by M. C. Cerny
“Nelson, I’d like to go out please.”
“Where to, Mrs. Huntley?” His British accent was a front. I’d heard him talking like a street thug straight from Staten Island late at night during the times he conveniently forgot Adam locked me in the laundry room. His room butted up against the wall, and while the dryer cycling kept me warm on those nights, I could hear our butler making bets on horseraces. Fucker usually won too which seemed bloody unfair.
“To the coffee shop that serves those pastries Adam likes.” The Portuguese bakery reminded me of the sweet smells I grew up with, even if it was the briefest time in my life. A fleeting memory of happiness and comfort. Mom hadn’t succumbed to the heroin and dad wasn’t screwing every woman over eighteen on the block. A different time, a happier time when I liked the person I was, when I knew what love should be, and I had yet to be tarnished by the shit unknowingly surrounding me.
“Very good Mrs. Huntley, I shall bring the car around. Call for Petre?” Nelson left for the garage and I peered into his cup. I glanced in the kitchen before spitting in it giving myself a mental high five. Nothing like a little passive aggressive retaliation to put starch in my knickers.
Nelson liked his tea with the leaves brewed in the bottom. Very English. I tucked that information away wondering how it could be handy. I’d have to research that next time I was permitted to go to the library once a week. Nelson might not have ever laid a hand on me, but he knew when to walk away when Adam delivered one of his punishments. Ignorance bothered me as much as participation as I surveyed the kitchen waiting. Musing, I gave the marble and stainless-steel prison a smirk.
This was about survival.
I made it this far, hadn’t I?
The drive to the café seemed endless passing by large homes in our development until we hit the quiet Main Street of town. Women carried small dogs and pushed baby joggers in designer workout clothes that never saw the inside of a gym. I wasn’t permitted to associate with them because Adam hadn’t vetted them out yet or rather their husbands and what they could do for him. If it wasn’t for my harmless sister-in-law, I would have no one except for the bodyguards, and Nelson who proved to be a poor conversationalist, and even worse confidant.
“I’m going to order a coffee and sit right here. Alone. You can sit over there.” I pointed at a table for two across the café exerting my lady of the manner attitude. If Nelson wanted to be a big faker, then so did I. After all, public appearances meant something to my husband. There were only four tables inside, and two out front. It was empty inside except for us and I needed to be alone with my thoughts. Nelson nodded and took a seat pulling out his cell phone. He probably played stupid online games to pass the time. My phone was still at the house. No need for it while my babysitter eyed me, plus I had no one to talk to. The lack of social media was oddly refreshing if limiting.
Sipping my coffee, I looked outside. A police cruiser pulled up behind the town car we arrived in. Curious, I watched Nelson get up from his seat. His hand waved me to sit back down not realizing I had stood up when he did.
“Madam stay inside.” His face strained as he stalked outside to confront the cop who looked to be issuing him a ticket of some sort. I smiled. Adam would love this though he’d probably find it was my fault in some way. Those punishments, I enjoyed taking for his moments of irritation.
“Is this seat taken?” Looking up, a man in a dark suit had come from nowhere to sit down at my table. I glanced around feeling the walls slowly closing in on me. This was something Adam warned me about. Don’t socialize, don’t get caught.
“It’s always taken,” I referenced Adam’s territorial behavior and twirled the large wedding set on my finger. “But please, feel free to impose.”
I was definitely going to be in trouble if Nelson caught sight of this. The man sensed my hesitation ignoring my wish to be left alone. He smirked looking out the window at my driver arguing with the cop. My eyes blinked as he pulled on the café blinds darkening the interior and shading us from the outside looking in.
“Better?” He smiled, his lips not fully reaching a grin inside the darken café.
No. This wasn’t good at all, but I nodded curtly, curious what he wanted from me.
