Lost & Bound

by Tara Hart

  “Excuse me?” I step forward, ready to show him that I may dress well, but I am no one’s bitch.

  Eric pushes me back, his hand hitting my stomach, telling me to step down.

  “He’s my old friend, Callum.” Eric shrugs. “And hopefully your next client.”

  Cruz smiles, revealing a surprisingly perfect set of pearly whites.

  “Well, you better come inside so we can get down to business.”

  The house is as I expected. Small, dark and dreary. Every crevice filled with some type of gadget or some other piece of junk. I sit next to Eric on an overstuffed sofa, the stench of stale cigarettes makes its way to my nostrils and I hold back the urge to cover my nose with the collar of my shirt. Cruz lights up a fresh cigarette. A cloud of smoke blows past us and I let out a not-so-subtle cough.

  “So, what do you need?” he asks, his words coated by tar.

  “I need a tracking bracelet removed.” Straight to the point, no pleasantries, just the way I like it.

  “Ankle?” he asks, tapping the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.

  “Wrist,” I answer.

  He nods his head. “Nothing to do with prison?”

  I shake my head. “Not the type of prison you’re used to.”

  Eric’s elbow smashes into my ribs, but Cruz just laughs.

  “The model?” he asks.

  The model that would help, I feel like an idiot. “I have no idea,” I answer. “I can get a photo for you.”

  Cruz looks vaguely unimpressed.

  “It’s white,” I say.

  Genius.

  Cruz lets out a sigh as he slumps back on the sofa. He stretches his legs and rests his feet on the coffee table. For the first time I notice he isn’t wearing any shoes, the soles of his feet stained black.

  “I need to know the model. Get the photo to me and I’ll study up beforehand.”

  I nod my head once. I’m not entirely disappointed by this bump in the road. It’s an excuse to visit Leila during the week while my father’s at work. The thought excites me more than it should.

  “You’ve done this before?” Eric directs toward Cruz.

  “Yeah, man.” He stubs out his cigarette in an empty beer bottle before reclining back in his chair again. “Piece of cake.”

  “Cool.”

  “When is this going down?” he asks.

  “Next week, probably Thursday night,” I say.

  He grabs his phone and scrolls through his calendar. “Next Thursday should be fine.”

  I fight back the urge to laugh. I’m glad Cruz can fit us into his busy schedule.

  “We’ll aim for nine,” I say.

  Cruz nods his head as he types something into his phone.

  “Listen, man, how much will this cost?” Eric asks. “Cal is a good friend of mine.”

  Money. We haven’t even discussed a dollar figure yet, but it seems irrelevant at this stage. Cruz is my only option at tripping this bracelet, which leaves little room for bargaining.

  “How much?” Cruz drums his fingers on his chin as he seemingly calculates a figure in his head. “Short notice, travel to the country…”

  “Merling is hardly the country,” I scoff.

  “It’s not a thirty minute drive either, pretty boy,” he adds sarcastically.

  I roll my eyes and notice his lip quirk up at the side. Cruz is already annoying the shit out of me.

  “As I was saying,” he continues. “Short notice, travel time, I can’t do it for less than ten.”

  “Ten?” Eric chokes out. “Thousand?” he adds as if he’s never seen that amount of money in his life. He probably hasn’t.

  “It’s the best rate you’ll find.” Cruz announces. “Please shop around, ya’ll be coming back.”

  I sigh. This guy is definitely a character.

  “I’ll give you eight thousand.” I hold his gaze, daring him to challenge me. “Cash,” I add as if that one simple word will tip him over the edge.

  “What are you doing?” Eric whispers to me, his eyes wide with worry.

  Cruz leans forward in his seat and holds his hand out to me. “Deal.”

  He laughs gruffly as he shakes my hand and I hear Eric let out a sigh of relief.

  For some reason, Cruz doesn’t intimidate me in the way he does Eric. Maybe that’s because at the end of this all, I will conquer my father and in the scheme of things, he makes Cruz look like a little, defenseless puppy dog.

