Serenade (The Nightmusic Trilogy Book 1)

by Heather McKenzie

  The wind had died, and by the faint morning light, I could see the little clouds my breath made in the freezing-cold air. I pulled my head back and looked up at him, still in awe of how impossibly beautiful and exactly perfect he was. I moved my fingers ever so gently over his Adam’s apple, marveling at how the texture of his stubble varied depending on which direction I slid my fingers. I traced his chin, and then my fingers continued to wander up to touch the scar adorning his cheek. The sun had tanned him a light, golden color, but the scar remained a pale white. I wanted to know how he got it. I wanted to wake him, look into his eyes, and ask him that question along with a thousand others, like—where did he live? What was his last name? Favorite color? I wanted to know about Louisa, too. What kind of woman was she to have captured his heart so strongly that he would go to such great lengths to get her back?

  That question twisted my stomach with horrific jealousy. Maybe there were some things I was better off not knowing.

  I put my head back against his chest. Regardless of the crazy circumstances, it was absolute bliss to be in his arms—to be in arms that didn’t belong to Oliver.

  Oh my God. Oliver.

  What was I doing? It was wrong to be snuggled up with this stranger—a man who is also taken. Everything I was thinking and feeling was just so very, very wrong. I had to get away…

  I carefully placed my hand under Luke’s elbow and pushed up to wiggle out from underneath. I’m engaged I repeated to myself, because it was absolute torture leaving him and the warm blankets he had constructed into a bed. For a moment, I questioned my sanity. I took one last look at him, slipped on his jacket, and snuck outside.

  The world had become a winter wonderland. Snow glistened and clung to the trees, and branches swayed under the weight. It was so calm, clean, and quiet. The tents had held up, although they were a bit haggard looking, but the small clearing for the fire was gone. I figured Seth and Regan were gone too, judging by the two sets of footprints leading off into the trees.

  I sat on the stump next to the knife Luke had used to cut the ropes from my wrists. I pulled, using my body weight as leverage to try and get it out, but my hands started to freeze, and it wouldn’t budge. I cursed my weakness, and then I tried again, but to no avail. I shoved my frozen hands into the pockets of Luke’s jacket and felt a very familiar shape.

  A gun.

  It could be my ticket out of here. The storm was over. The choppers could fly overhead and I could protect myself with until they found me. I just had to run…

  But I didn’t. Instead, I looked at the tent. I had made a promise to the man sleeping there and felt compelled to keep it—which was ridiculous. Why did he have such an inexplicable hold on me? I had to chain whatever feelings I had for him to an anchor and allow them to sink to the deepest part of my emotional ocean. He and I were never meant to be. I was engaged to Oliver. I was in love with Oliver.

  I toyed with the engagement ring that was a bit too big for my finger. But, was I really in love with Oliver? Because, if that was love, then what was this feeling I had for Luke?

  I guess whatever it was, it didn’t matter. I had to do the right thing. I would never be like Henry and hurt and lie to those who loved me.

  I put the gun on my lap. It was a titanium Hiezer Defense pistol, and I knew exactly how to use it. I checked the small ports on both sides of the chamber hood—it was loaded, and the button at the base of the grip opened the trapdoor to reveal two .45 Colt cartridges in place for reserve ammo.As I stared at it, lost in thought and completely confused, a loud cracking came from the trees. The heavy pines swayed behind Luke’s tent, and I thought I saw something move. A shadow stretched out, and then it disappeared. Snow slid off a giant branch with a loud thud, and Luke bolted out of the tent looking anxious, then smiled with relief when he saw me.

  The sleepy look in his eyes and his mussed-up hair made me blush. No human being should look that heart-stopping incredible. He rubbed his hands together, blowing his breath over his fingertips as he came toward me, but stopped when he noticed the gun on my lap. I was so distracted by his appearance I’d forgotten I’d even had it.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I warned, pointing the horrible thing at his feet.

  The most heartbreaking look came over his face. I could never fire at him, but he didn’t know that.

