by T N Lowe
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll only be a moment,” Samuel says following the man out of the balcony.
“That was odd,” I say to Patrick.
“Not really, your father is an important man. A lot of people want to speak to him.”
I nod as the lights flash, looking to Patrick to an explanation.
“It’s the signal for everyone to take their seats.”
“Oh, Okay,” I answer as Samuel retakes his seat.
The dancers take the stage, I’m enchanted by their grace and the way they float across the stage. The story the dancers tell has me on the edge of my seat, a couple of times Patrick has to put a hand on my shoulder to remind to sit back, so I don’t fall on the floor. The curtain goes down, and Patrick explains it’s the first intermission. “That was the most beautiful thing I‘ve ever seen in my life. Thank you, Dad, for bringing me.”
Samuel’s eyes become misty, and I realize I just called him Dad. He doesn’t make a big deal of it just answers, “You’re welcome sweetheart,” his voice gruff and full of emotion.
“I need to find the ladies room if you will excuse me.”
“Make sure Billy goes with you. The management team here was supposed to increase security to keep the press out, but they’re sneaky and will do whatever it takes to get their story.”
Billy is waiting for me outside the curtain that separates our seats from the hallway. Following me closely we make our way across the concert hall to the ladies room. A man and woman steps between Billy and me and I lose sight of him for a moment. I know I should stop and wait for him, but I need to use the facilities now. Continuing to the ladies room I race into an empty stall, shutting and locking the door behind me.
Exiting the stall with a sigh, I wash my hands then study my reflection in the mirror. Wiping some mascara from under my eyes I dig in my clutch for lip gloss; something hard connects with the back of my head shoving me into the mirror my forehead connecting with the glass. The pain from the blow to the back and front of my head is unbearable, lifting my hand to cheek checking for blood the pain overtakes me and I pass out.
Patrick
Billy comes back panting without Lena. “What’s wrong? Where’s Lena?” I ask jumping to my feet toppling the chair over.
“I was following Lena to the ladies room when a man and woman stepped between us, they were talking to another couple, and it took me a minute to work my way around them. I was close enough to maintain visual on Lena as she made her way to the ladies room. By the time I made it to the door of the ladies’ room Lena had been inside for several minutes. I asked an elderly lady if anyone was still inside she told me the restroom was empty. Entering I found Lena’s handbag on the makeup counter, and the mirror above her bag had been broken with fresh blood on the glass. “
“Where the fuck is Lena? Your only job was to protect her!?” I say through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know sir, the building has been locked down, our security and Mr. Walsh’s are searching the building now.”
Samuel joins us, his fury showing on his face, “What the fuck is going on, Love?”
“I’m as much in the dark as you are, sir.”
“Find my daughter now,” Samuel bellows, so the whole concert hall hears him. “I don’t care what it takes to find her.”
Following Billy out Samuel and I help search every inch of the building, every coat closet, broom closet, changing room, and storage room but we find nothing. “She’s not here,” I tell Samuel worry and anger overflowing my body. “Who the fuck took her, Samuel? I thought you had this place locked down; where the fuck was your guys?” I yell not caring he is the most powerful men in the world. The only thing I care about is missing, and I have no idea who has her and what they want with her.
Samuel cups his hand around my shoulders I can feel the rage radiating off his body. “I don’t know Patrick, but after we get our girl back, heads will roll. That I can promise you.”
Chapter Seventeen
The smell of wet dirt and decaying leaves fill my nostrils, the damp air cools my slightly damp skin sending a shiver down my spine. My head is pounding, and a moan escapes my lips. With my head hanging down I slowly open my eyes taking in the dress I wore to the ballet minus the shoes, my toes digging into the dirt floor. Lifting my head I see a boarded-up window a few slivers of light finding its way through cracks in the wood. Turning to look to the left my head pounds harder from the quick movement; on instinct I move my arms to cup my hands around my head to stop the pounding. Only my arms stop short restrained to the chair I’m sitting in. Looking down quickly to study my restraints a wave of nausea works its way up my throat. Swallowing back the bile I open my eyes to find my forearms have been zip tied to the arms of the chair. Wiggling to try to break free of the zip ties I feel restriction on the movement of my legs at the calves.
