“Morgan, my bracelet!”
“Your what?” he asked.
My mother’s gold was gone.
“I… I must have lost it when we left the room. We need to go back. I have to…”
Before I could finish my thought, Morgan hit the brakes hard, and I started forward in my seat as I saw a dark van swinging into view and stop right in front of the car.
“Where are we?” I asked. “What’s happening?”
“I… I’m not sure,” he said. His voice was as it had been when the plane fell to the earth. I started to push my door open when Morgan motioned for me to hang back.
“It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Wait here.”
Following his orders, I watched without breathing as Morgan raced towards the van, his arms flailing wildly as an array of masked men stepped into view. The sight of them turned my blood cold, and I was ready to run when I saw a club or something as hard come crashing down on Morgan’s neck.
“No!” I screamed as I moved from the car and pounded my fists into the air. “Get your hands off of him!”
My speech was stopped when something hard hit my head, and I moaned as my body was dragged into the back of the van. Hands reached up my skirt, and I sobbed at the touch when someone unseen snapped his fingers.
Not yet. Tie her up.
Before the bonds claimed my hands, I managed shift my eyes to my wrist. Where was my mother’s gold now? Would Peter find it and know that this wasn’t my choice? Would I ever have the chance to just…?
Everything went black, and I had no way of knowing what might come next.
Chapter Eleven
“Gypsy! Are you here? I’ve been looking everywhere for…” Peter said.
He thought that maybe he should have told her the whole truth. He had tried to do as much when she ran away and failed to look back. But as soon as he was back in the space of the night, she was nowhere to be found. He kept running in what had to be the wrong direction. And then he’d seen a car closely resembling Morgan’s rented vehicle and he’d pounded on the window and tried to open the door. But the car moved too fast. Peter could have sworn that he saw her inside, and he had screamed louder as he chased after the departing vehicle. Peter thought that he should have been straight with her from the start. And he realized what a fool he had been to think that she would have just bought into his words and never imagined that the truth would have come their way.
So I’m a drug dealer, he thought, or rather I was. Couldn’t she just be with me now?
But he knew Caroline well enough to know that she couldn’t do that.
When she was gone, Peter’s hands had formed into fists, and he punched the ground hard. If only she had just let me talk, let me explain. Just the thought that she could truly turn the corner and never look back sliced at Peter’s heart, and when he thought he saw her crawl into the back of Morgan’s car, he had the feeling that his two friends had betrayed him. Would he ever see her again? Was there a way to win her back? He had run after the car, but he tripped over his own feet and moaned into the gravel. Spitting away the bits of stone caught between his teeth, he leapt to his feet and kept moving in the direction the car had taken. Small cars, playing at being cabs, pressed close to the curb.
“Need some help, friend?” one of the driver’s asked.
Peter was ready to take the driver with the long beard and a kid’s smile up on his offer. Anything to just find her.
“There… there was a gray car,” Peter said as he slapped his hand to the back of his seat. “My… he’s got my girl.”
“Girl?” the driver asked. “Mister, maybe you should call the cops.”
But Peter knew that no one could trust the fuzz, especially not a man like him. He shook his head and pleaded for the driver to just keep moving.
“Gray car,” he repeated. “She’s inside.”
“Maybe she don’t want to be found,” the driver suggested. “And I’m not about to…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Peter bellowed. “Here!”
He pressed a wad of bills into the man’s hand and the driver instantly abandoned any reservations when it came to Peter’s request. He told Peter to hunker down in the back.
“Hear you loud and clear,” he said. “So let’s go find your lady.”
Peter leaned over the edge of the passenger’s seat, Morgan’s car still in my sights.
“You want I should speed up?” the driver suggested. “Give me another hundred, and I can run them off the road.”
Peter’s fingers curled into a tight fist, and he nearly brought the blow to the back of the driver’s neck but he managed to hold back and furiously shook his head.
“Just follow them,” he said. “Car has to stop sometime. And when it does, I have to be there.”
The car suddenly hit a huge pothole in the road, and Peter fell back into the seat and smashed his head against the window.
“What are you…?” he said through gritted teeth.
The car veered off to the side and then the driver brought it to a halt.
“Mister? Guy? You still with me?” the driver said, looking back over his shoulder.
In his daze, as darkness poured into the car, Peter’s mind was assailed by the worst of all worlds. Sure, he thought, she was with Morgan. And he was just a dumb kid on the wrong flight. But there were other enemies. Swanson was in town on his heels. And Peter couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t shake these people off and move to the next point?
“He… I can’t let anything happen to her…” he said, almost to himself.
Just the idea of Caroline tied down, a hand pushing over her mouth making it impossible for her to scream or breathe caused Peter to shake, and his mind raced as he thought of hard hands bruising her all over again. And this time it would be his fault. Because he hadn’t fought hard enough to keep her close or truly followed her into the abyss. On the brink of sinking into despair, Peter yelled at the driver.
“Why the hell are we stopped?” he demanded. “Thought I told you to keep…”
“Flat, man,” the driver said. “Heard you when you said no cops. So I’m handling it.”