  “Kaya, please, put it down,” he said. As he raised his hands slightly, they shook. He was cold and the wool shirt not a thick enough barrier between him and the icy air. I felt bad that I’d stolen his jacket.

  “If you come any closer, I’ll shoot you. Don’t test me,” I warned, but my voice was entirely unbelievable.

  He stood there motionless. I avoided looking into his sky-blue eyes because they made it impossible to think. I knew that after last night, he could tell me to eat rocks and I’d probably give it a go. If I was going to go through with this, I was just going to have to put my head down and run. But first, I had a question to ask.

  “How long have you been plotting to kidnap me?”

  “What? I don’t know—a while,” he answered.

  I needed to know. I noticed something move behind the tent again and assumed it was Seth and Regan returning. I felt desperate for an answer. “How long?” I demanded.

  “Six months, I guess. It took four months to organize the break in, and then we had two months of planning before the race.”

  “Are you responsible for what happened at the hospital?” I asked.

  “Uh…?”

  “Did you try to kill me when I was visiting someone there?”

  He looked totally confused. “No. Uh… oh my God, no.”

  Damn. If it had been him, it would have been easier to get my feet moving. “Last year, my childhood nanny was shot and killed by someone aiming for me,” I said quietly.

  His mouth fell open ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Kaya, but please know that it wasn’t me—or any of us. I didn’t even know who you were a year ago.”

  He was telling the truth. I stood up from the stump and backed up toward the bushes. His eyes widened in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  Don’t look at him! I reminded myself. “I am getting out of here.”

  “Oh, come on, Kaya, please. There is nowhere for you to go; we are a thousand miles from civilization.”

  “They’ll find me. They’ll take me back,” I said and looked up at the much-too-quiet sky.

  “Take you back where? To your extravagant cage? I saw where you live. How many guards do you have with you all the time? How closely are you watched? Is that any sort of life? Just let me get you to a safe place first, and then you can go wherever—”

  I couldn’t listen any longer. It was making me weak. I turned and bolted into the trees. My legs were strong again and my head clear, but the snow had made everything a slippery mess. I tripped. I got back up and kept running.

  I heard Luke begging me to stop, and the angst in his voice became one-hundred-pound weights around my ankles. He was fast approaching, and his even breathing grew louder until he caught me, grabbed me by the arm of the jacket, and tripped me to the ground. I landed face first in the snow and the gun fell inches out of my reach.

  “Let me go!” I yelled.

  He flipped me over so we were face to face, his hands gripping my wrists tightly as he sat on my legs, pinning me down—exactly what he said he would never do. I thought my heart would burst inside my chest; I wanted him desperately and had to get away from him all at the same time. “Let me go,” I demanded.

  A look of turmoil came over him. “I promised myself I wouldn’t hold you against your will,” he said, “and here I am doing it again.”

  The look on his face was more crushing than the weight of him. Oliver. Think of Oliver. Don’t let him distract you. “You have to let me go. This isn’t right; I can’t be here,” I said, but the words weren’t even remotely convincing.

  His eyes bore into mine. I looked away.

  “I can’t let you
wander off and die,” he said with a gulp.

  “Henry will find me.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  I thought of the tracker on my ankle. “He will.”

  “Do you really want to go back?”

  I couldn’t be truthful. No, of course I didn’t want to go back… but I couldn’t tell him that. I pushed hard against him, and he let go. He stood up, backing away a few feet while wrestling with his conscience. I grabbed the gun out of the snow and got onto my knees, pointing it at his torso while catching my breath and trying to calm my pounding heart.

  “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” I said, holding the gun with both hands and reminding myself yet again to not look him in the eyes.

  “You might have to,” he said, and I noticed something move in the bushes behind him.

  I narrowed my eyes on the snow-covered branches and evergreens. A dark shape shifted from the bush as Luke tried to reason with me.

