Into the Blue

by Robin Huber

  “That’s not a bad idea. That’s what I’ll do.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call me as soon as you do.”

  “I will.”

  “Makayla... Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Thanks, Mia. I’ll call you later.”

  Callie stares at me after I hang up with Mia, waiting for me to confirm her assumption, but Kellan storms into the bathroom with an exasperated look on his face.

  “What is going on in here?”

  “I was sick.”

  “I know that you were sick, Makayla. I’ve been standing outside the door, worried, for the last ten minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m okay. I just needed a few minutes.”

  “I’m taking you to a doctor. Something’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You need to see a doctor, Makayla.”

  “She’s fine,” Callie tries to convince him.

  I place my hand on his arm. “Nothing’s wrong, Kellan. I’m worried about the case, that’s all. Now, I just want to go home and go to bed.”

  He sighs and nods with defeat. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  We exit the building and get into an awaiting car, riding in comfortable silence through the city.

  “Excuse me,” I say to our driver. “Can you pull over there please? I need to run into the drug store.”

  “What do you need? I’ll get it.” Kellan offers.

  Just this once, can he not be a gentlemen?

  “That’s okay, I can run in. I won’t be long,” I say, getting out quickly.

  Kellan gets out and follows right behind me.

  “Kellan, I’ll be two minutes,” I say, trying to deter him.

  “You’re not going in alone. I’m coming with you.”

  “Tampons,” I blurt out.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need to buy tampons,” I say quietly this time.

  He smirks. “Is that why you want to go in by yourself?”

  “Yes. Why is that funny to you?” I ask, irritated that he’s derailing my cover.

  “Makayla, I’ll buy you a box of tampons. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want you buying my tampons,” I whisper-yell at him, trying to avoid the attention of the people passing us on the sidewalk.

  “Why?”

  Ugh. I don’t have a reason why. I don’t really care if he buys me a stupid box of tampons. “Just because. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay. Go get your tampons.” He grins. “I need to grab a couple of things too. I’ll meet you at the register.”

  I push the door open and head inside.

  I don’t have a clue where the pregnancy tests are, but I’m hoping they’re in the tampon aisle, since that’s where I’m headed. I glance over my shoulder at Kellan who is two aisles over, looking at a package of razors. I pace up and down the aisle looking for the pregnancy tests and find them lurking on a bottom shelf. I reach for the first box I see and it burns in my hand like a glowing neon sign. I quickly drop it into the small basket on my arm and cover it with a box of tampons. I hurry to the register, scanning the store for Kellan, but I don’t see him. I set the basket on the counter, feeling my skin flame as the cashier reaches for the tampons and the pregnancy test—a baffling combination—and slowly slides the boxes across the scanner.

  I glance around for Kellan again, but I still don’t see him.

  “I can’t get a good read on this one,” the cashier says, sliding the pregnancy test across the scanner two more times. I nearly have a full-blown panic attack anticipating Kellan walking up behind me any second. “There we go,” he says when it finally beeps. He drops it into a plastic shopping bag with the tampons and relief washes over me. I open my wallet to pay for my contraband, but freeze when I feel Kellan standing behind me.

  “Hang on,” he says, placing his items on the counter—deodorant, shaving cream, and a package of razors. “This too.” He reaches for his wallet and pays with his card, and the cashier hands him the receipt.

  I grab the bag off the counter and hurry toward the exit, praying he doesn’t look at the receipt.

  “Hey,” Kellan says, reaching for my hand. “Slow down.”

  “Sorry,” I say, hoping to sound casual, but it comes out sounding as nervous as I feel. Traitor voice.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just tired. I’m ready to be home. It’s been a long day.”

  He crumples the receipt and tosses it in the garbage can on the sidewalk.

  When we get back to my apartment, I take the bag to the bathroom and place Kellan’s items on the counter. I shove the remaining contents under the sink.

