Reclaim Me

by A. O. Peart

  Chapter Twenty Four

  What was going through Willow’s head? She was worried about Rita, I got that, but all of a sudden she was convinced something bad had happened to Rita. I had to admit, there was something strange about the situation, but we shouldn’t assume the worst just because she wasn’t answering either phone.

  “I want to go to her place,” Willow insisted. “Please, Jack take me there.”

  There was no way I’d let her go alone, and I knew she was bound and determined to check on Rita. So I told Ethan that we were leaving, and we walked back to my truck. Soon after, we were driving through the streets of Portland again. I loved that city. No matter where life had taken me, my roots were here.

  Willow kept staring at her cell phone, clutching it in her hands. She was waiting for Rita’s call, but it wasn’t coming.

  “Willow,” I said quietly, and she lifted her head and looked at me. “What are you thinking?”

  She slowly shook her head from side to side. “Maybe I’m just freaking out for no reason. There might be a simple explanation, but I have a weird, nagging feeling that me makes me think something is seriously wrong; a little voice is telling me not to ignore it.”

  “Then we won’t ignore it,” I told her, looking straight ahead at the light as it changed to green.

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you by my side. I …” she sighed and twisted her hands. “I don’t make things easy, like today, but I—”

  “Hey, don’t worry about that now.” I glanced at her and smiled encouragingly. We’ll figure things out. Just take it easy. And stop thanking me,” I chuckled. “It’s okay.”

  She smiled back, and just like that all her worry lines disappeared. I knew it wasn’t going to last, but she managed to relax a little, and that was all I asked for now. I was there to help with whatever she needed, and if that made her feel safe then I definitely was the man for the job.

  When we neared Rita’s apartment building, I slowed down and drove around, just to see her windows that faced the back. I stopped the truck, and looked up. Both her kitchen and bedroom windows were dark. Willow leaned over me to see better through the driver’s side. I caught a faint whiff or her perfume—the one I smelled today in my bedroom after getting out of the shower.

  “No lights on. Looks like she isn’t in. I’ll call again.” Willow sighed and sat back in her seat. She dialed and listened for an answer. None came, and she frowned in disappointment.

  “Do you still have a spare key?” I asked.

  She looked sharply at me. “Yes. You wanna go up there?”

  “May as well. We’re here. Maybe we can find a clue or two about her whereabouts. Do you know if she has family that she maybe went to visit?”

  “If she did that, I would’ve known. She would’ve told me. But no, all her family is back in the Carolinas. Rita moved here all by herself.”

  I drove the truck around to the front of the building and parked in an empty spot just left of the entrance. Willow rummaged in her purse for her keys. She pulled out a large key ring with some beads and other shiny stuff attached to it. It looked more like a funky, huge piece of jewelry than keys. Why did women need all that unnecessary clutter attached to things that were designed just to serve a purpose, like keys? I would never understand that.

  “Take Rita’s key off that ring and put it in your pocket. The rest of the keys should go back into your purse. And zip your purse up.”

  “Yes, sir.” She snorted.

  I chuckled. “I’m a Marine. Deal with it.”

  I opened my door and stepped outside, scanning the area. All was quiet, as if the whole place was completely deserted. No people or pets were visible or heard. That was rather creepy.

  Willow came out of the truck and around it to join me. “What do you think?”

  “Well, let’s just go up and see. Maybe there is a note or something.” Even I didn’t believe what I was saying. Rita would, most likely, call instead of leaving a note. She wouldn’t expect Willow to come to the apartment after we’d taken all of Willow’s belongings to my place.

  Willow made a non-committal noise which sounded like a little grunt, and then she said, “It feels creepy here, doesn’t it?”

  Funny, how she echoed my own thoughts. Maybe we were becoming attuned to each other again. I could only hope so.

