by Ella Miles
He pauses and takes a bite of an apple I didn’t see he was holding in his hand.
“I’m in here because my girl disappeared. Vanished. Nobody knows where she is.” He shakes his head. “They think I did it just because we fought. I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t lay a finger on her.” He looks up at me. “The key to not thinking about them is to keep busy.”
He stands and motions for me to follow. So I do.
“We have time in the yard this morning. You play ball?”
I shrug.
“Good.”
I follow Santino out to the yard where a concrete basketball court with two hoops that are barely standing upright sit. A dozen men or so are already involved in a game. One man shoots but misses the hoop entirely.
“Get out of there, Kenny,” Santino says to a scrawny man that can’t be much older than eighteen.
The man obediently walks off the court, like he’s too afraid not to do exactly what he was told. I understand the feeling. Outside, I felt powerful and in control. In here, I have no powers. I barely even understand the rules.
“Who’s this?” a man double my size says to Santino.
I’m not going to let Santino answer for me.
“Killian. Here to play,” I say.
He glares at me. “Can you?”
I take the ball from his hand, and then I dribble and shoot what should be a three-pointer. The ball goes in with ease.
I turn back to him. “I’ll be taking Kenny’s place.”
I spend the next hour on the court. It feels good to be running and sweating again. Although I’m not the best player on the team, I pull my weight enough not to get treated like Kenny. My team easily wins.
Santino was right. Distraction is the best way to spend my time here. As long as I’m doing something, I’m not thinking about Kinsley. I’m not living in constant pain.
I grab a cup of water and take a seat at one of only two benches near the court area.
Santino walks over and takes a seat next to me. “Tell me about your girl.”
I sip on the water. “She’s the same as your girl. She disappeared. The only difference is, I know where she is. I just can’t tell the FBI. If I do, she will die.” I take another sip of my water. “She might die anyway if I don’t get out of here.”
Santino nods, staring straight ahead, as he sips his water. “I might be able to help you with that,” he says without looking at me.
“What? How?”
He shakes his head as a guard walks onto the court.
“Tomorrow,” Santino says, getting up.
But I don’t think I can wait till tomorrow. If he has a way out of here, even an illegal one, I need to take it now. I can’t wait till tomorrow. Tomorrow, she could be dead.
The guard walks over to me. “Killian?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me. You have a visitor.”
I follow the guard even though I don’t want to, not now that I have hope.
I open my eyes, but it is still as dark as when my eyes were closed. I try to grab my pounding head with my right hand but find it is handcuffed to something large and metal behind me. My left arm is free though, so I use it to massage my head, trying to ease the pain. It helps a little, but I know I’m going to have a headache for weeks from where the man hit me in the head with the butt of his gun.
I try to look around the room to get a bearing on where I am or how long I was knocked out. I don’t have a clue though. It could have been minutes, hours, or days. The room holds no clues though. There are no windows to let me know what time of day it is.
I shiver and move my arm away from my head, wrapping it around my body to try to warm myself up. I wish I had brought a jacket, but I never thought I would need one in the heart of summer in southern Mexico—that is, if I’m still in Mexico.
My heart rate increases at the thought, instantly warming me just a little. I could be anywhere. They could have taken me anywhere. And, if I’m not in Mexico, then I’m completely and truly fucked.
My grandfather knew about the place in Mexico. Killian knew about the location. Somebody could have helped me if I needed them. But not now. Now, I’m on my own.
My eyes slowly begin adjusting to the darkness, and I begin to make out a little bit of my surroundings. There is a door across from me—wood and sturdy. It couldn’t be easily kicked in, like the main door to the building. The rest of the room is small with four walls and a wooden floor.
I’m attached to a heavy metal pipe. I test the strength of it, but I know there is no way my scrawny arms could bend it. I test the handcuffs, but I don’t have a clue how to pick a lock or get them off. I’m stuck where I am, sitting on the wooden floor with one arm attached to the pipe that juts into the wall.
There are no windows. There is no other exit, other than the door. There is no way out for me. I’m completely at these people’s mercy until they decide what to do with me. Until they decide if I get to live or die. I swallow down those thoughts though. I can’t think about them. I have to be strong.
I try to think of all the times I’ve been strong. None come to mind. All that comes to mind is when I’ve been weak, naive, and gullible. Even Killian said I was naive.
I shake my head. But he also thought I was strong and capable of running the company. He loves me. He wouldn’t love someone he saw as just a meek, little girl. I’ve grown. He’s helped me, and I’ve grown stronger than I ever imagined I could.
I can do this. I will survive this. I will put a stop to this.
A man’s voice yells, followed by another man’s even louder voice. Both are muffled, just beyond the doorway.
I startle at the sudden sound, as I got used to the silence. I strain my ears, trying to listen, but all I understand is the men are mad and arguing. I just hope they aren’t arguing over whether to let me live or die. I strain my ears trying to listen but the voices quickly fade into the distance.
I try to close my eyes and sleep. Despite having been knocked out, I’m still exhausted, and my head is still pounding. There is nothing else to do but sleep anyway. I move until I’m lying down on the hard floor and then force my eyes closed, despite the fear that I will never get the chance to open them again.
