Taking Her

by R. R. Banks

  That's enough to get me moving.

  Still in my yoga pants and t-shirt, I grab my tennis shoes and throw them on before snagging a coat out of my closet. Running to the door, I press my eye to the peephole and let out a silent word of thanks seeing that the hallway beyond is empty. Grabbing my bag and my keys, I step out and close the door behind me before running to the elevator.

  “Oh shit,” I say, the panic beginning to rise up in me.

  The elevator is on its way up and I know in my gut that it's whoever just called me. Who are they? What do they want? There are so many questions and not enough answers. My heart is thundering in my chest and there's so much adrenaline flowing through my veins that I'm trembling.

  I watch the lights as the car passes the second floor and continues to ascend to the third. To my floor. Whoever is in that car is coming for me. I can feel it. Turning, I run to the door that leads to the staircase and yank it open. I step through just as I hear the chime as the elevator doors open, letting the door slam shut behind me.

  I start running down the stairs as quickly as I can. When I'm a flight down, I hear the door above me bang open and hear two sets of footsteps on the stairs behind me.

  “Zoe,” I hear a voice – the voice of the man on the phone. “Get your ass back here. Stop running.”

  Yeah, like that's going to do the trick. That'll make me stop. Sure thing, buddy. Terror driving me on, I plunge headlong down the stairs, almost falling a couple of times. Thankfully, I managed to avoid taking a spill and hit the ground floor landing. The two men are still a flight behind, so I throw open the door and run out into the rain, heading for my car.

  Using my remote, I unlock it and start the engine before I even jump in. Thank God for modern technology. Jumping in behind the wheel, I slam the door and lock it. Turning my head, I see the two men in dark hoodies crossing the parking lot. Coming for me. I throw the car in reverse and jam the accelerator, forcing both men to jump aside to avoid getting run over.

  I put the car in gear and mash the accelerator again, my tires spinning on the wet pavement for a moment before they catch, and I shoot out of the parking lot at a high rate of speed, leaving both of them behind.

  I rocket out into the night, the rain beating down so hard on the windshield, the wipers are having a hard time keeping up. I squint and strain my eyes to see through the mess ahead. Not wanting to wreck, and feeling a little more secure that I left the two men behind, I slow down a bit.

  A peal of thunder rumbles overhead and is quickly followed by a flash of lightning that lights up the world around me. It's in that sudden flare of illumination that I see the man sitting in my back seat. I cry out and slam on the brakes, screeching to a stop in the middle of the road.

  “Those two men will be in their car and on your tail in no time,” he says. “I would suggest you continue driving. In fact, you might want to get off this two-lane road and find someplace a little more – urban. If possible.”

  The man speaks with such a cool, calm detachment that it's chilling. He doesn't seem particularly threatening, but the fact that he's a strange man sitting in my car in the dark is terrifying. Especially after I was just pursued by two other strange men. The way he said, “those two men,” however, makes me think he's not with them.

  So, there are two separate groups of people after me? What in the hell is going on?

  “Who the fuck are you?” I shout, my fear quickly morphing into outright panic.

  “My name is Zane,” he says. “And I'm here to get you somewhere safe.”

  “Who are those other guys then?”

  “Ms. Nichols,” he says, his voice still calm, “we need to go. Those two men will be on us soon. We need to get ourselves out of sight. Please. Drive.”

  “I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers,” I scream.

  “You'll get the answers you require soon enough,” he says in that cold, monotone voice that's really starting to piss me off. “And trust me when I say, you do not want those men catching up with us. You will not like what happens.”

  There's a certainty in his voice that makes me nervous. As terrified as I am about this man being in my car, I somehow know that I have more to fear from the other two. Throwing the car back into gear, I punch the accelerator and rocket off into the darkness ahead.

  I look in the rearview and thankfully don't see headlights on the road behind me. Yet. I steal a glance at the man. His hair is stark white – bleached, rather than natural. He's got cool, pale skin, and dark, mysterious eyes. I’m pretty sure he's of Asian descent.

  He radiates calm but inspires panic in me. And yet, I don't get the feeling that he's here to hurt me. I can't explain it – it makes no sense, even to me. But for some reason, I almost feel like he is here to help keep me – safe. If he'd wanted to hurt me, I think he would have by now. The fact that he's trying to keep those other two men – men I am positive were there with evil intentions – from getting their hands on me makes me feel better about the situation.

  Only slightly though.

  “W – where are we going?” I ask.

  “You will see soon enough,” he says. “Take the next right.”

  I do as he says, mostly because I don't have any choice. I don't know what this man's true intentions are. My mind is spinning, and my heart is racing as fear and anger both bubble up within me.

  “Do you have a gun?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he replies.

  “Why do you have a gun?”

  “In my line of work, it's necessary,” he says.

  “You're scaring me.”

  “I don't mean to,” he replies. “I truly am not here to cause you harm. Take a left, please.”

