Keaton reluctantly handed over his phone, and I looked between them nervously.
“I left mine in my purse, I don’t have it-”
“Shut up. Get in.”
Keaton blocked him from me, urging me forward, into the vehicle.
The sliding door slammed shut.
The force of the van’s acceleration sent us both tumbling to the walls of the van. We were alone, but the space was dark and seemingly empty.
“Vivian. Give me your hand,” Keaton ordered, and I followed the sound of his voice until I felt his strong arms around me.
“We’re in a fucking van!”
“Listen, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to make you ride up front.”
“Keaton! Stop making jokes!”
He held me tighter, and I gripped his shirt, pressing my face to his chest.
“V. Listen to me. We’ve both seen enough movies to know that we shouldn’t antagonize them. Wherever they’re taking us, we’re together. We have to keep thinking. Be smart. Neither of us can do that if you’re rocking back and forth in the corner.”
“I know,” I agreed, taking slow, deep breaths. “Who are they? Did you recognize them?”
“No. Neither of them. But we’re in a cargo van. We’re either dealing with caterers, pedophiles, or it’s the Libyans trying to get their plutonium back.”
I nearly screamed at him for continuing to make jokes.
“I’m scared,” I cried as the van hit a bumpy part of the road.
“I know,” he replied.
Quietly.
Those two, short words unnerved me. Suddenly, I wanted him joking.
Letting him continually run his fingers through my hair, I stiffened. We were silent for a long time, and he shifted to pull me more fully into his arms.
“Do you think this is the Round-Up killer?” I finally whispered.
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “No, they think that’s one man, working alone.”
“Think being the operative word.”
We fell into silence again.
I thought of my parents.
We’d left on such awful terms. And Gram… if she knew that I’d been abducted, I didn’t know if her aging heart could take the worry.
And Matthew.
I pressed my hand to my heart, trying not to break into hysterics again.
We both jumped as the tiny slat of a window slammed open between the front cab and the cargo area, and the gunman had his face in the opening.
“Get cozy. It’ll be about ten hours.”
He forced the window shut again.
Ten hours? I couldn’t spend ten hours on the cold, aluminum floor of the cargo van! I needed to pee every forty-five minutes, and I already was feeling nauseated again!
“Ten hours from LA, in every direction. If the van stops moving, we’re on a boat. And they’d need to inspect the cargo. Tucson, Reno… Sacramento…”
“Keaton.”
He came to the same realization that I did, tightening his grip on my hand.
“Utah,” he said in an uneven exhale. “The amusement park by the movie set.”
“You think they’re going to kill us and dump our bodies there?” I demanded, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
“Sounds like the kind of cliché you’d write,” he agreed, shifting out of his sport coat, trying and failing with the snarky comment. I hadn’t even realized that the temperature in the van had dropped, and already he was wrapping his jacket around my shoulders. “Try to close your eyes.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then act like you can,” he ordered.
I sighed, my chin moving against the warmth of his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath my mouth, and I kissed him, so lightly, through his shirt.
“V,” he whispered, his fingertips tracing my face.
“I love you Keaton. If anything happens to me… to us… I need you to know that I fell so hard and fast for you. You’re all I’ve thought about since the moment that you walked into my video store. And I only… went home with Matthew… because I couldn’t hurt him. I did love him, once, but not like this, not like I love you,” I poured, my emotions taking over my words and fresh tears dampening his shirt. “I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you.”
He pressed his strong hands against my back. “I needed to hear that,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry,” I hushed.
“You know you’re my world now, V. I’m right here,” he said, linking his pinky finger around mine. “Right like this. Wrapped so tight that I can’t do this without you.”
The emotional silence echoed in the cold cargo hold.
“What about the baby?” I finally whispered, shivers beginning at the base of my neck and rolling down my spine. “They know.”
“I won’t let them hurt either of you. I’ll protect you… or die trying,” he replied, the resolve in his voice both comforting and unsettling.
His hand tucked over my abdomen, and I forced my eyes closed.
Taken
K
The daylight was almost blinding as the men threw the van door open.
“You get two minutes. Piss and get back in the van.”
Vivian was drifting between sleep and awake, and I felt her entire body tense up in my arms.
“Okay,” I replied for both of us, gripping her hand and leading her outside.
We were in some wooded area, no sign of people or business.
Just highway and woods.
The two men had nine millimeter pistols aimed at our heads, and Vivian turned to me with frightened eyes.
“Right here?” she clarified, and I knew that she was asking if she had to squat in the middle of the forest and urinate.
“Hurry,” I replied. She nodded, her hands shaking as she balanced against a tree.
I turned to unzip, keeping my back to the men and my eyes on Vivian.
Where were the fucking police, the FBI, or the useless bodyguards that I’d hired? Was this just a routine, run-of-the-mill celebrity kidnapping?
Or are one of these assholes the killer?
I was guessing the latter.
I had a feeling that we were headed to Utah, and this man had every intention of killing us and dumping our bodies at the Round-Up at the park near the set.
