by Dale Mayer
“Well, you got out of whatever trouble you were in and tried for freedom,” he said. “Fortunately I found you, and now he’s paying me good money to make sure you don’t survive.”
“And you’ll follow through on that?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Well, I mean, I’ve already taken his money for the job.”
“And the other one who’s paying?”
“Well, I’m ransoming you back to your dad,” he said.
Her heart sank because, of course, her dad would do this, putting him in danger as well. “So you’ll take his money but not give him his daughter back,” she said bitterly.
“Well, there can only be one winner,” he murmured.
“That’s not true,” she said. “You could just take the money and run and leave me alive.”
“And piss off your husband? If he was willing to pay to have you killed, what do you think he’d plan for me?”
“I’d be up for that outcome,” she said, with a snort.
“I’m sure you would,” he said, “but I don’t really want anybody like him coming after me.”
“No, of course not,” she said. “You’re obviously weak because he only comes after people weaker than him.” She grimaced, waiting for another blow to the head.
Instead the man was silent for a long moment, and then he chuckled. “So you do understand him. It might be fun to con him too.”
“It probably would be,” she said, “but I don’t have any money to buy my way out of this, and that’s the only language you seem to understand.”
“Not true,” he said. “I understand all kinds of languages, but I don’t have time for that now. I have to give proof of life to somebody before I get paid.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” he said.
“Please don’t give me back to my husband, and please don’t kill me,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. In her normal life, before being kidnapped, she was strong, and it would be easy to not beg for her life. She could stand here and be firm. But right now? All she could think about was the fact that this guy held that decision in his hand, and he didn’t seem to care, one way or another.
“I don’t know. Why not kill you though?”
“Well, for one thing, it’ll mess up your car,” she snapped.
He burst out laughing. “If it was mine, I might care,” he said. “But, since it’s stolen, I don’t really give a shit.”
“Ah,” she said, “so you’re willing to carry that on your conscience?”
“If I had one, I might care,” he said callously. “But obviously I don’t, so there you go.”
“Right,” she said, with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter to you, so whatever.”
“Won’t you keep fighting?”
“Why would I fight?” she said quietly. “You don’t care either way. It’s not enough that you have the money, you want blood.”
“I don’t like spilling blood,” he said conversationally. “I wonder if something like karma or fate is out there. I don’t want to test it too much.”
“Well, you must,” she said quietly, “because of what you’re doing.”
“Ah, don’t be so melodramatic,” he said. “There are all kinds of reasons for me doing what I’m doing. If I can get out of killing somebody, I do.”
“So, if my husband finds out that I’m alive, then what?”
“Well, then he’ll come after me,” the kidnapper said, “but it won’t be my problem.”
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
“I saw you crawl out of the back seat of a vehicle on the ferry,” he said. “It’s obvious you were in a panic to get away. How could I not take advantage?” And he laughed and laughed.
She froze. She’d pretended to be unconscious when her initial kidnappers had checked on her, but, realizing they hadn’t secured the back door as they should have, she’d taken her chance and had escaped. She’d had no idea where she was before that, until she saw the ferry, surrounded by water. Apparently this asshole had seen her escape. “So, instead of coming to help me,” she cried out, “you kidnapped me instead?”
“Well, when I see an opportunity like that,” he said, “there’s usually money to be made, and that’s all I was particularly worried about. Saving your ass wasn’t part of it. If you’re lucky, it might still happen. But I wouldn’t count on it.”
Chapter 2
Still blindfolded and bound, her gag back in place, Stacey sank back into the trunk—the lid still popped open, so her kidnapper could stand over her—and she tried to shift her position. After the multiple blows to her head, her headache had come on hard and fast. Her throat was also parched. She was desperately in need of water. But she also knew her kidnapper was cold as ice and didn’t give a shit. Who could possibly watch a woman crawl out of a car and escape and then see her as prey, instead of a victim?
She wanted to shake her head but knew that any movement would make her brains rattle, and she would cry out a little bit more. Something she was desperate to avoid. As it was, it seemed like the world was against her, and she didn’t quite know why.
The one thing that struck her right now was the silence around her; it was deafening, just a weird sense of waiting—whether she was picking that up from her current kidnapper or not, she didn’t know, but it was eerie. With her head covered, she couldn’t see if it was light or dark out, but it felt dark; it felt cold, and it felt clammy. Was she inside this trunk in an underground parking lot? Or out in the cool air in some secluded spot? She felt a bit of a breeze, so she assumed the car was parked outside. But where? The lid to the trunk had only been opened for a few minutes, but it seemed like a chill was in the air already.
She knew the days in Canada could be hot but hadn’t really expected the coolness to come down so fast afterward. Then again, for all she knew, it was a gray rainy night, and a storm was about to break. Just because she assumed that the sun had gone down didn’t mean it had.
