Eleanore absently noted, as she looked up, that the man had removed his mask. His eyes were big and brown. His face wasn’t harsh, scarred, or even scary. He was a handsome man, a man who could have easily found a woman. So why had he taken her?
The night air was still. Frogs croaked on the banks of a small stream that ran down behind the house. The home itself was on acreage, with no other homes visible. No one was going to see or hear her out here.
Eleanore’s adrenaline had run out. She was becoming shaky, eyes becoming unbearably heavy. Her feet dragged as he pushed her toward the quaint, white brick cottage.
When he opened the door, her eyes adjusted to the bright lights inside.
What the hell is going on? Eleanore thought again. What does he want with me?
He pushed her toward an open door. Inside, the one window was boarded over. Dominating the room was a very comfortable-looking queen bed, with a beautiful bedside table.
This is really weird.
“Behind that door is a bathroom,” he pointed to one of two doors against the interior wall as he freed her wrists. He looked at her intently and gently stroked one cheek.
She was too weak to try and fight him, and even if she could, she had no idea where the hell she was. Any escape attempt would have to wait. Her body was shaking uncontrollably.
He left, closing the bedroom door behind him. Three loud clicks made it obvious he had locked her in there.
She took her exhausted body to the bed and curled up on the oddly comfortable mattress, completely perplexed by the entire situation.
This lovely place, the beautifully made bed, the comfortably warm room, the vent in the ceiling providinging fresh air, none of it seemed designed to imprison a captive. Every effort had been made to ensure her comfort. Obviously, her abduction had been planned well in advance. How long had this man been stalking her?
This is not a room for torture.
Time passed as Eleanore lay on the bed trying to make sense of her situation. She wasn’t sure how long because she couldn’t see outside; nor was there a clock telling her the time.
But she could tell it had been several hours. Her body began to shiver violently, despite the comfortable warmth of the room. Her skin started to ooze a fine sheen of sweat, and her mind started to slip. Eleanore had experienced this before, and knew exactly what was happening to her.
She reached around for her bag, but of course, that was dropped at the site where she and her husband had been attacked.
Shit! What was she going to do?
Soon, knots began to tighten in her stomach, and that sick feeling was quickly rising to the surface.
She stood and ran into the bathroom.
Oh no, not now…please, not now.
She collapsed beside the toilet and heaved into it, bringing up everything in her stomach.
She tried to lift her eyes from the mucky gunk in the toilet, but she felt a heaviness that completely weighed her down.
She threw up again, her body fighting against itself.
The moment she stopped vomiting, her captor came into the room holding a wet cloth and dabbed it gently against her face.
She was even more confused than ever.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You know what I’m doing,” he replied. He sat beside her on the cold, sterile tile floor, softly patting her forehead with the cloth in one hand, and holding her hair back with the other.
They sat in silence for a time. All that she knew for certain was that she was sick and physically hurting.
When she finally lay on the floor, exhausted, shaky, skin clammy and deathly pale, she closed her eyes for a moment.
The man lifted her, stripped away her sweat-soaked clothes and placed her in bed, and she was too helpless to object. He walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. In the kitchen, another man sat at the table. His hands were knit tightly together, and his knee was bouncing up and down.
“How is she?” he asked the kidnapper.
“Not good. She’s much worse than you thought, and pretty much how I expected she would be.”
The man sitting at the table couldn’t help himself. He angrily swiped at the mug of coffee in front of him, smashing it to the floor.
“Fuck!” he yelled. “Just… fuck!”
The kidnapper stood and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ve seen much worse, but you need to prepare yourself. It’s going to get pretty ugly.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I’ve read all the material you sent me, and I know this is the only way to save her. It’s just that…”
“I know; you’re concerned. But an intervention is the only way for someone that refuses to admit that she has such a strong drug dependency. And what she’s using is nothing to fuck around with. It’ll kill her if she keeps going.”
Lawrence nodded. He knew that this was her last chance to live a normal life. He knew the way they went about the intervention was intended to shock her into accepting the reality of her condition. She needed to be saved, not just for herself but for him and their children, too. And this was the only way.
They had to scare her straight, for ice was one of the most addictive drugs that had ever been created.
Lawrence wondered what would happen when Eleanore emerged on the other side.
Would she thank him?
What If?
Skye looked left, looked right, then looked left again.
She didn't see the car approaching, because the sun had created a blind spot. Her earbuds were in her ears, blasting AC/DC. She was listening to “Thunderstruck” and singing along.
Skye’s right foot came down off the curb first, quickly followed by her left. One step, then a second.
Xavier was running late for work. He was supposed to start in ten minutes and yet he was a good twenty minutes away if he didn't hit any traffic.
He looked down at his ringing phone and saw his boss’s angry face blinking up at him. Obviously, the boss was pissed off already this morning, and so, “I’m running late” wouldn't be something he wanted to hear.
He looked up from his phone just as he hit the girl crossing the road.
