When the Storm Ends

by Jillian Anselmi

  “Dominic, what the fuck?” Taryn yells across the room. They both look up, startled. As soon as Cole’s eyes land on mine, he studies my face before running them over me, relief clear in his features. What the hell is going on?

  I open my mouth to ask just that and Cole lunges toward me, grabbing my wrist. “We’re leaving,” he growls, dragging me toward the stairs.

  “What? Leaving? Let go of me. What the hell, Cole?” I try to wrestle from his grip, but he holds me fast.

  “We need to go.”

  “Go where?” I ask, planting my feet on the carpet.

  Spinning, he says, “Home. Your place. Anywhere but here.”

  “Okay, but you don’t need to drag me,” I snap. Shaking him off, I follow him out of the club to the valet. “I still don’t understand why we have to leave,” I mutter, crossing my arms against the slight chill in the air. Though, I’m not sure if it’s the weather or my shot nerves.

  Ignoring me, he hands the stub to the valet, who rushes off to get Cole’s car. He glances over at me for a second, a spark of sympathy in his eyes, but then returns to staring into the dark night. Fine, I can ignore him too. There’s no fucking way he’s getting laid tonight, either. Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms and wait.

  A few long minutes later, the valet pulls up in Cole’s black Mercedes Maybach and I rush to the passenger side, not waiting for the valet to open the door. Cole shakes his head, but makes no effort to stop me. Tipping the valet, he slides into the driver’s seat and pulls away, tires screeching across the pavement.

  We ride in silence the entire way to my brownstone, my arms still folded across my chest and eyes focused on the quilted pattern covering the dashboard. He’s driving like a crazy man, dodging cars through midtown like Mario Andretti, tailgating taxis, then slamming on the brakes to avoid them. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he has a death wish. Something is very wrong and I need to know what it is.

  Before I can ask, he pulls up in front of my apartment. “Get out,” he mutters, not looking at me.

  “If you think for one minute I’m getting out of this car before you explain what the fuck just happened, you’re crazy.” I glare at him, wishing I could read his mind and reveal his secrets.

  “It has nothing to do with you, so we’re not discussing it,” he says, his tone flat and impassive as he stares ahead, his body rigid. Gripping the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms flex.

  “Are you fucking kidding me! Whatever doesn’t have to do with me just ruined our anniversary! For Christ’s sake, what is going on!”

  “Just go. I’ll call you in the morning. There’s something I need to take care of.” Clenching his jaw, he grips the steering wheel tighter, his focus never wavering.

  “Cole—”

  “Will you just fucking go!” he shouts, spinning his head so his gaze meets mine. His eyes are wide and full of fear, his lower lip trembling. Panic builds behind his darkening irises and the blood in my veins turns to ice.

  “Okay,” I whisper, “I’ll go inside. Promise you’ll call me in the morning?”

  “I will,” he says, his voice lower, softer, and the panic in his eyes fades to a simmer. Opening the door, I slide across the smooth leather seat and exit the car.

  “I love you,” he whispers as I close the door.

  The second the latch clicks, he pulls away and I’m left standing in front of my apartment, alone. I fish for my keys as I walk up the steps. Slamming the door shut, I throw them in the bowl on the console table. Tonight was supposed to be fun—it was supposed to be happy and all about our one year anniversary—but it took one hell of a wrong turn. Pulling my cell phone out of my purse, I text Taryn.

  Me: I’m home. Alone.

  Who were those guys and what did they want? Better yet, what had Cole so spooked? Frustrated and refusing to speculate on the whys any longer, I grab a bottle of pinot noir from my wine rack and a bottle opener before walking over to the couch and plopping down. Setting the wine and accessories on the side table, I kick off my shoes and rub my throbbing feet when my phone buzzes.

  Taryn: He left you alone? Douche!

  Me: I’m about to open a bottle of wine. Dominic say anything?

  Taryn: Not a peep. Want me to come over?

  Me: Nah, me and Pinot are good.

  I toss my phone to the side, open the bottle, and search for something watchable on TV. Once I find something, I pull a blanket off the back of the couch and get comfortable with my glass of wine. Three glasses later, my head on a throw pillow, I doze off.