“Please, sit down.” He gestured to the table. Slowly my butt parked it back on the chair. I hated the automatic submissive response.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Mrs. Huntley.” He said annoying me.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” I sipped my coffee warming the tips of my ice-cold fingers. The coffee cup was keeping them from shaking in terror, but it still jiggled as I slid it onto the saucer plate.
“I’m Agent Jackson with the FBI.” Out of fear and panic I sat up straight and threw my hands up warding him off. My chair tipped over as I backed away looking for any possible exits. Men in suits blocked them from the front door to the kitchen. I wasn’t safe anywhere.
“No, no, no….” My body shook and my hands got clammy. I grabbed my designer purse and clutched it to my chest searching for a way to get out. Another man in a suit stood at the door guarding it, anticipating my flight. His hand flicked open his suit jacket revealing the gun holstered at his hip. Agent Jackson waved him back. Peering through the blinds, Nelson argued with the cop outside unaware of what was happening here right under his nose.
“Please, sit. We don’t have much time.” He held his hand out cordially, it was anything but cordial, and we both knew it.
“Time for what?” I glanced around pulling my necklace. This man had a death wish. My heart beat hard against my ribs.
“My husband will find out about this.” Sweat popped out on my skin like a teenage gym class victim dampening my silk dress. The silky fibers stuck to my skin suffocating me.
“I’m praying he doesn’t, because I’m hoping you’ll help us. Now. Sit.” He invited. It was the spider speaking to the fly, nothing good would come of this. Nothing good at all.
I sat down. My behavior automatically trained by the commanding tone of voice. My tail effectively curled between my legs, and I whimpered wondering what would happen next. Didn’t they know Adam could kick me. I’d return faithfully every time.
“What do you want from me?”
His leaned in, “How aware are you of your husband’s criminal activity.”
I scoffed at him. Who didn’t know Adam Huntley was a criminal son of a bitch? I lived with a madman bent on crushing me from within, it was a game to him, and you either adapted or withered away to nothing.
“He doesn’t whisper sweet nothings in my ear when he’s fucking me from behind if that’s what you’re asking, Agent Jackson.” I refused to be a pawn for their war games.
He grunted not expecting my curt reply. The apples of his cheeks darkened either in embarrassment for me, or because he was enjoying the lewd picture, I just gave him of my home life. Adam didn’t send me to finishing school to become a lady, he sent me to learn how to hold my own in situations like this.
I was ever the gracious hostess.
The perfect, dutiful wife.
But I could still cock a gun and shoot better than most agents out there.
“I will be blunt with you Mrs. Huntley. Your husband is in the possession of detailed schematics for nuclear arms which he plans to sell to the highest bidder on the black market.” This was definitely news, but nothing unlike Adam. I’m sure the schematics were stolen too, nothing surprised me anymore, but you had to admire that somehow this man who came from nothing built an empire that rivaled nations, and made men terrified to cross him.
“And you want me to do what? Spy for you?” I waved my hand toward the window indicating Nelson outside. “My husband would kill me without a passing thought, and then he would find a way to make you very sorry you ever approached me, and entertained the idea of securing my help.”
“Spying is such a dirty word.” He dismissed.
I raised my brows. This guy couldn’t be serio
us, or maybe he really was an idiot. Nelson was still arguing with the cop outside and my mind raced to calculate how much time had passed. I glanced at my Cartier watch. Yeah, this idiot definitely needed to hurry this up.
“I can’t give you what you want.”
“If your husband sells those plans to the terrorists, they’ll use it to annihilate untold numbers of people in their political genocide. Can you live with that?” Agent Jackson put his hand over mine. “Elizabeth….” His voice gentled, maybe in an effort to appeal to my softer side, or whatever I had left of one. “We will protect you. Your husband can’t touch the FBI.”
I snatched my hand back looking out the window once again. Nelson seemed to be wrapping up his discussion with the officer. My eyes narrowed, and my vision tunneled looking back at Special Agent Jackson.
