Chase You To The Sun

by Jocelyn Han

  Lana froze when Bruce unexpectedly turned his head to look at her. Had he felt the weight of her stare? Why had she even risked staring at him like that? Immediately glancing away, she fixed her eyes on the book, using it to hide her flustered face behind, her heart tapping nervously against her ribs. When she fretfully eyed Bruce over the edge of the poetry volume after what felt like minutes, his eyes were still on her, his gaze unflinching. Bruce was appraising her with unsettling intensity, a sly smile tugging at his mouth. Suddenly, Lana forgot all about his apparent vulnerability. This man was dangerous – and the last thing she should do was provoke him in any sort of way.

  “It’s time,” John announced, just as she was getting up to feign a visit to the bathroom in order to get away from Bruce’s private stare. The hacker was holding up his pad.

  “Good.” Bruce got up and slowly extended his hand toward her. “We’re going to talk to your father.”

  Lana gingerly slipped her hand in his as she jumped to her feet. Oh, shit. Admittedly, this was a friendlier gesture than him roughly seizing her upper arm, but right now, she’d prefer him pushing her around.

  “Let’s go to the comm room.” He pulled her along to the dark corridor behind the stairs. “We have a window of ten minutes for safe communication, so keep it short.”

  “Okay.” Lana’s heart skipped a beat when his thumb lightly brushed the back of her hand. It made her entire face heat up. Thank God it was so dark here. “Any stuff I’m not supposed to mention?”

  “You will speak to him in English,” Bruce replied. “My Russian is a bit rusty.”

  She almost sighed with relief when he let go of her hand to push open the door to what looked like a study. Shelves stacked with hard drives and folders lined the walls on either side of a large desk in the middle of the room. The desk faced a window looking out over the garden, now covered in darkness. An old-fashioned video screen sat on a table to the left of the desk. It flickered to life when Bruce pushed a few buttons on the console wired to the monitor.

  “Have a seat,” he said, pulling up a stool from somewhere and planting her in front of the video screen. “He’ll come on in a minute.”

  Lana waited, hyper-aware of Bruce silently standing behind her. When the screen suddenly fizzed with loud static, she eagerly leaned forward, tears pooling in her eyes when her father’s face appeared on the monitor. “Oh, papa,” she cried out, her voice cracking. “Ya rada tebya videt.”

  A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. “In English,” Bruce warned her.

  Crap. Lana cowered, correcting herself. “I’m so happy to see you, dad.”

  “How are you, Sveta?” Mr. Ivanov said, his voice unsteady. “Oh God. This should never have happened. I can’t lose you.”

  “Nothing will happen to your daughter as long as you follow the instructions I sent you earlier in the day,” Bruce said, lowering his head to look into the camera. “She’s been a good girl so far.”

  Lana shifted uncomfortably on her stool. She’d been anything but a ‘good girl’, and it made her feel incredibly guilty. “I’m okay, dad. Nobody’s hurt me.”

  “About your demands,” Mr. Ivanov addressed Bruce directly. “You’re going to have to give me some more time to meet them.”

  “Why should I?” Bruce replied icily. “You’ve had years to meet them. To be honest, my patience is wearing thin.”

  “What you’re asking of me is not easy.”

  “Dad.” Lana locked eyes with her father. “What is Bruce asking you to do?”

  Mr. Ivanov paled visibly. “He’s asking me to stop supplying gemstones to Mars and Luna. And to pay him a ransom of one billion rubles.”

  “Will he release me after that?”

  “I don’t know.” Mr. Ivanov raised his hands helplessly.

  Lana thought quickly. If Bruce wanted her dad to stop shipping tourmaline and emerald to the richest Elite colonies indefinitely, setting her free wouldn’t help his cause. After all, her dad could turn the supply chain back on once she was home again. The only way for Bruce to ensure a hold on Ivanov Mining Industries was to keep her alive and locked up – indefinitely. The hopelessness of her situation suddenly hit her full force. She was never going to get out of here without outside help.