  The man is exceedingly polite, and even though his calm demeanor should be reassuring, I can’t help but find it a little unsettling. For the next half hour, I follow his directions to turn this way or that way. We pass through the main part of town and then we're passing through vineyard country. All the while, I'm looking in the rearview, searching for the headlights behind us – which might be incredibly dumb and naive, since the more immediate threat is sitting right behind me.

  “Take a left here, please.”

  I do as he says, and soon my car is bouncing along an unpaved road, small rocks and debris clanking noisily against the undercarriage.

  “Please, shut off the headlights,” he says.

  I hesitate for a moment, the fear of being plunged into total darkness with him more than terrifying.

  “Please, Ms. Nichols, I assure you it's safe,” he says. “The road is entirely straight. Just aim the nose of the car at the light you see a quarter mile ahead and you'll be fine.”

  “Why do I need to turn off the lights?” I ask, a slight quaver in my voice.

  “I do not wish to draw attention to us,” he says. “Headlights can be seen from the road.”

  “You're worried about those two guys from my place?”

  “It's just a precaution,” he replies. “But yes, I would prefer not having those two men find us. There is no need for any of this to end in bloodshed.”

  His words send an icy surge of terror shooting through my body as the fear inside of me starts to ratchet up once more. The idea that this could possibly end in bloodshed strikes a chord of terror in me I've never felt before. My life is not that exciting. I never had to worry about things like abductions or death before. That's the stuff of action movies, not my life.

  And yet, here I am.

  “D – do you expect this to end in bloodshed?” I ask.

  “That's not my hope,” I reply. “But, I find it best to be prepared for any and all possibilities.”

  I pull to a stop in front of a small house that stands alone, out in the middle of nowhere. We're surrounded by vineyards on all sides, which means this is probably a caretaker's place. Another chill sweeps through me as once again, I wonder what this man – Zane – has planned for me at such a secluded spot.

  I feel my hands tre
mbling on the wheel and my heart racing even harder as a million nightmare scenarios flood my mind.

  “Please, turn off the car,” he says.

  I do as I'm told and sit there for a moment, running through every possible option in my head, but finding that I have zero. The man sitting in the back seat has a preternatural calm about him. He looks completely unfazed and aloof.

  “Please, don't hurt me,” is all I can think to say.

  “As I've already told you, I'm not going to hurt you,” he says. “You have nothing to fear.”

  “Then why did you abduct me?”

  “My employer wanted to ensure your safety.”

  “Your emp – who's your employer?”

  “Please, Ms. Nichols,” he says. “Go into the cabin. My employer is inside waiting for you.”

  “A – and you?”

  A faint smile touches his lips. “I will be watching over you until this crisis is over.”

  “What crisis?” I shout. “What in the fuck is going on?”

  Even in the face of my growing hysterics, the man remains calm. Unflappable is the word I'd use to describe him.

  “Please,” he says. “Go into the cabin now. All the answers you seek are inside.”

  I cut one last glance back at him and then do as he says. My desire to get out of the car and away from the creepily calm man in my back seat outweighs anything else at the moment. The second I step out of the car, the rain begins to relentlessly beat down on me. Thank goodness I had the foresight to grab my waterproof jacket. But, my hair is already plastered to my head by the time I get the hoodie on my jacket up.

  When I turn back I jump, a small yelp of surprise bursting from my throat when I see the man standing there next to my car. I hadn't seen him get out. He motions to the door of the cabin.

  “Please, Ms. Nichols,” he says. “Inside.”

  I turn away from him and walk up the small flight of stairs that lead into the caretaker's cottage. The door is cracked open, so I push it inward and step through and out of the rain. It's warm and inviting inside, with a fire burning bright in a fireplace on the other side of the cottage.

  “I guess I shouldn't be surprised,” I say when I see him standing there.

  “No. Probably not,” Connor replies. “There is a good reason for all of this though, love. I assure you. I just ask that you give me a few minutes of your time.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice,” he replies. “But, I'd appreciate it if you would just hear me out.”

  I stand there with my arms folded across my chest. My fear is quickly fading as my anger grows stronger.

  “Fine,” I say. “Speak.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Connor

  “Can I offer you a glass of hot cocoa?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “It'll take the bite of the chill outside off,” I say.

  I motion for her to take one of the two chairs seated before the fireplace. Zoe sighs and takes her jacket off, hanging it on a hook near the door before crossing to the chair. She drops down into it and although I can see that stubborn set to her jaw and the defiance in her eyes, I can tell that she's basking in the warmth of the fireplace.

  “Your guy outside is going to be cold and wet,” she says.

  “Don't worry about Zane,” I reply. “He lives for this kind of thing.”

  “Lives for what kind of thing? Abducting women?”

  A rueful grin touches my lips. “I do apologize for the dramatics,” I offer. “I didn't think you'd agree to come if I showed up on your doorstep again though.”

  “Damn right I wouldn't have,” she snaps.

  “And if I hadn't done what I did, things may have gotten worse, love,” I say. “I might have never seen you again. I may never have had the chance to tell you the truth. And that's all I'm asking for here – a chance to tell you my side of the story.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” she snaps.

