by Amy Rachiele
My eyes blink in angry flaps and the harsh sting of rejection moved in replacing passion. I shift my hand caressingly between his legs and gently stroked up and down. Will’s head fell back on to the ground, he moaned.
“How’s that for reserved?” I taunted sarcastically and rolled over on my side facing away from him. My face didn’t even burn with embarrassment from the brazen thing I just did. I may have been inexperienced, but wasn’t stupid.
My heart jackhammered with little pings of rejection. I felt the cold air around me as my body mellowed out and my breathing slowed. Will fussed with the sleeping bag to fix it, and then he covered us back up. I felt angry. I wanted to tell him to never touch me again. But that wouldn’t have been the truth. If he hadn’t stopped it, I could have done that all night, slept, and awakened wanting more.
Chapter 8
Kara:
Tommy’s distinctive voice echoes across and over the large space of the warehouse. Its resonance overshadows Kara daily. Pizza and soda are the daily dietary selections. Just the image of a pizza slice makes Kara want to hurl.
“Please... Please let me go. I won’t tell my dad. I just want to go home...” Kara pleads.
Pleading with her captors proves futile and only earned her a few more backhanded slaps across her face. Tommy is notorious for hitting her. Thinking about the whacks creates a ghost of a sting on her cheek.
When her gag is off, she can talk, but no one listens. It is worse than being a mute with tied hands. Tommy’s guys completely and utterly ignore her, and, when exhaustion isn’t overtaking her, frustration is. Her mind frequently turns to Derek and her father. Where are they? Won’t one of them come to save her? Kara wonders why she never sees Derek. Why doesn’t he come?
Sometimes, her blindfold is on and sometimes it was off, depending on who else is there. Brian typically leaves it off. Other guys, coming and going throughout the day, pass by Kara. She doesn’t know any of their names. They treat her like she doesn’t exist...like she is some type of property. She is a sin to them. If you ignore it, it lessens your guilt.
*****
Joy:
I felt as though I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. Will was crushed up against me, his slow breathing moving stray strands of my hair. I elbowed him lightly.
“Will...Will...It’s morning.” My breath formed a mist. He grunted.
Great. Mr. Cranky-pants was back. I shuffled away a bit, and his arm shot around to pull me back to him. He buried his face in my hair and kissed it. It tickled. I scrunched my shoulders and giggled. He did it again.
“Don’t start that again,” I said chuckling. He stopped and paused, that awkward moment waiting for the hammer to fall.
“Are you mad about last night?” he asked, sounding worried.
“No. You’re right. It was a mistake,” I taunted him. Actually, last night was amazing. I never thought I could feel that way. Passion and want took over my brain, leaving the solid, shy, controlled, keep-people-at-a-distance Joy behind.
“I never said it was a mistake,” he said rapidly as he propped his head up on his hand.
“No, you’re right, it won’t happen again.”
I laughed, loving the feeling of control. He turned me over onto my back. I peered straight at him. My face didn’t burn or give the slightest flush.
He brushed his hand across my side dangerously close to where my bra met my ribs.
“It will if I have anything say about it.” His voice was seductive and husky.
A hundred mini butterflies crashed into my chest, swirling to the nether regions of my body that only last night found their on switch.
The morning was cold; neither one of us wanted to get out of the snug, warm sleeping bag. Will got up first. The backpack had more granola bars and a couple of Gatorades. I ate my granola bar in the comfort and warmth of the sleeping bag, while Will checked the time. He calculated our position and points the compass to where we need to go.
“Are you sure that they won’t suspect us going to this town? What did you call it...Sydney?” I question, rolling the sleeping bag neatly.
“I can’t be sure of anything, but we can’t live out here. Take the blanket and put it around your shoulders until the weather warms up.” That was a great idea because my teeth were chattering.
We walked for an hour. My stomach growled from only having granola bars for the last two meals. We were expending serious energy between running yesterday...to the heated thrashing in the covers last night...to now, walking again.
“Umm, I gotta go,” I say quietly. The Gatorade went straight through me. I had to pee.
“Yeah, me too. Go behind that tree over there. I’ll stay here and go.”
I had to say that this week, besides being terrified, had been fraught with firsts, some good...some not so good.
After personal business was taken care of, we proceeded with another hour of endless walking. As we came to a road, Will checked the map. It wasn’t a major highway, but it was better than shoving branches out of the way and stepping over fallen trees.
Will tried to shove the rifle into the backpack so it couldn’t be seen, but it was too big. He took the blanket from me and wrapped up the part of it that was sticking out of the pack. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. We didn’t need passersby to see it and freak. Will took my hand and followed the road towards the town.
“You don’t need to hold my hand.”
“It’s our disguise,” he said grinning at me.
“How is holding hands a disguise?”
“People will focus on us as a couple not as individuals. They won’t focus too much on our faces.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, not sounding convinced at all. “That’s ridiculous.”
“There are studies to prove it,” he said assuredly.
“Who would study something like that?”
“The government,” he replied conclusively. “They study all types of social structures and human behaviors. They want their agents to blend in.”