  “Can I ask you something, papa?” she said timidly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  “Anything, dorogaya.”

  “Why is he asking you to do this?”

  Her father shook his head in confusion. “That’s not important.”

  “But it is,” Lana insisted. “There must be a reason why he wants you to halt shipments.”

  He frowned. “Sveta, I honestly have no idea, but I can take an educated guess. The man is probably out to get a monopoly on gemstone resources in order to fund his own criminal empire and destroy Elite dominance in the Earth sector at the same time. Imagine what it would do to stock markets and currency stability if we stopped shipping to Mars and Luna altogether.”

  “That’s true,” Lana whispered. Her dad was making a lot of sense. “I just – well, he said...”

  Mr. Ivanov smiled at her encouragingly. “What did he tell you? Out with it.”

  Lana took a deep breath. “He claims the Promethean mines make use of unpaid workers.”

  In the silence that ensued, she observed shock flitting across her father’s face, gradually melting into a kind of pained exhaustion.

  “It’s – complicated, honey,” he said. “There’s more to the story.”

  Even though his answer sounded calm and self-assured, Lana couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt at the words ‘it’s complicated.’ A tactful phrase with the power to tear small holes in the fabric of her safe little world. He wasn’t denying it.

  “He’ll have to save that story for another day,” Bruce interjected, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Time’s up. Mr. Ivanov, I eagerly await your next actions. We’ll be in touch in a few days’ time.” Before Lana had the chance to say goodbye, he switched off the monitor, abruptly ending the video call. Silence hung heavily between them as Bruce took a few steps back and eyed her intently. To his credit, he didn’t look self-satisfied.

  “Can I please go to my room?” Lana said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

  He nodded brusquely. “I’ll walk you.”

  They strutted through the corridor and up the stairs without speaking. When Lana stopped in front of her room, she looked up at Bruce questioningly. “Do I need to lock my door?” she hesitated.

  His simmering, gray eyes looked down on her. “John will stay away from you,” was all he said.

  “What about you?” she whispered, vividly remembering that unsettling look he’d directed at her in the living room.

  Bruce gave her a faint smile. “What about me?” he said, leaning into her almost imperceptibly.

  Lana swallowed hard. “N-nothing,” she spluttered nervously when she realized she’d just single-handedly managed to shift the atmosphere completely. “Just – forget it. I don’t know why I said that.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t you?”

  She looked away, unable to come up with a safe answer.

  “Are you asking me to come in?” he continued, his dark voice dropping even lower. In the dim light of the second-floor landing, Bruce slipped his hand off her shoulder and leisurely caressed her upper arm, his fingers trailing over her bare skin.

  Lana mutely shook her head, letting out a shaky breath when he took a step back.

  “Good night,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Sweet dreams, Lana.”

  She couldn’t flee into her room fast enough. Leaning her head back against the closed door, Lana tried to stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. It was all too much – her realization that she’d be stuck here forever if nothing happened, her dad beating around the bush when she’d asked him that question about the mine workers, and the sickening sexual tension between her and the man everybody kept warning her about. A man wi
th secrets dark enough to obscure her sound judgment. A violent man with unexplained pain in his eyes and a heart he claimed didn’t exist anymore.

  For the first time since she woke up, she wanted to get out of this place because she was afraid of what she might do.

  7.

  The vibrating smart phone under her hand woke her up with a start the next morning. Lana sat up, immediately switched off her alarm and hid the phone under her pillow again. She’d set it at six o’clock, anxious to find out whether the sun had already risen. When she opened the curtains in her room and looked outside, though, the world was still pitch black. No stars or moon were visible, and the sun was definitely not there either. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the force field Bruce had mentioned was still up. Chances were she wouldn’t be able to see the sunrise at all. How would her friends ever find out where she was being kept prisoner now? A sunset time of about eight o’clock probably wasn’t enough to pinpoint her exact latitude and longitude on Earth. Or was it? She had no idea, and she was freaking out. Lana turned on her heels and crawled under the covers again to get out her phone, cursing under her breath when the display showed no reception bars. All communication seemed to be cut off under the blanket of that impenetrable force field. There was nothing for it – she’d have to try again later.

