Ripple Effect

by Jerald, Tracey

  By the grace of God or the Devil, he is.

  He’s curled in the corner, bruised and bleeding. What they did to him…I shudder. I can see the purplish outline of where Alessio’s boots kicked him repeatedly because the master-at-arms wouldn’t turn over the codes to the ship’s safe. I both admire and hate the ship’s officer because he wouldn’t. I overheard the conversation; they want access to that impenetrable safe where the jewels for the auction are. And the officer is using it to barter for his life.

  Of the few of us who are left, I think we all wish we had something that valuable.

  I’ve been praying for the life nestled deep inside of me. In the depth of my heart, I’ve already forgiven Cal. And I forgave myself. Why did it take something as catastrophic as this for me to realize the man I love wouldn’t have tried so hard to make me listen if he truly didn’t have an explanation?

  He wouldn’t have. He has more honor than that. But while it doesn’t resolve the wear and tear on our marriage, I pray with all my heart he interprets my last message to be happy.

  I may never get to tell him that myself. I hear a savage groan from Linc that echoes the truth of my fears.

  Emotional pain can’t kill you though it might feel like it. It’s easier to strike out with actions than to listen. If I think about it, I’ve been slowly dying for two months. I’ve suffered by my own hand, due to my own lack of sight, by planting myself stubbornly in one location and not moving. I just wish the people in this room could be spared the mirror of my heart’s lesson.

  I’ve thought a lot about Nonna, both in the last few months and since I was dragged up here last night. I can’t escape the tremor that racks through my body knowing I’ll be with her soon. All those moments with her from learning how to cook and listening to her stories about falling in love flash through my mind. Memories of words of wisdom about being a gracious woman as well as a tiger of a business owner while sipping cocoa, then wine by her fireplace, warming a body racked with chills. And learning from her that only love would cause the ripples in my life to alter its course.

  “You might not have thought of this situation,” I whisper quietly enough, I’m sure I can’t be heard.

  But I’m wrong.

  Dark boots stop in front of me. “What did you say, signora?” Alessio sneers.

  I rub my lips together in an attempt to bring moisture them. They’re so dry and cracked from the lack of fluid. “I was talking to my grandmother.”

  Alessio grips my face hard. I can’t control the sound that escapes. “Unh!” My cheek is swollen and tender from…was it just yesterday?

  “Your grandmother? Is she here?” Jerking my head back and forth, my neck is whipping every which way. I don’t answer. “No? Then what must we do to shut this pretty little mouth of yours?”

  I bite my inner cheek.

  Jerking my head forward and back, he screams, “Answer me, damn you!”

  “I’ll…I’ll be good. I swear.”

  With a cruel smile, he stands. Hauling me to feet which have no feeling, I stumble against him. “If you want to live, you’ll be better than good.” Shoving me backward, I fall awkwardly on my arms. Shooting pain rips up both shoulders.

  But it’s nothing like the pain that causes me to curl into myself when I feel his boot land right below my ribs.

  “Before, you didn’t want me to touch you. Now, if it means your death, will you beg for me to touch you, Signora Sullivan?”

  Twisting my head, my eyes are staring right into the sun. Tears leak out the sides. I whisper, “No.”

  I feel a different boot in my back as Alessio crouches down. “Oh, I think you will. Diego, show our guest what happens to women who misbehave, would you? We haven’t made an example of one yet.”

  My mind’s in too much shock to register the lash of the leather. At first there’s a sharp pain, but then the burn. I scream, “No! Stop!” I try to curl my legs up to protect my baby—Cal’s baby—but other hands hold my legs down.

  “Again,” Alessio demands.

  This time, my mind hears the hiss before the lash. My bare legs jolt.

  “Libby!” Linc weakly calls out.

  “Ah, is that your name? Libby? So precious,” Alessio murmurs just as his foot kicks me in the side.

  And I turn my head and retch.

  72

  Calhoun

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 1730 Hours GMT

  My hands are trembling as I rip the headphones off my ears. Listening to Libby’s cry of pain sent me from fearful to murderous. “God help her,” I whisper aloud.

  “Cal, are you going to be able…” Pete starts to ask me again. One of my own crew? I’m out of my chair, my hands wrapped around his throat before he can even finish his sentence.

  “Ask me again if I should be here when it’s my fault she’s even over there.” Exerting the slightest pressure, I enjoy the way his face reddens before I let him go. Sam lays his hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off. “I’m fine,” I snap.

  “You’re about as fine as she is,” he tells me. “Lock it down, Cal. Libby needs you more than ever, and she doesn’t even know it.” Along with the encouragement, I hear the undertone in his voice. “The ship’s captain, Thorn, neither will think twice about throwing you in the brig.” I get it. We’re here because they need the help only Alliance can provide. But I’m quite possibly the largest liability next to the hijackers themselves; I’m a man with too much to lose if we fail. Because if we do, I’ll never forgive myself.

  They might as well bury me alongside Libby.

  “It’s locked,” I bite out as I return to my station. I slap on the headset just in time to hear Libby grunt before what sounds like her body hits the floor.

  Then there’s only the muted sounds of her sobbing while the bastards talk animatedly.

