Master Chef

by Danielle Berggren

  I could hear sirens and I still, wonder of wonders, had the phone to my ear. The dispatcher was asking me what had happened. I waited for another coughing fit to pass before I said, “We’re alright. We made it out.”

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than there was a woosh behind me, and a cloud of black smoke and flame rolled out of the building, an invisible wave of heat slamming into me. I ran to the evergreens on the edge of the lot, Julio and Esteban beside me, and we gulped the clean air of the trees.

  I looked between the two men—my friends. “Veronica’s in trouble,” I said. “She was right. It was Jason, or people acting on his behalf. I’m sure of it.” The dispatcher was talking to me, but I pulled the phone away from my ear. I looked at the two men and coughed again. When I finished, I stared at each of them. “She’s in trouble,” I said. I filled them in on her disappearance as quick as I could. “Call in favors if you have them,” I said, my thumb over the phone’s receiver so the dispatcher couldn’t hear. “We have to find her.”

  The men nodded and pulled out their phones. I raised mine to my ear.

  “Okay,” I said, as calm as I could manage through the burning in my lungs and the pounding of my heart. Despite the past few minutes, life-and-death scenario, all I could think about was her. “Are you ready to listen?” The dispatcher sounded shocked, her voice clipped and rapid, but she said she was ready. “Jason. Sanger. Find him. If you find him, you’ll find the man responsible for all of this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Veronica

  The sour smell of sweat and the overwhelming stench of rotting fish was the first thing I noticed. My head felt like it was three times its usual size, and I could feel an ache in my ribs and stomach as though someone had punched me.

  “Nah, man, that wasn’t part of our deal.”

  “I’ve paid you enough to kill ten people,” a familiar voice snarled. “How are two so difficult?”

  “That place is famous or something, man. The cops were all on our tail last time. They got Finn in Mendocino.”

  “On a drug charge,” Jason drawled.

  I tried to open my eyes, but they did not seem to want to obey my commands. I felt something sticky on my face. I tried harder.

  “Close enough, man. If the cops figure it out—”

  “You have enough to have a very good life in Tijuana, Lucas,” Jason snapped. “Or anywhere else south of the border you set your greedy heart on. You all knew the risks when you took the job.”

  There was something wrong with my arms, too. I couldn’t feel them. The lack of pain most likely meant something was wrong, but I would have to worry about that later.

  I tried to open my eyes again and succeeded with one of them. The eyelid felt like it was getting ripped as it opened, and I realized that my face was sticky with blood. The other eye stayed closed, swollen shut. No opening that one.

  I blinked my one good eye. Even the dim light was glaring after so long in the dark. I was upright from what I could tell, and when I moved my head back, I saw that my arms were chained above my head, anchored to a metal hook suspended from the ceiling. The hook was open, so that had possibilities. My legs were bound together at the ankles with duct tape, my feet flat on the floor. Even though my weight was on them, I felt stretched as far as I could go. Standing on tiptoes, I could move my hands up the hook about an inch, maybe two, but there were another four to go before I’d be free.

  The two men in the large room hadn’t noticed that I was awake. They continued to talk, voices heated. I recognized Jason, seated on a folding chair next to long tables with lips that looked like what would be used for gutting and storing fresh-caught fish. Tools of the trade were scattered on the tables and hung on the walls. With the furniture, the smell, and the size of the place, I realized at once that we were somewhere near the water.

  “I’m gonna need more,” the stranger said.

  I realized with a start who it was—the bald man from the alleyway.

  Damn it, sometimes I hate when I’m right.

  Jason stood so abrupt that the chair when clattering to the floor. It echoed in the vast space. He got in the man’s face, even though he was a full head taller than him. “What the fuck do you mean, you need more money? Fuck you, man.”

  Ethan has been quite the influence on me, I thought, somewhat giddy, I’m not used to that much cursing.

  I swallowed an insane desire to laugh. I didn’t want them to know I was awake.