  PAIN RADIATES FROM my scalp as my body flies through the air, slamming down onto the wood floor. Before I’m fully awake, massive hands scoop me up and toss me against what feels like a brick wall, only to find it’s a person. Panicked, I struggle, but someone is holding me tight. “Hello again, Delani.” That voice, I know that accent.

  Twisting my head to the right, a figure walks out of the darkness. Armond walks into the light, his hand wrapped around the back of Cole’s neck. He shoves Cole where he wants him and cold sweat beads along my clammy skin. Cole is ghost white, the red from the cut above his eye and bloody lip a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin.

  “Cole?” I ask in a shaky, high-pitched whisper, my lungs seizing as fear tightens its deathly grip.

  “I’m so sorry, Delani,” he whispers. Four men surround him, one I recognize from earlier this evening, their eyes fixated on me. They stand in a semi-circle, protecting their boss, and dread creeps into my gut.

  “You see, Cole owes me money—a lot of money. And he doesn’t have it. Now, what are we going to do about it?” Armond’s mouth curves up into a malicious grin, matching the connotation behind his words.

  “Cole, what is he talking about?” I ask in a panic, my heart thudding against my ribcage.

  “She doesn’t know, does she?” Armond asks, smirking.

  “Please, don’t,” Cole begs, his eyes wide. Armond shoves him toward one of his minions, then turns to me.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” Armond chuckles to himself. “Manny, bring her over here.” A hand shoves me from behind, pushing me toward Armond, and I manage to stop just short of him, stumbling before regaining my balance. Armond’s black eyes roam over me, our bodies close enough for him to reach out and touch my face. I turn my head away, trying to stay out of his grasp, but he grips my cheeks in his huge hand and squeezes, pinching my skin. A small gasp falls from my lips as I wince from the pain, but manage to wipe any expression from my face. He leans in, his foul breath scraping across my cheek. “You are going to hear a story about your boyfriend,” his voice is slow and authoritative. Shoving my face away, he signals one of his goons to hold me.

  “Armond, please. I’ll have the money. I just need a couple more days.” Cole takes a step toward me, but fails to make another. A hand fists into his hair, yanking him backward.

  “You had a couple days. Your time has run out,” Armond hisses, turning his attention back to me. “Cole begged me to leave you out of it, much like he’s doing now, but how can I when you get us exactly what we want?” Armond says, seeming unaffected, as if this is an everyday conversation over coffee. “You see, he imports cocaine for me.”

  “Cocaine?” I whisper in shock, ice steeling my veins. My back stiffens ramrod straight and my head whips around to Cole. “Cole, is this true?” I ask in horror. His face turns stark white and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but snaps it shut.

  “Surprised, yes?”

  “You’re lying!” I try twisting my way out of Manny’s grip again, but his huge hands circle my arms. Pull and tug as I might, his hold is unyielding.

  “Cole, tell her. Tell her how you control the flow of cocaine into this country for me.”

  “Cole, please tell me he’s lying.” I silently pray he denies everything, but my instincts tell me he won’t. Hanging his head low, Cole can’t bring his eyes up high enough to look at me. Seeing him this distraught unlocks something in the back
of my mind. This is real. These men are dangerous—more than I realize. I pull harder, trying to get loose. Kicking Manny, he loosens his grip just enough for me to spring forward, but Armond catches me, pushing me back.

  “We’re waiting, Cole,” Armond growls as he places my right arm behind my back. Applying pressure upward, he pins my hand between my shoulder blades.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Cole whispers. Tears flow unchecked down my cheeks between his confession and the pain from Armond, and I’m rendered speechless. Lifting his head, he looks into my eyes. His once beautiful chocolate eyes are now hollow and empty, and I’m torn. Torn between feeling sorry for him and hating him. He just admitted to one of the things I hate most: drugs. I’ve seen what they can do and vowed never to get involved with any illegal substances.

  “Delani, may I finish now?” Armond asks, his eyes cold and devoid. They remind me of a black hole, sucking up everything in their path. When I don’t answer, he continues anyway. “One of my shipments with a net worth of over a million dollars was hijacked. Now, I can’t be expected to pay for product that was never distributed, can I?” The smug smiles from his men send shivers down my spine. “Cole has paid me just over six-hundred thousand, but he still owes me.”

