by P Nelson
“Not to worry, Dr Jones. You’ll see him soon enough.” The man assured her. Calla’s heart rate spiked, and she struggled even harder.
“Stop it, Calla.” Nick shouted from somewhere behind her, but blind panic took over her brain. She fought against the man holding her; reason was something for other people. Gasping and choking Calla understood she was acting crazy, but couldn’t help it.
“She will hurt herself.” Someone near Calla commented, concern in his voice. Hands pulled her head back. Rough material scratched her face. A black hood pulled over her face. Calla screamed.
Calla kicked out with her arms secured behind her back. Fell to her knees. The piercing pain in them jarred her for a second.
“Flynn!” She shouted repeatedly. Rough hands pulled her up by her arms. Her legs met air. Two sets of hands hauled her forward and lifted Calla up. Cool metal met her side and head. It sounded like she was in the back of a van. Men grunting filled up the small space and another body came in beside her. Calla leaned over, pressed her nose to the nearest part she could find and breathed.
The smell of Flynn’s aftershave hit her. Calla pressed her cheek against what she assumed was Flynn’s chest and lay down over him. She did her best to calm down, she inhaled through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, just like the start of a scene. She reached out with her senses and did her best to pick up on anything to help her escape. These men didn’t realise she’d spent a lot of time blindfolded.
Men shouting outside the van caught her attention. But she didn’t understand what they were saying. The doors on the back of the van slammed shut. Someone had come inside with her, but she didn’t think Nick or Linkin were with them. The van started, and she had to balance on her knees to keep her position. There was no more light filtering through the hood. A bump and the sound of traffic showed they must be on the streets of Vancouver.
Calla watched a crime show once where the kidnapped person could figure out where they were by remembering all the turns the vehicle had taken. She gave up after the first ten. Her head was too worried about Flynn. Whether they had given him too much of sedation drug. Was his neck straight? He could suffocate if these assholes were not careful. Did they care?
She did. As she pressed an ear to Flynn’s chest, Calla did her best to count out his breaths. It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour. The strength it took to keep her kneeling position over Flynn and the adrenaline wearing off from her panic attack caused Calla’s brain to become lethargic. When the back doors of the van opened. She lifted her head, but had no fight left in her. Instead, she allowed someone to pull her from Flynn and drag her out of the van. Her knees burned and her shoulders ached like never she’d ever felt before.
It sounded like they were in a big open space. The echo of boots scuffing the floors echoed around her. Hands shoved Calla forward. Before she could do anything a lock clicked shut. They hadn’t bothered to take the hood off her head. Calla kicked off her high-heeled shoes. She lowered down to her knees like she was going into slave pose. Calla balanced with her ass on her heels. She leaned forward and used her burning shoulder to work the hood from her head.
With her mind focused, even when the material scratched her face or it became bunched, Calla worked the hood off. She blinked several times and stared at the surrounding room. There wasn’t much light, but it reminded her of a storage unit space she had been to once with a friend. The walls were smooth, the ceiling so high there was no hope of reaching the air grates. The only way in or out was the door in front of her.
Feeling stupid Calla rose back to her feet and shuffled to the door. Her knees were bleeding and some fine bruises already were coming up from her fall earlier. She turned around and tried the door handle. After a few twists and turns it was obvious whoever had thrown her in here had locked it. If there were cameras watching her, they might be laughing. But at least she was discovering her space.
Calla walked a circuit around the room, studying everything about it. It was big and empty. Sheets of something not wood made up the walls. Too hard for her to kick through. But the heel of one of her shoes might do the trick. Calla did her best to search every nook and cranny, but didn’t find a camera. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one above her she couldn’t see. She needed to be discreet. Worry over Flynn and what their kidnappers might do to him caused cold calculation to descend over her brain. She couldn’t indulge in her earlier histrionics if she could get everyone out of this mess. What would Linkin do?
