by Lisa Shelby
After what feels like days, I finally hear a car door outside and then two voices talking outside. It sounds like Softy and Teardrop, but I can't make out what they're saying. When the conversation falls quiet, I hear the door to my freedom slam shut and a motorcycle rev to life and drive away.
The cameras are watching, so I continue to lay still, although my heart rate is picking up speed. When I hear the metal of the lock on the door click into place, the sound of my heart is beating so loudly in my ears I will be shocked if my captor doesn’t hear it as well. I am relieved when the quiet shuffle of feet tells me, as per usual, Softy has arrived, and I pray to God he doesn't let me down. I hope he follows his routine, and I hope there is just enough kindness in him to let my plan come to fruition.
I hear him place the bag with my morning meal on the rusted-out desk. When he notices I'm not moving, he goes still. I hear him take a couple of steps closer, but with my hair over my face and my eyes closed, I cannot see him.
"Shit." I feel the toe of his shoe push at my leg. "Hey, you okay down there?"
I don't move.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Olivia, come on now, say something."
I don't make a sound.
He bends down and pushes me from my side to my back. "No. No. Come on, you can't die. Boss man will kill me." He brushes the hair from my face, and I pray to God once again to give me the fortitude to stay calm and to keep my breathing level enough that he doesn't notice the fact that by body is racing with adrenaline.
"Fuck, please tell me you are just unconscious," he says, lifting my hand and letting it limply fall back down to the concrete floor. He presses his index and middle finger against my wrist and is searching for a pulse. "Gracias a Dios."
After finding my pulse and thanking God, he pulls his heavy body up, and I hear him walking away. I expect him to go back out to the warehouse, but instead he heads to the disgusting office bathroom. I hear the corroded faucet turn on, and I hear him cursing under his breath.
This is it.
It's time.
In my head, my plan is simple and easy, but the moment I open my eyes, everything is a blur, and as I slowly sit up I feel nauseous. I don't have time to worry about blurry vision and feeling sick, and I begin to talk myself through the process of my escape, matter-of-factly in my head.
Stand up.
Atta girl.
Ignore the fact that the room is spinning and put one foot in front of the other. There you go...keep going...one foot in front of the other...just like that.
Do not stop and do not look in that bathroom to see him bent over the sink splashing cold water over his face while he talks on his cell obviously calling Dickey or another goon to come help him.
DO. NOT. STOP.
Keep walking.
That's it.
Good girl.
You've made it to the door.
Now, you are going to ignore how badly your head and your entire body aches at the moment.
Do not take the time to lift your hand to the side of your head to feel how bad your injury is; you'll have plenty of time to take inventory of your well-being after you are out of this building.
"What the fuck?"
He knows you’re up, you have to go now!
Run!
Yes, it hurts but put it out of your mind.
Focus on the green metal door straight ahead.
Focus on the door and nothing else!
Run, Olivia!
You may be hurt, but you run five miles a day, and you will not let Softy catch you.
You're here.
You did it.
Ignore the fact that you can hear him on the phone calling in reinforcements.
Wrap your hand around that doorknob, turn, and pull.
Yes, it's a heavy metal door, and your body is weak, but pull the damn door open.
Okay, it's bright...very fucking bright.
But do not stop in this doorway.
Lift your hand over your eyes for some relief but run!
Run into the damn light!
Feel the cool morning air fill your lungs and use it to propel you forward.
Do. Not. Stop.
Run!
Ignore the ringing in your ears and listen to the sound of the screeching tires coming from your right and turn left.
Run, Olivia!
Turn left again and keep running; don't stop.
Check out your surroundings.
You are in some sort of industrial park.
It all looks the same but it's going to be okay.
You're going to make the right turn and find your way out of here.
Just don't stop moving.
Do not turn around to see who those heavy footsteps behind you belong to.
Do not let your brain fool you into thinking the voice you hear calling your name is his.
Stay strong.
Keep running.
Fight the large arms that have you around the waist.
Don't let them take you again.
Don't let yourself believe it's him that you smell.
Or that it's his breath on your ear, telling you he's got you.
Keep fighting.
16
Ronan
"Baby, it's okay. I got you. It's me. You're safe."
She's seems almost feral as she claws at my arms and kicks her legs in the air, trying to fight her way out of my arms.
"Baby, I got you."
Pop!
A shot rings out from the warehouse, and she stills long enough for me to get through to her.
"Gorgeous, it's me. I've got you. You're safe."
She turns her head to look at me, and what I see is enough to break me. She's bloodied, bruised, swollen, and filthy, but she's still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have to stay strong for her. There will be no breaking.
"Ronan?" she whispers.
"Yes, gorgeous. It's me. I came here to rescue you but, as per usual, it looks like you already rescued yourself."
"It's really you?"
"It is."
The sirens are getting closer, and I can hear Baxter and his men yelling orders.
"But how? Why?"
