“From what you’ve been telling me, his kidnappers must be pretty sophisticated to abduct him from a busy restaurant in the middle of Hong Kong. So yes, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
A flicker of anger flares up inside me. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they want to take him? They could’ve taken anyone, with a fraction of the risk they were taking.”
“I guess organs from a strong, healthy foreigner fetch a higher market price.” His gaze travels up and down my body.
Ignoring his blatant ogling, I rub my cheek. “It still doesn’t add up. They asked me for ransom, for a million dollars. That’s more than what they could earn by selling his organs, I’m sure.”
“Trust me, it’s about money—it always is. Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough.”
The buzz of his cell vibrating causes Lance to peer at his screen, and I take the opportunity to examine the farm buildings through the front windshield. They seem vacant, uninhabited. No sign of life.
Is Ryder in there? Is he hurt? In pain? Still in one piece? A shiver runs down my spine. Please, let us be in time to rescue him.
Lance lowers his cell and stares out the window.
I tap his shoulder. “So what do we do now?”
“We’ll simply knock on the door and negotiate. My contacts have already alerted them of our arrival. They’re willing to talk.”
“How are we going to negotiate? I don’t know if money can persuade them.”
“There are other means of persuasion.” Grinning, he reaches behind him and pulls out a gun.
I raise my hands. “Hey, be careful, okay? We’re supposed to save Ryder, not finish him off.”
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He smirks. ”I won’t risk my fifty million.”
Tucking the gun back into his lower back, Lance exchanges a few words with Shortless Shirt in dialect, and the three men step out of the car. But when I try to follow him, the bald guy spins around and shoves me back in the seat.
His arm leaning on the door, Lance says, “Stay in the car and don’t move. Wait here till we’re back.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m coming.”
I start to stand up, intending to slip past Baldie, but he shoulders me back into the car.
“It’s too dangerous,” Lance says, glaring at me. “If you’re there, it shows weakness on my part, and that will undermine my bargaining power.”
I guess he is right. Do I honestly think I can help? To negotiate with criminals? What does it matter if I’m here, as long as they get Ryder out? I look through the windshield at the seemingly deserted buildings in the middle of nowhere. Without a car—without me—, they won’t be leaving any time soon.
“Okay, I’ll stay. Just keep the engine running.”
As Lance shuts the door behind me, I climb to the front seat, letting the air from the vents cool my skin. My eyes follow the three to the front of the building, but lose sight of them as they reach the entrance, for it’s blocked by a tree.
Ten minutes pass.
Fifteen. Then twenty.
Still no sign of Lance or the other two.
I’m getting impatient, having scoured the car for anything of interest and coming up with nothing but a brown blanket and some discarded snack packets. Even the glove compartment doesn’t yield anything more useful than a pen and some old gas receipts. I lower the window a crack, just enough to listen to the chirping of crickets without letting too much hot air in.
I lean back in my seat, my feet on the dashboard. God, I’m whipped. I haven’t had any sleep all night, and on the way here I was too fired up to get some shut-eye. I guess this is good a time as any for a power nap.
Yawning, I recline the car seat. But just as I doze off, I hear a bang from outside, causing my eyes to snap open. Sitting up, I let down the window and hear another two bangs resounding in rapid succession, their echoes breaking the stillness of the fields. Were those gunshots?
My heart pounding, I grab the door handle. What if something has gone wrong? What if the three of them have been shot?
I slowly open the car door, my eyes fixed on the low buildings. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, and there are no more shots. Should I check it out?
I take off my shoes and gingerly step out of the car, shutting the door softly behind me. Crouching down on the hot sand, I move to the front of the car. I scan my surroundings, my ears open for any unusual sounds. What shall I do: knock on the front door and hope for the best, or prowl around the property to find another entrance? Or I could drive away, alerting the authorities. But by that time, it may be too late. Damn, I wish I had a phone so I could find out what the hell happened to Lance—it’s been more than half an hour.