Xavier hit the brakes with everything he had, both feet stomping on the pedal and locking his brakes as he tried to stop the car as quickly as he could. But traveling above the speed limit wasn't going to help, and neither was the fact the he had been distracted by his cell phone.
"Oh shit! What have I done?" he cried as he finally managed to stop the skidding car.
He jumped out of the vehicle and ran toward the mass of blood and flesh lying on the road. Without thinking, he scooped her up and cradled her bloodied body against his elegant Armani suit. Blood poured from her. He shouldn't have touched her, not because of the warm, red liquid oozing out of her, but because he could have done more damage than he already had. But Xavier wasn’t thinking.
"I'm so sorry," he kept chanting, over and over again.
Skye didn't know what happened. One moment she was happily singing to “Thunderstruck”, and the next she was being thrown in the air. She didn't see Xavier’s car, she didn’t hear it, and she had no idea that in a blink of an eye her entire world was about to change.
She could now hear someone saying they were sorry. She could feel warm, strong arms hugging her, stroking her hair and telling her to, “Hold on, help’s on the way,” but she didn't quite understand what was happening.
It was so peaceful, so beautiful as Skye stood beside herself, looking at the handsome young man caressing her hair and crying as he kissed her forehead.
"Don't cry," Skye said to the man as she knelt down beside him. She tried putting a hand on his shoulder, but her hand just passed through him. She couldn't feel him or even touch him. She looked at the crumpled, bloodied woman that lay in his arms. She looked so sad, an empty, gloomy shell.
The woman looked up, when she heard someone calling her. "Skye."
She looked to see where the
sound was coming from; it sounded so much like her grandmother. But that was impossible. Her grandmother had passed away many years ago, when Skye was only a teenager.
"Skye." She heard it again. Skye stood and looked around her, this time seeing her grandmother a few steps behind her.
"Grandma, what are you doing here?" she said as she ran over to the timelessly beautiful woman.
"I've come to guide you, dear." Her grandmother extended a hand to her, waiting for Skye to take it.
"Where am I going?" Skye asked with a smile. Seeing her grandmother after all these years was an unexpected joy.
"The choice is yours, Skye. But first you need to see something. Come."
Both women, fingers tightly entwined, stepped into the most brilliant of serene, purple lights imaginable. Her grandmother wrapped her in a tight embrace and took Skye back to a time that she remembered with great fondness.
"Oh gosh, Grandma, my fourteenth birthday." Her family home had been set up with all the familiar birthday trimmings, and there were the happy sounds of kids playing and family members enjoying the aromatic barbecue.
Skye stood to the side, and watched as she and her friends were trying to play a prank on her older brother. He knew what was going on, but let the girls think they had the upper hand.
Skye laughed as she recalled that happy time. Skye and her grandmother stood there for five minutes, or maybe five hours, she couldn’t be sure. All Skye could feel was the immense love that radiated from all of her family members.
"Come, Skye, we have another stop." Her grandmother held out her hand again, and when Skye took it, she was instantly transported to her twenty-first birthday.
This one was a little tougher to watch, because this was the day that the man she thought was the love of her life broke up with her, telling her he didn't want to be tied down. He was going to Europe for a back-packing tour.
That was the last time she saw him alive. He died when he jumped into a river, head first, not checking the depth of the water first. He hit his head on a boulder on the bottom of the shallow river. He was killed instantly.
Though that time was tragic, Skye could still feel the love emanating from all the people around her, even her now-deceased ex-boyfriend.
"Skye," she heard his voice calling her. It was deep and caressed her ears. The hair on her neck stood when she felt his warm hand encircle hers. Instantly, her grandmother disappeared, but not without whispering tender, loving words in her ear.
"Jackson, what are you doing here?" Skye asked as she threw her arms around his neck.
"Now it's my turn to guide you," he said.
Within a single blink of her eye, she was standing outside, in a garden. The flowers were in full bloom, and people were gathering, dressed in attire that was simply extravagant. She didn't remember this from her past, and she was curious as to what was going on.
"Jackson?" she asked, holding on to him a little tighter than necessary.
"It's okay, Angel. I'll look after you."
Skye instantly relaxed when Jackson uttered the pet name he'd always used for her. She did recognize the people in attendance though; they were just older now. Her parents and her brother, but her two best friends were missing.
Music started, and her two best friends appeared, dressed in stunning, matching, deep teal dresses. She soon saw herself, walking with a bouquet of pansies in her hand, her white, slim-fit dress, off one shoulder. Her black hair was casually, but elegantly swept up into loose curls.
"Oh my," she said as tears fell from her eyes. "This is my wedding. But I'm not married," she whispered as she swiped at the tears clinging to her cheeks.
"No, not yet. But you can be," Jackson said, smiling down at her.
"I don't understand."
"Look at the groom."
Skye wiped the tears from her eyes and she looked toward the front of the gathering. The man looked familiar. She'd seen him, but couldn’t place where. Oh damn it, where have I seen him?
