by Parker, Kara
“Shh,” Blue said, placing his thumb on her lip. “That’s the thing, Chelsea, you don’t have to ask. You never have to ask. I would do anything to make you happy and I’m going to go into the ring and get your sister back.”
More tears poured down her face and she was shocked she had anything left to cry. Every time she was sure she was done crying some new horrible thing would happen and she would have realized that everything could still get worse. And things could get worse. Blue could die. He could lose the fight and the boys from Detroit might get mad and kill her sister and then her mother would marry Terrance and she would truly have lost everything.
Chelsea pulled Blue in for a fierce hug. She pulled him against her and he hugged her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder. There was nothing she could do to make everything better. She ran her hands up and down Blue’s back. He felt so solid beneath her, so real and so alive.
Blue pulled away and wiped an errant tear from Chelsea’s face. “I’m going to get your sister back. I promise you that. And you can play that tape for your mom and get her back, too. And I am good, Chelsea. I’ll win the fight. I’ll win it and I’ll come back to you.”
“Where are you going?” Chelsea demanded as Blue stood up. She reached for him, holding onto his shirt and hand as he tried to pull away from her.
“I’m going to get Jamie back.”
“No.”
“I’m going to tell my father that I’ll do the fight. It’s the only way. Please don’t try and stop me, Chels. You know we have to do this.” He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead as he finally pulled his hand free of hers. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, caressing her face with hand. And then he was walking away from her and Chelsea was frozen in place and she could do nothing but watch as he gave her one last look and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Thirty
Blue could win the fight. He could kill another man; he’d done it before. He had been to war and he had the memories to prove it. He had fired and seen his bullets hit an enemy combatant, he knew what it was to kill. But this would be up close and personal, while he was surrounded by a cheering crowd.
He couldn’t stop the memories as they sprung to the surface. Blue hit and punched again and again but an opponent older and more desperate than he was. He remembered the sickening crack of bone and the loud cheers that would follow. What kind of man cheers at such a sound?
Hot basements and cold desert nights. They could never get the temperature right in the fights. On cold nights the hits, whether you were giving them or taking them, hurt worse. In the heat you were liable to slip and get sweat in your eyes making you vulnerable. It could never just be a fight; there always had to be that added note of cruelty. And now he had to do it again.
He pulled up in front of the monstrosity that was his father’s new house. The marble columns shone in the moonlight, but almost all of the windows were dark. Did his fiancée have any idea where her oldest daughter was? Would she care if she did? Blue parked in the driveway and stepped out into the cold night, his breath coming out in huge plumes in front of him. His heels clicked as he walked up the house and he let himself in through the open front door.
Terrance was sitting in the kitchen, wearing his trademark suite, but the jacket was thrown on a chair and his tie was loose around his neck. He was drinking whiskey from a glass and there was another full one on the counter across from him. It was for Blue. He walked towards it and downed the glass in one thirsty gulp.
“That’s Blue Label, you have any idea how expensive that is? Sip it, enjoy it, don’t toss it back like a shot.”
“You shouldn’t talk about how expensive things are. It’s tacky,” Blue said wiping his mouth and pouring himself another drink.
“You were named after that drink, you know,” Terrance said as Blue tossed the drink back.
“Yeah, and I’ve always been really proud to be named after an overpriced whiskey,” Blue said finally turning to look at his father. “So this is how it’s going to be. You’re really going to kidnap someone just to force me to fight? You’re really that desperate?”
“I wouldn’t say desperate. I would say smart,” Terence replied with a nod. “Because you are going to fight, aren’t you?”
“You have to let Jamie go first.”
“Why, so you and the girls can skip town? I don’t think so.”
“Then I’m not doing this. I’m not going to let you keep me on a leash forever. Let Jamie go and I’ll do this one fight for you. One last fight, no holds, no refs, to the death. You should be able to make plenty of money. After that you’re on your own. I’m not fighting for you any more. I’m done helping you.”
“You think you’ve helped me? Do you have any idea how much work you’ve been? How much money I invested in you? As I’ve said before, Blue, you’re not smart. If I weren’t here to look out for you, what would happen to you? You’d be taken advantage of, tricked and left for dead.”
“Yeah, that might have worked when I was fifteen. But I’m a grown man now. I’ve been to war. I’ve done things that would have made you piss your pants and throw up all at the same time. You think you’re smart? How smart do you really have to be to use a little kid? It’s the easiest thing in the world. Besides, the way I hear it, you’re not doing so well. Had to go and get the boys from Detroit to re-open your fighting pits. I heard you went to them on your hands and knees begging for a loan.”
“That’s a lie!” Terrance growled. “I went to them with a business offer because I’m a businessman and a good one at that. Look at this house, Blue, look at all the wealth I have. I had nothing and now I have all of this.” He spread his hands around his empty kitchen as if it were somehow supposed to impress Blue.