I make my decision: I’ll try to find another entrance. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into anyone, and hopefully find out what’s become of Lance and co. After a glance around, I get to my feet and take a few steps toward the buildings, when the roar of an explosion makes me fall backward.
What the hell was that?
A sharp pain shoots into my lower back, my weak spot since my motorbike accident. Groaning, I remain on the ground until the pain subsides. Slowly scrambling up to my feet, my hand rubbing my back, I peer at the buildings in front of me to uncover the source of the loud bang. Nothing to be seen.
No, not true—a wisp of smoke is billowing from the far end. Something bad must have happened to Lance. And who knows, to Ryder.
My heart racing, I rush toward the building, ignoring the throbbing ache in my back. As I reach it, I tap the hot, windowless concrete wall as I hurry along it. I turn the corner, and my heart lurches when I spot a door. Oh please God, let it be unlocked.
I stretch out my hand and grip the hot metal knob. It turns!
The door is heavy, but I open it a crack and quickly slip inside, letting it shut behind me with a soft click. To the left and right of me stretches a cream-carpeted hallway lit by downlights. Judging from the exterior, I’d expected the interior to be a lot more basic than it is. As I turn to my right, passing doors on both sides, the smell of smoke reaches my nostrils. Is Ryder in one of these rooms?
I decide to open the doors, but when I try the first one, it is locked, as is the door across from it. The acrid smell is becoming stronger, and a glance ahead tells me that gray puffs of smoke obscure the end of the hallway.
What if Ryder is locked in one of these rooms and I can’t get him out before the smoke reaches him? I spin around and run to where I came from, trying every single door. All locked—damn. But I can’t give up, I won’t.
I reach a bend that leads to a dim hallway. Again, I’m unable to open the first door I come across. But then I spot a gap in the doorway opposite it. A sliver of hope dancing in my chest, I shove it open, but it is too dark to make out the contents of the room. My hand searches for a light switch next to the door, and when I finally find one, I flick it. My eyes blink a few times to adjust to the bright light. And then I see it.
A table in the middle of the room. On it lies a barechested man, still and unmoving. His feet and wrists are bound to the table with rope.
I take a step forward, and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s Ryder.
Rushing to his side, I place my hand against his cheek, in his neck. He’s still warm—alive. But I don’t see his chest rise and fall. Is he not breathing? As panic claws at me, my cold fingers grip Ryder’s shoulders, placing my ear in front of his nose. A few seconds pass, or a minute—it feels like eternity. But then I feel a warm puff of air against my earshell.
Thank God.
Taking a step forward, my foot connects with something soft and springy. I peer down, and it turns out the stomach of an overweight Asian man crumpled on the floor, one hand on his chest. Next to him lies a used syringe. Is this his kidnapper? What did he inject Ryder with? A sedative?
With shaking fingers, I undo the ropes around Ryder’s feet and wrists, surprised to find that one side is undone. Untie
d, his arms fall limply to the sides. His arm feels heavy when I lift it back to the table, and I realize I’m going to have a hard time to get him out of here.
I glance down at the fat belly of the unconscious man on the floor, and an idea sparks in my head. I take Ryder’s legs and swing them to the side. With one hand supporting his back, I shove his body off the table until he drops to the ground, the big belly cushioning his fall. I carefully slide him off the belly, onto the floor. Next I grasp his ankles and pull him towards the door.
After a yard or two, I have to stop to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Damn, he’s heavy. My back is killing me. There is no way I can drag him all the way down the hall to the outside door. Slowly getting to my feet, I glance around the room, but it is bare apart from a cabinet behind the table. When I inspect its shelves, all I find is surgery equipment: metal instruments like scalpels and scissors, bottles, test tubes, surgical masks, gloves, and bandages. A plastic sheet I find on the bottom shelf would have been useful if it were a lot larger, thicker, and stronger. More like the blanket I found in the car. If I had that, I could slide Ryder on top of it and pull him along.