  Chapter 15

  Leila

  “Hola. Cómo estás?”

  The sound of his voice causes me to jump on the spot. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, leaving the door slightly ajar. I can see a faint smile on his lips as he waits for my response.

  “That’s Spanish.”

  He brings his hand to cover his mouth in mock horror. “I had no idea.”

  As he descends the stairs I casually assess what he’s wearing. He’s dressed simply in a dark, long sleeved sweater and light jeans with holes strategically placed in them. He looks casual and effortless, but good. Oh, so good.

  When he reaches the foot of the stairs he stops. There’s this awkward moment, where neither of us talk or move, we just stare at one another, both waiting for the other to dispel the awkwardness.

  He nonchalantly walks over to the bed where I’m sitting, but freezes as soon as he sees the rope tied to the bedpost. The same piece of rope has remained tied to the post for better half of a year. I don’t even notice it anymore—that is until it’s tied around my ankle.

  “I—I can’t,” he stutters.

  I stand and walk through the archway into my sitting room. “Come in here.” My words only have a hint of discomfort laced through them. I don’t want Callum to be so uncomfortable that he has to leave.

  I run a hand over my hair and realize I’m hardly dressed for company. I’m wearing simple yoga pants with a less than flattering tank top. My hair is bundled on top of my head and my face is clean of any makeup, bar some lip gloss I’d put on earlier. I usually enjoy the nights Osborne is out of town, being free to wear whatever I want and tonight is no exception.

  “I look a mess,” I say.

  I wrap my arms over my chest, trying to hide myself in my oversized top.

  A look crosses Callum’s face and then he shakes his head. “You look perfect.”

  I feel my cheeks warm as I shy away from his gaze, looking everywhere except his face.

  “I heard the beast is out of town?” his words come at the right time. The uneasiness subsides and I finally feel as though I can relax.

  “He’s only gone for today,” I tell him.

  “I know. I called him earlier.”

  Callum takes a seat on the sofa and I settle next to him, tucking my legs underneath me as I turn my body to face him. I study his profile as he casually gazes around the room.

  “How’s it been?” he asks.

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  “Really?”

  No, not really.

  “Yes.” I nod. “But I missed you, Callum.”

  I regret the words as soon as I utter them. I clamp my hand to my mouth and watch Callum’s face change from casual to somewhat uncomfortable.

  “I mean…it’s been difficult,” I add, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

  “Has he been here?” he asks. I can see by the expression on his face that he is dreading my answer.

  His eyes flicker to mine. No matter what I say, he won’t believe me because the truth is written all over my face.

  “Leila,” he whispers and then closes the distance between us.

  Leila, I repeat the name in my mind. When Callum says my name it’s like I remember it’s mine. No one has called me Leila in so long, it almost doesn’t sound right. It’s like hearing it for the first time and I like the way it sounds when it rolls off his tongue.

  His hand inches closer to mine on the empty space between us, slowly his fingers graze my skin. My whole arm freezes. Tingles shoot up my forearm and reac
h the rest of the way to my shoulder. Just from one innocent touch he makes me feel things that I haven’t experienced in a very long time.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to save you.”

  His words have an effect on me that I don’t recognize, nor understand. I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks before I can stop them.

  “I’m sorry.” His thumb brushes against the back of my hand tenderly.

  He inches closer to me. His fingers gently wrap around my neck and draw me toward him. I allow him to guide me—to hold me. For once, I like the feel of a man touching me. I relax against his chest, enjoying the gentle rhythm of his heart beating against my ear. I breathe him in. He smells so nice. Like expensive cologne and Callum.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m okay.”

  He pulls back to look at me. “It’s not okay. It’s never okay. This bastard will pay for what he’s done to you. I promise you, Leila.”