  “You can go if you want,” he said, “but I’ll follow you and make sure you are safe and protect you. Wherever you go, I’ll go, and when I know with certainty that you’ll be all right, I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.”

  It moved again. A slight blur, a darkening of the light, and there it was—what had been moving around in the bushes and lurking in the shadows was crouched and ready to kill—a sleek, yellow, mountain lion. It was focused on Luke, tail twitching at its unaware prey. I shifted the gun just slightly up and to the right, but too many branches were in the way of a clear shot. “Do. Not. Move,” I said to Luke as firmly as I could.

  He froze when I cocked the trigger. The cat was ready to pounce. If I could just get behind Luke, the cat would get to me first, but at least I could shoot it before it got to him…

  “I guess you’ll have to kill me then, because I’m not leaving you to die out here in these God forsaken mountains,” Luke said sadly.

  He thought I was pointing the gun at him.

  “No, I…” but before I could explain the cat leapt from where it was, and faster than I had anticipated was inches from Luke’s back. I aimed and took fire, grazing its shoulder. Luke spun around, and the cat’s claws lashed out. I shot again, this time hitting the beast squarely in the head and killing it.

  Luke fell to his knees, clutching his chest as the cat lay before him with its brains scattered about. I dropped the gun in shock and practically dove toward him, kicking the slain beast out of the way. “Oh my God, are you okay? Luke… Answer me!” I yelled, panicking as blood seeped through his shirt and dripped onto the fresh, white snow.

  “Uh, I… am fine,” he said with a stunned look on his face.

  He pulled his blood-soaked hands away from his chest, looked at them, and then collapsed backward. I tore open the front of his shirt—the cat’s claws had made four, long gashes across his torso, and they were bleeding profusely. “I’m so sorry,” I said, trembling from head-to-toe, “I tried to get it with the first shot… I should have—”

  “Kaya, you saved my life,” he said in awe.

  And it was then that I finally allowed myself to stare fully into his incredible eyes. I took them in completely, and it hit me: the realization that I would have done anything to save him. I was ready to throw my own body in front of that mountain lion for him, without any hesitation, without any regret. I would have given my life to save his in a heartbeat.

  Well… what the hell did that mean?

  I put my hands on his cheeks, so incredibly grateful that he was alive. Now, I had to keep him that way. “You’re gonna be okay,” I said with as much reassurance as I could muster. I pulled off the plaid shirt he had given me last night and pressed the thick, heavy fabric to his wounds. Then I put the jacket back on and retrieved the gun in case there were any more mountain lions around. “We have to get you back to camp. Regan will have something to patch you up with,” I said, unable to control the fear choking my throat.

  The red snow around Luke made my head woozy. I took in a deep breath and pressed down on the plaid fabric, hoping to slow the bleeding, but blood oozed between my fingers and through the soaked fabric.

  “It’s just blood, Kaya. Don’t pass out on me,” he said.

  “Can you walk? Luke, I don’t know what to do… Are you okay? Oh my God… I’m so sorry…” I was rambling and on the edge of an anxiety attack.

  He put his hands over mine. “I’m fine. Really. I think I’m more in shock over what happened than anything else. You know, you’re a pretty good shot.”

  His voice had taken on that same calm tone it had last night when he was trying to soothe me. I couldn’t let my anxiety take over. I had to keep myself together. For him.

  “Thank you,” he said tilting my chin toward his face.

  I saw the world in his eyes, and the sight of it snapped my head into extreme clarity—I could put aside my fears so I could do whatever it took to keep him alive.

  “Can you walk?” I asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” he said and forced himself up.

  Blood trickled steadily down his flat stomach toward his belt. He stumbled often as we made our way back to the camp, him dragging the dead cat by the tail in one hand and holding the plaid shirt to his chest with the other. I looked at the trail behind us; our footprints were bloody streaks in the snow. Neon signs couldn’t have done a better job of leading anything, or anyone, straight to us.

  She had been gone for twenty-five hours. The morning ticked away in the hot, airless room, the tension thicker than the reinforced steel walls.