“You didn’t do it by yourself. I did it. I was the one who trained night and day. I was the one who actually fought. You were just the guy on the sidelines, who thought he was playing the game.”
“And, yet, here you are. You are going to do the fight as I always knew you would. You need a better analogy, kid. I’m the coach, you’re the player, you do what I say and remember coaches trade players, not the other way around.”
“You have to return Jamie if you want me to fight. I’m not going into that ring until I see her and I know that she’s safe and unharmed.”
“Aren’t you all noble,” Terrance said. “Rescuing the girl, putting your life on the line. Blue DeMarco, my hero. I’ll need to make some calls, but I can get Jamie to you. But if you are going to fight, then we’re pushing it back by a few days. This is a big deal and we have some out of towers that are eager to fly in and watch you kill another man. We need to give them notice and a chance to buy their plane ticket.”
Blue scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course his father was going to extend it. It could never just be over. There always had to be one more thing, one last little dig in Blue’s side.
“I want your keys and your wallet,” Terrance said. “And your personal assurance that you won’t go anywhere.”
“I promise,” Blue said tossing his car keys and his wallet down on the counter.
Terrance swept them up and deposited them in his pocket. “If you do betray me and if you do leave town I’ll kill Chelsea, you understand that, right? It doesn’t matter where she goes, or how many bodyguards she hires. I’ll take her, I’m make her suffer and, then, when I’m bored with her, I’ll kill her.”
Blue said nothing. His jaw ached from how hard he had been clenching it. He could easily imagine it: sweet gentle Chelsea ripped from her home one night and never seen again. Terrance would do it. He had always had an appreciation for violence.
“You know Colleen is going to find out about this, right?” Blue said. “Chelsea knows and I’m sure Jamie isn’t going to forget her kidnapping. How are you going to explain this?”
“I had nothing to do with Jamie’s disappearance and it hurts that the children would try to blame it on me,” Terrance said, placing his hand over h
is heart.
Blue said nothing about Chelsea recording her conversation with Terrance. He wanted to tell him. Blue wanted to be the one to tell Terrance that he wasn’t as smart as he thought. But then it would only give Terrance time to invent some lie for Colleen. No, he would let Chelsea tell her mother and then they could confront Terrance. Blue couldn’t imagine how Terrance would try and get out of that.
“I love this house, but sometimes I think it’s a shame I sold our old one. You could have spent the night in your childhood bedroom.”
Blue scoffed at the description. His childhood bedroom had been a small room barely bigger than a closet. He had a cot to sleep on and a small foot locker for all of his clothes. He had never been allowed to hang anything on his walls and he had never had any money to buy games or toys. It hadn’t been a bedroom. It had been a jail cell and Blue was glad to be rid of it; he hoped whoever bought to property would tear that old house down.
“Go and get Jamie,” Blue said. “I’m not doing anything until I know she’s alive.”
“Very well,” Terrance said as he walked out of his room and into his office.
Blue’s hand gripped the counter top of his father’s new kitchen. He needed to train. It had been a long time since his days in the pits. He had promised himself he would never go back there, but now here he was without any choice. In a few days Blue would have to fight to kill or be killed himself.
Chapter Thirty One
Jamie Riley woke with a start. She had no idea how long she had been asleep. The room where she was being held had no clocks. It had no windows and no electric outlets. She was pretty sure she was in a basement. The floor was always cold and the walls were made of bare cement.
There was a cot in one corner of the room with a sheet and a blanket and a thin pillow. Across from the cot was a thick steel door that was always locked. The walls were blank and empty. There was one low bulb hanging above her head, but Jamie had no control over it. Someone on the other side of the door commanded it; it was turned off whenever they wanted and usually turned on when they brought her breakfast. There was nothing else in the room. Three times a day a woman came down to let her use the bathroom and then gave her something to eat before slamming the door closed.
Jamie sat up in bed and wrapped the thin blanket around her shoulders as she drew her knees up and leaned back against the wall. She had no idea what had woken her so sharply, but she hated it. She wished desperately that she were still asleep. Her head fell back and she looked up at the bare rafters above her. There were four beams that ran across her ceiling. She had counted them and catalogued them and marked every bump and crack and she could see them when she closed her eyes.
“No one’s gonna hurt ya. We’re just gonna hold you for a few days.” That was all she had been told.
She remembered saying goodbye to Chelsea and Blue. She wanted them to be together; she knew they were perfect for each other and they had finally recognized it, too. She had left to give them some privacy. She drove to the grocery store to get some soda for her hangover. She had walked out of store and into the parking lot and saw a large black van next to her car. She approached the van warily. It had been early in the morning and she had foolishly assumed the daylight would protect her. Two men and a woman stood outside the van looking at her car and shaking their heads.