  I pushed the building's door open and peeked inside before entering. It was second nature to me, nowadays, to always be aware of my surroundings; always suspect someone to jump out and try to strangle me. I knew that it seemed a bit paranoid, but old habits die hard, especially those acquired in the many life-and-death situations I’d endured during my time in Afghanistan. I was always a Marine first, then a firefighter, then just Jack—in that order.

  Everything looked okay, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I became doubly cautious. Willow was right beside me. I turned and said, “Stay close to me, but more behind than by my side.”

  Her head snapped up and the corners of her eyes tightened slightly. “Do you expect trouble?”

  “I always expect trouble. Professional hazard.”

  The light fixture over the staircase glowed dimly. Dead bugs dotted the inside of its plastic cover, but there was enough illumination for us to see. I soundlessly climbed the stairs with Willow at my heels. She kept quiet and was light on her feet.

  Right before the landing where Rita’s apartment was, I paused and stopped Willow with my hand. I looked back at her, nodded, and silently mouthed to her, “Stay here.”

  She looked taken aback and mouthed back, “Why?”

  I let her read my lips again, “Just for a moment.”

  A deep, vertical line formed between her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth slightly drooped in what I believed to be suspicion mixed with fear. She was doing great, for a civilian, and I made a mental note to praise her later, when we were out of here.

  I peeked around both sides and, taking two steps onto the landing, looked up the stairs leading to Seth’s apartment. It was quiet everywhere. The air smelled faintly of something that reminded me of a rotten produce. The odor wasn’t strong but detectable. There must’ve been garbage left somewhere around here.

  I motioned to Willow to come closer. She did, and I put my arm out once again to indicate for her to stay where she was. I turned my head and very quietly whispered, “Give me the key.”

  She slid it into my palm, and I closed my fingers around it. I walked to the apartment door, then looked back at Willow and pointed to the side. She understood what I meant and waited in the spot indicated.

  The door looked the same as before with no signs of a break-in. I pushed the key into the keyhole and turned it twice then turned the handle to open the door. The apartment was completely dark. Why didn't she leave a small lamp on somewhere? If I were a woman, it would creep me out to walk into a pitch-black apartment all by myself. A little bit of light would make a big difference.

  I didn’t like this. Something was off. I’d learned to rely on my gut feeling, so I took a step back and closed the door a little, leaving it just a crack open.

  “What’re doing?” Willow whispered urgently.

  “Shhh. Go and stand on the stairs right below the landing.”

  Without protest, she did exactly as she was told. Positioned to the left of the door, I waited, for more than one minute, keeping my body motionless but ready to spring, if necessary. I sensed Willow’s uneasiness. She had no idea what was going on or what to expect, based on my weird reaction. That must’ve been very confusing for her, but I couldn’t explain now.

  And then it happened as I predicted—the apartment door opened just a notch. My core muscles hardened and I kept as far to my left of the door as the adjacent wall allowed. That way, whoever was on the other side would see the area to my right—and their left—first, which gave me a couple of seconds’ advantage before they could notice me.

  With my left arm in front of me for protectio
n and my right arm bent, drawn back for more impact and my fist ready, I was in the most optimal position to attack if necessary. But I couldn’t make any move before I knew for sure that the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Rita.

  The door creaked a little and opened wider, revealing a stocky, middle-aged guy in a dark hoodie. I stepped in front of him and, in one practiced motion, drew my right arm back farther, clenched my fist, and delivered a powerful upper cut. That should’ve caught him square in the jaw, but he was fast and blocked me with his forearm then countered with a precise punch toward my torso.

  Willow screamed. I blocked the punch, twisting at the hips to avoid most of the impact. That in turn drew my assailant forward, throwing him off balance. I took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness and rammed into him with my shoulder, using my body weight to its full advantage. I had at least thirty pounds on him, despite his stocky build, since he stood no more than five foot six.

  My shoulder connected with his ear, and I heard him grunt in pain. While he staggered backward, I had a chance to regain my own balance and adjust my stance. He moved with good speed, and by the time I was hurling another punch, he delivered a roundhouse kick, which I managed to avoid by mere inches.