  Now that she was awake, Lana felt restless. What she wanted to do most of all right now was take a hot shower or a nice bubble bath. Suddenly, she felt grossed out again at the thought of John touching her while she was unconscious. She wanted to wash off the marks his hands had left on her skin. Yesterday, she hadn’t had the opportunity to locate the bathroom on the second floor – she’d just used the small toilet adjacent to her room before going to sleep – but if there was ever a time she could sneak around undisturbed, it was now, at six in the morning. The rest of the house still seemed to be in deep sleep.

  Armed with a small towel and a bottle of shower gel from her baggage, Lana tiptoed out into the hallway in her tank top and shorts, the clothes she’d used for pajamas. Somehow, wearing her short, silk night gown hadn’t seemed appropriate last night. Despite Bruce’s words of reassurance, she had still locked her door, anxiously listening for footsteps out in the hallway for a long time before drifting off to sleep. Nothing had happened – John had stayed away, and so had Bruce.

  Lana’s cheeks burned with shame when she thought back to last night’s hushed conversation at her doorstep. Why the hell had she let that take place? The worst thing was that she didn’t just feel threatened by the fact Bruce had asked her that question full of dark promise – she felt intrigued. Terrified, but fascinated. If only her dad knew what thoughts were going around in her head, he’d probably shell out another gazillion rubles to get her out of here pronto.

  “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, trying several doors to the left of her room before hitting the entrance to a large bathroom, complete with sinks, a giant tub and a frosted glass shower enclosure in the left corner. A small smile tugged at her lips as Lana locked the door and walked over to the shower. Perfect. This was just what she needed.

  As the hot water ran and steamed up the shower cubicle, Lana quickly shrugged out of her makeshift PJs. She stepped under the spray and gasped when the water almost burned her skin. It felt good, though – it made her feel clean and focused. The lavender-scented shower cream on her skin did wonders for her shot nerves. Back on Mars, she’d always used it after a long day at college. It felt like a little piece of home, almost bringing tears to her eyes.

  Grabbing her towel, Lana dried off and wrapped it around her body before stepping up to the mirror above the sink. Tired, hazel eyes stared back at her. She wished she could put on some make-up, but her mascara and eyeliner were still in her handbag on board Captain Blanco’s ship.

  After washing her face with some cold water, Lana picked up her clothes and walked over to open the door. When she unlocked it, though, someone simultaneously pulled it open from the other side. Stumbling back, Lana shot a mortified look at the door swinging open, sucking in her breath when Bruce calmly stepped inside.

  He was wearing nothing but a black towel around his hips. His entire upper body was gloriously naked and masculine, his tanned torso so tempting and terrifyingly broad and gracious at the same time that Lana felt her heart flutter with fear and lust. Her eyes roved over the bunching muscles of his shoulders and his wide, hairless chest before darting down to the leanness of his flat abdomen. Her face grew so hot she swore the capillaries in her cheeks would burst.

  “Oh my God,” she squeaked, realizing too late she’d said the words out loud.

  “Good morning to you too,” Bruce replied deadpan.

  Lana shook herself out of her stupor. “I mean, I’m sorry. To bother you,” she stammered.

  His eyes bored into hers. “Looks like you’re more bothered than I am.”

  “I’m...” The words caught in her throat. She didn’t even know what words would come out if her tongue ever started working properly again.

  “Next time you should probably get dressed before leaving the bathroom, little girl,” he continued with a faint, belittling grin. “I don’t think you want to bump into John. Not if you’re wrapped in just that skimpy towel.” It sounded even more patronizing because he was absolutely right.