“Then you seriously underestimate my husband. You can’t protect me from the devil I know.” I steeled my voice to keep the fear at bay, but it was useless.
“We need your help eradicating the devil.”
“Then you’re fucking useless if you think I can offer you anything.” I bluntly told him clutching the collar of my dress absently. He must be crazy to think I didn’t like my head attached to my neck.
“Even if it could help your brother, Mrs. Huntley?”
My heart stopped for a moment. “What?” Numbness filled me. My mouth got cottony. Stupefied, I couldn’t move. Eddie meant everything to me. Everything I did was to protect him.
“Here’s my card if you find anything that maybe useful. We know your husband is planning a trip to Dubai soon, most likely to sell the plans to one of the Sheiks with terrorist alliances.” I picked up the card. Agent Leslie Jackson was his name. I’m sure my husband would have had a field day with that one if I dared to shared it. Quickly, I memorized the phone number on it and handed it back.
“Keep it.” He told me.
I shook my head no. “I already memorized it. Agent Leslie Jackson.” Repeating the number back was easy enough, but I shouldn’t have shown my cards by mocking him.
He pushed the card back, “Just in case.”
“It probably has a tracking device on it. You must think I’m stupid to hold on to that.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I dropped the card and he watched it flutter to the table.
“No, but I can’t imagine a beautiful intelligent woman like you being happy in her gilded cage.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Crossing my arms protectively over my middle, I tried to cull the anxiety. Nelson could come in at any second.
“You can call me Les, if that makes it easier for you.”
What kind of name was Les? Not that I was in any position to pass judgment here, but who was he to claim to be some white knight riding in to slay my dragon?
“Easier?” Scowling, I shrugged. The agent wasn’t doing me any favors. Nelson would definitely pick up that something was wrong. I was fucked.
“I know giving up information is a hard decision, but I can help you.” He stepped forward into my personal space forcing my back to hit the blinds bending the metal scraping against the window. I held up my hand to stop him from talking. All people seemed to want to do was talk. I never saw anyone take action and I doubted this FBI agent could do anything useful. Maybe we were both rejects from the circus after all.
“Nothing about my life is easy. That cage you seem to think I’m in protects me from men like you. And the dragon you think you can save me from? He’d eat you alive.” I susurrated.
Nelson walked toward the door of the café, and the two suited men stood up together. They certainly took their sweet time skirting trouble and endangering me.
“You better go.” I ushered them to hurry.
“We’ll see you soon, Mrs. Huntley.” Puzzled by his comment, I wasn’t going to meet him willingly anywhere. At this rate, Adam wouldn’t let me leave the house again.
“The library. Thursday between three and four in the reference section. I’ll meet you at the microfilm desk.” Agent Jackson cupped my cheek too familiar. His wide thumb rubbed my bare lips with a calloused fingertip smearing my pale lipstick. My body tingled with an unfamiliar feeling I squashed down. Everything about this was wrong, so very wrong. My beautiful dragon slayed wannabe heroes like him every day for fun.
I hoped like hell I was wrong. Attraction held no place in my life. All the danger in the world had a time and a place, and I wanted no part of it. Adam made it a mission for me to not enjoy anything normal about sexual relations. I brushed it off as adrenaline and the fear of getting caught. Blinking my eyes, they walked into the kitchen behind the storefront of the café. The curtain parted and the owner came back out to the register smiling, filling the cases with fresh pastries as if nothing had occurred moments ago. I did a full turn wondering when I entered the Twilight Zone. I was never coming here again. Especially not if the FBI knew my schedule. What would happen if I didn’t show on Thursday?
14
Elizabeth
The door jingled and Nelson stepped inside, his pristine suit askew and rattled. The two of us filled the space with the owner who busied himself behind the counter whistling guilty as a jaybird as if the FBI hadn’t stormed the castle. How typical.
“Mrs. Huntley, we need to go.” Nelson gripped my arm pulling me toward the door.