  “Want to watch a movie?” Kellan calls from the living room. “We can order take-out.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good. How about The Notebook?” I hear a low chuckle from the other room that makes me smile. “Let me just get my pajamas on.” I head to my bedroom, disrobing as I go. These high-heels are killing me and I feel confined in my suit after wearing it all day. I take off my bra and rub my sore breasts, and reach for my most comfortable nightgown—the one Callie bought for me when she and Derek were in Paris last summer. It probably cost more than any article of clothing meant for sleep should, but I’m not complaining. It’s a long white bohemian-style maxi with spaghetti straps that tie over the shoulders. It looks like a dress, but feels like eight-hundred-thread-count bedsheets. It’s the softest thing I own. I slip it on and walk into the bathroom to remove the bobby pins from my hair. Every time I think I’ve found the last one, I find another.

  I take a break when I have to pee.

  I have to pee.

  I was going to wait until Kellan fell asleep to take the pregnancy test, but it’s practically calling my name from the cabinet beneath the sink. I close the bathroom door, locking it behind me, and grab the test from the bag it’s still in. I tear into the box, removing the plastic stick and the instructions. After glancing at the picture guide, I conclude that I need to pee on the stick. I knew that much already.

  When I’m through, I lay the test on top of the box and wash my hands, trying to ignore the Magic 8 Ball that’s going to determine the rest of my life. Signs point to yes... Outlook not so good... Except that it’s not a game. It’s my life. Kellan’s life. Our life, which only just began. And this could potentially ruin it. I grip the counter and stare at the beautiful ring on my left hand.

  I close my eyes and try to breathe, but the anxiety is choking me. Kellan said he might want a family one day. And only because he knows I want one. I’m still not convinced he’s completely changed his mind about having kids. He certainly doesn’t want any now. And neither do I. Oh, God. I’m not ready to have a baby. I start to hyperventilate. What am I going to do? What am I going to tell him? In the midst of my breakdown, I catch a glimpse of the magic stick, laying there, waiting to tell me my future, and like a moth to a flame, I can’t resist. I reach for it and hold it in front of my face.

  My legs move numbly, almost involuntarily, as I leave the bathroom and find Kellan standing in the living room holding the TV remote in his hand.

  “Hey”—he glances up at me—“what’s that?” He eyes the plastic stick in my trembling hand. “Makayla, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, unable to keep the revelation to myself, and as I do, I become a stone relic of my previous self.

  Kellan’s face falls and he freezes. We’re two stone statues standing in my living room. But something inside me quickly takes over—the need for self-preservation.

  He’s going to leave me.

  My chest begins to heave and, before I can think, I’m running toward the front door, down the hall to the stairs—my need to move trumping the convenience of the elevator—across the empty lobby, and finally outside onto the empty sidewalk. As soon as my bare feet hit the cold pavement, the tears come flowing out of me.

  I don’t have my phone, I don’t ha
ve my wallet, and I’m in my pajamas.

  Where am I going to go?

  I can’t go back upstairs and face Kellan.

  Callie. Derek will pay for the cab when I get to their house.

  I hurry down the unusually empty street, holding my hand up to hail a cab. But when a black SUV pulls up next to me, and the back door swings open, I take a few startled steps backward. I look at the faces inside, recognizing one of them—Marc’s security guard. He’s one of the men who abducted me and Jessica. But before I can say anything, or run away, or scream for help, someone pushes me inside and closes the door behind me.

  The overwhelming fear strangles me silent and I’m paralyzed by the black mercury that’s returned to my veins, pulsing hot and fast beneath my skin.

  “That boyfriend of yours doesn’t leave you alone much, does he?”

  “He’ll kill you,” I choke out.

  “Not if we kill him first.”

  No. My heart pounds painfully against my ribs. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Marc just wants to have a little chat with you. He has some questions about your visit to the DA’s office today.” He grabs my arm and I try desperately to pull it away when I see the syringe.