Excitement spurring me on, I rush to the door to get the blanket. But when I open the door, the overpowering smell of smoke halts me in my tracks. It will take too long to go to the car and back—I can’t risk it. Covering my nose and mouth with my hand, I shut the door, spinning around. As I do, a movement by the window catches my eye: the billowing of a curtain.
Of course.
I rush to the table, shove it against the window, and haul myself onto its surface. On my tiptoes, I reach for the top of the curtain and yank it off the rail, revealing a boarded-up window behind it. Back on the floor, I fold the curtain a few times and tuck one side of it under Ryder’s legs. I return to his ankles to drag him onto the curtain. It’s not as easy as I’d thought—the fabric keeps on slipping—but finally I manage to haul him onto the material.
Squatting, I walk backwards, pulling on the curtain with both hands until I get to the door. It is slightly easier than before; hopefully it will make a difference on the carpet in the hall. Feeling lightheaded, I speed back to the shelves and pick up two surgical masks, one of which I put on Ryder and the other on myself.
When I open the door, the cloud of smoke produces instant tears. Keeping my eyes closed, I pull Ryder out of the room, heading into the direction where I came from. To my relief, the curtain glides effortlessly along the carpet, even though my back ache is still bothering me. Slowly but steadily I manage to move him along the hall to the end, where it bends to the left.
Almost there. I only need to turn the corner and I’ll get to the door.
Gritting my teeth, I collect all my strength to yank him around the bend. And that’s when I feel it in my back—an intense heat. A backward glance shows me yellow and orange flames licking at the walls behind a curtain of smoke.
Only a few yards more.
“I can do it,” I say again and again, in the hope that saying the words will make me believe them. The heat searing my back, I pull him, inch by inch, when a groan sounds from underneath me.
“E—Elle?”
Confusion swims in Ryder’s eyes. His hand is on the face mask, trying to pull it off.
I instantly drop the curtain and crouch beside him, shaking my head furiously. “Ryder, no! Don’t take it off. We’re almost there.” I point to the door.
Boom!
I am flung forward, crashing on top of his body. The fall causes such an excruciating pain to pervade my lower back that stars swim in front of me. The blazing heat now surrounds us, as does the thick smoke. I can’t breathe, I can’t move.
We’re not going to make it.
The thought should have sent a wave of panic to my system, but strangely, all I feel is a sense of calm. With Ryder’s strong chest beneath me, his heart beating against mine, it is like this is meant to be. He and I, together. Even if this is the end.
My head is on his shoulder, his warm breath caressing my ear. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking.
My heart flows over, and before a sob threatens to choke me, I whisper back, “Love you, too.”
And I do. I realize it now: my heart will always belong to him, no matter what. Whatever fear, anxiety, and jealousy I may have felt before, seems trivial now. The only thing that counts is his love for me, and I know, I feel it in every single cell of my body. And as it surges, fusing with the immense love I feel for him, I could not have been happier.
Smiling, I close my eyes. I start drifting off when an unfamiliar, low voice brings me back to earth.
“I’ve got you.” Strong arms lift me up, pulling me away from Ryder.
“No, no! Not me. Ryder, take him,” I shout to the firefighter, trying to push him away.
But I’m too weak to struggle, and my arms go limp.
I must have lost consciousness for when I open my eyes, I am outside, lying on my back. As I take in a deep breath, I start coughing and coughing so forcefully that only a few minutes later do I notice a paramedic standing beside me.
“You’re safe now. You’ll be fine.” Fixing an oxygen mask across my face, he pats me on the shoulder and moves away from me. As I wipe at my watering eyes, I take in tidy cabinets and equipment around me—the interior of an ambulance. When I tilt my head up a little, I can see beyond the stretcher I’m lying on. Through the opened rear doors I catch sight of two police cars and a fire truck.
I furrow my brow. How did they get here so quickly?