Questions overtake my brain, who took me? What do they want, money? I’m sure Patrick and Samuel would pay to get me back. But what if it’s not tied to Samuel or Patrick and they want to turn me into some kind of sex slave? Panic fills my veins, and I pull at the zip ties, praying I will have the strength needed to break free and somehow get out of here.
Fighting the zip ties does nothing but cut into my skin, the coppery smell of blood mixes with the damp earth smell, making me feel sick again. As a door opens above me the room fills with a deep male voice, the top step groans in protest as someone puts their weight on the old staircase, the door closes with a click as the person moves down the stairs. The other steps protest as the person works their way downstairs closer to me. I go slack trying to give the illusion I’m still knocked out.
The last step groans then the footsteps go silent as they walk across the dirt floor. Not that I could hear anything other than the rush of blood through my ears, my heart pounding so fast I think I may have a heart attack before my captor reaches me. Cracking my eyes open I see black tennis shoes standing before me, “I know you’re awake, bitch,” a women’s voice sneers. I know that voice, but it couldn’t be, she wouldn’t do this to me. She’s my friend.
“Lena I know you’re awake, I heard you moaning and thrashing about upstairs,” Willow says.
“Willow what the hell is going on? Let me go.”
“Not happening, we need to take care of some unfinished business.”
“What the fuck are you talking about Willow? I have no unfinished business with you. Now let me go!”
“You may not, but your father does. And while we can’t get to him, we can get to you.”
“You’re not making any sense. Let me go and we can talk about this. We are friends Willow; there is no need for this.”
“They haven’t told you,” Willow says with a gleeful laugh. “This is too perfect.”
“Who hasn’t told me what?” I shout at her as she walks to a dark corner of the cellar.
Pulling a chair behind her Willow stops in front of me plopping in the chair smiling sweetly at me, “Once upon a time a long time ago there was a group of Irish men who banded together because no one would hire them because of where they came from. These men did illegal things to provide for their families and became the American Irish Mafia. Over the years some of the men were no longer happy fighting and scraping by to survive, so they left to follow their dreams. Those dreams lead them to Washington D.C. where they became politicians; they wanted to make big changes in the way people saw the Irish. But when the men got there, they found out how corrupt the system was, so they changed it. With the help of some of their old friends, these men did bad things to get the other politicians to back their bills and vote their way. It took many years and generations but now these men not only run the United States Government, they have infiltrated the FBI, CIA, NSA, Secret Service, Military, State and local governments, and the corporate world. If you can dominate it, they have their fingers in it. And not just the US the whole world is now at their mercy,” Willow says in a baby sweet bedtime story voice.
“Cut
the shit Willow, what the fuck is going on?”
“I’m telling you. Now shut up and listen. You and me, we are descendants of the men who first went to Washington D.C. to make a difference. I know what you’re thinking, I can’t be a mafia princess, but you are. Your father is the head of The Family and soon he will be the leader of the free world. Because why wouldn’t you want one of your own ruling over everything. And when that fucker Patrick marries you, he will become the new head of The Family.”
“That is some horrible conspiracy theory bullshit, I’ve heard it before. My father is a politician, a Congressman. Yes, he is running to be the next President, but he is not the head of some mafia family,” I shoot back. Where the fuck did she dig that story from. Maybe she’s the one, who hit her head, or this is a bad dream and I need to wake myself up. Trying my theory, I pinch my thigh hoping I’ll wake up next to Patrick in our bed, No such luck. I’m still tied to a chair with a crazy woman who I thought was my friend. “Let’s say all this shit you’re spouting is true, what does it have to do with me? I just found out about it.”