They were definitely in the northern part of Canada, and the evenings would be cool. She groaned because she was just trying to make up for the bits and pieces missing from her senses right now. The gag cutting into her cheeks and lips left a dustiness from the cloth in her mouth. As gags went, it was effective because it dried out her mouth, and she couldn’t swallow. If she did manage to swallow a little bit, then she would get a layer of dust off the gag.
The blindfold was dark enough that she couldn’t see through it, and it was musky enough that it gave her a headache, just to add to the rest of her headache. Her hands were tied, and she felt some sticky slipperiness to them, so she assumed her skin had been cut, and she was bleeding.
All in all, the things she discovered by tuning in to her five senses just fueled her despair. What was missing was any sound of laughter, any perception of light, any feeling of warmth or sense of security. She felt like this was the end of the road, that whatever was happening was plain old bad news. Who would do the exchange for this second ransom for her, and what did that mean for her? If the man who showed up here with the ransom was truly from her father, then she would be safe, but she was a long way from Florida, where her father lived. More than likely, her husband was involved, no matter what.
She saw Max sending somebody else out, just to make sure the job was done. That would be so typical of him. And yet she couldn’t even assume that because obviously another player was involved here. And her mind still got stuck on the fact that this asshole, instead of helping her, had kidnapped her. Who gets kidnapped twice?
Why did the world hate her? What had she done wrong? That question kept playing over and over in her brain, and she had no answer, nobody to even ask. Maybe she deserved whatever she got. Sinking quickly into a fugue of depression, she almost missed it—the only sound she’d heard since they’d been here.
Then her kidnapper whispered quietly, “If you want to survive this, stay quiet.”
She froze; somet
hing was obviously changing, and she didn’t know what. Straining for any sounds of a vehicle, she thought she heard a footstep. A hand landed on her shoulder making her jump.
Her kidnapper squeezed her shoulder so tight that she wanted to cry out. She writhed in pain, as her kidnapper warned her again to stay quiet. Finally he released her. “What do you want?” her kidnapper called out.
“You have something for me?” a stranger asked.
“Only if you have something for me.”
She didn’t recognize the new voice. She strained to hear more, but, as her kidnapper took a couple steps forward, she found it harder to hear the response from the other guy.
Then suddenly her kidnapper was right against her ear and whispered, “Move and you’re dead.”
Then he disappeared.
She froze, too scared to do more than breathe. Even at that, she kept her breathing calm and quiet. That didn’t stop her from trying to free her hands though. They had gotten so slick now from the blood that she thought she might get them free.
Closing her eyes, she focused and pulled and pulled and pulled, and finally one hand slipped out. Immediately she got the other one free, quietly pulled her knees up against her chest, and worked on untying her feet. A rope of some kind bound them but loosely. He obviously felt that she was secure and not in danger of escaping. By pulling off one of her shoes, she could slide her foot out.
With both feet free, she quickly pulled off her gag, wondering why she hadn’t done that first. Then off went the blindfold, and, though it was dark out, and she had no clue where she was, she damn well wasn’t staying here. She immediately climbed out of the trunk of the vehicle, found the nearest grove of trees, and raced for cover.
She moved as silently as she could but knew it wouldn’t take much for anybody to catch her. In the distance, she heard two men talking, but her footsteps were light and swift, and, as soon as she made it to the trees, she slipped into the darkness of the shadows. She didn’t know if either of the men had heard her—or if either would care—as long as the one got exactly what he was looking for.
Killian approached the stranger in front of him at the street corner. “Hey, can you give me a hand?”
“Depends on what you need,” the man stared at him, with a hard look.
“I’m looking for this intersection,” he said, holding up his phone.
“Well, if you’ve got it on your phone,” the stranger said rudely, “you can find where to go.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Killian watched and waited until he disappeared from view, even as he texted Hatch. Found somebody very suspicious, I’m following him.
Exchange in ten came the response.
I’ll be there.
Not only would he be there but Killian also hoped that he would have a heads-up on this asshole he was following. The only reason he made contact with him and asked him for directions was to get the make of the man. Killian’s instincts said there was a good chance that he was connected to the kidnapper, but it was hard to say. He waited until the man headed around the corner, then quickly followed.
When Killian reached the corner, the guy was long gone, but Killian got a tracker on him when he held up his phone. So Killian saw where he went. Pulling up the app on his phone, he leaned against the building, checking his time, and, sure enough, the guy was heading in the right direction. With that, he sent a message back to Hatch. Following him. So far, we’re both going in the right direction.
Hatch replied, That was easy.
No, I don’t think so. Something very strange going on here.
Yeah, you’re not kidding. But these jobs are never straightforward. If they were, any standard military personnel could handle them.
“They can handle some pretty strange shit too,” Killian muttered to himself, as he looked down the street.
Darkness had settled in nicely. He kept the direction finder on, as he walked toward the rendezvous point. He had his backpack on, the money inside. The bills were marked, of course, and would show up in circulation, but he had no intention of them ever making it that far. But things had a way of going south sometimes. More often than he cared to consider.