  The guy was trained in martial arts, but that didn’t deter me. I spent most of my life learning and practicing various martial art techniques and I was just getting warmed up here.

  Another kick, this time a vicious front one, was flying my way, but I was ready. While I bent my knees and tightened my core muscles, I let his foot pass me then grabbed it and yanked forward. The last thing I noticed before he went down was the sheer surprise in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected such a dirty move.

  As soon as he hit the ground, I was on him, throwing a heavy punch to his jaw. His head snapped to the right, and he was out cold. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and the spot where I hit him last was quickly turning red.

  My knuckles hurt like a son of a bitch. Hitting someone in the jaw was only painless in the movies. I shook my hand, wincing. Willow was right beside me. “Jack, are you okay? Who is this guy?”

  I looked at her, grimacing more from uncertainty than from pain. The last thing I needed was for her to see me fight again. That was exactly what broke us apart six years ago. “I’ll live,” I mumbled, worried what her next words might be.

  “You’d better.” Her eyes danced all over my face as if checking for injuries. She took my throbbing hand and gently enclosed it inside both of hers. “Let’s put some ice on this. It hurts, doesn’t it?” There was so much gentleness and concern in her voice that I forgot all about the pain and gaped at her in disbelief.

  “I called the cops already. Requested the same officers as before. I’ll look for Rita.” She got up and went inside the apartment. She turned the lights on and I heard her call out, “Rita, it’s me. Willow. Are you in here?”

  I was still stunned by her unexpected reaction, when the guy on the floor stirred. He was coming around. I rolled him onto his stomach and swiftly pulled his arms back. He groaned and started to thrash, attempting to throw me off. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his forehead on the floor, twice—hard. He lay motionless, probably unconscious.

  I needed something to secure his wrists and ankles together. “Willow! Did you find Rita? I need you here!”

  She rushed out of the apartment. “She’s in there, tied up and gagged … and really pissed off,” Willow said breathlessly. “I need to get a knife to cut through that rope.”

  “Wait,” I stopped her. “Help me here first.” I pointed to the man. “Take off his boots.”

  “What?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Just do it.”

  “But … what do you want his boots for?”

  “Shoe laces. Pull them out, quick.”

  Comprehension replaced the look of incredulity on her face. A moment later she was tying both laces into one long piece, using a double fisherman’s knot. I stared in awe at her rapidly-moving fingers. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

  “Rock climbing.”

  She rock-climbed? That was freakin’ impressive. Willow offered the perfectly-joined laces to me. I coiled it around the man’s wrists and secured the ends in a knot that probably wasn’t as perfect as Willow’s, but would definitely do the job.

  “Okay, I’ll help with those ropes in a moment. Go check on Rita and find me something to tie his ankles. I don’t want to take any chances of him kicking one of us.” I stood up and dragged the guy inside. When his legs cleared the threshold, I closed and locked the door.

  A moment later, Willow returned with a solid-looking leather belt and a box cutter. “Will this work?” She gave me the belt.

  I examined it. The leather was thick and the buckle was well-made. I nodded. “Looks solid enough. Thanks.” I wrapped it twice around the man’s ankles and then secured the buckle.

  He came around and started to squirm. “What are you doing, asshole? Let me go,” he hissed.

  I ignored him. Willow stood silently, frowning.

  “Untie me!”

  “In your dreams. Lie still.”

  I stood up and motioned for Willow to come with me. The guy lifted his face off the floor and looked at her. “Ah, so you’re that little bitch who put Seth in jail. Whores like you should be beaten to death. That’s what you deserve, you fucking thief.”

  “Interesting,” I said, “So this is some kind of revenge for that snotface Seth?”

  I made a move toward him to shut him up, but Willow grabbed my arm. “Not this time, Jack. Seth’s friends deserve a proper welcome.”