“Shut up and let me finish my story then you will understand everything. See everyone in The Family is given a job; Mom’s job was to befriend your mother, appearing as a single mother with a daughter would make her more relatable to your mother. We were forced to leave my dad and twin brother in Washington D.C. to live in nowhere Bar Harbor, Maine. After they became friends Mom was supposed to make sure she told no one about what she knew about The Family. After your mother died Mom got to go home to be with Dad but I had to stay and be your friend, watch you and help keep you from trouble.”
“So you’re pissed you got assigned babysitting duty, sorry but still not my fault or my father’s from what you said.”
“I’m not done,” Willow shouts. “Have you heard of the D.C. Carver?”
I nod because everyone in the country heard how the D.C. Carver terrorized the city for years.
“The D.C. Carver was The Families fixer when someone refused to vote a certain way and other reasonable options were exhausted he would take one of their family members and remind them of who was really in charge. When that wasn’t enough, he would sometimes have to kill said family member to drive the point home. When Brendan resisted Samuel’s father threatened his marriage contract.”
“Marriage contract?” I ask no idea what she is talking about.
Willow shakes her head in annoyance, “Members of the family are contracted to marry other members or other mafia families to strengthen their status in The Family. Like Liam, Patrick’s brother was contracted to marry the daughter of the Triad Leader. Through marriage the Triad became members of The Family, giving them the ability to work in the states with protecting The Family and it gives Samuel power in China. You and Patrick are contracted to marry, Samuel’s father needed a favor and you are the payment for that favor. Brendan was contracted to marry the daughter of another member; her family is in charge of cleaning the money acquired through illegal practices. When he was told he couldn’t marry her, he snapped and was killed.” Willow wipes tears from her cheeks after retelling the story of how her twin brother died.
I can understand her pain and need for revenge but this has nothing to do with me, “What do you want from me?”
“You are my way of making your father feel the pain I feel every day. Because of your grandfather and father, I was forced to grow up without my father and brother. I had to go through life like a piece of me was missing when they took him from me. They let my brother get killed. Now your father will know what it feels like.”
“You’re crazy!” I scream spitting in her face.
Willow smacks me catching my cheekbone forcing my head to follow the motion of her hand. “Never call me crazy again. You selfish bitch, your future is in my hands. Never forget that,” Willow emphasizes by standing and punching me in the stomach knocking the wind out of me. I cough trying to catch my breath, tears spill down my cheeks while she stands over me laughing.
“Willow,” a deep male voice calls from upstairs. “Get your ass up here before you ruin everything.”
“You’re lucky bitch,” Willow calls over her shoulder walking upstairs.
♦ ♦ ♦
The light shining through the cracks in the wood fades dropping the cellar in complete darkness. I feel a spider or other bug climb up my leg, forgetting the zip tie I shake my leg trying to get it to leave me with no luck. The zip tie digs further into my leg cutting into the muscle. I scream as the spider climbs higher up my leg but by some miracle the spider stops rising and leaves me alone.
“Wake up,” a man says splashing water over my head.
I wake gasping for breath and sputtering, “W-what?”
“Lena eat your breakfast then Willow will take you to the bathroom.”
I scoff, “Why does it matter if I eat? Willow plans on killing me anyway.” Sitting up straighter I look up and gasp. “What the fuck?”
Mike loosens one zip tie then hands me a fast food breakfast. He barks, “Eat,” before walking upstairs.
I eat the disgusting cold breakfast sandwich because I’m starving. We were going to have dinner with Samuel after the ballet, which never happened. My conversation with Willow rushes me; I replay every word in my mind, her brother was the D.C. Carver. That answers a lot of questions. Samuel is the head of a mafia family, that is ridiculous, me a mafia princess. Is that what Martin told Mom to leave Samuel? Is that why Mike is here? He feels he was wronged by my family too. Patrick is contracted to marry me; I’m payment for a favor; that hurts. He doesn’t love me; I’m his ticket to the top. I’m making myself crazy thinking and over thinking everything when I hear the cellar door open and two sets of footsteps clomping towards me.
