Hush in the Storm

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  I walked to the bus stop and sat down. What was I thinking? All I had known to be true I now questioned after a day or two of listening to the tales of a possibly delusional coworker? So what if Tom knew Robert? It didn’t mean anything else was true. But then, who was Mae Lin and this mother I was supposed to keep calling? It made no sense. I shook my head and held it in my hands.

  Now away from my coffin captivity my mind became more astute. No, I couldn’t believe Robert had lied to me. He was in advertising, and had been good at it. That’s why he’d traveled a bunch. Lots of businessmen do every day. And maybe he had been helping that secretary make a life-changing decision. She’d tried to tell me so at the wake, but I wouldn’t listen.

  My Robert had been an honest, loving, and good man. That’s what I had to believe. Not this. Tom was just jealous. When I didn’t respond to his innuendos and stares at work, he’d made this whole thing up to nab me in an effort to get me to fall for him. Maybe he saw the family restaurant when he rented the basement. Then he met Mae Lin and hired her to act the part. It was plausible, right?

  I firmed my jaw. I was not playing this game anymore, and I definitely wasn’t calling “Mother.” I had a day pass. I could go anywhere. I decided to get on the next bus, no matter what its number.

  I took the cash out of the wallet, ripped up the picture of me and Tom—or Travis, or whoever he claimed to be—and shoved my so-called driver’s license deep into the sewer opening under my feet. I stuffed the purse into the bus stop’s mesh wastebasket and covered it with newspapers and an open box of leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken, complete with a half-eaten drumstick. That woke up the flies. They buzzed my arm in protest. I shook them off with a shudder, then sat back down.

  The Number 7 bus was the first to arrive at the stop. I got on it and rode to Berry, but I didn’t get off. The map indicated this bus route went downtown. A plan solidified in my thoughts. I’d walk a few short blocks to the Greyhound station, and then buy a ticket for San Antonio.

  When I got to the San Antonio bus station, I’d use a pay phone to call one of my old friends to come get me. I’d explain I’d been kidnapped. Maybe they hadn’t yet heard of my so-called accident. I could start over again. Who’d stop me? I closed my eyes and let the rumble of the tires jostle my anxiety away.

  The bus pulled to a stop. The doors swooshed opened and I heard footsteps coming toward me. Two strong hands wrapped around my arms. A familiar citrusy-musk cologne hit my nostrils.

  “You missed your stop, dear. Something told me I’d better come get you.”

  I turned to see sapphire-blue eyes narrow into mine. He waved to the bus driver and shot him a pearly smile. “Never mind. She gets confused when she’s, well, you know.” He raised a cupped hand, thumb toward his mouth indicating I’d been drinking. “I’m giving her a ride home. I got her.”

  Yes, he did. Again. He coaxed me down the stairs. The bus lumbered away, along with my passage to freedom.

  Tom’s expression became harsh as he shook his forefinger inches from my face. “You should have called your mother.”

  I slapped away his hand. “My mother’s dead.” I started to walk off, where I didn’t know. Just away from him.

  He matched my steps, then laced his arm through mine as he jerked me to a stop. “Didn’t you see the old Chinese saying Mrs. Chang had on the plaque in her kitchen?” His breath was hot against my face.

  I stared at him. So he did know her. Was she part of all this? Not that sweet woman. Mae Lin said her door was always open. Maybe she was an innocent puppet. Then again, her husband had been in the Navy. So had Robert. And Tom.

  He turned me around and began to walk us in the opposite direction. His thumb dug into my forearm as he pulled me closer. “It says, ‘The obedient dog knows the freedom of his fence, but the disobedient dog is chained.’”

  His tone of voice rattled me, but I was determined not to let him see that fact. I plastered on a blank expression and held my tongue.

  He leaned in, with a death grip near my elbow. “I thought you understood, Jen. I told you to follow my instructions, and you said you would.”

  I looked away.

  He tugged my arm to get me to look into his face gain. His eyes glistened like fiery ice under knitted brows. “This is serious business, hon. What part of ‘they will kill you’ did you not understand?”