  “They’ve sent a video,” said Old Carl to the group of us gathered in the security office. “I’ll put it up on the screen.” His withered hands seemed remarkably steady as they moved the mouse, bringing the screen to life. As we all watched, a shaky lens brought the ground into focus. The light was dim, and there was rustling and sniffling, and then Kaya’s face appeared. I nearly jumped out of my skin. There were tears pouring from her eyes as she stared past the camera. She appeared to be lying down on a blanket, unrestrained, shaking but not moving. I got a chill so violent my teeth began to throb.

  “Looks like they’ve drugged her with something,” Davis said gently, his hand moving to my shoulder.

  Henry said nothing. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he seemed calmer than Old Carl as the video showed a man’s dirty hand move to his daughter’s neck. Staring numbly at the screen, he reacted like he was watching a television ad for dish soap. Stephan, however, looked like he might pass out any second. His nose was fire-engine red and tears were threatening to pour. When a bloodcurdling scream erupted past Kaya’s lips, he yelped, and everyone in the room froze.

  ‘Stop, please stop…’ my girl was begging her captors, tears spilling from her eyes. I put my head in my hands. I had never cried in my life, not even allowing a bit of dampness to cloud my eyes, but watching this brought on the tears. Stephan started to sob. We couldn’t tell what was happening to her, but every horrific scenario imaginable flashed through all our minds. Whatever happened while this was filmed, it had been painful.

  I would kill them all.

  She screamed again. It was the most heartbreaking, gut wrenching sound I’d ever heard. Everyone in the room, even Old Carl, shifted uneasily— only Henry seemed unfazed.

  Then the camera panned out and gave us the briefest glimpse of a man crouched at Kaya’s feet. When the frame re-focused, the camera was pointed at the ground, but the dirt had been replaced with white, sparkly snow speckled with red. A muffled voice boomed through the speakers.

  “As I’m sure you are well aware, we have Kaya Lowen,” said a man whose face was kept safely hidden, “and we have no problem torturing her every time we hear your helicopters. In fact, we rather enjoy it.”

  A knife came into view, the blade of it dripping with what could only be blood. I thought I might be sick.

  “Wait,” said Davis, leaping out of his chair. “Carl, rewind it a bit, to where we see the glimpse of a man by her feet.”


  Carl backed up the video.

  “Zoom in a bit,” Davis said, leaning forward eagerly.

  “You can’t see his face; he is wearing a hood,” Old Carl said with snark in his tone.

  “No, zoom in on her feet, yes… there—stop,” he said, moving closer to the screen.

  “What is it, Davis?” Henry asked, completely agitated by the interruption.

  “Huh? Oh, um—well nothing, I guess. I thought maybe I saw something in the background, a clue to her location or something, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter, boy. We know where she is; we just haven’t been able to get there, yet!” Henry bellowed.

  “Right, right. Sorry sir, continue on,” Davis said, giving me an odd look.

  Carl pressed play again, and the kidnapper resumed stating his demands. “Here’s the deal: stay away from us, and we will deliver the girl back to you safely. We require two million dollars in cash, divided evenly between two identical backpacks by noon tomorrow, or we will have some more fun with your daughter. You will receive another message shortly with further instructions.”

  Then the screen went blank.

  There was a quiet pause in the room while everyone collected themselves. Henry spoke first, his voice cold, detached, and clinical. “Carl, organize another unit, and get it up there right away. Find out exactly where our men are on foot and how close they are.”

  I was about to protest, but Carl did it for me. “Sir, with all due respect, sending another chopper will only put her more in danger. We should wait for them to contact us again and follow their instructions.”

  “They aren’t going to kill her,” Henry said casually.

  “You don’t know that—”

  “Yes, I do. If they were going to kill her, they would have done it by now. She is worth nothing if she’s dead. They might inflict some more pain to try and make us sweat a bit, but she’s a tough girl, she can handle it.”