  “Iris, what the fuck are they saying?” I shout.

  She holds up a finger. I’m just grateful it’s not the middle one. “They’re arguing with each other, Cal.” A pause. “One keeps saying the only reason he kept her alive is because she’s so beautiful.” She swallows hard. “But now she’s unclean. He’s cursing at her, saying she ruined his plans. Oh, God. She’s screaming! There’s a gun on her!” Iris shrieks.

  I turn my focus back to praying while I listen for either the sound that’s going to make me reach for my own weapon or her precious voice. “Come on, baby. Come on!”

  And then my life is given another reprieve—I hear her faint voice amid the men. “I have money.” Libby’s slurred voice is giving me a moment of grace from the yawning jaws of hell just waiting to accept me.

  Iris slams her fist repeatedly on the console. “Broadcast this!” she yells.

  The room is silent as we all listen to my wife barter for her life. “How much, Libby?” the same voice that my wife identified as Alessio questions. “Enough to stop my men from putting a bullet through the front of your dirty little face?” He slaps her again.

  God, I wish I could be the one to personally put a bullet in that motherfucker. Then I hear Libby’s voice rasp, “Does twenty million work?”

  “Ah, sweet Libby, how do I know you have that kind of money?” Alessio taunts her.

  She coughs and then spits. Likely blood, I think grimly. “Because I’m one of the heirs to Akin Timbers. That’s what’s available today at my present age if I can convince the board of trustees to release the amount one lump sum.” She wheezes, then coughs again before continuing. “Somehow, I don’t think they’ll have a problem, though they’ll want to know I’m alive.”

  “For twenty million US dollars, I think we can keep you alive a little longer. That doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy some more of our hospitality until we’re ready for you.” Alessio slaps her so hard, we all hear her head clunk to the floor.

  “Find out if she’s telling the truth. If she is, then keep her alive,” Alessio orders. “Diego, go. Validate her identity with the members of the crew on the bridge. Find o
ut from Lorenzo if she lies.”

  Iris is translating as fast as the asshole is talking. Everyone on the Lassen is scrambling. Phones are being picked up. Thorn stands stock-still waiting for confirmation this is a valid play before he passes it down to his team.

  I begin shouting, “I’ll call the Akins! Libby’s parents can contact the lawyers on the board of directors. They can demand a proof of life for the release of funds. They’ll need to make this look good!” I’m running out of the room already dialing Josh’s number.

  He answers on the first ring. “Is she safe?”

  And it guts me to have to answer, “Not by a long shot. Here’s what’s going down.” I begin to tell Josh what happened. And when he starts crying, I understand why. “It will be okay. We’ll get her back,” I vow.

  “But will she be the same?” he chokes out hoarsely. Then he tells me something that no one knows but him—not even Libby’s parents.

  But by the end of the call, I’m the one who’s curled up against a wall rocking silently. Iris and Sam find me there with my head resting against my secure SAT phone. “Cal, what’s wrong? What did my family say?” Sam leans down, bracing an arm above me.

  I shudder. “They’re in. Tell Thorn to make contact with the Akins.” I can’t say the rest—not to them, not to anyone. Even though the fault lies with me, Libby would never want them to know what I just learned. “I need to see the ship’s doctor immediately.” Shoving to my feet, I shove past them and stalk down the passageway.

  “Cal?” Iris calls out. I freeze and turn around. “We’ll get her through this. We’re going to get her out of this alive.”

  I nod without saying a word but immediately turn away in order to locate the doctor. Because if what Josh told me is accurate, then I’m more concerned about rescuing Libby alive more than ever since the beating the terrorists just inflicted upon her may have caused her to abort our child.

  A child she conceived on the day she believes I betrayed our marriage.

  A child, who if it did die, may have just saved its mother’s soul by giving up its own.

  As I cross over the bulkhead into the sick bay, I can’t stop the hot tears streaming down my face. Please, God, forgive me. If I could go back and tell Libby everything, I would. But since I can’t, help her realize how much I love her.

  And I always will. Because if she dies, I won’t live much longer than she does.

  73

  Present Day

  Calhoun

  “You couldn’t have prevented what happened, Cal,” Libby reassures me. She turns to Dr. Powell. “It wasn’t his fault. If there’s any blame to be had, it’s…”

  “If you say yours, I swear to God, Libby, I’m cutting off your chocolate supply,” I threaten.

  My wife’s head snaps toward mine. Her eyes, which were desolate just a moment ago, are full of fire. “You wouldn’t dare.” Libby is at the point in her pregnancy where she is craving food, and everything she wants involves chocolate as a side item. Even when she wants pickles—which is seriously gross. I power through and give it to her though. She could ask me to eat it for her, and I would. But I hold firm on this.

  “All the 3 Musketeers, the Hershey’s, and if you think I won’t eat your hidden stash of Milky Way Dark…” my voice threatens.

  She pouts. “That’s just wrong. You’re supposed to be pampering me.”

  “I’m not taking away your peanut butter and milk,” I remind her. Next to the chocolate, she’s been living on Jif and skim milk. She can take and leave most other food—all but those three things.