The door is thrust open, blinding me with light from the hallway and thrusting me from my dreamless sleep. The light just makes my head hurt worse.
“Eat,” a deep voice says.
I hear two things drop in front of me.
The man immediately turns.
“Wait!”
The man doesn’t listen. He keeps walking.
“Wait! You need to know, my name is Kinsley Felton.”
The door closes though. He didn’t hear me. I would throw something if I could.
A tear rolls quickly down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. I will not let my fear overtake me. Next time that door opens, I will shout my fucking name over and over until the message sinks in.
I look around the room again, but the darkness is too much. My eyes need time to adjust again before I will be able to see again.
I reach forward into the darkness, trying to feel what the man brought me. I feel a bowl and pull it to me. I feel around in the bowl but don’t find any silverware. From what I can tell, it’s rice and beans.
I scoop some into my hand and then bring it to my mouth before I realize that this might not be the best idea. It could be poisoned. I could die if I eat this. My stomach growls, letting me know it hasn’t been fed in a long time. I could die if I don’t eat it. And it doesn’t make sense for them to poison me, not when a bullet is so much easier.
I force the food into my mouth, like an animal would. The food is cold, but despite the temperature, it tastes amazing. It’s just beans and rice, like I suspected. I don’t care though. It’s food, and with each bite, I feel my strength coming back.
I quickly eat every drop in the bowl. My stomach feels full and satisfied as the last drop of food goes down. That’s
when I realize how thirsty I am. I reach forward and find a bottle of water sitting next to where the bowl was. I unscrew the top of the bottle and gulp the whole thing down.
I glance around in the darkness. Now that I’m finished, I wish I had taken my time because there is nothing left to do but sleep or stare into the darkness while plotting all the ways I want to kill these men.
The door bursts open again, and from what I can tell, the same man from before walks to me.
I don’t hesitate this time. “I’m Kinsley Felton! Kinsley Felton!” I repeat over and over. “I’m the daughter of Robert Felton. The granddaughter of Lee Felton. They sent me here.”
The man bends down and releases me from the handcuff that was holding me in place. My immediate thought is to run, but I can’t. I’m supposed to want to be here. I need them to trust me, not think I’m going to run away. I wouldn’t make it far anyway—not in my heels, with my pounding headache, or with this man’s strong hand holding my arm so hard that I want to cry from the pain.
I don’t though. I just keep repeating, “I’m Kinsley Felton.” It’s almost a battle cry against the pain now pulsing through my body.
“Shut up, bitch,” the man says, hitting me hard on the head again.
I immediately shut my mouth as the room begins spinning. I don’t know if I could chance saying another syllable. If he hits me on the head again, he could do some permanent damage, I’m sure.
The man begins walking, dragging me through the door, before I’m steady on my feet.
“Walk,” the man says, shaking me like I’m purposely struggling to walk instead of doing my best to walk through the dizziness and headache.
I try to steady myself and keep up with his pace, but I can’t. So, instead, I stumble as he drags me down the bright hallway. I try to glance around the hallway to figure out where the exits are. To try to figure out where I am. I look around the building that seems less broken on the inside than the outside, but I have no idea if I’m in the same building I knocked on.
The man turns left, heading down another hallway. I turn my attention to him. I need to study every person here. When the time comes to turn them over to the FBI or police, I need to know who is involved and what their jobs are. This man is tall. It’s hard to tell how strong he is, but the grip on my arm tells me he has plenty of strength. His skin is whiter than mine, and his hair is blond and unkempt. Honestly, when I look at him, he looks like a typical American man in his jeans and T-shirt that fit a little tighter than they should.
We stop in front of a door that he knocks on in a calm and steady manner. It seems out of character for the man who seems to have no patience.
“Come in,” a deep voice says.
The man holding on to me opens the door, pushes me in the room, and then steps in behind me.
“Sit down.” A man sitting behind the desk in front of me points to the chair in the center of the room.
I quickly take a seat, thankful not to be standing in my dizzy state any longer. I glance around the room that is much larger than any other office I have been in before. At least a dozen men are standing against the walls, smirking, grinning, or glaring at me.
I try to remain calm and strong as I turn my attention back to the man who is behind the desk. He looks tall and strong. His skin is darker than mine, and his hair is almost as long, but it’s his piercing green eyes that have me trapped. He’s only wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans, nothing that says he has any authority here, but his eyes command the attention of the room. He walks around the desk and then leans against it while he curiously looks at me.
I open my mouth to speak, but then I think better of it as the man who hit me before is still standing right behind me, and I can’t take getting hit again.
“My name is Nacio Marlow. I run this organization you see here.” He gestures to the men at his sides. “These are my men.”
My eyes drift from side to side to the men who are intently listening to him while staring at me. Each one of them looks like he could kill me with just his bare hands.
“We have never had an uninvited guest here in the ten years we have been working from this location.” His lips curl up into a psychotic-looking grin as he walks to me. He grabs my chin as he looks into my eyes. “So, what is a pretty girl like you doing here?”
