by Cassie Cross
“Promise me you won’t leave,” he says.
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
He gives me a small smile, as the pad of his thumb slides across my cheekbone.
When he reaches the front door, he turns and says, “Everything’s going to be okay, Mia.”
I want to believe him, but this is the farthest from okay I’ve been in a long, long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I wait for Caleb to return to the apartment for what feels like forever. I keep a watchful eye on the clock, which just makes the time pass more slowly. He left just before noon, and the sun is beginning to set now. I don’t want to panic, but I’ve never been out of contact with him for this long, and it’s difficult not to imagine that something terrible has happened to him in the hours that he’s been away.
He was in the pictures that were published of me last night. His name was in the captions, right next to mine. It’d be one thing for Privya to come after me, but if he somehow hurt Caleb…
No, I’m not going to think like that right now. My laptop is open, my tracking program is active. There haven’t been any new alerts since this morning. Caleb’s okay, he’s just taking some time like he said he was. Nothing has happened to him.
Maybe if I want it badly enough, it’ll be true.
* * * * *
Caleb still isn’t home as the clock strikes 10, and I’m starting to get pretty desperate.
So desperate, in fact, that I’ve got Jack Kemp’s cell phone number dialed on my phone, with my thumb hovering just above the “call” button. The waiting is killing me, and I just…I can’t deal with Caleb getting involved. I don’t want any issues that Kemp and Privya have with me to be taken out on Caleb.
I want this over with. Now. I always thought that I’d feel better about things once Caleb found out about what I had done, but no. It fills me with an anxiety that I can’t even explain, and it makes me want him in my sight every second of every day. If I thought I was worried thinking Privya was after me, it’s nothing compared to the possibility that he could go after Caleb.
Only the fact that I told Caleb I’d be here when he got back is keeping me in place. I’m not going to break my word.
He finally walks through the door at 10:15, and I nearly jump out of my seat. When he turns the corner into the dining room, where I’m sitting, he looks like he’s been awake for days. His eyes are tired, and his hair is all disheveled, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.
“Caleb?” I want to ask him where he’s been and why he looks so worn out, but I’m not sure how he’ll react.
He holds out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.”
I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “You can’t come home after being gone all day, after having the conversation that we had, and just ask me to go to bed.”
“Well, I just did,” he says, before rubbing at his eyes.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he replies. He so obviously doesn’t want to have this conversation, but we’re going to have it.
“You’ve been gone for over ten hours, Caleb. You did something.”
He shrugs. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“I can’t do this tonight, Mia. Okay? Let’s just go to bed.”
“I get that you’re tired, I really do. I don’t want to push you, but if you did something to try and save me, or get me out of this-”
“I was trying to figure out a way to…I don’t know, to make it right.”
Damn it, this is what I was worried about. It wasn’t just about him knowing, it was about him wanting to get involved.
“It’s not up to you to make it right,” I try to explain, keeping myself as calm as I possibly can. “It’s my mess, and I’m the one who has to clean it up.”
Just like that, there’s anger in his eyes. “How are you going to clean it up? By turning yourself in to him so he can…” He’s having difficulty saying the words, but I know what’s coming. “So he can kill you? No. You’re not doing that.”
“You said it yourself, the guy is a hitman!” I yell. “You don’t want me involved with him any more than I want you involved with him. And if you think I’m going to let you get between me and someone who is after me for something that I did, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“And if you think I’m going to let you turn yourself over because you robbed some shady slumlord who got what he deserved, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
“You looked him up,” I say. I can picture him at his office, sitting in front of his computer, verifying my story.
“I did,” he admits.
The thought of it is comforting to me. It’s what I would’ve done if I were in his shoes. I respect that he had doubts, that he had to verify things for himself. Maybe he just wanted to see how terrible of a person Kemp is and has been for years, and is still getting away with it.
“Good,” I reply, which seems to surprise him. “So you saw everything.”
“Yes. And I’m going to do something about it before something like that happens again.”
I reach up and rub at my temples, trying to stave away the headache that I can feel coming on. “Like what? You can’t get involved with this, Caleb.”
Caleb cradles my face in his hands, but there isn’t much tenderness there, like there has been all the times before. “I love you, okay? I’m in love with you, Mia. I’m already involved.”
I reach up and wrap my hands around his wrists, needing something to hold onto. He just told me he loves me, and loving me is going to wind up getting him hurt, or worse. I feel like crying, because it’s everything I wanted to have, in a way that I never wanted to have it.
“I love you, too. You’ve done so much for me already, Caleb. I just…I did this, and I can’t let you…”
Caleb leans down and presses his lips against mine. It’s soft, and short, and it’s nice to feel this connection with him again.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers. “We know that he knows, so that puts us in a good spot. We’ll figure this out tomorrow, okay? I’m going to take care of it, and I don’t want to fight anymore tonight. I’m exhausted.”