Mike and Willow stand before me, Mike pulls a knife from a holder on his belt, “I’m going to cut you lose, Willow will escort you to the bathroom. You will do what you need to then come back. Try anything and I will have no problems letting Willow use this knife on you, got it?”
I nod, words escaping me. Mike cuts me lose then helps me to my feet, the places where the zip ties dug into my skin burn, fresh blood trickling from the wounds. Mike moves to the other side of the cellar Willow pointing to a small bathroom in the opposite corner of the cellar. As we move closer to the stairs, I push Willow sending her falling to the dirt floor and run up the stairs. I make it up three steps before she grabs my ankle and pulls me down to the dirt floor. Flipping me to my back, she pins me to the floor, “You are going to regret that. Now get up and go to the bathroom before I lose all patience with you,” Willow growls getting to her feet.
I make it to the bathroom with no incidents. I use the facilities, wash my hands and cuts then follow Willow back to my chair. Mike pushes me to sit then zip ties my arms and legs, “Why Mike? Why are you going this to me?”
“Willow go upstairs,” Mike tells her while looking at me.
“But, you told me I could-,” Willow whines.
“Plans change get your ass upstairs now.” Mike watches Willow stomp upstairs; when she is out of earshot, he laughs a humorless eerie laugh. “You want to know why I’m helping her.”
“Yes,” I say in my smallest voice.
“I’m here because your mother fucked up my life. From the first day my father saw your mother sitting in his law class, he fell in love with her. When she dated the great Samuel Walsh, Martin was pissed, stomped around the house for years making my mother and I walk on eggshells. Then Maggie and Samuel moved to D.C. and we were finally free. But then Martin had to take a case of one of Samuel’s lackeys and learned more than he should have. The first person he ran too? Your mother, he convinced her to leave Samuel and run away with him.”
“My mom tried to live with him in Bar Harbor, but he only wanted Maggie. After six months of them working together, she couldn’t take it anymore and divorced him. She took me and we moved back to Boston. She had to work two crappy jobs to put food on the table and a roof over our
heads. Martin did nothing to help us. He was a partner at the firm he worked at in Boston and a professor at Harvard, even as a small town lawyer he made a decent living and did nothing to help his only son because of her,” Mike sneers.
“That has nothing to do with me,” I pled.
“Oh, I know. But Maggie is gone now and you are all that’s left and someone has to pay.”
“What do you plan to do with me?” I ask the blood rushing through my ears making it difficult to hear but I have to know.
“We are going to hold you here for a few days then ransom you back to your powerful, rich daddy.”
“You see how fucked up this is right? Your and Willow’s grudges are not with me. Let me go; I won’t say a word to the cops.”
“Fucked up?” Mike yells. “Your mother ruined my life, cost me everything and you want me to let you go and forget everything. Not fucking happening.” He says punching me so hard the chair knocks over. “Lie there and think about how stupid you sound,” Mike tells me, leaving me on the cold dirt floor tied to a chair.
It’s night when Willow says, “Wake up bitch,” then kicks me in the ribs. I cry out in pain gasping for breath. “Enough with your dramatics, Mike has your father on the phone. In a second he’s coming down to let your father speak to you. You will tell him you’re alive and unharmed, that is it, got it?”
“Got it,” I cough.
Mike runs down the stairs handing Willow the phone. “One wrong move and I will let Willow kill you,” he threatens righting my chair. Snatching the phone from Willow Mike places the call on speaker then shoots daggers at me.
“Samuel?” I ask.
“Lena? My god is that you?” Samuel cries into the phone.
“Yes, it’s me,” I sob at the emotion in his voice.
“What do you want? Anything just give me my daughter back,” Samuel yells.
“Four million in small bills, I’ll call you tomorrow with the time and location,” Mike says ending the call. “You only have to be a good girl for one more day; then you’ll be home in bed with your boyfriend,” Mike sneers slapping me hard before taking Willow by the hand and leaving me in the dark.