Lady Sings the Blues

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Well, well, well…this is a development. Ain’t it funny how life works?” he says in his low, gravelly voice. The same chilly voice from the cemetery. “Was gonna stun you, now well… But I’ll have to blindfold you.”

  “You’re not going to kill me?” I ask as I shuffle slowly toward my oblivion.

  As he grabs my arm, pinching until it hurts. “Not here. And now, plans have changed. Fucking perfection.”

  He walks, while I stumble along behind him, down the bumpy service road to an old Bronco. Most of it black with a red front passenger door. The back bumper made up of a solid strip of particle board held in place by thin wire and one of the taillights has red electrical tape covering where the plastic cover should be. It’s well, it’s the Frankenstein’s monster of SUVs. And I doubt it’s his.

  Before he allows me inside the monstrosity, he opens the back hatch and pulls a dirty green bandanna that had been sitting half draped over the grooves of an old flat tire. Dust puffs up in the air from both the bandanna and tire as he snatches it.

  “Can you beat it against your leg a few times before you wrap it around my face?”

  His look tells me no he cannot.

  “I’ll sneeze the whole time if you don’t. It’ll get annoying for you and me. Please, I’ve been cooperative thus far.”

  Houdini glares at me, yet surprisingly, he does actually beat the excess dirt from the rag before tying it tightly around my eyes. Next I hear tape ripping and smell the plastic smell of duct tape a second before the sticky gets stuck over my mouth. Finally he duct tapes my wrists together behind my back before pulling me a few steps. There’s the sound of a door opening and then I’m being shoved onto a seat. Judging by the length of the seat, he’s pushed me into the backseat of the Bronco.

  He’s not going to kill me yet, and I have to keep my wits about me. Memorize time and turns, isn’t that what they do in movies?

  Unfortunately as he drives, I find I’m nothing like a movie heroine because I quickly lose track of both time and direction. Without a way to know how long or how far we’ve traveled, I can only say it feels like we’ve been traveling a million miles for a million years.

  God, poor Beau. After the shit start we’d had, all those obstacles between us. Today was supposed to start our happily ever after. I mean, haven’t we earned it?

  When the Bronco finally skids to a stop, I hear voices, both deep male voices, but they’re talking too quietly for me to know what they’re saying, especially with the blood pumping so heavy against my eardrums and them being outside the vehicle.

  Two voices? He said he wouldn’t kill me yet, but will he—I swallow hard—hurt me? Will the other guy? My body tenses when I’m pulled from the backseat. Luckily for the time being, only to be transferred to another vehicle, another backseat, before we start driving again. The gut-wrenching fear did a number on my bladder, though.

  “Houdini,” I chance a call to him. Of course, with duct tape over my mouth it comes out sounding more like a murmured, “Ouini.”

  His response is to growl low, guttural. Yet he does rip the tape from my mouth. I didn’t really expect him to, but thank goodness for small miracles.

  “Houdini,” I chance again. “Please…I have to use the bathroom.”

  His answer, another growl. Though after about a minute, I feel the vehicle veer as if taking a shoulder, then stop. My door opens, and I’m pulled not gently from the seat. He drags me roughly over what feel like pinecones and twigs against my bare feet about twenty-five steps before he stops us. My dress, tugged up over my hips. My panties, ripped away from my hips.

  “Squat,” he finally orders.

  So this is happening. Me. Peeing in front of my kidnapper.

  I stand when I’ve finished, and he simply pulls my dress back down until gravity takes over. There are so many other ways this could have gone down.

  “Why did you kill Hadley, Shayla?” I decide to ask before he tapes my mouth again. Because I know once we reach the car, he’s going to tape my mouth again.

  Even though I didn’t really expect him to answer, he snickers through his nose. “Had to get your attention. Got it, didn’t I? Now shut the fuck up before I change my mind about killing you.”

  Okay, so I promptly shut the fuck up.

  With my headache intensifying, I’m thankful he seems to be in a hurry to get wherever we’re going. As I’m not sure what hurts more, the incessant pounding inside my skull or those pinecones and twigs stabbing my bare feet that he drags me back over, until finally shoving me back inside the vehicle. Though without, I note, tape on my mouth.