  I step into the kitchen and retrieve a tray, setting it on the table between the two chairs. Zoe looks at it with disdain for a moment before she gives in and takes one of the mugs, wrapping her hands around it, absorbing the warmth. Steam curls up from the top of the cup, and she inhales the rich, chocolate scent deeply, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to remain stone-faced.

  “Cocoa makes everything better,” I say.

  “Yeah, not everything.”

  I grab the file folder sitting on the desk and then drop down into the chair beside her. Setting the folder in my lap, I pick up the mug and take a sip, savoring the rich taste.

  “Maybe not everything,” I say. “But damn near it.”

  “What am I doing here?” she asks with some real heat in her voice. “What do you want, Connor?”

  I set the mug down and let out a long breath. “Okay, well, the first thing you need to understand is that the two men who were at your place tonight were sent by Bryant,” I say. “They were going to abduct you, throw you on a private jet, and whisk you away to Switzerland.”

  She stares at me, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. I can see the disbelief on her face. She shakes her head, trying to deny it, even to herself.

  “W – why would he do that? Switzerland? This makes no sense at all,” she says.

  “He has a family home in Switzerland,” I reply. “And apparently, with everything that's gone on between us, and his ambush engagement party not working out the way he wanted, he figured he could kill two birds with one stone – keep you all to himself and get you away from me.”

  “This is ridiculous, Connor,” she says. “Absolutely ridiculous. If you're trying to take the spotlight off the fact that you have a child and make my father and Bryant look even worse, it's not going to work. My father –”

  “Was in on it, Zoe,” I interrupt gently, feeling genuinely terrible for having to break it to her. “He knew. He helped plan it.”

  She stands and wraps her arms around her midsection as she rises to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. She's muttering to herself and keeps shaking her head. As angry at her father and as disgusted by him as she is, Zoe is still having trouble wrapping her head around this. She knows he's slimy – she's said so herself – and will stoop to unbelievable lows.

  But, the idea that he'd participate in her abduction, that he'd help Bryant spirit her out of the country, is something she's clearly having trouble accepting.

  Not that I can blame her. In her place, I'm sure I'd be freaking out and trying to deny it too. I hate to do it and don't want to hurt her any more than she already has been, but I know that I need to expose him – him and Bryant both – for the monsters they truly are.

  “I – if what you're saying is true, why would my father participate in something like that?” she asks. “Why would he allow Bryant to abduct me?”

  I sigh and take another sip of my cocoa. If only it actually did make everything better. I now have the task of destroying everything Zoe thought she knew about her father. The thought of seeing both of those assholes in ruin makes me almost giddy – but, not at the expense of Zoe's happiness and emotional well-being.

  It kills me to do this, but I have no choice. I have to lay it all out for her.

  “Because Bryant paid him, Zoe,” I say. “Bryant and your father worked out a deal. Your father took five-hundred-thousand dollars from Bryant in exchange for your hand in marriage. He took the money to get out from under some bad gambling debts to some wannabe mobster named Marco Bolla. On top of that, he's bled your firm's coffers dry paying off those debts. He's embezzled millions. He used the money from Bryant to pay off Bolla, and they're squeezing me for money to set themselves up for the rest of their lives. Chances are, if I were to pay them the money they want, they'd close the doors on your firm and disappear. Well, I know Bryant would disappear to Switzerland – and take you along with him.”

  She drops back down into the chair an
d looks several shades paler than just moments ago. Her eyes are shimmering with tears and my heart goes out to her. She keeps denying it, but I think on some level, she knows I’m telling the truth.

  I open the folder and set some of the documents Nico had prepared for me on the table. In the first batch are bank records and emails generated between the two discussing the deal. The second batch contains the details of the flight to Switzerland, as well as proof of her father's embezzlement and his debts to Ballo. The papers in Zoe's hand shake wildly as she looks them over, her falling tears leaving wet stains on the pages.

  Zoe sits back in her chair, flipping through the documents, taking in all the information I’ve collected for her. As she does, tears stream down her face. I want to go to her, to comfort her, but I know in this moment it wouldn't be welcome, so I remain where I am. I need to give her a little time to process it all. A little time to absorb it. She's a smart woman – maybe the smartest person I've ever known. I know that as she looks through the papers, she'll see the truth of it all.

  I sit back and stare into the fire, sip my cocoa, and give her the time she needs. Half an hour later, she's gone through everything – at least twice – and sets the pages back down on the table. Her tears are dried and there is an inscrutable look on her face. Her jaw is clenched and there's a steeliness to her gaze as she stares into the flames. I can see the heartbreak behind her eyes, but she's managing to keep herself composed.

  “As monstrous as all of this is – and it is monstrous,” she says, her voice tight, controlled, “it doesn't change what you did, Connor. Showing me how terrible these two are doesn't detract from how terrible you are.”

  Hearing those words come out of her mouth feels like a kick to the gut. The flare of pain in my chest is so intense that it knocks the air from my lungs. I knew going into this that it's going to take some time and convincing, but still, hearing those words from her is excruciating.

  “Except for the fact that I didn't do what you think I did, Zoe,” I say gently. “I'm not like you think I am.”

  “You told me –”