She walked back to her shoes and toed them on. She chose one sidewall and walked over and sat down. With her hands tied behind her back, Calla leaned against the smooth surface of the wall, pressing the back of her head back. She waited until the cold came through the skirt she was wearing and cursed Flynn for his no undies rule. Not that the frilly things she wore would’ve provided too much protection, but it would’ve been something.
Like she was taking her shoes off for comfort, Calla wriggled her toes until first one, then the other shoe came loose. With her hands tied, manoeuvring around without being obvious was harder than Calla expected. Her heart rate kicked up as she got one of her heels into her hand. With a sigh, she bent her head back and pressed the pointed heel into the wall. Nothing. She wriggled it with her joined hands. After a minute or two she felt something give way. She stifled the giddiness accomplishment, Calla set to work in a delicate balance. Pressing and shifting the heel around, creating a hole through the sheeting. A pile of dust formed under her workspace.
There would be no way to hide it, and the hole she was making from anyone coming into the room. She prayed no one would come before she finished her work. Thoughts focused on what might lie in the room next to her. The hope it was a hallway leading to escape, or where she could find tools to cut her hands loose. Prayers for Flynn, Nick and Linkin repeated in a part of her brain removed from her present circumstances.
Footsteps sounded outside in the hall outside her door. She glanced over, heart in her mouth. But they continued down the hall. With renewed purpose, Calla dug away at the wall. Sometimes dropping the shoe to pull at paper and other debris with her fingers. Several of her nails broke, and it bruised the tips of them and bleeding, but she continued to work at her escape plan. Doing nothing wasn’t an option.
Whoever had taken her had managed the Reverend. They were murderers and Calla understood deep in her heart one dead psychologist with a fetish wouldn’t worry them too much. Calla did her best to think of her moms. Evie who would never get over her daughters disappearance. And Sarah who would fight for the rest of her life for answers, never forgiving herself for fighting with Calla on the last day they’d seen each other. Tears she did her best to ignore dripped down her chin. Calla would not let them down. Let anyone down.
What would Linkin do?
Calla dropped the shoes and grabbed onto a piece of the wall and wrenched hard. The plastic ties around her wrist bit into her skin and bone, but she fought with all her might until a large chunk came loose. Not far now.
Chapter Nineteen
Flynn groaned. He tried to open his eyes several times, but his lids refused to move. Fuck. Since he played in the BDSM world, the occasions where he drank himself into a stupor were none. But he had the mother of all hangovers, so he must have tied one on last night.
It was expected. Flynn groaned and rolled over onto his side. His face pressed into cold, hard ground. Was he on the bathroom floor? There was no way he wanted Calla to see him like this. They must have celebrated their engagement at The Cage last night. And Alwen must have dropped her charges.
He tried to move his arms, but they weren’t budging. Not because he couldn’t move them. Something bound them. Flynn heaved in a breath, Flynn cracked his eyes open.
“Looks like he’s awake.” Someone said above him. Shuffling shoes on the floor and boots came into view.
“Shake it off, Mr Banroch. We have business to attend and I have other things to do this evening.” The voice sounded
familiar. Hands lifted Flynn into a sitting position, the world spun and he was helpless to stop the dry heaving. Fuck. His brain functioned all at once. The fight with Linkin. The ride down in the elevator. Him trying to negotiate Calla’s escape. The dart to his chest. Calla’s terror.
“Fucking bastard.” Flynn craned his head back to get a good look around him. But his eyes burned against the light, forcing him to squint.
“Glad to find out it’s all coming together.” The man from before said.
“Why don’t you give me a name, asshole?” Flynn feared for Calla’s safety, but he would come out swinging.
“You can call me Mr Asshole if you like.” The man in the suit stopped in front of a chair and sat down. The cheap lines of his suit creased. “Because I will ruin the rest of your night.”
“Where is Calla? Nick? Linkin?” Flynn wrestled out of the hold of his handlers and tried to stand up. The dizziness and nausea threatened to overwhelm him.
“I wouldn’t move too much, Mr Banroch. I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those darts in the past. Nasty business.” Mr Asshole commented.