  “We’d be headed back for divorce court if you even thought it,” she grumbles.

  Dr. Powell grins. I just shake my head. “As you can see, we don’t let each other cast blame,” I start.

  Libby joins in. “And if we start to think the other one is, well, we know how to find the right way to bring each other back.”

  “So, taking away chocolate works with you?” Dr. Powell asks.

  “Actually, Cal goes out of his way to make sure I have everything I need. We’re just teasing.” She looks up at me like I hung the moon and the stars. My chest compresses because for so long, I received that look when I didn’t deserve it. Now, I never take it for granted. “He’d never take away anything from me.” She shifts against me restlessly.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, concerned.

  “Fine. Just getting more comfortable.”

  “We can take a break if you two need one,” Dr. Powell offers.

  “I’d rather not,” Libby says.

  “Are you sure?” My hand releases hers to cup her face. I check for unusual signs of distress. Instead, I find wrenching sadness and determined resolution.

  “I’m certain.” Her hand reaches up to grip my wrist as she begins to wrap up the story. “My family confirmed my identity by going public with a press conference,” she starts.

  74

  Calhoun

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 2300 Hours GMT

  “We interrupt your broadcast to take you to Charleston, South Carolina, where the family of Elizabeth Akin Sullivan is holding a press conference.”

  My arms are crossed over my chest while my eyes are glued to the screen hanging in the center of the bridge. Josh steps up to the microphones amid the clicks of what must be hundreds of cameras in front of the gates outside the entrance of the estate, which almost drown out his voice. “On behalf of the Akin family, as well as everyone who works for Akin Timbers, I would like to confirm my sister, Elizabeth, is among the individuals presently being held for ransom on board the Sea Force. We have received a formal request for her ransom.”

  A flurry of questions immediately hit Josh in the face, including the one we all prepared him for. “How do you know she’s still alive?”

  “Do you know who else is still alive?”

  “Is anyone else confirmed dead?” That question causes a hush to whip through the crowd.

  Josh turns a face haunted by fear toward the voice though it’s unlikely he can see it amid the flashing bulbs. “At the advice of federal law enforcement and legal counsel, I am not at liberty to discuss how I am aware my sister is still alive. Suffice it to say, we’re confident she is. We will do whatever is necessary to bring her home safely. On her behalf, and on behalf of those on board the Sea Force, please pray for those still on board the ship.” His composure almost breaks on those last words before local law enforcement guides him off the platform and safely behind the gate.

  Thorn steps up next to me. “He handled it well.”

  “Yes.” Much better than I would have. I likely would have shoved my way through the reporters to wring each and every one of their damned necks.

  Thorn stands silently next to me for a moment before saying, “Sam read me in.”

  My jaw clenches. “It’s my fault…”

  Thorn steps in front of me. “Cal, you can’t say that.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “Sure, I can. She thinks I’m having an affair with her cousin’s wife, who happens to be her best friend.” I scrub my hand over my face. “I can’t do this now. Not if you want me to keep it locked in.”

  “You’ve done a hell of a job.” Coming from this man who I’ve known for more than a decade, that’s the kind of compliment I’d normally revel in. Right now, I couldn’t care less. I turn my attention back toward the TV news anchor, who’s giving a play-by-play of the press conference.

  “They made sure it was broadcast on every major news network worldwide,” he advises me quietly.

  I just nod; I can’t speak. Fortunately, Thorn doesn’t require me to. His hand just clamps down on my shoulder, whether in support or in acknowledgment I’m holding up to my end of our bargain, I don’t care.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Sam’s still trying to hack into the Sea Force’s bridge while Iris has her ears on the bar where the captives we know are alive are being kept. We’re all waiting for the reaction to the broadcast on the sh
ip so close we can see it out the glass window.

  The red clock above the TV turns over to 28:00:00. Twenty-eight hours. My mind starts to wonder if they’ve given her water? Food? Beyond the hell we’ve been able to hear, what else is she being forced to endure?

  And will she recover from it?

  “Until Libby changed the game, there’s no way I would have said this was a K and R mission,” Thorn murmurs.

  My body tightens. “What do you mean?”

  “Look at the profiles of everyone on that boat, Cal. By no means is Libby the wealthiest. What does that tell you?”

  My mind works rapidly. “It’s a subterfuge for something else.”

  “Exactly. Now that they opened up the table for negotiation, Cap’s going to try to make contact. See if we can get a count on survivors.”

  I understand Thorn’s reasoning. “When?”

  “Thirty minutes. Be ready,” he warns me before turning away.

  I remain where I am mainly because I’m frozen in place by what the news outlet just flashed up on the screen. A picture of me holding Libby on our wedding day. My face is buried in her neck, but hers is incandescent with joy.

  When did that look start to fade? I’m in a place between enchantment and despair, tuning out everything around me for the long moments, until my name is called. “Cal! Check this out! We just got eyes into their bridge.”

  Shoving away my emotions, I stalk over to where Sam’s standing with a Navy ensign. “Let me see,” I order. Sam has been working nonstop to hack in, only to be met with this firewall or another back door. “Took you long enough.”