In the distance, clouds of smoke shroud the building I escaped from. I remember being lifted up and carried away. A feeling of panic engulfs me. What happened to Ryder? Did he manage to get out?
Sitting up, I scan around for a sign, for any sign of him. Police officers are milling about, fire fighters are pulling bodies out to safety, paramedics are carrying a body on a stretcher. Could that be him?
Yanking the oxygen mask off, I swing my legs to the side and hop off the stretcher. I am about to step off the ambulance when a small but strong hand keeps me in place.
“Stay here. You need to rest,” says a familiar voice, and when I turn to its source, my mouth falls open.
“Ying?”
She smiles at me, a badge dangling from her neck.
I point at it. “Are you—?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m a police officer. I was undercover.”
A million questions invade my brain, but before I can fire them off, a loud roar resounds.
I spin around.
And watch the buildings go up in flames.
Chapter 15
Elle
“You all right?”
I lift my gaze away from my reflection in the polished floor. Sitting beside me, Ying returns it with a questioning quirk of her brow.
“Seriously, I feel fine. I’m just bushed.” My voice cracks, revealing how I feel inside. I’ve failed in so many ways. I’ve failed Ryder.
I desperately wanted to stay at the site of the fire to find out if they’d found him. When they told me to leave, I remember kicking and screaming while they dragged me away to the ambulance. They must have given me a light sedative, for I can’t recall most of the drive, only waking just before we arrived at the hospital.
I force a smile. “Any news? Ryder?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry.”
Sighing, I rub my temples. “Did anyone come out of that building alive?”
“Yeah, we’ve rescued quite a few people. Some have already been taken to hospital.”
I straighten in my seat, and a flash of pain charges through my back. Suppressing the urge to groan, I rub my lower back. Ying’s gaze is full of concern. “You really need to be checked out.”
I shake my head. “Not necessary.”
“Hey, if you weren’t my friend, I would’ve let you go. But I’ve already arranged for someone to examine you. A nurse will pick you up shortly.”
Is that what we are—friends? It’s cert
ainly a first for me, to befriend a cop. But I can’t help but wonder if she just used me to get what she needed: a breakthrough in her case. I’m not one to easily put my trust in people, and it’s even harder after the shock of discovering Ying was undercover. I wonder if everything she has been telling me is true. At least with Ryder I could feel it—his honesty, his sincerity. And only now do I realize that I’ve always had trust in him; it’s the niggling doubt we can work out our differences that’s made me question it.
I hope, I wish, I’ll have a chance to tell him that.
A short whistle sounds, and Ying glances at her phone—a text message. As a cop, she is privy to so much information—information I need to piece all the facts together. Much of what’s been happening still doesn’t make sense to me. So when she puts her cell away, I start firing off questions. “So, the triad who had Ryder, is that the one you were after, too?”
Ying nods. “Yes, the Chau Ho Yee. We already had close taps on them. But we couldn’t nail them for anything as we didn’t have any tangible evidence. And no one dared to talk.”
“Did you know they had him?”
“No. We’ve been keeping an eye on you. We’d received intel that you were the target for an abduction. So we’ve had you followed since you were in Hainan.”
I point two fingers at myself. “Me? Who’d ever want to kidnap me?”
“I’d say they wanted to hurt Ryder where he’d hurt the most. But I’m not sure why they changed their minds at the end. Probably because it was easier, after what happened in Hainan. After you’d been under protection.”
I furrow my brow. “I don’t get it. How did they know I’d go to the casino?”
She shrugs. “They probably didn’t. They followed you and waited for you there.”
Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes at her. “Where were you in the casino? Why didn’t you stop them when I was taken to the back room?”
Ying places her hand on my arm and looks down at it. “I’m so sorry about that. I received a call that my dad had a heart attack so I left to go back to Hong Kong. But before I got into the chopper, I figured out it was a hoax, a distraction. When I came back, you were already gone.” She lifts her gaze, and I squeeze her hand.
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