  Another million miles over another million years, all in total silence, only the hum of the tires skimming over the pavement fills the void. I can’t seem to work up the courage to speak with him again.

  Eventually, the sound of humming highway turns to crunching gravel underneath the tires, the car rolls to another stop. Houdini wrenches open the door and yanks me from the backseat, crunching gravel now under my feet, then we stop. Keys clink and rustle. He yanks me again, and we walk until he shoves me not exactly gentle at my chest with the backs of my knees hitting something, I assume furniture, and then my bottom falls and hits soft cushion.

  The place smells musty, like it’s been closed up for a while and in need of a good airing out.

  “Get comfy,” he grumbles. “You’re gonna be here a while.”

  Yes. Big, bad Houdini uses the word comfy.

  That’s the last he says to me before he leaves. The door slamming shut clues me in to him leaving. And for some inexplicable reason, instead of trying to plot my escape or at very least to contact my husband…Oh man, my husband. He’s got to be worried sick.

  All I can seem to think about is whether or not Houdini has a power cord compatible with the phone hidden in my pocket. In case the battery runs out, I could charge it. How could I contact Beau with a dead phone?

  Answer: I couldn’t.

  Thus concerning myself with power cords in these uncertain times doesn’t seem so ridiculous. However, I need to focus. To escape.

  I blame the stress.

  Stress makes us think crazy. Worrying about power cords would definitely qualify as me thinking crazy. Just not ridiculous.

  Easier than falling apart, my mind shifts through whether or not the prospects put the food away before the men undoubtedly took off to find me so we don’t get rodents or bugs while I’m gone, because I cannot live with rodents or bugs. And because I have to have faith that the men will find me. Then I move on to wondering about Maryanne, if she’ll be able to get the grass stains out of her pretty bridesmaid dress.

  Alone in the room, I can almost pretend I’m not someone’s captive when the door opens.

  “Bed,” is all he grumbles. Uh-oh.

  Houdini picks me up and cradles me like a groom might cradle his bride with one hand behind my back and one under my knees, giving me no choice but to loop my arms around his neck to keep from spilling to the floor, or at least it feels like I’ll spill to the floor. Who knows if Houdini would let me fall?

  He sets me down, gently this time, onto the bed, not removing my blindfold yet tearing the tape from my wrists. It stings. They sting. Again gently, he rubs at my wrists leading me to let my guard down. Stupid, stupid, Elise. So stupid, in my lowered guard, I don’t fight him when he unbuttons the vest of my dress then pulls the zip of the skirt down the side, stopping where it stops just below my hip. I freeze while he shoves the leather off my shoulders then stands me up to let the bottom half slip to the floor so I’m almost bare to Houdini wearing only my lacy white bra.

  Uh-flipping-oh. Double on that uh-oh when he runs his finger down from my collarbone, between my breasts to rest at my baby bump where he stops, resting his whole hand to cover my bellybutton the way Beau does, and he grumbles low, “Fuck Elise, you got a beautiful body, even knocked up.”

  I don’t want to thank him. That might encourage him.

  “Sleep,” he orders. �
�I’m wiped.”

  For the briefest of seconds I think he might let me lie back without wrist restraints. No such luck. Softer than the duct tape, I feel the satin he binds my wrists together with. This time, he binds them to my front. Although soft, he binds them tight. Tight. Super tight. That cutoff line just before tourniquet tight. It won’t make for a comfortable night, but I shouldn’t lose my hands because of it.

  The uh-oh gets worse when I hear clothing drop to the floor, the covers rustle from the other side of the bed, and his weight and body heat slide in next to me. I start to really get nervous then when he flips me to my right side, his knees cocked against my knees to curl back over his, and he drops his arm over my waist to rest again on my belly.

  Scary, murderous Houdini spoons me.

  A spooning Houdini freaks me out so badly I blurt out, “I thought you were gonna cut my heart out.”

  As the full weight of my stupidity hits, I suck in on my bottom lip and bite hard, bracing.

  Who the hell reminds a scary murderer that he intended to cut your heart out? Me, only me. About now I’m beginning to think I might deserve to have my heart cut out.