"Let's not worry about that right now. Let's just get you over here in the car and make sure you're okay and let the guys take care of things."
I walk her over to my car and put her in the back seat. I slip off my coat and join her. She puts her head in my lap, and I cover her with my coat.
"You smell like cigarettes."
There's my girl.
"Sorry, baby. No more. I promise. Now that I have you back, I won't need them anymore."
I gently pull her hair from her face and look at what they've done to her. I want so badly to get out of this car and find the man and his band of bastards that helped him do this to her and torture them slowly before putting a bullet in each of their heads, but there is no way I am leaving the shivering woman in my lap.
I send Baxter and Ben a text letting them know I have her, and we wait. She doesn't speak, but with her head injury, I'm afraid she shouldn't fall asleep so I try to keep her talking.
"I'm so proud of you, gorgeous. It was so brave of you to break out of there, but dammit, I was here ready to be your white knight coming in to rescue you."
"Sorry, to steal your thunder."
"I'm getting used to it."
"Ronan, I am so sorry."
"Shh...don't. Not now. We'll talk about everything later. Right now, I have you back, and you’re safe and sound, and that is all that matters."
"But..."
Baxter comes into view and comes around the front of the SUV and opens the driver’s side door. Jumping into the seat, he looks back and sees Olivia, curled up in my lap, and I can see him thinking the same thing.
Those mother fuckers. How could they do this to her?
"How is she?"
Before I can answer, she speaks up. "I'm fine, but Ronan needs a shower. He smells like an ashtray."
Baxter and I smile at each other and like we already knew, she was worth everything we put in place to come get her. Even if she didn't need us as much as we thought.
"Glad to have you back, Miss Adams. We're gonna get you to the hospital now and get you looked at, okay?"
"What about Softy?"
"Who, baby?"
"What happened?"
"Ma'am, we've got it all under control. Between Bellinger and the rest of the team, Ben and the SFPD, Brown and his men won't be able to hurt you anymore. There is a squad car behind us, and they're going to follow us to the hospital. They’ll need to ask you some questions once we get you fixed up."
"Thank you, Baxter."
"It was my pleasure, but don't thank me. Thank that ashtray of yours. He would have moved heaven and earth to get you back."
She lifts her head and her eye that isn't swollen shut looks at me like only she can. "Thank you."
"Of course, baby. Now let's get you to the hospital.”
"Olivia, if you're ready, Officer Basco and Detective King would like to come in and ask you a few questions," Baxter says, standing at the foot of her hospital bed.
This man who has been my rock this past week, is now a steady force for Olivia as well. He has put his life on hold to help me find her and his dedication and friendship has shown no limits.
She pushes herself up in the bed, fixing her posture and trying to fix her hair, which is still matted to her head. I know she's embarrassed by her appearance, but she sits up proud and tough and nods her head in answer to Baxter’s question.
When he leaves to get the officers, she looks at me and the hold she has on my hand tightens as one tear falls down her bruised cheek. Her gaze locks on mine, and she speaks a thousand words without saying a word.
She's scared.
She's embarrassed.
She's sorry.
But, most importantly...I know she's glad this chapter of her life is over, and he is out of her life for good now.
"I know, baby. I know." I kiss the back of her hand, and when I hear the door open, I stand from the uncomfortable chair next to her bed.
"Hello, Miss Adams. My name is Detective King. How are you doing?"
"Fine, thank you."
I can see her warrior armor set in place, and I know as painful as this is going to be, she is going to conquer it like she does everything else. I have never been so proud of anyone in my life.
"Ma'am, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions and get your statement about the events of the last six days?"
"Of course."
"Sir, if you don't mind stepping out..."
"No, I would like him to stay, please. If Mr. Baxter, Mr. Sutton, and Officer Reed are still here, it would be great if they could come in too. Mr. Sutton is Mr. McKinley's attorney and all three of them are family. If it's all the same to you, I would like to tell my story once and not have to relive it over and over again."
She takes my breath away.
She is something else.
"I'll go get them," I say shakily. I kiss the back of her hand again and leave the room to find my friends.
As soon as I step into the hallway, I bend over with my hands on my knees and just as I'm trying my best not to hyperventilate, I see a set of feet in front of me.
Baxter has rushed to my side and puts his hand on my back. "What is it, Ronan. What's wrong?"
Two more sets of feet appear and she's right, these three men are my family.
I take a deep breath and stand up. "She wants the three of you there when she talks to them. She told them the three of you were our family, and she only wants to tell her story once, and she wants us all there."
"Damn, she really is something else," Ben says with a squeeze to my shoulder.
"That she is," Baxter agrees.
Grabbing my face tightly, Richie gets in my line of sight so I can't escape him and keeps it real. "Let's not keep her waiting. I'm sure she wants to get it over with. But, Ro, you need to be strong for her. She fought her way back to you, and now you need to keep your shit together. I'm sure you'll hear things you don't want to hear, but she lived it, and you need to be there for her. Keep that rage in check my man."
