mark. “Her face tells a lot, you just have to look for it.” York shakes his head in a cocky manner. “Fuck it, I fold.”