The driver lifted the spare from the hatch in the trunk and started to work the jack under the car. To see him on his knees, grease spilling between his fingers, Peter thought that his story seemed to check out. This was just a simple twist of fate. But this time Peter was the wrong side of it.
“I’ll handle this,” he said. “Then we’ll get right back on the trail.”
His task seemed endless and Peter thought that he could have changed the tire quicker with both hands tied behind his back. And then the irony of his thought occurred to him. It was the last thing he wanted. And the last thing he wanted for Caroline.
“Can you hurry it up?” Peter barked.
“Almost got the job done,” the man said. “Just a few more seconds.”
That translated into minutes, and Peter’s hand repeatedly opened and closed in a tight fist. Every moment without Caroline was too much mystery for him to think about. So what if she could take care of herself? Peter still wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and feel her breath against his cheek. His knuckles turned white, his veins nearly bursting through his skin when finally the driver skipped to his feet and wiped his palms on the back of his jeans.
“All good now!” he said. “So we keep driving around or what?”
But Peter wondered if perhaps he had got it all wrong. What if she was just trying to blow off some steam? Even without the specifics, she had seen the danger once and had still come back for more. She had still come back to him and to everything that he wanted to give her. But they were strangers in a strange land, and she didn’t have Danny’s studio as the almost perfect place to hide.
“Take me back,” Peter said. “I… she has to be there.”
“You sure?” the driver asked.
“Sure of her,” Peter said to himself.
They raced b
ack to the B&B, and Peter almost fell out of the car in the hope of seeing her, holding her again. As soon as Peter stepped onto the pavement, his eyes met the gold bracelet crushed into the ground. Losing her mother’s prized token now was either a sign for him to follow or a confirmation that she was in such danger that her captors wanted something more than bling.
Strangely hoping for the latter, Peter bent down to pick up the bracelet and pressed the gold squares into his pocket.
“You got something there?” the driver asked.
No longer knowing which way to turn or where to look, Peter simply fingered the gold, his breath hitting the air as he searched for some sign of her. But there was no sight or scent of Caroline, and Peter told the driver that he could leave him here. Maybe she was already waiting for him and had simply dropped the bracelet without noticing as she returned to the hotel. Maybe she was just waiting to make it up to him. Not that she had anything to be sorry for, he thought. The blame was his alone, and when Peter saw the door cracked open, he felt sure that she was back, and he headed into the room.
“Gypsy! Are you here? I’ve been looking everywhere for…”
The room was exactly as he had left it. Sure the sheets were out of place, and cardboard box tops were scattered in every direction. But there was no sign of a struggle beyond that. But the door had been open so someone had been here.
So where was Caroline?
Outside, Peter heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Looking for anything in the way of a weapon, he pulled a lamp from its socket and twisted it in the air, intending to lay waste to whoever had taken her and might cause her sweet body harm.
“Now, now. Easy, easy, easy,” a voice said as the door was pushed open.
It took Peter several seconds to comprehend that the man speaking now did so in a familiar voice behind a friendly visage. But as soon as he was able to blink, he didn’t need to look for the answer to make sense of what was happening. It was Swanson, the man and his scarred face back in full force, and Peter started towards him when Swanson suddenly formed a fist and sent him flailing to the ground.
“All you had to do was listen,” he said as he kicked Peter’s thighs, causing him to groan as he clutched his middle. “But you had to be sweet on the girl.”
Lifting his head from the floor, Peter found his eyes and sat up straighter.
“Where is she?’ he demanded. “What did you do her?”
“Bitch is fine,” Swanson swore. “No way we’ll let that meat spoil when she is so prime.”
Swanson laughed and Peter cringed at the thought that there was more to the words than the simple sound. He pictured her stripped and tied down as a gang of brutes took turns making her cry.
“If you… if you touch her…” Peter began.
“But she’s so soft,” he teased. “If she could make you forget what’s important, then think of the fun that we’ll have with her.”
Peter leapt from the floor and tried to smash his fist into the back of Swanson’s head. But Swanson was too quick for him and he found himself in a head lock as Swanson laughed and told him he’d need to be quicker than that.
Swanson released him and pushed him onto the bed. Peter looked at him and prayed that he hadn’t done anything to Caroline. He wheeled a weak fist behind his back, but Swanson just smirked down at him.
“Why are you the only one who should get a taste?” he asked. “Is she blonde in every way that counts? I’m sure we’d all like to see that!”
Peter fell to the floor and tried to grab his ankles, but Swanson stepped back and kicked Peter in the head. But even as he felt dazed he held onto the hope that Swanson’s words had just given him. If Swanson didn’t know if Caroline was a real blonde than she must still be safe. And that gave him hope that he would soon see her again. But he knew that she wasn’t someplace innocuous just waiting for him to meet her eyes and bring her back into his arms. Swanson’s leer told him that she was his captive, and that she was suffering as he lay here like a hopeless invalid, wanting nothing more than to just hold her and comfort her. And he needed to tell her that he was sorry.
“Tell me what she likes,” Swanson said lasciviously. “How do we get her wet and have some real fun?”