  There was a Celtic lilt at the end of his words. I’d managed to flare his Irish temper once again. “Tom, I—”

  He waved away my thought. “Too late. You tried to jump the fence. I’m afraid it’s time you were chained again.”

  Mae Lin appeared as if from nowhere. She gave him a look, which he returned. I saw his Adam’s apple wobble.

  I looked down. In her hand was a syringe. I felt the jab before I could protest.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I woke up and stared at metal scaffolding above my head. The floor was hard and cold. Concrete again. But I wasn’t back in the basement. I was in a garage or something. Motor oil and gasoline fumes burned my nose. Bright fluorescent lights dangled from the ceiling. One of them hummed loudly at me. Tom sat on a rusted blue oil drum, talking on a cell phone.

  “Yeah. I know. She almost ruined the whole set-up. Wait.” He looked in my direction. “She’s coming to. Right, I will.”

  I groaned and tried to focus as much as possible without the room spinning. My hands were wrenched behind my back. I felt a hard plastic band rub against my skin. Cuffed. My legs were crossed and tied as well. My cheeks were stretched. I could only open my mouth a crack. My tongue probed through my teeth to touch tight metallic material. Duct tape.

  I tried to scream, but only a “Rrmmmm” came out.

  He knelt beside me. “You made us do this, Jen. We have to protect you, even if it is from yourself. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

  My eyes zeroed in on his face. I tried to speak again, then flopped my head back down. Why try?

  He brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. His touch nauseated me. I flinched.

  “Are you going to be a good girl or not?” His tone was flat.

  I nodded affirmatively.

  He yanked the duct tape. “Ouch!” I’m sure half of my lower lip went with the adhesive. I tucked part of my lip into my teeth and sucked the blood from it.

  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” His shoulders were rock solid, his demeanor as harsh and cold as his icy stare. “For the love of Pete, Jen. I’m risking my life trying to keep you from danger. You know?”

  I scooted to a semi-sitting position. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you? Why, because I caught you?”

  He looked away, not expecting a response. He was mistaken. My anger boiled. My voice shook with emotion. “My head feels like lead, my mouth is killing me, and my ankles are cramping. Besides, this grungy place stinks like old sweat and gasoline fumes.”

  His jaw twitched as his fist balled.

  I sucked in a deep breath to slow my mood. “So, my dear Travis.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “To answer your question—yes. I am very sorry you caught me.”

  He spun on his heel and flipped out a knife. His nostrils flared, like a defiant bull ready to charge the red flag. Through clenched teeth he mouthed, “Look. I have tried everything I can to persuade you that I’m doing this to protect you.” He leaned in, the blade inches from my neck, then snarled. “I’m tired of trying to convince you.”

  I leaned back and squinted my eyes. But the blade didn’t slash my throat.

  Instead, he slipped it between my ankles and snapped the plastic. “There. Maybe it will prove I’m on your side in this. But until your attitude improves the wrists stay tied.”

  I continued to glare at him. “I suppose you want me to thank you, now?”

  His knife hovered over me. His muscles crinkled, the blue veins intensified. He lowered it to his side and stomped off. I heard him seethe. “One potato, two potato...”

>   “Lord’s Prayer works.” I flung the words at him, hoping they’d pierce deep. His back tensed, and he cracked his neck, but waited before he turned around. When he did, I watched his face as it eased from red back to his normal shade. The man transformed from a raging bull into a human being as he walked toward me. But I imagined steam still snorted from his nostrils.

  “You know, I always prided myself on staying cool under any duress. Ice in the veins. But you, woman. Somehow...”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  He edged toward me. His eyes still flickered with icy blue heat. “I don’t know what Robert ever saw in you.”

  I smirked. “As I said, the feeling’s mutual.”

  “Geez.” He kicked the drum. From the look that flashed across his face, I think he regretted it.

  “Feel good?” Something told me to stop stoking this fire, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to hurt him, and at the moment, words were my only weapon.

  He set his jaw, took two steps toward me, then turned and walked out of the garage bay into the moonlight.