“Fuck you. Guess you learned not to treat girls that way.” Flynn spat. He wasn’t taking this guys shit; it didn’t matter if his head felt like a squashed melon and his guts swirled on spin cycle.
“Not very nice.” The man sighed. “I assure you Dr Jones is being well looked after. She does not understand her own safety. Any damage caused was done because she wouldn’t cooperate.” The last words registered and Flynn was on his feet charging at Mr Asshole in under thirty seconds. A tackle brought Flynn down within a foot of his target. “Looks like you and your fiancée have something in common.”
“Where is she?” he shouted at Mr Asshole.
“All in good time, Mr Banroch.” Mr Asshole assured him.
“I’m not cooperating until I see Calla, Nick and Mr Pearce.” Flynn’s mouth set in stubborn lines.
“You’re still acting like you retain a choice to be here or over what comes next. But you don’t” Mr Asshole sat back in his chair. Hands hauled Flynn back into a sitting position. The sound of a metal chair dragging across the concrete floor screeched behind Flynn. Several sets of hands lifted and dumped him onto the seat.
“We have some very important questions to ask Mr Pearce.” Mr Asshole informed Flynn. “Questions whose answers have nothing to do with you. As for his man, that’s our business not yours. You will enjoy a reunion with Dr Jones as long as you comply with our wishes.”
“I want to see them all.” Flynn sat on his stubbornness. He could wait here all night. “You got more people to abduct Mr Asshole? I want to make a few threats of my own. By now Linkin’s team will know we’re missing. And if you think we’re without friends in the Canadian Government. You’re fucking wrong. I suggest you untie me, reunite me with Dr Jones, Nick and Mr Pearce and send us on our way.” Flynn wasn’t bluffing.
Right now Linkin’s trained operatives would hunt them down. They would’ve informed Chamberlain’s superiors of the abduction. Flynn confident Linkin’s men would rescue them. They would use every single measure at their disposal to find them.
“You will never get anywhere with Flynn like that.” The voice of Flynn’s ex wife interrupted whatever Mr Asshole would say.
“Why am I not fucking surprised? If you think I will keep paying those alimony cheques my dear, you’re fucked in the head.” Flynn growled trying to look around. Melanie sauntered into his line of vision looking like a carbon copy of Jackie O.
“It’s not always about the money, my love.” Her lips curved into a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “But this time it is.”
“Did you let the Reverend loose to kill all those women?” Flynn demanded.
“A regrettable mistake.” Mr Asshole interjected.
“I think it was more than a mistake.” Flynn’s fury mounted. “You’re responsible for the deaths of those girls, the torture of my friend.” Calm stole over Flynn. “I’ll kill you both with my bare hands.”
“So much drama.” Melanie stood beside the man in the cheap suit. “All you need to do is listen.”
“I’d like to know how you got mixed up in the mess Melanie.” Flynn’s brain worked overtime. He needed a fucking ally and the bitch in front of him turned. She always loved money. “Whatever they are paying you, I’ll double it. You know I’m good for it.” He watched the calculation in her eyes before her mouth turned down in a fake frown.
“The currency they are paying is not in dollars.” Melanie exaggerated a sigh. “And I need it to survive, so I cannot take you up on your deal. I would’ve in any other circumstance.”
“Mercenary bitch.” Flynn spat.
“Yes I am.” Melanie didn’t even flinch at the insult.
“Are you ready to learn what I have to say?” Mr Asshole lifted a leg and set his ankle on his knee the embodiment of relaxation. Flynn was excellent at reading people, however. Mr Asshole didn’t like Melanie’s presence any more than he did. But he made no move to remove her.
“You have been a very hard fish to catch, Mr Banroch.” Mr Asshole began.
“Maybe you should have asked me what you wanted before you assaulted me and my fiancée. Not to mention whatever the hell you’re doing to my friends right now.” Flynn ground out.