“Is everything all right?” Jamie asked as she approached.
“My idiot girlfriend here hit your car,” the one man said. He was tall and wiry, and was wearing a bulky black trench coat that made Jamie nervous in a way she couldn’t quite define.
“Sorry about that, doll,” the woman had said. Her name was Hillary. She was the woman who brought Jamie her meals and took her to the bathroom. She was short with a pockmarked face and a head of bleach-blond hair with dark black roots showing.
“It doesn’t look like there’s any damage, so we don’t have to worry about it,” Jamie said with shrug of her shoulders. She took out her keys to open the door, but the wiry man stopped her.
“Come look at it from this angle,” he said, taking Jamie by her shoulders and moving her so she was standing next to the van’s two back doors. The doors were open slightly, but Jamie couldn’t see inside. “See right there,” he said bringing his head down next to Jamie’s and pointing to her car.
Jamie still couldn’t see any damage. But it didn’t matter. She should have listened to her instincts. She was squinting at the undamaged side of her old black car when the back doors of the van swung open and she was suddenly pushed inside. A hand covered her mouth as she tried to scream. The doors were closed and, in a second, the wiry man and Hillary were in the car, taking off.
She was swiftly tied up, gagged, and blindfolded. Her shoes and socks were taken. They drove for what felt like hours with Jamie’s elbows and knees stuck in uncomfortable positions. Finally, they stopped and someone tossed her over his shoulder.,The blindfold was removed and she saw her cell for the first time. By the end of the day she would have every corner of it memorized.
Jamie figured this was the fourth day she had been here. Hillary refused to answer any questions. Why was she here? What did they want? Were they going to hurt her? How long was a few days?
That was the part that worried her the most. They had promised they only wanted to hold her for a few days as collateral. For what and whom, they never answered. But what if that was a lie? What if they were holding Jamie and they were going to do something terrible to her? What if telling her they would only hold her for a few days was their way of keeping her quiet and tame until they did what they really wanted?
But what if it really was just a few days? Jamie didn’t know what she should do. Should she try and escape or wait for someone to rescue her? In reality, the choice had been made for her. There was no way out of her cell and no weapons she could make from anything in there. She was well and truly trapped.
My sister has a lot of money, a lot. The words had been at the tip of Jamie’s tongue. She knew it wasn’t quite true – her sister didn’t have a lot of money yet – but it would be soon. But she hadn’t been able to say the words yet. She didn’t want to involve Chelsea if she didn’t have to. These were violent and dangerous creatures and Jamie didn’t want to give them her sister’s name.
There was a rattling at the door. Jamie froze and pulled the sheets tight around her. This wasn’t normal. Normally the light came on and then a few minutes later Hillary would come and take Jamie to the bathroom and then give her some breakfast. But the light hadn’t come on yet. It wasn’t officially morning.
The knob turned and opened and Jamie swallowed a scream as she looked at the tall and wiry man from the parking lot.
“Time to go,” he said with a jerk of his head.
“Go where?” Jamie asked, pulling the blankets tighter.
He made an annoyed noise and in two steps he was on her. He grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her from the bed. She didn’t know if she should fight him or go with him. She had no idea what was going on or what she should do. She staggered to her feet and stumbled behind him.
Her feet hit the freezing floor and she stood on her tiptoes as her body screamed against the temperature. They had taken her shoes and socks when they tied her up in the backseat of the van and she hadn’t seen them since. The man pulled her towards the door and Hillary quickly slipped the blindfold over her eyes.
“It’s for your own safety, doll,” she said.
Jamie didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t want to know what it meant. She wanted to go back to San Francisco and her bar and never come to back to this horrible town again. She wondered what Chelsea had thought of her disappearance. Had she called the cops? Had they called Chelsea to ransom her sister?”
Her hands were still untied, but the tall and lanky man held her in a vice grip. He pulled her along beside him and she walked over cold floors until he told her to step up and she began to ascend a set of steep stairs.
At first it sounded
like rushing water. But then she understood it was the sound of men – men screaming and shouting and then the sound of someone hitting something else, that horrifying sound when someone hits another. Somewhere not far from her, men were screaming and shouting and fighting. Jamie tried to pull back and away.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, but no one answered her.
Hillary gave her a little shove and Jamie stumbled forward. Suddenly the screams reached a fever pitch and then it was half cheers and half groans and boos.
“Another excellent fight and the winner is Mike Sanchez!” A loud cheer went up and Jamie wished she could cover her ears. The sound was deafening and painful. Suddenly she realized what was happening. The pits, the fighting pits Blue had been in. That’s who was holding her, the men who ran the fights, but why?