"It can be either way you want it to be, Skye. You can take my hand and come with me now, or you can let go and live the rest of your life."
Jackson smiled at Skye. He knew what he wanted her to do, but this was her choice to make.
"I can go back?"
"You always have a choice."
"I have a choice?"
"Of course, Angel. Choose with your heart."
Skye looked down at their entwined fingers. The choice was not easy. Life on this plane was so tranquil and easy. Here, she would be accepted with open arms. But there was so much more of the world she had yet to explore and experience.
"I choose life," she said, letting go of Jackson’s warmth.
Skye looked left, looked right, then looked left again.
She didn't see the car approaching, because the sun had created a blind spot. Her earbuds were in her ears, blasting AC/DC. She was listening to “Thunderstruck” and singing along.
Skye’s right foot came down off the curb first, quickly followed by her left. One step, then a second.
Xavier was running late for work. He was supposed to start in ten minutes and yet he was a good twenty minutes away if he didn't hit any traffic.
Xavier looked down at his ringing phone and saw his boss’s angry face blinking up at him. Obviously, his boss was pissed off already this morning, so, “I’m running late,” wouldn't be something he wanted to hear.
But today was different. Today he wasn't going to rush.
And today, a huge gust of air blew Skye’s earbuds out, just in time to hear a car approaching.
Xavier drove past the girl waiting on the side of the road, ready to cross – but something about her looked familiar. He had to know who she was.
Skye’s squinting eyes saw the man driving the car, and it was a case of deja vu. She knew him. Skye couldn't remember from where, but she recognized him.
Xavier pulled the car over and got out, and headed for Skye cautiously. He didn't want to scare her.
Skye turned her body and took a few careful steps toward him, though for some reason every cell of her being was telling her he was 'the one'.
"Hi," they both said simultaneously.
The moment their fingers touched in a handshake, they both experienced a series of snapshots of their futures.
And they both knew.
The universe had brought them together.
The Hired Help
Madeleine looked over her shoulder at her boss, sitting in his office. Clearly, he was distraught over whatever he was looking at.
Mr. Jacobs, the company’s CFO, was in his late thirties and had started to go gray around the temples approximately eight years ago, after his divorce. He lost his home to his now ex-wife, and his kids informed him that they never wanted to see him again because, “Well really, Dad, we barely ever saw you before,” his twelve-year-old daughter had told him.
He still sees them on special holidays, their birthdays. You know, important times.
But now he sat at his desk looking like he was about to pass out. His hands were running over his hair, and he was tugging at the roots out of sheer frustration.
“Madeleine,” he called for her sharply as his eyes kept perusing the email for any further information.
“Yes, Mr. Jacobs. Is everything alright?” she asked when she came into his office. He was obviously flustered.
“Is there anything going on around here that I should know about?” He looked up over his laptop and found her soft, green eyes.
“In reference to what?” She stood in front of the desk, looking at him with her head slightly tilted to the side.
“Just…anything,” he said, frustrated.
She shrugged her shoulders. Truthfully, she’d heard nothing disturbing. She wondered what had him so stressed and in such a panic.
“No, Sir. Nothing’s come to my attention.”
“God,” he whispered as he ran an irritated hand through his graying hair.
“Is there anythin
g I can do to help with…?” He noticed Madeleine stopped talking, obviously completely unaware of the cause of his exasperated state.
“No, nothing. Just go away. And if you hear anything, come in here and let me know.”
Right, well, whatever. Madeleine thought as she turned on her low heel and walked out of her boss’s office.
Graham Jacobs couldn’t keep his eyes off the damn email. He kept reading the same key words that had captured all his attention. The fact that the email started with, “I know who you are and what you do,” was nothing less than intimidating. Downright frightening.
How could this person know? He was always so careful…checking, double-checking, never using the same place twice. How?! Damn it, how?
Graham’s heartbeat spiked, beating with a crazy thump as it reverberated in his ears. He sat up straight in his leather chair.
What am I going to do? he thought to himself as he tried to calm his erratically fast heartbeat down.
He stared at his cell phone for the longest minute, not sure if he should call and see if his partner in the company had received the same email.
But if he called and his partner hadn’t received it, that opened up more possibilities to be considered, and that’s not what he needed right now.
Not really. He was trying to regain some sort of normal relationship with his kids – trying to lay a foundation of trust and presence, but…
How could that happen with this threat hanging over his head?
Shit! What a fucked-up mess.
He’d just have to be more careful. Or maybe just stop altogether until he felt more comfortable. But, really he couldn’t stop. It was his only enjoyment in life.
The attraction was a rush, and the sneaking around was such a thrill. But the real jackpot was discovering something new about himself – now that was entirely something else. There was always a sense of fulfillment when he…
Graham’s partner, a man named Justin, stood at his door rapping on it for a good moment before Graham even heard the noise.
“Oh, sorry Justin. I was just lost in thought.”
Crave Page 46