  “What do you want?” I snarl, my temper flaring.

  “What I want is my money. But since he doesn’t have it, I’ll take the next best thing: you.”

  “No fucking way,” Cole screams, rushing toward me. Armond signals to someone and Cole drops like a stone before he can get near me.

  “Cole!” I shout, nearly choking on my tears. Blood oozes from the back of his head and I thrash back and forth, fighting to get to him. “Cole . . . no, no, no. Don’t be dead,” I cry, bucking with more strength than I knew I had. Emmanuel releases his grip and I fall to the floor, my knees crashing to the surface before I can catch myself. I scramble toward Cole, tears blurring my vision, and frantically feel for a pulse.

  The sluggish thump, thump pushes against my fingers, just barely, and I drop my cheek near his mouth. “He’s breathing,” I say on a broken whisper, more to reassure myself than anyone else in the room. “He’s alive.”

  Lifting back up, I try to find the source for the blood that continues to flow from his head and through his hair, but there’s too much. My ears thunder and my vision starts to blur as panic tries to consume me, but I brace myself with deep breaths. Swiping the tears from my eyes with the backs of my hands, I sniffle and look over to Armond. “Please, don’t hurt him,” I whisper, fresh tears threatening to fall.

  “As soon as he gets me my money, you’ll be released. Until then, you’ll be mine to do with as I see fit.” As he finishes the last syllable, strong arms wrap around my waist and toss me over someone’s shoulder. I thrash against the body, fighting to get free when both my wrists and ankles are bound.

  “Let. Me. Go!” I scream, trying with every muscle to escape my fate. A rag is held over my mouth and nose, the grip of the fingers pushing against my cheekbones and jaw bruising. I try to push and shove, writhing to knock the man off balance, but the sweet scent is overwhelming. My visions blurs as my body begins to feel heavy—too heavy to move. The last thing I see is Cole’s still body lying on the floor before I succumb to the darkness.

  I OPEN MY eyes and squint into the bright sunlight as I regain consciousness. I blink several times before a large, barred window covered in drapes comes into view. My fingers run over the surface beneath me, the scratchy fabric and patterning reminding me of a mattress. A bed. I’m on a bed of sorts.

  My head throbs and stars dance around my vision. Placing pressure on my temples, I will the pain to go away and try to stand, but my pounding head has me swaying back onto the bed, my legs giving out on me.

  I lie back against the mattress, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to clear the dizziness and nausea. After a few moments, my head no longer spinning, though the ache is still raging. I lift my head and look out the window, determined to figure out where I am so I can find a way to get the hell out of here.

  Nothing but tree tops.

  No cars.

  No houses.

  Just trees.

  I slink back down, the crushing weight of defeat threatening to take me over, but I won’t let it. I can’t lose my will before I even have a chance to fight. One of two thoughts remain prominent as I try to shake off the lingering hopelessness: I’m definitely not in the city anymore and this room is on the top floor of wherever I am.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I push myself off the bed and peer around the room, taking in the exit options. Three doors—two next to each other and the third across the room. Of the two closest, one is a closet and the other a large bathroom. The third is locked. Balling my hand into a fist, I start pounding on the wood. “Let. Me. Out!” I shout, beating harder through the throb in my hands. “Is someone there, can anyone hear me?” I scream out, my strength hindering as my hands slip down the surface. I press my ear to the door, listening for a moment, but there’s nothing but silence—complete and utter silence.

  Turning my back, I slide down to the floor and lean against the door, my body weak. I close my eyes for a moment and focus on my breathing before scanning the large room. There’s nothing here but the bed in the center of the room and a large cushioned chair. I could break the window, but I’d never get through the metal bars covering the opening. Gathering my strength, I stand and check the walls, looking for any hiding spot or secret room. Walking across the wooden floor, I open the bathroom door to see if there is a way out through there. The white marble tiles contrast with the light blue room and chrome fixtures. Looking under the large sink, I find nothing but toilet paper. The modern rectangular tub is affixed to the floor and walls and the window above is too small.