Just the perfect fucking clichéd ending to our perfectly clichéd relationship.
I wished to God I was alone, and that they’d left Vivian behind.
She did her best to shake off, keeping her dress down for some modesty. I had attempted to control my temper and comply, per the recommendations of all television psychologists on how to behave during an everyday kidnapping, but I knew that if either of them tried to touch Vivian in any way I’d fucking lose it.
“Get back in the van.”
She scrambled into my lap again as the door slammed closed.
“How long have we been traveling?” she asked.
I glanced at my watch, thankful they’d at least let me keep that. “Five hours.”
“Do you think they want money?”
“I don’t know, V. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she assured me through the shadowy darkness. “Do you think we can overpower them?”
I sighed, sitting back against the side of the van. “I’d love to be your hero here, but between two of them and two nine millimeters, I’m pretty sure it won’t go well.”
“Can we make… some kind of weapon?”
“We’ve got my watch. I can channel my inner MacGyver and build a quick bomb.”
“I don’t know how you can keep making jokes.”
“You asked me if we could make some kind of weapon. I thought we were joking.”
“It’s not completely out of the realm of possibilities to make a weapon, Keaton.”
I could tell that her words were edged with irritation.
Sighing, I squeezed her hand. “Just hang on. I’m sure they want money. The FBI will comply, and we�
�ll be back to filming before we know it.”
“If they wanted money, they could have just taken one of us. Not both. It feels personal.”
Fuck. I swallowed hard, hating how goddamn quick she was. “I’m sure I’ve made a laundry list of enemies over the years. But I’ve been through all of them with the FBI.”
“These guys seem like hired guns. Do you think… it’s possible… that Kelsey is behind this?”
I scoffed, and then chuckled softly. “No.”
“Don’t laugh. She was really angry when she came to the set-”
“She’s neither smart enough to pull this off, nor does she have enough money.”
She settled into a frustrated silence.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, running my hand over her back.
“Yes.”
“They wouldn’t go to all the trouble to take us ten hours away if they didn’t want us alive. They’ll feed us.”
“Don’t talk about food, I’m trying not to think about it.”
I shifted, crawling along the edge of the van again in search of something, anything that might be useful.
“You’ve already checked three times, Keaton. It’s too dark to see anything, and there’s nothing there anyway.”
“I can’t just sit here.”
“Talk to me, please,” she begged. “About something normal. Anything. I keep getting these waves of panic and they make me sick.”
I crawled back to her, pulling her into my arms. She pressed her face against my chest, and I could feel her muscles tighten as she struggled not to cry again.
“What’s her name?” I asked finally, my lips against her ear as I cradled her stomach in my hands. “She’s going to be a tough cookie like her mommy. So nothing too feminine.”
“It’s too early to name her,” she replied in a shaky exhale. “And I’m not feeling very tough right now.”
“It’s never too early. I named my kids a long time ago.”
She turned, and I felt her smile against my lips. “You did?”
“Sure. Great character names take planning. I don’t believe in waiting. You give them their name as early as possible and let them become who they are.”
“What are your names?” she asked, covering my hand with hers.
“For a boy, Clint.”
She chuckled, and I smiled into her hair. “Clint. Of course.”
“For a girl, Charlie. Two Cs, that way if we had twins, we’re good to go.”
“Charlie.” She tried the name, grinning.
“Charlie. I think it’s perfect for our baby. Charlie Thorne.”
“Charlie,” she said, nodding. “Do you remember the little girl at the park? The one who sold me my charm?”
I recalled the child’s adorable voice, nodding. “Her name was Charlie. I remember. That was the first time I ever imagined having children with you. It made me think of my names, and the possibility of a future… and family… with you by my side.”
“I wish I hadn’t left things like I did with my parents,” she said, pressing the back of her head into my chest. I could feel her struggle not to cry. “I love them, and I know that they mean well.”
“You can makeup with them when we get home.”
She was silent for a long time, and I guessed she was either deep in her terrified thoughts or had finally fallen back to sleep.
The further we drove, the more grave I knew that our situation was becoming. When the FBI had questioned me and I’d gone through the laundry list of husbands I’d pissed off or actors I’d denied roles, they finally determined that there was no one person with enough means or motive to stand out as the killer. Nevertheless, they’d paid visits to every name I’d given them, questioning their whereabouts and investigating their lives.
I thought of Vivian’s suggestion, that Kelsey was behind it all.
I’d heard enough stories about husbands and wives hiring hit men for their spouses. Did I think that Kelsey was smart enough to organize the murders, finance a henchman, and elude the FBI for as long as she had? Not in a million years.
But then there was her lover.
The FBI had visited Derrick McLaughlin, the “Yoga Instructor to the Stars,” at the very beginning of the investigation. After he’d presented an alibi and had checked out, I drank an entire bottle of Maker’s Mark, eager to finally sleep for the first time in days.