“We should start from the beginning.” Melanie injected. "It makes everything much less complicated.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got time before I’m rescued.” Flynn would not let up any pressure on his side even if he didn’t have a play at the moment.
“I wasn’t born Melanie Riker. My real name was Tatiana followed by a long Russian surname.” This surprised Flynn more than anything else she said. He studied her features, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in them. This was Canada; people from all over the world lived here. “And I was fantastic at certain things.” She ran a finger along Mr Asshole’s shoulder and Flynn caught the quick expression of distaste before it disappeared.
“You told me your family was from back east.” Flynn went along with whatever she wanted to tell him now. Back then she’s been an orphan, searching for her place in the kink world. Flynn wanting get away from meaningless, grabbed onto Melanie and didn’t release what she was until it was too late. Now it appeared he might have dodged an even bigger bullet.
“Banroch Industries had interests in the Crimea.” She said the last with a faint Russian accent Flynn would’ve missed had he not been listening for it. “They dispatched me to find out how far you would push the government to honour the agreements made.”
“And did you find out what you needed?” Flynn sat back in his chair. He had negotiated a huge deal with the Crimean’s only to come into conflict with the Ukrainians and the Russians. He thought back to the days where he was trying to save a multi billionaire dollar deal.
“Not from you.” Melanie smiled. It was feral, and it made Flynn’s skin crawl knowing he and been intimate with this woman. “You never mixed business with pleasure. I respected you for it. The Russian Government found out how far you would go and the rest is now millions of dollars in Bancroft profits.”
“Jesus.” Her story stunned Flynn. He married a Russian spy. “So you were spying on me for the Russians the whole time? Is that what this Enbridge Pipeline bullshit is all about?”
“We’ll get to the pipeline in a minute.” Mr Asshole assured him. “Listen to the rest of your ex wife’s story.”
“I think I’ve heard enough.” Flynn wanted to buy time. The more he kept these two talking the better chance Linkin’s team would have in finding them.
“My job done, I prepared to leave.” Melanie shrugged a shoulder. “I was greedy however and wanted to play out the rest of my contract with you. A mistake.”
“Not, I think, one you worried about making.” Mr Asshole chimed in. “Mr Banroch, for a long time you were an enigma to us. We watched as you progressed from high school to university. You accepted your father’s financial help, but y
ou were never self-indulgent. When it came time to start at Banroch, you started at the bottom and worked your way up. Not one complaint.”
“You don’t have to remind me. I lived it.” Flynn did his best to sound bored. He was doing his best to work some tension out of the ties around his wrists. There was no chance Flynn would let an opportunity to escape go by unheeded.
“The problem we had with you was information.” Mr Asshole continued. “You’re only vice was kink. You didn’t drink too much and divulge things to your friends. You didn’t sleep with prostitutes. And the women who trained to get in your path at the clubs? Well, they might have gotten a night or two, max a week. But they got the Dom persona. Nothing about business. When we realised Tatiana had infiltrated your personal life on a more permanent basis.” He shrugged. “It was easy to convince her to give up her ties with Russia and take up a permanent gig here in Canada.” Flynn stared at her not understanding why he remained shocked.
“I know. I’m not very trustworthy.” Her pained smiled was enough to have Flynn shaking his head.
“All this is years before Enbridge even put the pipeline up for sale.” Flynn stared at his tormentors. “You couldn’t have been lying in wait all these years for this moment.”
“Of course not.” Mr Asshole laughed. The sound was rusty. “And it derailed our plans. You divorced our only asset close to you.” Flynn was grateful to discover this information. If Mr Asshole was telling the truth, it meant there were no other spies close to him. He needed to trust the surrounding people with not only his safety, but Calla’s too.
“Why don’t we get onto why we’re here?” Flynn pushed the man along. He wanted as much information as possible before one of those black helicopters Linkin used came through the ceiling.
“We’re here because your government needs a favour.” Mr Asshole sat forward in his chair. Hands clasped. Several thoughts busted through Flynn’s brain. Cheap suit. Warehouse. Melanie a former spy.