"I will. Thanks, Rich. Thanks to all three of you. It means a lot that you're here not only for me but for her too."
Ben's hand is on the door handle, but before he turns it and pushes the door open, he says, "There isn't any other place we would be right now."
When I re-enter the room, the light of my life looks tiny and exhausted, yet you can still feel her strength radiating off her.
"Thanks, guys. I know all three of you have been working to help Ronan, and you deserve to hear this too. Besides, this guy is kind of a mess, and I don't want to make him have to repeat it back to you." She closes her good eye, and I think she was giving them a wink at my expense, but it's hard to tell.
My friends chuckle and stand against the wall in the back of the room, and I take my seat next to the bed and take her hand in mine.
Detective King starts to talk, but he's cut off by the sassy little thing in the hospital bed.
"Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to start with the beginning and tell my side of what happened all at once and then if you have questions for me afterward, I would be more than happy to answer them, but I think it would be easier for me to just get it all out if that's okay."
"Ma'am, it's not really proper protocol..."
The detective is cut off yet again when Rich pipes up. "Damn straight, girl. You've been through enough. Do it your way."
Detective King looks over his shoulder and gives my idiot friend some stink eye and continues. "...But if you are willing to tell your story and you don't mind if I stop you from time to time with clarifying questions, your way is perfectly fine."
"Thank you." She turns her attention to the guys leaning against the wall in the back of the room. "The nurse said she would be right back with chairs for the three of you."
As if on cue, the door opens and chairs are delivered to my friends, and while King takes a seat on the opposite side of the bed they settle in.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Adams."
"Well, I think I should start at the beginning with my childhood so the events of this past week make sense..."
For the next thirty minutes or so, Olivia astounds all of us in the room when she goes over the details of her childhood, starting with her father's murder to her graduation from college. She tells bits and pieces of our story and how our relationship led Dickey Brown to San Francisco and to eventually her kidnapping.
When she talks about the night she was taken, she watches me as she tells her tale. She wants to be sure I hear her when she says she knows she never should have left the hotel. She knows she was being immature, and she put herself in danger and caused all of this time and worry for everyone. Her hand squeezes mine, and she sheds her first tear as she stresses the fact that she had never left me and she was on her way back to me.
I assure her with another kiss to the back of her hand, but I don't interrupt her as she goes into the part of the story I have been dreading. Listening to what she went through was excruciating, but she doesn't falter, and she doesn't shed another tear. She talks of her captors, how they treated her, her daily routine, and how she planned for her escape the night she told me not to pay her ransom. King asks questions here and there, but for the most part, she provides the details he needs. But leave it to Olivia to lighten the mood and throw in her sass at the end.
"I heard his footsteps behind me, and I knew someone was calling my name, but I was so determined to get out of there I didn't realize it was Ronan. When he finally caught up to me and had me in his arms, I still had no clue. I just thought, how does an ashtray have arms big enough to hold on to me this tight? I mean this guy"—she points in my direction with her free hand pretending to talk under her breath—"he needs a shower worse than I do." She earns some chuckles and my warning to watch her sass,
and this earns me another wink from her good eye. She finishes the last details of me taking her to the car and Baxter driving us to the hospital.
I couldn't be prouder of her, and I couldn't feel any more ashamed of myself.
Once again, she had to save herself.
It's my job as the man who loves her to take care of her. I know we haven't taken any solemn vows, but when I told her I was all in, when I told her I loved her and she was my number one priority, this is what I meant. I would love her, provide for her, and protect her. I know she would tell me all she needs is my love, but that's not the way it works. Loving her means protecting her, and I have failed at fulfilling my unspoken vow.
Her tale is over, and King's questions were answered along the way so things are wrapping up. "Miss Adams, you've got my card with my cell on it. If you feel like you may have forgotten anything of importance or if you have any questions don't hesitate."
"Thank you and you can call me if there is anything I can do to help with the investigation. Oh but, I do have one question."
“Yes, Miss Adams.”
“Nobody has told me how you all knew where I was. Why were you all there this morning?”
Not sure I have what it takes to give her all the details, I give her a quick explanation. “Yesterday, before the video call to set up the ransom drop off, Baxter had been going over all the security footage from Franklin Street when he noticed a black motorcycle, with a rider in a black helmet, was driving by the house each night. Last night Baxter’s men followed the man, it appears you call Teardrop, to the industrial park and the warehouse they were keeping you in.”
I have to take a break. It’s still hard for me to know she endured so many injuries she didn’t need to if we had grabbed her that night.
“I just can’t believe two of our men were there, and we didn’t have them get you right then.”
“Ronan, we had to put together a plan, get Ben and the department involved. We had to do it right.” Baxter does his best to make me feel better, but it doesn’t work. I put on a face that says I know he’s right and I carry on.