  “No. Please. Don’t,” I cry, and tears stream down my face when I think of the baby I didn’t want, but suddenly feel the urge to protect.

  “Relax. This is just going to take the edge off. You remember.”

  My head spins and what’s left of my conscious self quickly evaporates when I feel the pinch in my arm, and everything around me fades.

  Chapter 22

  Kellan

  I blink as the shock of what Makayla just said to me wears off.

  I look around the apartment. “Makayla?”

  Where the hell did she go?

  “Makayla?” I call down the hall outside her apartment and hurry to the elevator. After pushing the button repeatedly, I give up and take the stairs, calling her name as I run down them. “Makayla.” I run through the lobby and head outside when I don’t see her. I step out onto the sidewalk and see her a block away, hailing a taxi.

  What the hell is she doing?

  I jog toward her, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Makayla,” I shout, but she doesn’t hear me. A black SUV pulls up next to her. It’s not a cab.

  A man walks around the back of it toward her. “Hey!” I scream, trying to deter him, but he pushes her inside. No-no-no-no! The SUV takes off down the street. Oh, God. “Makayla!” I scream, and reach for my gun. “Fuck!” I yell. I took it off when we got to the apartment. I glance around at the cars parked along the curb and eye the fastest one—a silver Audi coupe. I pull my shirt off, wrap it around my elbow, and break the tinted glass. I reach under the dash and find the wires beneath the steering wheel. I quickly strip them with my teeth and touch them together, igniting the engine, and I tear out of the spot in the direction of the SUV.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, shaking from a mix of anger, fear and adrenaline, and call Adam.

  “Hey, man,” he answers.

  “Adam. Jesus Christ. They took her. They fucking took her.”

  “What? What are you talking about? Slow down.”

  “Makayla. They’ve got Makayla.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. They’re in a black Yukon. I can see it a few blocks ahead. I’m behind them in a silver Audi.”

  “Are you armed?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s your gun?”

  “At the fucking apartment. I took it off when we got home. Then Makayla told me she was pregnant and ran outside, so I ran after her. I wasn’t thinking clearly. That’s when they grabbed her.”

  “She’s what?”

  “She’s pregnant. And now they have her... They’ll fucking kill her this time, Adam. You know they will.”

  “Okay, calm down and tell me where you are.”

  “Headed to the Lincoln Tunnel. They’re taking her to New Jersey.”

  “Okay. There’s probably a silent alarm on the car you took. It should have triggered a trace.” He holds the phone away from his ear and shouts, “Derek, you need to call the DA. Now!”

  “If they fucking hurt her, I swear to God, Adam.”

  “Kellan, I need you to calm down. We’ll find you. But you need to stay on top of them.”

  “Okay.”

  I’ve been following the SUV for twenty minutes on the highway and I’m pretty sure they know I’m tailing them. They keep weaving in and out of traffic trying to put space between us, but I’ve been able to stay two cars behind them. When the traffic lightens, they take off speeding down the highway, but this car is fast and I’m able to keep up. They definitely know that I’m tailing them now. They’re swerving all over the road. I back off a little because I don’t want them to lose control with Makayla inside.

  I call Adam again.

  “Dispatch has a trace on the car,” he says. “The DA is involved now, Kellan. You’ll have company soon.”

  “Adam, I have to go,” I say when two black Yukons pull up on either side of me, boxing me in. “I think they brought company of their own.” I hang up and slam on the brakes, and smoke from the tires clouds around the car. I fall back, but when the smoke clears, I see a third black Yukon racing toward me in the rearview mirror. “Fuck!” I put the car in gear and step on the gas, but it’s too late—I’m shoved into the steering wheel, shattered glass is flying all around me, and the car is spinning across the highway.

  Deep pain radiates from my shoulder and hand, but I can’t move. I’m pinned in the car. Someone grabs my shoulder, sending searing pain through my entire body that makes me see red. I feel a pinch in my arm and the pain fades away, along with everything else.