  Seeing my chance, I crawled across the floor toward the back door. My knees ached as they pressed against the hard pavement. Then I heard his shoes thump left, right, left. I scooted back as fast as I could to my original place.

  He scanned me over, and smirked at my grungy knees. I expected chastisement. Instead he turned and dropped some coins into a vending machine. A soda can clunked down the chute. I heard the tab pop and the carbonated whoosh. He meandered over to where I crouched, his frame loomed above me. “Diet. Right?”

  I nodded. He squatted and held it to my lips. The fizz tickled my nose. He pulled it back, waited for me to swallow, then pressed the can to my lips again, tilting it a touch more. I guzzled quickly. Then he set it down on the floor and walked back to the machine, jingling coins from his pocket.

  I couldn’t help it. Carbonation bubbles stuck deep in my esophagus. They exploded out of my mouth in a very un-ladylike bullfrog sound.

  Tom’s shoulders moved up and down as he stifled a laugh. He plunked a few coins in the machine and punched his choice.

  My cheeks flushed. “Excuse me.”

  He popped the top, sipped, and then pointed the can at me. “Your stomach’s empty. I shouldn’t have made you guzzle it. My fault.”

  My gaze shot to the floor. Had he done it to humiliate me, to put me in my place? It worked. After a deep sigh, I looked back at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to be decent to each other now?” He set his soda down on the oil drum and came over to me.

  I sucked in my breath as he approached, unable to read his stone-set face underneath a thick five o’clock shadow. I gave him a brief nod and looked back at the concrete.

  “Okay.” He elevated my head, locking my view to see only him as those blue eyes glared into my soul. He flipped the knife back and forth in front of my face. “Let’s try this one last time.”

  I bobbed my head in submission and licked my lower lip. He brushed it with his finger, his face just inches away from me. “Sorry I pulled so hard.”

  His warm breath smelled a lot better than the rest of the garage. So did the remnants of his citrus-musk scent blended with day old, manly sweat. He leaned around me, our torsos touching. I heard a snap, then felt my wrists being released from their plastic bonds. Or was it a heartstring he’d just plucked?

  With a sideways grin, he rocked back. “Better?”

  The blood rushed into my arms as I pulled them forward and rubbed them.

  I almost hugged him in thanksgiving, but stopped in mid-thought.

  Outlined by the moonlight, his countenance loomed in front of me as his eyes watched for my reaction. I could see the muscles in his arms, the solidness of his chest. Part of me wanted to cling to him for safety, another kiss him, and yet another slap the living fool out of him. I tried to choose one, but couldn’t. I remembered my inner voice’s advice from the day before. Keep cool. Yet one look at him and I felt my knees weaken.

  My savior, my captor—with black locks, sapphire eyes, six-pack abs and a cologne that stirred my senses. I was drawn to him like a hummingbird to a trumpet flower. As his stare fixed on my face, I could sense him thinking the same about me.

  One of us was obviously mad as a hatter for thinking what we were thinking. But which one?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I sighed, rubbed my arms, and tried to keep any emotion from registering on my face. “Tom, to be honest, I’m too tired to argue anymore.”

  “Tired of?”

  I flashed him an incredulous look. I waved my hands around me. “All of this.”

  He cocked his head. “You don’t care for the choice of accommodations?”

  I crossed my legs and tucked my feet under me. I picked up a pretend daisy and began to pluck its petals. “You drug me, you’re nice to me, you drug me, you’re nice to me. Geez, Tom. I want off this roller coaster.”

  He scratched his head with the blunt edge of the knife, then folded it closed. He stared at the crack in the concrete between us as if all the answers were going to magically appear out of it. I waited for his response.

  “My neck’s on the line here as well, Jen. I have my orders. I told you, I’m not the one running point in this.”

  I cocked my head. “It can’t be Mae Lin. My supposedly dead husband, then?”

  He raised his eyes, their blue washed into a dull color of faded blue jeans. “Let go of that string. No matter how hard you tug, it won’t unravel to reveal anything you want to know.”