  I timidly let my eyes trail up his body and allow them to settle on his lips. They are so moist and full and in this moment they look so goddamn kissable. As if he knows what I’m thinking, he releases me from his hold and reclines back, letting his head rest on the back of the sofa—a safe distance from my face—and my lips.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.

  By the look on his face I’m expecting bad news. He’s probably going back to Italy and leaving me here. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I knew it.

  He takes a deep breath before he says the words that will change everything. The four most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.

  “I’m breaking you out.”

  I feel breathless for a moment. Like the wind has been knocked out of me.

  Me. Callum. Free.

  “Really?” I whisper.

  He nods his head yes. I watch a smile tug on the corner of his lips, but he fights it, keeping his face neutral, his expression neutral.

  “When?”

  “I checked at my father’s office. He will be in Richmond next Wednesday and Thursday for a conference. Everything is planned for Thursday. We’ll do it at night. It should be seamless enough.”

  “So I will just leave?” I ask. It can’t be that simple. I’ve tried this before.

  I’d run and Osborne made me regret ever trying to regain my freedom. I still have nightmares of my punishment, haunted by the abuse that lasted weeks.

  “I will bring a guy here, he’ll trip the bracelet, get it off your wrist without activating the alarm and then you’ll come with me. I don’t know where we’ll go yet, but it’ll be far away from here.”

  I smile genuinely. My cheeks hurt from how wide I’m smiling.

  “Obrigada,” I whisper. “Thank you, thank you.”

  He places a comforting hand on my forearm causing the tingling feeling to return.

  “I promised you I would get you out.”

  “Yes.” I fight the emotion that threatens to overtake my body. It’s a strange feeling. I want to burst into tears and roll around in a fit of laughter at the same time.

  Callum pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes my hand in his.

  “I just need to get a couple of photos of the bracelet,” he tells me.

  I don’t question him. I hold my hand still as he snaps a few pictures from different angles. It will be weird to have this thing removed after wearing if for close to three years. I barely notice if anymore. The display pad shows random numbers that change every time I move positions. A green light flashes every few seconds, the same light turned red the night I attempted my escape.

  Once he’s done taking pictures, Callum shoves his phone back in his pocket and slumps back on the couch.

  “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you’re out of here?” he asks.

  I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Where I would go, who I could trust. It’s all foreign to me.

  Would I need to go to the embassy and tell them I’m alive? Technically I’m illegal, by now my visa would have expired and if I were found they would question where I have been for all this time.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  Callum seems disappointed by my answer. The technicalities don’t seem to bother him. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t care what happens to me once I’m out, once his conscience is clear.

  “Well, what’s the first thing you want to eat?” he asks.

  I don’t need to think about the question, it’s all I’ve craved for the past three years.

  “That’s easy. Passion fruit and Pão de Queijo.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “I know what passion fruit is, but what the hell is the other thing you said?”

  I smile widely. “Pão de Queijo is something we eat in Brazil. It’s a ball of bread and has cheese in the middle. A lot of cheese.”

  “A cheesy ball?” he questions.

  “Yes.” I nod my head enthusiastically.

  “Wow. You’re really passionate about these bread balls aren’t you?”

  I giggle. “Yes, it reminds me of home.” I can practically taste the little morsel of heaven.

  He smiles and then covers my hand with his. Spears volt up my arm as if shocked by electricity. It’s such an innocent thing really, but to me it feels like so much more.

  “Just keep thinking of that, okay? The foods you want to eat once you’re out of here. That will keep you going when I’m not around.”

  I nod my head.

  From now on, I will think of cheesy balls, passion fruit…and Callum.

  Chapter 16

  Leila

  6 days

  11 hours

  14 minutes

  That’s how long I’ve known Callum, and already, I trust him with my life. I was so sure I would never crave another man, but he challenges everything I thought I knew—everything I felt.

  He says that he’ll save me. I believe him.

  He calls me “Leila.” It sounds right. It sounds like a name that belongs to me and it reminds me of a past I was starting to forget.