  The man stepped forward. “Fuck me? Fuck you.” He pushed Jason back. “Those are my boys out there risking it all for you, and for what? An ex-squeeze? I thought this was gonna be easy money. Jump the girl, have some fun, leave her bleeding, but no, you had to go all crazy.”

  He picked something off one of the tables and it flashed in the dim light from an open office door. “How much of this shit have you been taking, man?”

  “None of your goddamned business,” Jason snarled, reaching up to snatch the baggie back out of his hands.

  The man held it out of reach. “I told you just a little, just a fucking little, to take the edge off. What the hell happened to you, man?”

  “What the hell are you giving me shit for, after you took my god-damned money?” Jason screamed. “You’re the one with your hand out, all the time—more, more, more. What are you, on her side?” He gestured toward me.

  The man glanced over, and I was too slow to react. He saw that my eye was open, tracking their movements.

  “Yo, man, she’s awake.”

  Silence descended.

  Jason turned to me, almost slow-motion, like a horror movie.

  I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of fear, I resolved, despite the pounding in my chest. He’s not going to see me brought low.

  I narrowed my one eye at him as he approached me, a smile widening on his face. His skin glistened in the yellow light, and his eyes had that same feverish cast that I had seen on him during our last few encounters.

  “Hello there, lover,” he murmured, stopping a bare few inches from me.

  I swallowed. My throat was dry and tasted of whatever chemical had been in the cloth. When I spoke, my voice was raspy and thin. “I’m not your lover.”

  His smile widened. “You were mine. You said so, Delly. You said that you belonged to me. I remember.”

  I shook my head and my vision swam. Damn it, I thought, just how hard did that fucker hit me? “That was years ago, Jason.” I swallowed again. I would give almost anything for a glass of water. “You’re married now.”

  He laughed, the sound high and thin. “It doesn’t matter. And you can’t take something like that back.”

  I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I wanted to spit at him, to kick him, but I couldn’t move more than my head. If I tried to move my body, I would only sway in place, putting more pressure on my arms and shoulders. My back felt like it was on fire.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked.

  Jason shook his head, “No. No, I won’t answer any of your questions.”

  “Jason,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “Let me go. I’ll forget any of this ever happened. I don’t even know why you’re doing this.”

  He laughed again, and it was so high and uneven that it sounded like the laughter of a lunatic. He ran his hand over his sweat-slicked blond hair. “You know full well why I’m doing this. You made me this way. You taught me that women only respect those who will control them. You made me want to inflict pain. It’s your fault that Fanny won’t let me touch her. It’s all your fault.” He spat the last words, his eyes narrowed.

  “No,” I rasped. “I didn’t teach you that, Jason.”

  “You did!” He shrieked.

  The stranger came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Jason shook him off, eyes wide and wild. He pointed a finger at me. “You turned me into this, and I know you’re going tell them, tell them all. You were always jealous of me! You want the spotlight, don’t you? Y
ou’re just waiting for my star to rise high enough and then you’ll go to the media with what happened between us—”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will!” He shrieked, “I can see it in your eyes. You want to ruin me.”

  “You’re delusional. I don’t care about you, Jason, not anymore. I don’t want anything to do with your life.” I whispered.

  He grinned at me, “Whatever you say, lover.” He giggled. “Do you want to know what became of your new fuck-buddy? Huh?”

  I felt my skin go cold. I stared back at him, refusing to speak. My heart sped.

  “We set fire to your precious kitchen, the one that you couldn’t live without?”

  “I paid your bills with that job,” I stated with heat. “You ungrateful bastard.”

  He scoffed, “Yeah, well, say goodbye to your cushy job. Your man is Bar-B-Que.” He drew out each syllable, almost as though he tasted it.

  I spat on his face.

  Jason stumbled back, his face reddening, shock writ across his features. He started back toward me, fist raised when the other man came up and lay a hand on his shoulder.