  Lana couldn’t stop herself from talking back, though. “Stop calling me that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not a little girl,” she muttered as irritably as she dared, biting her lip in apprehension when Bruce cocked his head. He took a step closer, and another one. As he stood there towering over her, his eyes slowly drank in her body, lingering on her barely covered breasts for a few seconds too long.

  “No, you’re not,” he established quietly, subtly smiling in amusement when she turned red. “I think you’re old enough.”

  “For what?” she blurted out without thinking. Because obviously, standing this close to Bruce only wearing a towel slung around his hips had effectively destroyed any filter between her brain and her mouth.

  He cocked an eyebrow, his burning stare turning darker. “You need me to spell it out for you?” he said, his voice low.

  Lana swallowed hard, trying to push away a mental image of Bruce hooking his fingers into the towel covering her boobs to pull her in and breathe ‘H-O-T-S-E-X’ into her ear. “No, I, uhm, I get it,” she bumbled.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.” She scuttled backward, feeling for the door handle with the hand she wasn’t using to hold up her towel dress.

  “Go on, out you go,” Bruce told her darkly. “Before I really embarrass you.”

  She gasped when he leisurely started to pull out the tightly tucked end of his towel to lower it, a hint of dark-blonde pubic hair peeping out over the edge. Lana blindly whipped around and stumbled out of the bathroom, her face flaming with incriminating heat.

  Oh God. She had to get dressed, get out of the house and take a long walk outside to cool off and get her mind off whatever the hell had just happened – or had almost happened, anyway. As she burst back into her room, Lana decided she’d ask Chester to accompany her in the garden. If Bruce was awake at this hour, the rest of the gang would most likely wake up soon, too. And after her walk she’d go back to her room and try to call Tori and Alen. Had her friends told her father about the phone she was secretly using? She might pass on a message via Tori – and ask him to tell her friend the long story that would explain why Bruce wanted what he did from Ivanov Mining Industries. Last night’s talk had left her hanging, and if anything, she needed to know how trustworthy Bruce and his stories really were. For all she knew, he was trying to brainwash her, winning her over to his side by poisoning her mind with lies.

  By the time she got downstairs, a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast was on the table. Chester and Bruce were in the living room, their discussion trailing off when Lana entered.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she mumbled in the direction of the two
men as she stalked over to the hot food.

  “You keep saying that,” Bruce commented drily.

  Lana looked up and met his gaze, surprised when she saw an almost playful glint in his gray eyes. “Yeah, I know. But I really mean it,” she said. “Seriously.”

  “Well.” He smirked. “Good to hear you’re so contrite, Sveta.” The letters rolled off his tongue like honey. Hearing him using the diminutive of her name somehow made her shy – and very aware of the fact he knew how much her dad cared about her. He’d used that name for her during the video call. Her father had been close to tears last night, and Bruce had seen it all. She was the best means of pressure he’d ever get his hands on.

  “Can I sit on the patio with my food?” She held up her plate containing eggs and a bread roll.

  Bruce nodded. “Stay close, though. I want you after breakfast.”

  “S-sure.” Lana blinked, not actually sure what to make of his remark. What did he need her for? And why didn’t he say ‘need’ instead of ‘want’? Feeling completely flustered, she scuttled over to the open doors, sighing with relief when she saw the force field was finally down. That meant sunshine – and phone reception. Lana went outside and sat down on the edge of the deck with her plate on her knees, staring up into the endlessly blue sky. No matter how bleak her situation, this place was pretty amazing. Maybe she should try and enjoy the silver linings in her otherwise cloudy sky a little bit more.

  She started when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Looking up, Lana saw it was Chester. “You want some coffee?” he said.

  “I’d like that.” She shot him a grateful smile.

  “I’ll bring you some.”

  It was now official – Chester was her favorite person in the Randall mansion. He’d stood between her and John the rapist, and he offered her drinks. Maybe she should talk to him if she wanted more information about this gang of criminals – he didn’t seem like the type to immediately bite her head off if she posed one question too many.