After I’d finished pounding on him, he’d had to have total reconstructive surgery on his face. Knowing Kelsey had left him and wanted to come back to me had only solidified my suspicions, but the authorities had assured me that he had strong alibis for the murders.
Knowing that the two men who had abducted us were hired hands, I started to suspect that I’d been right from the start.
I knew that the tabloids had ripped him apart and turned me into the victim, and that his career had been over from that point on. In the days after my breakdown (or psychotic Hulk-smash episode) I’d finally admitted to the psychiatrist that I wished it hadn’t been his face I’d destroyed.
It should have been Kelsey’s.
Had I been given more time to absorb what I’d walked in on, thinking through the weeks leading up to me finding her fucking her boss, I’d have been more equipped to realize that she was trying to get out of our marriage.
Who she got out with was neither here nor there.
“I wish I’d spoken to my father again.”
I had hoped that she was sleeping. I didn’t mean for my words to sound so ominous, and I could tell immediately that she had heard every one of them.
“I wish that for you too, Keaton. No matter what happened, or what kind of person he is, you deserve closure. Some kind of finality.”
“When we finish the movie, I’m going to contact him.”
She covered her stomach suddenly, and I could feel the rumble through my hand.
She’s so hungry.
It didn’t help that she’d vomited everything we’d eaten for breakfast in the car on the way over. I broke into a sweat, trying not to think about anything but her safety.
More than an hour passed before we stopped again. The window to the front of the van opened, and a McDonald’s bag was dropped to the ground with a loud thunk.
I caught the tale-end of a voice on their radio. “… Thane and Hale. A manhunt has begun, and the FBI is asking that you report any-”
The window slammed shut.
“Did you hear that?” she cried. “Keaton?”
“I heard it. Hold on, let’s get some food into you. See? They’re feeding us. And McDonald’s. Even better than the caterer on the set.”
“I’m so hungry, I feel like I’m going to puke again,” she murmured.
Suddenly, the overhead lights that ran along the ceiling of the van switched on, and her face illuminated before me.
My eyes darted to all four corners of the cargo area, the light only confirming what I’d already known.
Nothing. Completely empty.
“What did they give us?” she asked as I reached for the food.
Peering inside, I pulled the sandwiches from the paper bag. “Hamburgers. Fries. Two bottles of water.”
“Water,” she cried, and I cracked the seal, handing the plastic bottle over to her.
“Easy. I have a feeling this is it for a while.”
She nodded, taking a long drink, and then a slower one. “It’s not like I haven’t gone for hours without eating or drinking before. I’m just panicking.”
“I know. Eat slowly,” I reminded her, handing the food over.
We both ate half of the hamburger, saving the other half in case they decided that feeding us was becoming too much of a pain in the ass.
“They’re looking for us,” she said, wiping her hands with a paper napkin. “The FBI. And everyone must know. My family, your family… everyone.”
“They’ll find us. That’s their job.”
“They haven’t found us yet,” she argued, eyes narrowed.
“Hey.” I lowered my voice, reaching for her. “You’re going to upset Clint,” I warned, gesturing to her stomach.
She let her lips move into a halfhearted smile, lifting her eyes to mine. “What is with your obsession with Clint Eastwood?” she asked, and I could tell her tone was rhetorical. “You know, he acted, too, director. And I don’t know if you noticed or not, but you’re kind of a pretty amazing actor.”
I thought about the last few weeks that I’d pretended to keep my distance from her on the set. “What, you think I should get in front of the camera? That’s cute. You’re adorable.”
I pinched her nose, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
“I wish you had Ash’s part. You’re better in that character. More brooding. Ash plays around too much for anyone to take him seriously.”
I sighed, thankful that she sounded a little less anxious. “You know, Eastwood almost didn’t act in A Perfect World. He had just come down off of his high from Unforgiven, and wanted to take a break. Just direct. So he chooses A Perfect World to stay behind the camera- but Costner suggests he’d be perfect for the part of Chief Red Garnett. And he was. That was my favorite character of his that he ever played.”
She listened, shaking her head. “I never saw that movie.”
“We’ll fix that when we get home.”
We rode in silence for almost another hour. When tears began to slide down her cheeks, she wiped them away angrily with the backs of her hand.
“I have to pee again.”
“Hey,” I replied gently, cupping her face in my hands. “Vivian.”
“I don’t want them to hurt you, or me,” she cried, those blue eyes almost fluorescent in the van lighting. “Or the baby. He did terrible things to those girls, Keaton,” she sobbed, and I brushed at her tears with my thumbs.
“Listen to me, kiddo. You have to keep it together. By the time we get to wherever they’re taking us, I’ll bet you the FBI will have already found this asshole. We’ll be home by tomorrow. Okay?”
“You don’t know that, you’re just making shit up,” she bawled, forcing herself to take deep breaths. “But you sound convincing. So thank you.”
I forced a smile, kissing her gently before turning her back into my arms.
We didn’t stop again.
After forty-five minutes, she squatted in the corner of the van, and we did our best to cover the urine with the paper bag and napkins.
Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy) Page 16