by Mary Carter
“That must have been very upsetting.”
“It was. But get this—Jake was the one who cried. I hadn’t been paying attention to him up until then, but when he saw what shape that kitten was in—his eyes filled with tears. That’s the moment I fell in love.”
“A sensitive man,” Jean Sebastian said.
“Yes,” Grace said. God, Jake would hate her for telling that story to Jean Sebastian of all people. But Jean Sebastian didn’t look like he was judging Jake. He was trying to keep Grace calm. She and Jake had a reoccurring joke about their “how we met” story.
“When you tell that story, can you leave out the part about my bawling like a little girl over a kitten?” Jake would say.
She laughed quietly to herself, then was immediately overtaken by a sob. She knew Jean Sebastian heard her, but luckily he let her have her space. She looked out the window as they approached a tall building with interspersed glass and steel squares rising from the beach. It looked like a resort. They were in the little neighborhood of Barceloneta, right near Port Olímpic. The driver pulled in front of the building. Grace was about to ask him why they had stopped when Jean Sebastian opened the door. Jean Sebastian spoke to the driver in Spanish, and he grinned and nodded.
“What’s going on?” Jean Sebastian was holding the door open for Grace. She got out, and the driver scrambled around for her bag. “Why are we stopping?” Grace asked.
“We are here.”
They were at the Hotel Arts Barcelona/Ritz Carlton. Right on the beach. So much for living in a hostel. So, Grace thought, as Jean Sebastian took the bag from the driver and they headed for the entrance. He’s Belgian. He’s hot. He speaks God knows how many languages. He used to work for a prestigious, charitable organization in a dangerous territory, and he’s now playing my knight in shining armor. Oh, no. Jake would not like this one bit. But she couldn’t help it. She liked it way more than she should have.
“Travel writer?” Grace said, raising an eyebrow.
“My old job,” Jean Sebastian said. “Being the director of a rescue agency gets you a few perks. A few still linger.” Grace nodded as they stepped into the lobby dripping with marble, and glittering chandeliers, expensive furnishings, and an ocean view. Port Olímpic was just outside their door.
“Don’t tell me you’re in a penthouse suite,” she joked.
“How did you know?” he said without a trace of sarcasm.
CHAPTER 25
Jake woke to the sound of a drip. He was in a small room, but the drip echoed as if he were in a giant tunnel. He was sitting on a floor with his back against a pipe, and his hands were cuffed behind him. Had he been arrested and thrown into some strange Spanish jail? It smelled moldy. He tugged on the handcuffs, and they cut into his wrists.
“Hey,” he yelled into the dark. “Grace?” As his eyes adjusted he could make out a single bed in the room and a dresser. Was he in a house? An apartment building? There seemed to be a window behind him, but heavy shades prevented him from being able to tell what time of day it was. There was a figure on the bed, underneath the covers. “Grace?” This time he yelled as loud as he could. The figure stirred, then sat up. It wasn’t her. Too chesty, hair too light, even in the dark. “Carrie Ann?”
“Where am I?” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“Is there a light next to the bed? Can you turn it on?” Jake said. Interesting. She wasn’t handcuffed, but he was. She turned and reached out to something. He heard a click, and a dim light filled the room. When Carrie Ann turned to him, he got a fright. Mascara streaked from both eyes and down her cheeks, and her lip was swollen and slightly bloody. He tried not to react.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Where are we? Why are you sitting on the floor?”
Jake jerked on the handcuffs by way of an answer. Carrie Ann scrambled to the end of the bed and stared down at him. “Oh my God,” she said. “Stan.”
“What about Stan?”
“I saw him last night. At the club. Just before I took Grace to the bathroom.” She looked around. “Where is she?”
“I just woke up,” Jake said. “But obviously she’s not in here.”
“Oh my God,” Carrie Ann said. “I’m going to kill him.”
“You took Grace to the bathroom and what happened?” Jake said.
“She was out of it. She was sliding down the wall—I couldn’t keep her up—”
“Somebody drugged all of us.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. I’m really, really sorry.”
“So you’re saying you knew nothing about this?”
“Nothing. No.”
Jake got the feeling she was holding something back, but pressuring her could backfire, so he let it go for now. “What happened to Grace?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Grace and I were fighting—”
“About what?”
“Let’s leave that for later, shall we?” Jake stared at her, then nodded. “Then she kept sliding down the wall, and . . .”
“And?”
“And I heard the door open because it made this loud groaning sound, and then I felt something smash into the back of my head.” Carrie Ann reached around and felt her head. “I have a lump.”
“You also have a busted lip.”
Carrie Ann put her hand up to her lip. “I think I hit it on the sink as I fell.”
“And then what?”
“That’s all I remember.”
“You think your husband did all of this?”
“I know he did. I know he did.”
“By himself?” Carrie Ann stared at Jake, unblinking. “Who else?” Carrie Ann looked toward the door.
“Do you recognize where we are?” Jake said.
“No.”
“Why do you keep looking at the door?”
“Because somebody has to be on the other side of it. Unless you think we did this to ourselves.” There was a definite edge to her voice.