With Hatch moving in a parallel course several blocks away, the forested area was in absolute darkness at the end of town. Nothing shone, not even a car’s headlights. Killian walked toward the rendezvous point, entering a park on one of its paths, and his footsteps slowed as he got within fifty feet of tracking his guy. Up ahead was a vehicle parked with the trunk open, and somebody stood thirty feet away at the side. Killian called out a quiet greeting.
The man immediately turned and took a couple steps forward.
Well, that was good. Killian walked a little closer and said, “Where’s the woman?”
“Where’s the money?”
“I have it,” he said, dropping the backpack off his shoulder.
“Throw it my way.”
“Not until I see her,” he said.
In the shadows, the stranger shrugged. “Well, you’ll have to come closer then.”
“She’s in the car. Take her out,” Killian said, not giving an inch.
The guy just laughed. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“You only get the money if she’s alive,” Killian snapped.
“Well, she was, the last time I talked to her,” he growled. “I don’t have time for this shit. Give me the money.”
“That’s easy. Give me the woman.”
“What are you, some smart guy?”
“A deal is a deal,” he said. “One for the other.”
“Sure,” he snapped. “But I’ve got the girl, so I need you to toss the money my way.”
“Not until I see proof of life.”
The guy glared at him for a long moment, then turned and walked to the vehicle.
In the darkness Killian heard him muttering something like “Horse shit.”
At the vehicle he swore, then turned and raced all around the vehicle, dropping to look underneath. “She’s fucking gone!” he roared.
“Or she was never there to begin with,” Killian replied, as he quickly picked up the backpack and raced into the shadows. Out of sight, he watched the kidnapper. The man turned and stared in the darkness, then ripped a blue streak, words that were hard to mistake.
Killian had to find the woman, before she got herself thoroughly lost out here or before the kidnapper found her. Now another man was here, closing in on the far side. Friend or foe? Killian knew that Hatch would be somewhere close as well. He quickly sent him a text. The woman has gotten free. She’s lost out here somewhere.
He didn’t know for sure that she was lost, but he would take is as a given that any woman who had gotten herself free from a kidnapper would run hell-bent in whatever direction provided by the natural spacing of the world around her. But running blindly himself wouldn’t help. He scouted around the vehicle, but it was so damn dark that he couldn’t see anything.
Now, if he had night goggles, that would be a different story. But it wasn’t to be. He hunkered down low and listened.
The kidnapper raced through the trees, calling out to her. “Stacey, where are you? You’ll die out here. It’ll get too cold, and the exposure will kill you.”
There wasn’t a sound.
Killian continued to listen intently, when a branch snapped to his left and slid sideways. Keeping his footsteps soft and his tread gentle, he stayed in the underbrush. It had recently rained, which helped keep the dry crackling underbrush from snapping under his feet. He moved another step over and then another. He stopped and listened, his ears strained for the smallest sound. Up ahead he heard the kidnapper yelling and shouting, sounding very pissed off. If that guy got his hands on her, she would regret it.
A man stood on the outskirts and wandered ever-so-slightly around.
Killian knew this was somebody heavily involved; Killian just didn’t know why. Could Max have a man on the second kidnapper? Was this the man Killian
had put the tracker on? He stood up. Only by Killian’s raw instincts and the man’s actions had Killian’s attention been attracted to him in the first place.
His actions were suspicious before, but now they were even more so. Maybe the kidnapper had a partner, and this guy was backup. In which case, maybe he was waiting farther up for the woman to climb out of this mess, and he would take her himself. Or this was just part of the second kidnapping deal.
Killian didn’t know, but he had to find her first, before either one of these guys did. He had great natural nighttime vision, but he still had to see something, at least a shadow that moved. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness around him, as he surveyed the shadows, looking for anything up ahead that stuck out a little bit too far. His gaze was slowly but surely searching the darkness around him, when he heard a slight cough, behind him. And then another slight muffled tone.
He swore at that because it was loud enough that it would bring everybody in her direction. He quickly backed up until she was a little closer, and then he heard footsteps, coming in his direction. Knowing he had no time, he quickly raced around to where she was, seeing the form of her, hiding flat against a tree.
He bent down, slapped a hand across her mouth, picked her up, and, without giving her a chance to argue, shifted a good ten meters to the side.
As soon as he stopped, he whispered against her ear, “I’m here to help. I need you to stay silent.” In the darkness, he saw the whites of her eyes rolling in terror. He leaned forward and whispered, “I’m part of a US Special Ops team. Stay still and quiet.”
She nodded, and he released his hand on her mouth. She took a long slow deep breath and released it with her mouth open, which he hardly approved of, but it was the only way to get that air out without it becoming a harsh gasp that everybody heard.
He twisted his head. More sounds approached, coming from where he had been. He twisted a little bit more, looking around for a place to perch. He found it up just ahead, and he carried her as he made his way over ever-so-quietly and, in a sudden movement, lifted her to a branch up above. She sat perched up there, hanging on to the tree trunk, staring at him in shock. He used his fingers to tell her to circle around, so she could hug the tree trunk, as he faced the woods behind them.