  Chapter 23

  Makayla

  I open my bleary eyes to bright daylight and see my hands resting in my lap against my white nightgown. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. My groggy head is pounding. The prop that it’s resting against is suddenly pulled away and I fall to the ground.

  I blink up at the black SUV that I just fell out of, but the sunlight is blinding. I turn my head and look down at my hands, which are shoved into a dusty brown powder that covers the ground. I feel the sun’s heat on my back and dig my fingers into the hot sand, as if I could somehow claw my way out of the familiar wasteland. The hot, dry desert air fills my lungs and I taste the grit in my mouth, but only for a moment. My throbbing head spins and I throw up into the sand. I put my hand on my stomach and I cry quietly, thinking about the baby that may no longer be alive inside me.

  Thick fingers wrap around my arm and yank me to my feet. “Get up.”

  I look at the man whose face is hidden behind a black-and-white skull—the same painted mask worn by the men who took me before. There are three more skulls behind him, clutching their guns. He gave me back to the cartel. The man wraps his arm around my ribcage, squeezing me breathless as he drags me across the sand. I kick and claw and dig my bare feet into the soft ground, but I don’t deter him. He spins me around and screams in my ear. “Mira! Open your fucking eyes,” he grits in his thick Spanish accent.

  When I look up, I’m gutted by what I see. Kellan is down on his knees and his hands are tied behind his back. “Kellan!” I scream, but he doesn’t move. There’s another masked man standing behind him holding a gun to his hanging head. “Kellan!” I scream again wildly, my bare feet kicking and digging into the sand as I desperately try to escape my captor and run to him, but he doesn’t hear me.

  The man behind him grabs a fistful of his dark hair and lifts his head up.

  “Oh God, Kellan,” I cry when I see his face. He’s covered in bloody cuts and bruises. His lip is swollen and he’s bleeding from his forehead. I claw at the sweaty arm wrapped around me, but I’m in a vice grip. “Let go of me!” I scream, biting the hand that covers my mouth, and I’m knocked into darkness.

  My scalp burns, waking me, and I reach for the hand that’s clutching m
y hair.

  “Stand up!”

  I kick my feet under me and stand up, and he lets go of my hair, but my scalp throbs. I see Kellan through the waves of heat that are radiating off the desert ground between us. He opens his heavy eyes, but they’re unfocused. “Kellan,” I cry, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t struggle, and a fear that I’ve never felt before pricks all over my body, because I know that he can’t defend himself. He can’t defend me. And I can’t defend our baby.

  I cry helplessly.

  “You know, I thought that I got rid of you the first time around.”

  I turn toward the repulsive voice that I will never forget and see Marc Spencer leaning against the SUV with his arms folded over his chest. He removes his sunglasses and tucks them into the pocket of his suit jacket.

  “You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?” When I don’t answer, he puts his hand under my chin and forces me to look at him. “I miss Jessica. I really do.”

  I glare at him, fighting back tears he doesn’t deserve to see. “She was my friend,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Well, then you should feel pretty fucking bad about getting her killed.”

  “I didn’t kill her. You did.”

  “My hands are clean, sweetheart. I didn’t kill anyone. My business partners take care of that dirty work for me. Think of it as a fringe benefit.” He holds his fingers to his chin and ponders, “I suppose it goes both ways... I give them a bonus”—he raises his hand and gestures at me—“and they give me a bonus, by getting rid of you. It’s a great partnership.” He glares at me and says firmly, “Only, you didn’t let me make good on my part of the deal. You had to go and get rescued! I mean, really,” he shouts, “what are the fucking odds?” He takes a deep breath and says calmly, “It all worked out in the end, though. Now I can make good on my promise. And, with Salgado’s help, I’ll disappear with every last cent I own. That DA bitch lawyer will never be able to put me behind bars. Plus, they’ll get the added bonus of killing the man who took you from them in the first place.”