  Before I even had a chance to ask what she meant Willow took a vase with a bouquet of wilted flowers from the small hallway table and dumped the decaying plants and dirty water over the guy’s head. She put the vase down and stood with her fists firmly planted on her hips, admiring her handiwork.

  The guy sputtered, gasping for air. Dark, slimy pieces of leaves and stems clung onto his face and hair. Baring his teeth, he unleashed an impressive spate of profanities and threats toward Willow, myself, and whoever else he could think of at that moment.

  Willow flashed a really nasty grin and, cocking her head said, her tone mocking, “Next time you want to come for a visit, let me know in advance so I can serve something fresher. This was all I had available. I hope you enjoyed it, nevertheless.”

  I gaped at her in disbelief. She was actually enjoying herself and didn’t appear at least frightened or ashamed by the man’s nasty comments.

  “Now, if you’ll please excuse us.” Willow turned on her heel and pulled me with her toward Rita’s bedroom.

  We ignored his shrieks and his feet and head banging furiously on the floor. He kept yelling about his bail money, and how he was going to make Willow pay him back.

  “That was classy.” I chuckled, referring to her putrid flower arrangement stunt.

  She winked at me. “Glad you liked it.”

  “Remind me not to ever piss you off.”

  “I’ll make a note of it.”

  Smart ass. I liked this new Willow more and more.

  We found Rita on the floor, tied to her bed with a thick rope. Willow had already pulled the gag out of her mouth. “Jack! Help me out, would ya? I need to break that fuckface’s legs and arms.”

  “You’re not breaking anybody’s limbs, Rita. Now, tell me what exactly happened.” I said and then asked Willow, “Where is that box cutter?”

  Willow produced the blade and offered it to me.

  Rita yelled obscenities at the guy again. He lay on the floor right outside the bedroom, while shouting equally colorful atrocities back at Rita.

  “Be still, so I can cut that rope.” I kneeled down and began to slice through her bonds.

  “Son of a bitch! I’m gonna fucking kill ya!” Rita screamed, struggling against her restraints. “Fucking asshole, who’s laughing now?”

  “Rita, stop. Tell me what happened. Are you okay? Did he hurt y
ou?” Willow helped Rita sit up, while I continued cutting the rope.

  “That prick over there attacked me when I was leaving the Black Pelican. With all the commotion … wait, do you know about the drive-by shooting?”

  “Yes, we saw it on the news and immediately drove there to get you, but we couldn’t find you, and nobody knew where you were. I called and called but you didn’t answer,” Willow said in a rush.

  “Yeah, I was a bit ‘tied up’, not to mention gagged!” Rita spat the words in the man’s direction.

  He was grunting and moaning, while continuing to struggle against the restraints.

  “I’ll give you something to whine about,” Rita assured him, her face set in a mask of self-righteous anger.

  “Hold on. So who is he, exactly? Seth’s buddy? What’s really going on?” Willow spread her arms to the sides, indicating how confused and impatient she was quickly becoming.

  I removed the last piece of rope from around her legs. Rita massaged her wrists and then her ankles, swearing again. I chuckled at some of the words she used. Feisty was not a strong enough word to describe Rita.

  “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Jack,” she scolded me.

  “Okay, okay. Just tell us what happened. From the beginning. So you left the Black Pelican when the cops gave you the okay to go, and then what?” I coaxed her.

  “So I go to my car. I always park in the back. It’s a well-lit spot, so I didn’t think much about it. But then that asshat over there jumps me out of nowhere and covers my face with a washcloth soaked in chloroform! It knocked me totally unconscious. Where the hell do you even get that shit?” She fumed, indignant.

  “Wow, chloroform?” Willow put her arms around Rita.

  I scolded myself inwardly for feeling jealous.

  “Yeah, he even told me. Boasted about it like it was the highlight of his life. Well, maybe it was—at my expense.” For someone who should be terrified, Rita was way too spunky.

  “Who is he, and how did you end up here?” I asked.