“You’re not handcuffed,” he said.
“My husband is a jealous psycho. He probably didn’t want you touching me.”
Great. A jealous psycho. Where in the hell was Grace? She’d tried to warn him about this Carrie Ann girl, and he hadn’t listened. Was Grace with Jean Sebastian and Rafael? He didn’t like Jean Sebastian either, but he’d feel better if she wasn’t alone. “When you say . . . psycho . . . What are we talking here?” Once again, Carrie Ann just looked at him with that maddening stare. “I want to know if he would hurt Grace.”
Carrie Ann lay back down. “My head is killing me.”
She wasn’t kidding. His head was throbbing something awful. “Answer me. Would he hurt Grace?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“He’s more of a manipulator.”
“Your busted lip says otherwise.”
“I told you—I must have hit it on the sink—”
“After someone smashed something into the back of your head.”
“If you know everything, then why are you grilling me?”
“Why is he doing this?”
“Because I’m trying to divorce him.” Her voice swelled with emotion. Jake got the feeling there was more to the story, but she suddenly stopped talking. Once again, he heard a drip. So he was chained to a pipe. Carrie Ann had a busted lip, but was free and on the bed. Why was she just lying there?
“Do you have your phone?”
“No.”
“Did you even check?”
“I’m wearing a dress. It’s not down my bra. Where else do you want me to check?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you get up and see if your purse is here? Open the bedside drawer. See if you can open this window behind me. See if you can open the door.”
Carrie Ann slowly sat up again. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Focus, Carrie Ann. Please. Before someone comes.”<
br />
Carrie Ann opened the bedside drawer. “Not even a Spanish Bible,” she said. She slowly got off the bed, then got on all fours and looked underneath it. “Dirty, but I don’t see anything.” She approached Jake, looked down at him. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Sorry.” She slowly took a corner of the curtain and peeked out. Then she slid the curtain to the side. The window was entirely grayed out. Jake couldn’t tell what time of day it was. She turned and stared at the door. “What if they hear me?” she whispered.
“They know we’re in here,” he said. “So I don’t think that’s going to matter.”
Carrie Ann still tiptoed over to the door. She put her ear against it. Then, she tried the knob. “We’re locked in,” she said.
“Great.” Now he really had to pee. “Pound on it,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“I have to go to the restroom.”
“Oh, God,” Carrie Ann said. “So do I.” She turned to the door and began to pound on it with her fists. “Rafael,” she yelled. “Rafael. We have to use the bathroom!”
“Carrie Ann,” Jake said. He didn’t even try to hide his anger. She turned and took in his demeanor.
“What?” she croaked.
“How do you know it’s Rafael on the other side of that door?”
“Shit,” Carrie Ann said.
“Carrie Ann?”
“All right. There are a few things I can tell you. Just, please, hear me out and try not to overreact.”
“I can’t promise I won’t overreact,” Jake said. He jerked on the handcuffs. “But it looks like this is your lucky day.”
CHAPTER 26
Jean Sebastian’s room, or rooms, as he had a main living room and a ginormous bedroom, also had a large balcony with an ocean-front view. The bathroom had a sunken whirlpool tub and a rainforest shower. He could have mentioned this before she showered in her rusty box, she thought. Not that she should be enjoying anything right now, especially little luxuries like a waterfall shower-setting.
While Grace wandered around with her mouth open, Jean Sebastian disappeared into his room and then came back with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He was so tan, and was definitely a man acquainted with a gym. She tried not to stare at the muscles in his stomach. She thought of Jake’s sweet, normally pale, not-quite six-pack stomach, and she wanted to cry. Was Jean Sebastian trying to flaunt himself in front of her?
“There’s a lovely roof deck and gardens if you’d like to wander around there while I shower. There’s an elevator at the end of the hall that will take you up.”
“You mentioned you had a printer?”
“Right. Of course. But we’ll have to figure out how to print pictures off Facebook. I think we’ll need to set up an outside account with a photo-sharing album. You’ll need all my passwords. You might as well enjoy the roof deck for a few minutes.” Grace nodded. At least she wouldn’t be thinking about him in the shower. Well, now she might, but she wouldn’t be just a few feet away. She could clear her head.
The terrace had a sculpture garden, flower garden, seating area with fire pits, and of course an expansive, in-ground pool. Grace sat down on one of the outdoor sofa benches. Jake should be here with her. Her cell phone rang. Her heart leapt out of her chest. It stopped after one ring. It wasn’t until she looked at the phone that she realized it was a text message.
Jake saw your Facebook page.
Heart leaping, Grace texted back immediately. What about her Facebook page? She hadn’t been on Facebook since she had arrived in Spain. Not that it mattered. Whoever had Jake was making contact.
Who is this? Is Jake okay?
It felt like years that she sat with the phone cradled in the palm of her hand, staring at it. Beep again. Say something, anything. If Grace and Jean Sebastian had gone to the police already, maybe they could have set up a trace.
Not after he saw your Facebook page.
Please. Carrie Ann? Rafael? Stan? I need to talk to Jake.