This is my chance to tell him. To convince him that I am on his side. To convince him that I am a ruthless Felton, just like my father and grandfather before me. This is my chance to save myself, to keep myself breathing for another day, but instead of speaking, I freeze. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out—not one word, not even a breath.
Nacio frowns and walks back to his desk. “Persuade her, Seth,” Nacio says to the man standing behind me.
My eyes immediately close as I wait for another knockout hit that will leave me feeling like a vegetable when he is finished with me. It never comes though. Instead, I feel the end of a gun pushing into my temple. The feel of the cold metal pressed against my head is enough to knock me out of my frozen spell.
I take a deep breath. I have to play this right. I can’t seem like a scared, naive girl begging for her freedom. I try to channel all of my inner Scarlett, my best friend that has all of the confidence in the world. I stare straight ahead at Nacio, ignoring the gun pressed against my head. “I suggest you have your goon remove the gun from my head.”
Nacio cocks his head to one side with a smug grin on his face. “And why would I do that, sweetheart?”
“Because I’m Kinsley Felton, daughter of Robert Felton, granddaughter of Lee Felton. And, if you don’t remove the gun from my head right now, I will make sure the Feltons never work with the Marlows ever again. In fact, I will make sure that we destroy the Marlows.”
Nacio’s eyes read fear for just a second, not long enough for his men to notice. Not long enough that I’m even really sure of what I just saw, but just enough that I know the fear was there. His family fears mine.
I glare at him, my eyes focusing intently on his, even though I want to smile because I know I’m not going to die today. Today, I’m going to live. Today, I’m going to become the next one in charge. Today, I’m going to take over a smuggling ring.
But Nacio doesn’t give the signal for Seth to lower his gun. The gun is just as firmly pressed against my head as it was a second ago.
And my fear returns.
I don’t let it show though. I can’t. If I do, I know I’ll be dead.
A wry smile appears back on Nacio’s lips. “Excellent. Now that we have found all of the Feltons that are left, it’s time to kill them.”
I don’t know who is going to be sitting across the table from me when the door opens to the room where I get to talk with visitors. The guard guides me into the room. Hayes is standing in the corner, and I’m not surprised. Not at all. I didn’t expect my family to travel out of Kansas. I don’t have any other friends, other than Hayes. I’m not sure I’m allowed visitors even if I did. I think a small part of me was hoping it was Kinsley. Even if it had meant her going to jail, it would have meant she was still alive. Still safe for another day.
Hayes looks at me as I enter. His eyes are red and puffy, like he’s been crying. His body looks worn down, almost broken. He’s wearing his typical suit that all FBI agents wear when not undercover. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he just came from a funeral instead of the office.
“Who died?” I ask sarcastically as I sit down at the table.
Hayes doesn’t sit down opposite me. Instead, he looks out the small window for a second. “You can leave,” he says to the guard.
“I have to stay, sir. It’s protocol,” the guard says.
Hayes pulls out his FBI badge. “I have classified FBI business that I need to discuss. Leave,” he says.
The guard frowns at Hayes. “At least let me handcuff him to the table.”
“That won’t be necessary. He will be leaving the jail in an hour or two anyway.”
T
he guard hesitates for a second longer and then leaves.
“I’m leaving, huh? Found me innocent or taking me to a high-security prison? Or maybe you think you can get me to talk about Kinsley in exchange for my freedom?”
“Shut up, Byrne.”
“Why am I here, Hayes?”
Hayes runs his hand through his hair and then takes a seat across from me. “Because you are right.”
My eyes widen. “What do you mean, I’m right? You’ve found Kinsley? Her grandfather? What else do you know?”
“Yes, we’ve found them. And we probably know about as much as you do now.”
“Where are they? Is she safe? Do you have her in custody?”
Hayes looks down at his hands. He won’t meet my eyes. And I know it’s bad. They have her—the drug lords, the smugglers. The monsters have her. And the FBI are breaking me out, so we can go after them.
He finally glances back up at me, somberly, and I swear, I see a tear in his eye.
“She’s dead, Byrne. They both are.”
I fall back in my seat. My hands go to my hair, grabbing my head that is pounding. I can’t process what he just said because she can’t be dead. She can’t be.
“She’s not dead,” I say.
“Killian…” Hayes never calls me by my first name, making me wince. “She’s gone. We found her body this morning along with her grandfather’s and mother’s. Well, what’s left of their bodies.”
“Show me.”
Hayes shakes his head. “I can’t do that. You wouldn’t be able to get that image out of your head if I showed you.”
“Show me,” I demand. “I need to see what they did to her. I need to see that she is actually gone to believe it.”
Hayes reluctantly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He scrolls until he finds the picture and then slides the phone across the table to me. I pick it up.
I thought I could handle it. I’ve seen enough crime scene pictures of bodies that are more horrifying than this. This though rips me apart—seeing Kinsley, her grandfather, and her mother burned to pieces. They almost look unrecognizable, but I know it’s Kinsley. In my heart, I knew that they would kill them once they knew the FBI was investigating them. It gets too messy for them to keep Kinsley and her family alive. I just don’t know who them is yet. But I plan to.