  I rolled my shoulders to reduce the stiffness. “I just want to go home. Go back to the office, back to my mourning. Back to my empty life and feed the stray cat that keeps hovering around my patio.”

  Tom’s face softened. He reached for my hand and held it in a soft caress. “I know. I’m sorry. But it’s impossible now.”

  My eyes clouded. Through damp lashes I firmed my nerve. “Okay, so now what?”

  He pushed his eyebrows together. The wrinkle lines on his forehead became cavernous. I guess my shift in subject startled him. But I wasn’t going to reveal a chink in my armor into which he could slide his hand and twist my heart again. I repositioned my legs, drew them to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them for protection.

  He wiped his hand over his face and it became all business—focused, stern, determined.

  “We wait here until three a.m. Then we take the clunker behind this station and head south. It’s already filled with gas.”

  “Why not now? Or is it another protocol to stealthily sneak off in the wee hours?”

  He huffed. “Because I am dead tired too, okay? I need to sleep for a few hours. I’m trusting you not to thump me over the head with a torque wrench and leave.” He reached in his pant pocket and pulled out six spark plugs. “But just in case I’m wrong, I took the liberty to remove these. Robert said you were mechanically challenged. I’m betting you can’t change out plugs.”

  “No.” I picked at a loose string on my jeans.

  He leaned into my face. “Cars without spark plugs don’t go very far. And we are in the middle of nowhere in an abandoned gas station. I wouldn’t try it on foot.”

  “Thanks for the info.” I stood and stretched, then turned back to him. “I am allowed to move around a bit, right?”

  “As long as you keep your paws off the tools, ropes or anything else you’d want to use to maim me.” He stood as well, but instead of walking toward me, he pivoted, walked to the oil drum, and grabbed his soda can. Leaning against the barrel, he studied me. “Be smart, Jen. I’m your best bet right now. You really have no inkling what’s...”

  I interlocked my arms. “Enlighten me.”

  His face hardened again. “You know I can’t. We’ve had this conversation.” He walked to the far end of the garage, into the shadows. “By the way, they insisted on tying you up. They’ll probably have my neck for letting you loose. But I couldn’t stand to see you pinned there like a calf
in a rodeo.”

  “Thank you, Tom.” I meant it.

  He raised his finger. “Uh-uh. It’s Travis now. There is a restroom through that door, and a small office with a fridge. You’ll find sandwiches in there, and bottles of water. Sorry, no Yogurt Tree today.”

  There was a moan of stretching canvas. I heard him grunt, then sigh. In the shadows I made out his horizontal form on an army cot. He laced his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. “We’ve got about six hours. Eat if you want. There’s another cot here if you get tired. But I warn you, I might snore.” With that, he flipped over on his side, his back to me. The cot made an echoing creak as it stretched under his weight.

  I wandered over, found the other cot, and sat on it. “Why did you untie me, really?”

  He rolled back to face me. “Against all protocol, I’ve become involved. Just like Robert did. At first I hated you for that, by the way. But now...” He swallowed. “I can deal with the fact I honestly care about you.”

  I leaned forward and rubbed one hand over the other. Was he telling me the truth? Did I dare respond back what my heart was beginning to feel? I wasn’t about to let my guard down—not just yet. “Then why did you gag me and tie me up to begin with?”

  He inhaled, held it a few seconds, then released his breath. He repositioned his head on his arm. “I told you. I didn’t. They did.”

  “You mean Mae Lin?”

  He waggled his head.

  “Okay, but you let her drug me.”

  “That was your choice. You tried to run. I had to do what they said…for your own sake. I really don’t want anything to happen to you, Jen. So, be good for a change, okay?” He yawned, then closed his eyes. His breathing deepened and slowed.

  I sat in the shadows of a grungy, smelly garage in the middle of God knew where. As I listened to his soft snores, I couldn’t deny the fact that Tom’s, uh, Travis’s presence comforted me. I didn’t want to be alone again. Still, maybe I should have reminded him to call me Debbie.