  On a soft laugh he grumbles again. “Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” After which he nips the skin behind my ear, sucking it deep into his mouth. So deep I know he’s marked me. It turns my stomach. He wants Beau to know he’s had his mouth on me.

  A low sob breaks from my throat.

  With a brief arm squeeze, he releases me. “Sleep.”

  What choice do I have? It’s been a long, exhausting day and until he decides to end me, I’m still growing a child, so I force my mind as blank as my mind can go,

  And I sleep.

  30.

  Beau

  My phone rang. Busy shooting the shit with my brothers, I didn’t even bother to check who was calling, just press the accept button while bringing it to my ear.

  My blood froze.

  “Fuck you,” he growled into the phone and hung up.

  And that’s how I found out Houdini got to my wife.

  “Shit.” I hissed, whipping my head every which way, looking for my bride. A bride I didn’t see. Not anywhere. “Anyone seen Elise?” I shouted at the same time Tommy walked up.

  “Have you seen Maryanne?” he asked.

  For the briefest moment I relaxed thinkin’ the girls were just off getting into trouble somewhere ‘til Maryanne stumbled inside the clubhouse, and she looked dazed, cryin’ and with grass stains on her dress.

  The word, “Tommy,” tumbled from her lips before her steps faltered, and she began to go down. He had her in his arms before she hit the floor.

  “He has her,” she said, voice quiet. “He has her,” she said again louder, more panicked. “He has her,” she screamed now, clutching Tommy’s vest, so hysterical her face contorted to the point she didn’t even look herself anymore.

  At the sound of glass shattering I turned to see a trembling Livvy, sparkling wine puddled around her feet. Watching Liv tremble, my life with Elise flashed before my eyes. What we had. What we’re supposed to have, raising our baby. This can’t be happening. We took all the precautions. I thought my heart stopped beating while simultaneously beating so ferocious in my chest I was about to have a heart attack. “This can’t be happening,” I choked out. No. I had to get my shit together. Breakin’ down wouldn’t get her back.

  “Where, Maryanne?” Tommy stroked her available cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Out back. Service road at the edge of the property,” she murmured because of the other cheek she had pressed hard against Tommy’s throat.

  “On it,” Chaos called as he took off out the door, Blood, Sneak, and Carver on his heels.

  Then Duke looked up from where he studied Maryanne and called out to the gather the prospects. “Blaze, Blue, Levi mobilize.”

  Blue and Blaze appear next to Duke. “Where the fuck is Levi?” He groused.

  “Don’t know, ain’t seen him in a while,” Blue answered.

  I slid up next to him. “Don’t got a good feelin’ about this.”

  He put his hand to my shoulder. “No Boss, me neither.”

  “Mar, you okay baby?” Tommy asked, still holding her close.

  She only slightly nodded.

  “I gotta go,” he told her. But his face said if he could hold on tight for the rest of their lives, they’d stay in that spot on the clubhouse floor for the rest of their lives.

  She nuzzled deeper into Tommy, an almost hug because she wouldn’t let her fisted death-grip of his dress shirt go to hug him.

  But before he set her off his lap, after the kiss he dropped to her temple, she stopped him. “Tommy, save my friend.” Only those of us surrounding her heard, but we sure as hell heard.

  “Let’s go Boss, bring the phone. We got some friends, some higher-ups, maybe they can track the call.”

  31.

  Elise

  “Rise and shine…” Grumbles in my ear. For a second, with the warmth at my back I can almost imagine the voice belonging to Beau, the warmth belonging to Beau, but it’s only one second past that second to send me careening straight into my fucked up reality. And yes, no other way to describe it. “Up,” he says again, pressing his lips against my jaw.

  “I have to pee,” I tell him, bringing my bound wrists up to my face to scratch my nose. Problem being he thinks I’m trying to remove my blindfold, slapping my hand away.

  “Not yet!” Bursts from his mouth.

  I feel his heat ratchet up by a gazillion degrees and his muscles go taut in that arm he slaps my hand with. Then because I’ve ticked him off, he rolls me to my back and climbs on top of me wrestling his thighs between my locked knees.