“Wow,” I said, mocking him. “That’s where you must have learned that ingenious hat and sunglasses disguise. Gee whiz, you’re amazing.” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“Well, at least you’re looking at me today, even if it is with sarcasm.”
We laughed and joked on our long hike. My time with Will was very comfortable, a sense of feeling like I had known him forever. He might have broken down a wall that I hadn’t been a hundred percent aware I had built. I trusted him. It was wonderful to just hold his hand and talk.
“So, do you play any sports?” I asked. “I already know you can swim.”
“Soccer,” he said. “The FBI holds tournaments every year in different sports. It’s a camaraderie thing. I play in the soccer tournament. Derek plays in the football.”
Will stopped speaking. I wanted to keep the conversation going and learn more about him. I knew he had tough childhood, but something inside me needed to know more.
“Tell me one good thing about your childhood,” I asked brazenly.
He put his fingers to his lips thinking, his other hand clutching mine.
“I had a bike,” he declared.
“Oh? A motorbike?” I asked, having trouble picturing Will on a plain old bicycle.
“No. A pedal bike.” He hesitated. “But I stole it,” he said remorsefully.
“Oh.”
“Like I told you, we had nothing. I always felt guilty for stealing that bike, though, even to this day.”
I decided to change the subject, not wanting Will to think about anything that made him unhappy, especially considering our situation.
“What did it feel like getting recruited? For the FBI, I mean.”
“It was my big break. It was my time to make decisions for myself. It was an opportunity to help other people. It was a way out of the shit-storm I was in. Derek and the FBI turned my life around, and I never want to go back.”
“What was the training l
ike?” I asked, very curious and interested.
“It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Rigorous and exhausting. They challenged my mind and body. They put us through physical drills, like obstacle courses and push up after push up. We had classes just like school. We had textbooks and homework. We worked in groups and were given mock cases to solve.” Will’s eyes gleamed as he spoke. “Derek and I were undefeated. We work really well together, almost like brothers.”
“Is that why you guys were put on this case?”
“Yeah,” he added happily. “You just happen to be a bonus.” He winked at me and squeezed my hand.
Talking made the time go by. As we walked, the area got more populated. Homes now peppered the street on each side. In front of us was town. More cars passed by. The world was waking up...and we were on the run. It was hard to comprehend that, only yesterday, I was getting shot at. Will pulled me deeper curbside towards a thicket of trees to the right.
“We should walk in here. I’m getting nervous about someone seeing us.” Will squeezed my hand, entwined with his, lifting it to his mouth and kissing it.
The whooshing sound of cars coasting up and down the street got busier. We shadowed them as we walked through the trees, back to moving twigs and branches that stuck out ominously in front of us. The leaves were very dry and crunched loudly under our feet.
“What are we going to do now?” I asked.
“We need to find a place for the night, try to contact Derek, and stay out of sight.” As soon as the words left his mouth, we heard someone yelling.
“Hey! This is private property!” A man we could barely make out through the heavily settled branches chastised us. Will swung me around and away from the guy, waving a hand to the man in a “we understand and we’re leaving” gesture. We angled back towards the road.
Reaching the town didn’t take long after our encounter with the angry man. We walked quietly with our heads slightly down. It was a beautiful day out, and people walked up and down the sidewalks, going in and out of stores.
The town was little, and the stores were small, mostly a bunch of specialty shops. There were no superstores or huge markets. I surmised that people here must go to one place for bread and milk, then to a hole-in-the-wall fruit store across the street for produce. A tiny boutique stood in front of us, and we went in. Will walked up and down the aisles slowly, like we had all the time in the world. It smelled wonderful in there, like sugar cookies and peaches. It must have been the fancy candles in the cabinet against the wall.
We passed a spinning rack of sunglasses. Will reached his hand out to the display, and, to my surprise (not!) he grabbed two pairs.
Down the next aisle was couture. It was a mixture of fancy flowing tops, T-shirts, and hats. Will immediately zoomed in on the baseball caps, and I laughed internally. He picked up two. At the checkout, a lady rang us up, and Will added two candy bars with names I’d never heard of... some high-end organic chocolate.
The bell of the store jingled as we walked out. We were back on the sidewalk of the little town.
“Back here,” Will ordered, and I followed him behind a row of buildings.
He handed me the bag, and I took it. He reached in and pulled out the plain black baseball hat and plopped it on his head. He removed the second one from the bag in my hands. Sweeping all of my brown hair in to a pile on the top of my head, he placed the navy blue one over my unruly hair. Will then bent to examine me as he tucked in loose strands under the cap. His touch made me shiver.
“You cold?” he asks. I shake my head no, unable to pull my eyes away from his face.
The sunglasses were aviators with a silver frames. He ripped off the tag and put his on. He handed mine to me and tossed the bag in the dumpster after slipping the candy bars into his jacket pocket. I slipped the glasses on my face. How cute, we match. I rolled my eyes, although Will couldn’t see because of the reflective lenses.
“Just for the record, I’m rolling my eyes,” I informed him.
He leaned in and kissed my nose. “You are so cute,” Will told me with a smile.