  “Back off, boss,” the man said. “Here,” he handed him the baggie. It was filled with a white powder.

  Cocaine? Heroin? What is that? I had never done drugs. The most I knew was what I had seen on the television.

  Jason took the package and shoved it in the pocket of his designer jeans. Even now, if you wiped away the sweat and smoothed his hair, he looked like the pop-rock poster boy he had become. He glared at me. “I was going to sell you,” he said. “But I couldn’t find any buyers, not with the cops all up in our business.” He smiled again, the expression wild and sick-looking. “I know you’d enjoy being the plaything of whoever had you like that,” he motioned at the chains holding me in place. “But now I know that’s too good of a future for you, so I’m giving you to Lucas here to deal with.”

  “I got this, man,” Lucas said, his eyes intent on Jason. “Just go to the office. We’ll be done here in a minute.”

  “Make sure she suffers. Rip her apart as you kill her.” Jason called over his shoulder, moving away. “Goodbye, Veronica. I’d say it was a pleasure, but to hell with you.”

  I tried not to shiver, or struggle. The pain in my back was immense. I felt like my muscles were on fire, and the throbbing in my head continued.

  Worse than that, though, was the thought that Ethan was dead, or injured. Please don’t let it be true, I prayed. Oh, God, I’ll give anything if it isn’t true.

  The door to the office clicked shut, dousing the light.

  Lucas, the bald man, grunted. “Let’s get some lights on in here.”

  He moved away from me and I heard him feeling along the wall until the tell-tale click of a light switch bathed the warehouse in brightness. I closed my eyes against the glare. When I opened them again, the man was standing before me. He looked me over from tip to toe.

  “You look to be in a sorry state. Seems more like I’ll be putting you out of your misery.”

  I made a small noise and strained upward again, trying to slip out of the hook. The man followed the movement with his eyes and grimaced, reaching for a control bar on the table by his side. He raised the hook even more, stretching me until only the barest tips of my toes scraped the ground. Hanging off my arms, I could feel the urge to scream rising in me. Gods above, it hurts.

  “But I’ve got to know first—where did you back up your files?”

  It took me a moment to realize what he was asking, so distracting was the pain. It roared and screamed in the back of my mind, drowning out all other thoughts. “I don’t—”

  “You do,” he interrupted. “You were given a video. I need to know all the places that video has gone. We got your phone, but did you back it up on the cloud? Do you have a computer or tablet you downloaded it onto? I need to know these things.” His voice was soothing, calm like clear water. I wanted to dive into the promise that voice gave.

  Ethan might be dead. My ex wanted me dead. He had wanted to sell me—sell me—but now he wanted me dead. And this man was the one who was supposed to do the deed. I gasped as my back spasmed and my arms locked up in pain. He was letting my own body do the torturing for him.

  “Just tell me, girl, and this will all be over,” he said. “Won’t it be nice to rest?”

  I was not nearly in enough pain to think that. Not yet. Not for a while.

  He kept talking to me in his soothing voice, occasionally lowering the chain before rising it even higher. He suspended me until my fingers grew numb from where they dug into the manacles. I told him I was losing feeling and he lowered the chain, the blood rushing in to feel like needles under my skin.

  We had been at this for a while when, through my panting breaths, I heard a door slam in the distance, and footsteps coming ever closer.

  “Yo, Lucas? Where you at?”

  “Here,” my keeper called, lowering the chain again. He grinned at me. “Looks like we’re going to have a little more fun with you yet, girly.”

  The newcomer came into sight, stinking of gasoline and smoke as he eyed me up and down. “What you got going on here, Lucas?”

  “Some fun,” Lucas said. “Boss wants some answers out of her first. She’s been keeping it in so far. Care to have a go, Dicky?”

  The second man—Dicky—licked his lips and stepped toward me. “Did you bring my bag in from the car?”

  “I did,” Lucas purred, and something seemed to crawl up my spine at the sound. “Before you play, have you earned it? Did you do what we told you?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dicky said, sliding closer to me, the stink of ash choking.