Check your page. Then we’ll talk.
Grace’s legs were rubber as she ran back to the room. The shower was still going when she let herself in. He was taking his sweet old time, wasn’t he? Shoot. He never did tell her where she could find his laptop. She raced around the apartment, hoping it would jump out at her. If it was a snake, it would’ve bit you. . . . Her mother loved that expression. Grace had always been the type of kid who misplaced things. Right now she’d be fine with the laptop’s jumping out and biting her. Should she knock on the bathroom door, tell Jean Sebastian to hurry?
She put her ear to the door. Suddenly, it opened. Jean Sebastian stood there, naked and wet, and she fell into his chest. Oh, God. Why was the shower still running? She backed up as soon as she could, but it was still long enough to feel his hard body against her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I thought I heard something,” Jean Sebastian said.
“I was going to knock. I just got a text.” Jean Sebastian nodded, then turned and shut off the shower. He didn’t seem to mind being naked in front of her, and that made Grace blush even more. She stepped back into the living room and paced until he came out, towel once again loosely wrapped around his waist.
“Show me.” She handed him the phone. He scrolled through the messages, then headed for his bedroom. “Follow,” he said. She entered his bedroom, which had three floor-to-ceiling windows with views of both downtown Barcelona and the ocean. Everything else was white. His laptop was in the middle of his bed, and he jumped on it, and lay on his stomach as he pecked at the keys and brought up a search engine. “Join me,” he said casually. Well, there just wasn’t time to argue about how this might look. Grace carefully sat next to him on the bed. He turned and looked up at her, then gave a little smile as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was with this situation.
“Here,” he said. He swiveled the laptop in her direction, and she quickly brought up her Facebook page. The first thing that struck her was her message bar. She had over fifty comments. She barely got any comments, even when she posted info about shows. She scrolled down and was confronted by a photo. It had been taken in the club. She was on the dance floor. With Jean Sebastian. The two were plastered together. There were three photos. Grace clicked on each to bring it to full size. In the first picture they were dancing, bodies pressed together. In the second picture Jean Sebastian had her by the hand, and she was twirling back, laughing. But it was the third picture that stopped her heart. She and Jean Sebastian were lip-locked.
Jean Sebastian immediately sat up. “Oh, God,” he said.
“Is this Photoshopped?” Grace said. But even as the words left her lips, she remembered the kiss. Brazenly making out with Jake on the dance floor. Only it hadn’t been Jake. Oh, God. She had even noticed he had been wearing a different shirt. The drugs had taken a strong hold by then. She’d loved the kiss. Shame flooded her. Where had Jake been when she was kissing Jean Sebastian? Had he seen and run out of the club? Was there a chance Jake was out there on his own and furious with her? In some ways that would be better than the alternative. “Do you remember this?” Her voice sounded desperate and accusing.
“Not a bit of it,” Jean Sebastian said. His eyes stayed steady on hers. She didn’t know if she believed him. “Believe me,” he said as if he could read her mind. “I would want to remember that.” He held her gaze until she broke it off.
There were a ton of Facebook comments underneath the photos, ranging from the “Way to go” variety to “How could you?” One person called her a whore. So much for her “friends.”
Grace immediately removed the photos and posted a comment.
My Facebook page was hacked. I did not post these pictures.
She hesitated. Did she tell them she had been drugged? Would people believe her? I was drugged. That sounded so lame! But saying she had thought she was kissing Jake would sound even worse. Should she tell them that Jake was missing?
“Don’t say too much,” Jean Sebastian said as he watched her wrestle with what to say. “We want whoever is doing this to communicate with us.”
Grace scrolled down, but there were no other pictures or postings. “Jake saw this,” Grace said.
“Or so they say.”
“What if they hurt him? What if . . . ?” She couldn’t even bring herself to say it out loud, but the fear echoed through her mind at top volume. What if he isn’t even alive?
I was also robbed. I’m about to go to the police station to fill out a report....
“That might get their attention all right,” Jean Sebastian said.
“I should try again to see if Carrie Ann has a page,” Grace said. With all this game-playing maybe Carrie Ann had set one up to send her clues. She typed in Carrie Ann Gilbert.
The first search result misunderstood what she was looking for. “People named Carrie Ann who live in Gilbert, Arizona,” Grace read off the screen. “I don’t think so.” She tried it again: Sorry, we couldn’t find this search result.
“Maybe just Carrie Gilbert?”
“I doubt it. And I don’t have time to go through all the variations.”
“Does Jake have a page?”
“God, I’m not even thinking.” Grace brought up his page. No postings, but the picture of her kissing Jean Sebastian was on there, again with a million messages from “Dude, what gives?” to “Did you dump the bitch?”
She had no authority to delete the photo from his page. I did not do this, she commented. This is a hack and a scam!
Suddenly, an instant message popped up. “Jake,” Grace exclaimed.
“Or just his account,” Jean Sebastian cautioned.
Although the instant message screen with Jake’s name popped up, no message came through. Grace typed:
Jake? Jake? Jake?
When she saw Jake is typing appear in the little screen, she cried out.