  I turn on the faucet, temper the water, strip, and check my appearance in the mirror. I don’t notice anything different, except my makeup has stained my face. There are no bruises, no red marks, nothing to suggest anyone had hurt me. Thankful for this at least, I step into the tub, letting the hot water cascade down my body. Using the full bottle of shampoo on a shelf in the stall, I scrub my aching head, massaging as I go. If I’m going to be stuck here, at least I’ll be clean.

  Finishing my shower, I dry my body with a fluffy blue towel folded on a rack. There’s a robe hanging off the back of the door and I snatch it up, pulling it over my naked body. After wrapping the towel around my head, I exit the bathroom, stopping short when I see Armond laying across my bed, his head leaning on his hand. “I was wondering when you’d finally shower. I like my women clean.”

  Every hair on my body stands on end as dread overwhelms me. “H-How long have you been here?” I stutter, my voice low, almost inaudible.

  “Long enough.” Sitting up on the bed, his eyes shift to the opening of my robe. “Take off your robe. I want to see what four hundred thousand dollars looks like.”

  “He said he’ll get the money,” I say, backing up. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  “Not long enough. I won’t ask again,” he demands. There’s a dark hollowness in his eyes that has me pausing. I don’t want to wait to see what happens if I say no again. Spinning, I make a mad dash back to the bathroom and slam the door. My fingers fumble with the knob, searching for a lock, only to find there isn’t one. Fuck.

  “Silly girl, where are you running off to?” he asks, laughing. “Don’t make me come get you. It’ll be worse for you if I do.”

  “Fuck you!” I scream through the door, praying he doesn’t come for me.

  “That’s the plan,” he laughs, an evil, bone-chilling laugh. “Come out. Now.”

  There’s nowhere to go, but I can’t go out there. Who knows what he’ll do to me. I knew when I first saw this creep, he was no good. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” I scream through the door. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.

  The door bursts open and Armond lunges at me. I twist, but he catches my arm and pulls me out the door.
“I’m all for hard to get, but I’m growing impatient,” he hisses as he tosses me onto the mattress. Standing next to the bed, he starts to undress while watching me, his eyes growing darker with each piece of clothing he sheds. “Please, don’t do this,” I beg, trying to buy time, knowing nothing I say matters.

  “Today, you’ll only see me. But for every day I don’t see my money, another man will come to play with you. I’m gentle, but some of my friends, well . . .” I scream at the top of my lungs and lunge for the door he came in through. “No one who matters can hear you. You’re just exciting my men. Now, take off the fucking robe.” My skin crawls at his controlling tone.

  “Fuck you!” I shout from the door. “Stay the fuck away from me!” Using every ounce of strength I have, I pull on the knob and place my leg on the wall as I heave on the handle.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he growls. His arrogant, incensed tone stops me in my tracks.

  I turn my head just in time to witness Armond jumping over the bed toward me. Grabbing my hair, he pulls it back and twists my neck around so I’m thrown off my feet. I thrash around, trying to break his hold. He yanks my head and drags me toward the middle of the room. Tears start to blur my vision. I can’t let him get me on the bed.

  Flipping my body so I’m on all fours, I extend my arms with the heels of my palms on the floor, trying to stop my movement. The wood floor is slick, and my attempt is futile. He hooks his hands under my arms, throws me back on the bed, and rips the robe from my body, exposing me fully. My head bounces off the hard mattress and I blink away the stars dancing across my vision. My body trembles as a fear I’ve never known consumes every inch of me. That arrogant grin I’ve grown to hate stretches across his face as he looks up and down my body like I’m a piece of meat and I try to cover myself, a small hiccupping sob escaping my lips before I can choke it down, but he grabs my wrists and flips me so I’m on my stomach.

  Tears fall unchecked down my cheeks and into my mouth as he restrains my hands, ropes I didn’t see attached to the rails biting into my flesh. I pull my arm against it, trying to pull myself free, but the knot becomes tighter as the threads burn across my wrist. Armond moves around the bed in a circle, tightening my restraints, and my cries become louder. I try to numb myself, numb everything and slip off into a place where none of this is happening, but his fingers run up and down my body, pulling me back to my nightmare. He takes his time, feeling and probing every inch of me. My stomach threatens to repel its contents at his touch and my body trembles, but I clamp my jaw shut, trying to reign in my panic. He’s feeding off it and I refuse to give him any more ammunition.