I reluctantly agree, and follow behind him as he leads me into the bedroom.
* * * * *
When Caleb is fast asleep, breathing deep, and steady, and slow, I carefully slip out of the bed.
He told me he wanted to fix this, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he would try. He’d probably even succeed, but at what cost? If Kemp knew what Caleb was worth, he’d want more than a repayment of the $2 million I stole from him, and Caleb would pay it.
I can’t let him do that. What if Kemp wants a stake in Caleb’s business? What if he wants more than that?
No.
I’m going to put a stop to this right now.
Quietly, I get dressed in the bathroom, and grab my wallet and my phone. I won’t be needing anything else for this trip.
In the kitchen, I scribble out a note to Caleb in shaky handwriting.
Caleb,
You said you wanted to help me, and I have no doubt that you’d go to great lengths to do that. If you come to my rescue with Kemp, there’s no telling what he’ll ask you for, and because you love me, I know you’ll pay it. No matter how great the cost.
Because I love you, I’m not going to let you do that.
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Finding you was one of the great blessings of my life.
I hope I’ll see you again soon.
I love you.
-Mia
I take the elevator down to the lobby, which is mostly empty. We’re still in the wee hours of the morning, and the concierge and doorman aren’t at their posts. They must be taking a much-needed break or something. The second I step onto the sidewalk, I start punching in the number I found for Privya. My thumb is hovering over the ‘9’ when a l
arge hand covers my mouth.
I feel woozy and unsteady, but strong arms are wrapped around me.
I hear the loud pops of gunfire, and then I drift away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I wake up in a dark, damp room. I’m tied to a chair, bound by my wrists and ankles.
Nothing is covering my mouth—I’m not gagged, like I was expecting—so whoever took me isn’t worried about the possibility that I’ll start screaming for help. I must be somewhere remote, or at least hidden in a place where no one’s around.
I’m assuming Privya is the one who snatched me from outside of Caleb’s apartment building. And the gunshots were…wait, what were those gunshots? Whoever it was that grabbed me wasn’t the one who fired the shots, because he had one hand on my mouth, and the other arm wrapped around my middle. I guess it could’ve been one of Privya’s goons, although…who would he have been shooting at? A wave of horror crashes over me. No, not the doorman or the concierge. Could that be why neither one was at their post? Who else could he have shot at?
A cold trickle of realization slides down my spine, and I lean as far forward as I can, feeling like I’m going to throw up.
Caleb.
No, Caleb was sleeping when I left, it couldn’t have been him. He couldn’t have gotten downstairs so quickly, not without me seeing him. Unless…unless he was pretending to be asleep, but if he was, he never would’ve let me leave the apartment.
I take a deep breath to calm myself, because I just can’t get worked up right now, not without having all the information. Instead, I try to come up with a plan to get out of this. Given my history, plans don’t really seem to be my strong suit, and when I give an experimental tug on my bindings, I realize that a plan is entirely unnecessary. I’m bound so tight that I can barely move my hands, and it seems like I’m in the middle of the room, not against a wall or something, where I might have some hope of finding a tool that would help me cut through the ropes.
There’s no getting out of this.
My arms are aching, and my neck is sore. How long have I been here? It could be hours, could be days, depending on what I was given that knocked me out.
I shake my head in the darkness. What a fool I was, thinking I could do any of this on my own terms.
A man steps out of the shadows in the corner of the room, with a sadistic grin on his face. His long, dark hair is greasy, and even from this distance, I can see the beads of sweat forming along his hairline. This man resembles the only picture I was able to find of Andre Privya, but I can’t be sure it’s really him.
What I can be sure of is the fact that he’s pressing a bloody white towel against his upper arm, where I’m assuming he was shot.
It makes me feel better that he was the one being shot at, not the one doing the shooting. But…who was doing the shooting?
“I always enjoy the moment when a target realizes that their situation is hopeless,” Privya says with a heavy accent. He’s stalking toward me, his eyes narrowed, slightly unsteady on his feet. He’s probably lost a ton of blood.
Good.
The first and only thing I want to ask is if Caleb is okay, but drawing attention to him is the absolute dumbest thing I could do right now. Surely Privya knows he exists, since he’s obviously seen the pictures of the two of us together, and was waiting to abduct me from outside of Caleb’s apartment. Still, letting Privya know that I care about Caleb would put a target on his back, provided there isn’t one there already.
I got into this mess because I was trying to keep Caleb out of it. Dragging him in at this point would be moronic.
The best thing I can do is keep my mouth shut.
When Privya comes to a stop, he spits on me. Somehow, I manage not to flinch away from it, which pleases me.
“You’re more goddamn trouble than you’re worth,” he says angrily, swiping at a trickle of blood that’s rolling down his arm. He winces at the movement, and I’m glad he’s in pain.