  “Time to have a little fun.”

  This would be how I end up with a Bedlam Horde named Houdini kissing wet kisses down the dip of my throat. And how I end up with a Bedlam Horde named Houdini rubbing his calloused fingers all over my breasts, over my white, lacy bra. And finally, how I end up with a Bedlam Horde named Houdini grinding his thankfully boxer brief covered crotch against mine.

  Before my brain catches up with my mouth, my mouth whispers against his hair, “I can’t.”

  He stills. Rolls off me. Inconceivable, yet him rolling off me gives me hope that he can be reasonable. Yeah, no. Not a Bedlam Horde named Houdini.

  “See we’re gonna have to have our talk first. Coulda gone down differently, but what did I expect from the Hollister whore?”

  I gasp at his crude comment, I guess because I’m not fully awake yet. A crude comment is the least I should expect. He roughly grabs my hand in a way more attuned to what I should expect from him, and yanks me up to a seated position, twisting my legs so my feet hit the floor.

  “Why are you doing this?” I finally pluck up the courage to ask, but do it knowing how I take my life in my hands.

  “Why do you think?”

  “My guess, Logan slept with your girl or maybe your sister, and you’re taking revenge on Beau because they used to be close. If that’s the case, I gotta tell you, they drifted apart years ago.”

  “Drifted apart my ass,” he grumbles low as he runs his thumb along the apple of my cheek, sounding lost in thought until abruptly with the scary gruff to his voice back he barks, “Alright sweetheart, this how you wanna play it, we’ll play it your way.”

  I really don’t want to play. So I tell him. “I don’t want to play.”

  “Yeah you do.” He laughs through his nose. “My move.”

  The word move hardly leaves his lips before the dirty bandana that’s been covering my eyes since yesterday is ripped from my face. It takes about seven blinks before the black splotches disappear only to have me stare right into a pair of brown eyes I’d recognize anywhere. Brown eyes which used to look on me with warmth now hardened in an unnatural way. Oh, but I remember the hardened brown, too. The last time I looked into those eyes they held the same unnatural hardening. I don’t…I don’t understand.

  �
�Lo?” I scramble back from him until my shoulder hits the headboard. “H-how is this possible?” Tears prick the corners of my eyes, for a brief second because it’s Lo, and he’s alive. Then my brain catches up, and the tears aren’t for Lo any longer. “You died. You killed yourself. I don’t…how is this possible?” I ask again. Shame and fear, and disgust with myself for ever having loved this man, replace any softness I would have shown him.

  “Makes me sick, you layin’ with him,” he says, while running his fingertip down the length of my arm.

  Not thinking nor caring that I’m about to piss him off, I goad him, because what do I care at this point? I’m dead anyway. “You cheated on me Logan, not the other way around. I never che—”

  “Bullshit,” he cuts off. “Think I’m stupid? I saw you ride off with him, remember?”

  “We just went for a ride. I slept with you after homecoming.”

  It’s like he didn’t hear a word I said. He lunges at me, grabbing my throat and squeezes to just short of choking me.

  “I wouldn’t’ve needed those women if you woulda kept your legs closed. Just kept your legs closed, Elise. That’s all you had to do. You were mine.”

  Now his fingers squeeze to just over choking. Not enough to make me pass out, but definitely enough to hurt.

  “How is this possible?” I croak, my voice breaks partly from the fear of his hands around my throat, and partly from not pulling in enough breath.

  “Mine,” he grumbles.

  “How is this possible?” I croak, louder.

  “Mine,” he grumbles again.

  “How is this possible?” I manage to screech in his ear. The sound enough to shake him from whatever trance he’d been in. His fingers loosen, going back to just short of choking.

  “Alright baby, you wanna know I’ll tell you.” Logan’s voice goes eerily soft. Right before the serial killer strikes at the main character in a movie, soft. “I was so about you, all about you. But you, the phone calls, the visits. Your sweet little ass spent more time with that dipshit once he went away to school than before he left, makin’ me the chump. I don’t much like bein’ the chump, you understand. So I found a guy who knew a guy and helped me find release.”