Hmm...he did look good in his government-sanctioned disguise.
“Cute...I was going for secret agent extraordinaire,” I said with exaggerated irritation.
“You can be a cute secret agent,” Will laughed. “Let’s go find the library.”
The library was easy to find, on the center of Main Street with all of the other town offices. You have to love small New England towns. Will sat down at a computer, set the backpack down, and pulled up a Gmail account.
“Who are you emailing?” I asked.
“Derek. Let’s hope he finds us before anyone else does.”
“How can you let him know where we are without alerting the FBI?”
“We have our own codes for stuff. We didn’t use the FBI ones during training when we worked together. It’s better this way. It keeps us ahead of the game.”
“Who knew you were really going to need it someday?” I said over his shoulder as he typed.
With V1, need U, T 4 15/60 MLT
“What does that mean?”
He pointed to the screen before he sent it. “V1 is you, ‘need you’ is obvious. The rest is our location here in Sydney, Maine.”
“How’s he going to find us once he gets here?”
“He will.” He seemed pretty sure of himself.
“What do we do now?”
“Find a place to hide out,” he said like it was logical and obvious.
“I have an idea!” I said as a light bulb went off in my brain. I probably got the idea from Will earlier, but I wasn’t going to give him the credit or satisfaction of knowing that. I started for the front door of the library to tear down the steps, scanning up and down the street for what I saw earlier. A bunch of bed-and-breakfast places. Now, to find the right one...
The first one, Phoebe’s B&B, looked too commercial. A few doors down was Birds of Maine...nice, but there were too many cars in the parking lot.
“That’s it.” I said to Will. He had followed me out slinging the backpack on. “Let’s head over there.”
“Why?”
“Just follow my lead.”
I was in control, and it felt good. I stuck my sunglasses in my pocket and took off the cap. I toss my head around making my hair fly all over the place. I wrapped Will’s arm around me as I buried my face in his side. I had to think of something that would make me cry real tears. I didn’t have to try too hard. Remembering Will, beaten and bloodied lying on the ground, was enough to get the tears to flow.
We walked towards the white Colonial house with black shutters. On the porch stood an old woman, probably seventy or eighty years old, sweeping. I cried harder as I clutched Will’s shirt for support. He leaned over and kissed my head.
“Oh dear, what is this?” The old lady said, leaving the broom behind and meeting us in the middle of the porch steps. I sniffled and wiped my eyes.
“We...we just got married,” I said on a sob. Will’s body stiffened next to me.
“Oh, child, that’s no reason to cry. That’s wonderful,” she cooed. I think she would have sat me on her lap if she could have.
“Well, it would be if my parents weren’t so mad! They don’t understand that we’re in love.” I let the tears pour harder. Will patted my arm, finally putting in his two cents.
“Yeah, we just got in the car and drove. We ended up here.”
“You need to come in right now.”
She put her arm around me and led us into the very quaint house. It smelled of cooked apples, and the living room was decorated with antiques. Everything was dark, solid wood pieces. The picture frames on the wall were thick and gold. We sat down on the Victorian-looking sofa.
“I’m going to make you some tea.” The old lady hurried to the kitchen.
“Now what?” Will asked me. She came back quickly.
“It just so happens I had some water boiling for tea before you came.” On
a silver tray, she had cups, napkins, and apple pie. Will’s face lit up.
“That smells delicious,” he commented, almost salivating on the carpet.
She passed out cups filled with amber-colored liquid, then generous slices of pie.
“Here you go, honey. I’m Ann. My husband is James. He’s out at the store this morning.” Her voice carried a loving and helpful connotation that women of her wise years seem to have.
“I’m Jared and this is...” he paused, “my wife...Jane.”
Jane? How did I get stuck with Jane? Why couldn’t I have a more exotic name? Will gave my querulous face a go-with-it look. It seemed time to start the water works again, so I crumpled myself up and wept. Ann approached me and rubbed my shoulders.
“It can’t be that bad. Your parents would want you to be happy.” Her voice was sweet and caring as she attempted to calm me.
“I think that Jane just needed some time. Some time with no one to bother us...time to think. We need to strategize the best way to talk to her parents. Everyone needs a time out,” Will commented as he wolfed down his pie.
“I think you are right, young man,” Ann agreed, then looked at me. “He has a good head on his shoulders. Let me give you a tour, and I have a lovely room right upstairs you can stay in...perfect for time out.”
She took my hand and escorted us, showing us around. The house was truly amazing. It had been taken care of lovingly.
Besides the kitchen and living room, a formal dining room (with a table that could comfortably seat ten people) graced the front room of the house. Outside the back door was another porch, screened in to keep the mosquitoes away. The furniture was dark wicker with big fluffy cushions and pillows in jewel tones of lipstick-red and Barney-purple.
Upstairs, Ann opened the door to a beautiful cream-colored room – walls, bedspread, and decorations all in a warm off-white. All of the furniture looked like walnut, and there was a large fireplace across from the four-poster bed.
“Don’t you worry about a thing. If anyone comes, I’m telling them no one is here. Dinner is at six. Try and rest.”