I nodded to my bodyguard babysitter and made to step outside.
“Mrs. Huntley, your cupcakes.” The owner pushed a boxed toward me from the counter. I took them and held them close to me wondering what the fuck was inside.
I was so fucked.
Nelson eyed the package, but didn’t ask and I was grateful. He proceeded to help me to the car, his hand lightly on my back guiding me down the steps. He held my door open scanning the street as I got in.
“What happened outside?” I attempted to keep Nelson distracted from thinking something happened inside the bakery during our brief separation. He often behaved like a dog missing its owner and I didn’t need him sniffing my crotch, or pissing on me. I had a bulldog at home that was more than happy to do that each time I took a fucking shower.
“Rookie cop was trying to say I parked too close to the stop sign and wanted me to move the car.” His voice growled low losing its accent.
I pulled the taut candy stripped string popping the lid on the white pastry box smelling the sweet bakery items inside. My mouth salivated in a Pavlovian response. When was the last time I had something to eat of my own choosing? The calorie count would ruin me for the next week.
“Hmm… I guess you won?” Coldness filled my limbs to a numbing listlessness. Did I dare eat anything inside? I’d be indulging in the sin of gluttony. I could take small bites, couldn’t I? How much did I care about sins when God left me high and dry?
He muttered to himself over the radio.
“Of course.”
With the help of my manicured nail, I cut the tape on the edge of the box glancing inside with hesitation. Sure enough, four small cupcakes that looked like they belonged part of a children’s party were inside.
Fuck.
The decorations cut from sugar paste were in the shape of little rocket ships that looked far too much like bombs. Now I had the FBI trying to fuck me over with sugar sweet guilt. It was childish, ridiculous and yet unsurprisingly clever. I placed the box on the seat next to me resting my head back against the butter soft leather. This was a fucking cluster-fuck. What was I to do? I picked up the first cupcake and bit into it letting the strawberry filling tingle the taste buds of my mouth. A small bit of sugared fruit dribbled over my lip and I licked it away greedy. I would get sick gorging on these, but I couldn’t help it. If Adam found them, he wasn’t stupid. He would know, and that would be it. I ate the second in four bites and slowed down on the third. We were almost to the house and my stomach cramped. Adam never let me eat food like this. He wanted me slim, polished, and perfect. The fourth nearly had me gagging, but I shoved it in my mouth more fearful of getting caught.
Nelson drove ignoring my dry heaves as I licked the edge of my lips capturing the last bit of sugar. Nausea and cramping in my stomach followed my penance. I checked my lipstick in the mirror reapplying the soft classic shade smudging the blue bomb dye of the cupcake.
Arriving home, the house was quiet. I tossed the empty box in the trash compactor and made my way passed Adam’s office. Nelson was in the kitchen and my sister-in-law was upstairs resting as per the doctor’s orders to keep the babies well rested in the later stage of her pregnancy. I knocked on the door, but no sound emanated from within. I opened the door and slipped inside shutting it closed behind me. Drawn curtains kept the light dim inside the office while polished mahogany filled my nose.
Adam’s laptop was open and a blue screen showed a login for a bank site in Zurich. He must have stepped away for a minute because he would have never left something like that up on his home laptop. En Swisse Banka was the site and I made a mental note of the account digits on the login. Eight numbers I repeated to myself over and over until I had them right. The secure password field was blank, but a hacker could probably figure that out. That wasn’t my problem today. They needed a money trail, and I could give them a place to start. My pulse raced along with the sugar rush coursing through my veins magnified with guilt. It was now or never. I could say I found nothing but they won’t stop badgering me until Adam finds out and then I’m dead anyway.
A bank account meant that it was real, didn’t it?
“Elizabeth!” Adam’s yell from across the house advised me of his whereabouts. I scurried to meet him anywhere, but inside his office damning me. I tucked the information I gleaned far into my mind and jetted out the door leaving things untouched. I shut the door with a soft click.