  “And you made sure no one escaped?”

  A flicker in the eyes, but he wasn’t looking at Lucas, so Lucas couldn’t see. “Yeah, man, of course I watched.”

  I felt hope surge on the heels of the toe-curling fear that Dicky elicited out of me. You’re lying, I thought. Ethan could be fine. Just fine. You wouldn’t know any different.

  Lucas stood and handed the controller to Dicky. “Then it’s your call, my friend. What do we do with her next?”

  Dicky, the shorter of the two, licked his lips again, and his eyes shone. “Let’s get her on the table.”

  My mouth went dry, and I tried to fight as the chain was lowered far enough that I could slip my bond loose. But as soon as the hook was no longer supporting me, I collapsed, limbs trembling. They had to haul me up, and I tried to lean back, to thrash and buck, but my motions were weak. Even so, the men grunted as they got me up on one of the metal tables, and when I went to scream Lucas backhanded me with a quickness, setting my head to reeling.

  I spat blood to the side as my arms were yanked up over my head again. A click and a release of tension told me two things. I was chained down again, and this time there was a padlock on me.

  Dicky wrapped chains around my duct taped ankles and secured those chains to the bottom of the table. I gave an experimental tug. I could barely raise my knees.

  The man came to my side, sooty fingers hovering over my stomach. “Sanger tells us that you’re into pain,” he whispered. “I wonder how much it will take before your pleasure turns on you.”

  Bile rose in my throat, and I sucked in my tummy. Dicky laughed and removed his hands, turning to address Lucas. “Where’s the bag?”

  “Over by the door,” he said.

  I tried to think past the thundering in my chest and head. How was I supposed to get out of this? Were we even somewhere where my cries for help would be answered?

  I closed my eyes and prayed, listening to the shuffling steps of my torturer move away from me, pause, and then start back, the steps quicker. Almost eager.

  “We have to get the information out of her first,” Lucas said as his eyes widened. I did not look over to the other man, even though I could, but whatever he was doing had his partner afraid. Very afraid. “Don’t go too hard too fast.”

  “I know what I’m doing,”
the other man snarled, and I heard the clink of metal.

  A whimper left me, and Lucas looked down. “Think about talking now, girly? Want to tell me where you’ve hidden your copies?”

  “I don’t have any copies!” I gasped, tasting nothing but copper and bile on my tongue. “Please, don’t.”

  Something long, hard, and cold fell onto my stomach, and I flinched. Dicky laughed, and I could smell his putrid breath as he leaned in closer to me. “Please don’t give up too soon and spoil the fun. Have you ever heard of knife play, Veronica?”

  I shuddered and did not answer. I would not.

  Please, I prayed. Please, someone. Anyone. Please.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ethan

  Esteban came up to me after the officer walked away, still scribbling on his notepad. “Hey,” he said. “My girl Celia says that she knows where Jason is.”

  I turned to him so quick that I felt a spasm of pain shoot up my neck. “What?”

  “She’s got mad skills with the computer, brother. She hacked into his phone provider and found his GPS. He’s on the docks.”

  I grabbed his arm and started toward the police cruiser, “We have to tell the cops.”

  “No, nah, man,” he argued, shaking me off. “Celia went to prison for her hacking shit. I can’t throw her to the cops, and how else are you going to say you got that info?”

  I shook my head, “They’re more equipped to deal with this than we are.”

  Julio came up to us. He was wrapped in a foil blanket courtesy of the fire department. His jacket was lost in the blaze and they offered it to him. I was filled with too much rage to bother, despite the bite to the air. “What’s going on?” He asked.

  Esteban filled him in.

  “Well, let’s go, man. The cops got our statement. I can call a couple of my boys to meet us there and we’ll go in kicking ass.”

  The possibilities ran through my mind. What if they have a gun on her? I thought what if the sirens scare them into killing her? What if she’s dead?