  He tells me this is it. This time it will happen, this time I will be free. I don’t dare get ahead of myself, but I’m excited for a future that I thought I would never have. Freedom is so close I can taste it.

  The escape is planned and my fate is in his hands, but if this doesn’t work, what will become of me?

  Chapter 17

  Callum

  I down the rest of my beer and slam the empty glass on the bar. With a click of my fingers, I signal the bartender to pour me another.

  “What’s wrong with you, dude?” Eric nudges my shoulder. “Amy is clearly into you. She’s basically mind-fucking you as we speak.”

  I throw a glance over my shoulder and meet Amy’s eyes. She narrows her gaze and offers me a flirtatious wave while pulling up the hem of her dress to reveal more leg. I offer her an indifferent nod before returning my attention back to the bartender.

  “I have no interest in fucking her.”

  When Eric suggested we travel to Lynchburg and hit up some bars, I was keen. I couldn’t wait to get out of his shoebox apartment, but now that we’re out, all I want is to be left alone.

  Eric made a habit of talking to any chick that looked in his direction. That’s how he picked up Bianca and her friend Amy. They haven’t left us alone for the past hour.

  “She’s totally your type,” Eric tells me. “She’s tall, blonde, ready to go.”

  That isn’t my type.

  “Uh huh,” I respond mindlessly.

  “What’s wrong?” He leans in close as he tends to do when he’s had one too many. “You’re not thinking about that chick again?”

  That chick. He’s referring to Leila. She is constantly on my mind, invading my thoughts, but I’m not about to admit that to Eric.

  “What chick?” I feign ignorance.

  “You know, Leila.”

  When he says her name I feel my face warm, like he’s reminded me that she’s
real and not just a figment of my imagination.

  I dismissively shake my head as I try not to give anything away.

  I wonder what Leila is doing right now. Is she alone or is he with her, doing things to her that I can’t even imagine, and perhaps don’t want to. I imagine her huddled on her bed, tears filling her intense chocolate brown eyes as she waits for him to rip the clothes from her body before invading her as if she’s his. Fuck, I can’t shake the thought from my mind. The image of her deep brown eyes piercing my brain as Eric continues babbling.

  “Maybe Amy can take your mind off her?”

  Part of me thinks I should take Amy home. Maybe I can have one night of mind-numbing sex and shake Leila from my thoughts once and for all. But no matter how hard I try I can’t pretend to be interested in Amy. The way she’s throwing herself at me does little to turn me on and despite what Eric thinks, she’s not my type.

  “I think I’ll just head home, man.”

  Eric doesn’t hide his disappointment. He shakes his head while he flicks the bartender a twenty for the next round of drinks.

  “One more drink and we’ll head home. Come back to the booth and be sociable.”

  I reluctantly pick up my beer and follow him back to the booth where Bianca and Amy are sitting. Amy offers me a toothy smile and I hesitantly take my seat next to her.

  She snatches my beer before I get a chance to set it down and she takes a long swig, keeping her eyes fixed on me the entire time.

  “I think Eric bought you a drink.” I point to the three beers that Eric put on the table.

  “Yours tastes better,” she says with a wink.

  I don’t bother telling her it’s the same beer. I don’t want to insult her poor attempt at flirtation.

  “So, Callum, what do you do with yourself?” Bianca asks me. Eric has his arm draped over her shoulder casually. He raises his eyebrows and gives me a knowing smirk. He put her up to this.

  “I’m out of work at the moment,” I say unapologetically.

  If I come across as a twenty-eight-year-old low life with no prospects to speak of maybe Amy will give up the charade and move her attention elsewhere. Plus it’s the truth. I have no writing jobs lined up. Since I’ve been back in the States I’d met with one newspaper, but the arrangement wouldn’t work. They wanted me in the office. I was used to working freelance, having my own schedule, working my own hours. I like freedom and I'm not desperate enough to settle.