The thought that he, that they, would put their hands on her made Peter wretch. Again he tried to grab Swanson’s legs and bring his body to the ground. But he felt the crack of Swanson’s boot against his skull and Peter’s vision blurred. Looking up, he couldn’t make out the features of his face, not even a single sign of his scar. But he could still hear his laughter as he knelt down and brought his hand close to Peter’s eyes.
“You know we’re going to rip her open, don’t you?” he said. “But if you want us to go easy on her…”
“You… fucker…” Peter swore.
Swanson laughed, and Peter’s fists flailed as he hissed, “You will not touch her! She’s not for the likes of you!”
Swanson slammed his fist into Peter’s face and he had no more words with which to speak.
Chapter 12
As my eyes started to flutter open, everything was black and blurry. Beneath my body, the world was cold and hard and damp. Shifting to my side, my head spun and I tried to lift my hand in an effort to find the source of the pain. Fearing an injury, my mind drifted back to the plane crash. Was that what this was? Had I not escaped with barely a scratch, and was everything after, everything so full of Peter just a dream to save me from the nightmare when this was reality?
“Peter…” I groaned.
Muttering his name under my breath, I silently prayed for him to still be alright. Maybe there had never been a cozy room and his lavish presents. Presents, not bribes. But he had to still be alright. He… he just had to be.
“I’m coming. I…” I said to myself.
A groan cut my words off as I struggled to sit, and when I tried to touch my head again, I found the task impossible. I…
“What the hell?” I cried.
Without even looking over my shoulder, I could feel the ropes binding my wrists in place, and as I tried to twist away from the forced bondage, I only succeeded in adding to my anguish. Even the sharpest knife would find it a tall order to break through these bonds, and I scooted towards what looked like a wall, a flat surface bathed in shadows. Leaning against it for some kind of support, I worked to catch my breath and try to remember where I was and what had happened.
“Think,” I whispered. “You… you were with Peter. The perfect day.”
Until it wasn’t. Until Swanson busted in on our unexpected getaway and I stopped believing in him. I didn’t even give him the chance to try to explain…
“Why did I run?” I asked myself as my head lolled from side to side. “What must he think of me now?”
All his sweet words and sweeter touches aside, a man like him seemed the unlikeliest candidate to forgive getting the brushoff and an affront to his pride. But I… I was going to try and go back. I…I did go back. I…
“Morgan? He… he said that…” I struggled to think straight.
He had come to the door, told me that he was taking me back to Peter. I remembered the purple skirt billowing and swirling against my legs as I stepped into the back of the car and…
“Oh no. Oh shit!”
Every horrible moment came flooding back. Masked men and gloved hands. My body being forced into the back of a dark van. I remembered kicking and screaming and clawing until… until…
“The bastards hit me,” I said, remembering. “But I’m not… they didn’t…”
My instinct to break free and find them, fight my way out and get back to Peter’s side was interrupted by a painful dizzy spell that sent my head falling to my chest. Breathing through the pain, I could still feel the purple dress surrounding my captive frame. At least they hadn’t touched me. But what if it was only a matter of time? Did they plan to ask for some kind of ransom for my safe return? Peter’s pockets were deep; my father’s deeper still. But wha
t if neither man wanted anything to do with me ever again? Or what if that wasn’t the scheme at all? Was I here to play some humiliating role in service of their base desires?
Panic hit my chest hard, and as I started to scream, I suddenly bit down on my lip and forced myself to stay silent. If I had to get out of this on my own, the last thing I wanted was to draw my attention to the masked men. Let them think that I was still out cold until I could find some way… any way…
Raising my head, my eyes started to adjust to the darkness. A small window loomed several feet overhead, and the faint moonlight peeking through the pane gave me a clearer look at my new surroundings. It was definitely some kind of a basement, but located where? Was I still in that little Virginia town, or had I been out for so long that no map could point me in the direction home?
And where was home if Peter didn’t want me anymore?
“Morgan!” I whispered.
I remembered him driving me to what was supposed to be the search to bring Peter back to my side, but I lost sight of him once we were under attack. I had to be the target, so what did that mean for him? Was he bound and possibly still out cold in his own cell? Or was that not even worth it to these criminal masterminds? Trembling at the thought that his body was already stiff and cold, languishing in shallow waters or a shallower grave, I started to cry. He wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place. It was just dumb luck, and look at all that he had endured as a result. I couldn’t think on that too hard; abject horror dancing on the brink of despair was far from the way out, and my eyes darted around the room in search of some way that I might be able to break through the ropes.
“One step at a time,” I whispered. “I can’t do anything if…”
Falling silent again out of fear that someone might hear me, might even be watching me without my knowing, I rolled away from the wall and prayed to see something that they might have missed; a discarded screwdriver, a jagged piece of wood, anything.
Feeling my way around the room with my legs, my skirt nearly hiked up to my waist with each movement, I found the room as barren as it was dark. And my eyes started to fill with tears at the thought that there was no way out of this hell. I was about to collapse in a sobbing heap, when a faint beam of moonlight hit something poking through the opposing wall.
The Corrupt Billionaire COMPLETE Box Set Page 23