I make it a point to keep my mouth shut. He’s trying to goad me into a response, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
“You’re smart, I’ll give you that. Out of all the people I’ve been hired to ‘locate’,” he says, actually using air quotes when he says “locate,” “it took me the longest to find you.” A sick grin pulls at his lips. “I knew you had gone east, but I wasn’t sure where. But, everyone fucks up sometime. Lucky for me, you got pictured with your little boyfriend. My employer was beginning to question my abilities.”
“Your employer is a piece of shit,” I tell him. Screw not talking. If this guy is going to taunt me before he kills me, then I’m going to give it right back. “And so are you.”
That comment earns me a backhand across the face, which makes sharp, intense pain bloom from my throbbing cheek. It’s the same cheek the robber punched, and unfortunately for me, it still isn’t healed. I do my best to hide the fact that it hurts like hell.
“He told me I could do what I want with you,” he growls, sliding the tip of the gun along my jawline. I manage to maintain eye contact with him while he’s taunting me, even though I’m trying to brace myself for the shot. “I’d like to just be done with you. Quick. Simple.”
“If you were going to just be done with me, you would have shot me in the street.”
He grins, like the thought of ending my life like that is incredibly appealing. Sick bastard.
“I was going to have a little fun at first, I admit. But the more you talk, the less inclined I am to make this easy on you.”
“Can’t wait,” I reply sarcastically. “So, you just kill me, and that’s that? He doesn’t even want his money back?”
“He doesn’t care about the money. He cares about power, as most men of his stature do. Nobody crosses him and gets away with it, especially not some sarcastic, thieving, lying cunt.”
This time I spit on him, because nobody calls me that.
He laughs, and runs the backs of his fingers along the cheek he just slapped. It’s almost tender, apart from the fact that he’s an awful person who has been hired to, you know, kill me.
“I thought for sure that you would beg. That you would cry.”
“I’m not going to beg you for anything. So whatever you’re going to do, just do it.”
“Ah, you won’t beg me for your life, but you would beg for the life of your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” The lie feels disgusting and wrong coming out of my mouth, and I feel sick just saying them. But this man can’t know that I care about Caleb as much as I do. He has to think that he doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s a difficult sell, granted, considering the fact that he found me outside of Caleb’s apartment, but I have to do what I can to limit the scope of this thing.
“The pictures that I saw of you tell a different story,” he says, with a sadistic amount of pleasure. “Once I’m done with you, I’ll start with him.”
I shake my head. “You’ll never get him.”
“Won’t I, though? Who’s to say I don’t already have him?”
He’s lying, he’s trying to rattle me. It takes everything in me to fight off the tears. “I don’t believe you.”
Privya leans forward, pressing the tip of the gun against my jaw. “I’m going to take you to the point where you’ll be begging me to kill you. And then I’m going to bring your boyfriend in here, and make you watch him die. And then we’ll see if you’re still running that fucking mouth of yours, huh? Maybe I’ll kill you then, maybe I won’t. Maybe living with what you’ve done and what you’ve seen will be enough.” He presses the gun into my skin until I’m sure I’m bleeding, but the shot never comes.
At this point, I’m glad I’m tied up, because it’s keeping me from shaking as badly as I probably would be if my arms were free. It’s fear, anger, and adrenaline all in one, and the force of it is making my teeth chatter. I have to keep my jaw clenched to stop it.
He steps away, thankfully taking the gun along with him, and
I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a while.
“Now,” he says, his voice full of amusement. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
He walks over to the corner, and picks up a baseball bat. He slaps his hand against it a few times, making a sickening thud. I struggle against the restraints, but it’s no use. Privya walks up to me, and yanks on my hair, pulling my head back violently.
“Where should I start first? Leg?” He taps the bat against my shin. “Rib?” The body of it rolls across my side.
“Fuck you,” I say, because at this point, why not?
He rears back, ready to strike what I’m sure is going to be an incredibly painful blow. I close my eyes, because I don’t want to see it coming.
A gunshot surprises me, and I wince, expecting to feel the sharp pain of the shot at any moment, but it never comes.
When I open my eyes, Privya falls at my feet, eyes wide open.
Dead.
* * * * *
“Sam?” I ask, relieved. It’s always nice to see a familiar face when a hitman was getting ready to slam you in the body with a baseball bat. Especially if that familiar face belongs to a bodyguard. I’ll never fight Caleb about that again. Oh god, Caleb.
“Hi Mia,” he says, with a tight, stressed smile.
“Are you hurt? Where’s Caleb? Is he okay?”
“I’m not hurt,” he assures me, walking behind me so that he can undo my bindings. “Caleb’s taking care of Jack Kemp.”
“What do you mean he’s taking care of Jack Kemp!”
“Mia,” Sam says calmly. “It’s going to be okay. Let me get you untied.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Mister Simmons called me and told me to be on the lookout, because he was worried you were going to do exactly what you did.”