Chaos

by J. C. Cliff

  Then he winks at me and gives me a beautiful smile, showcasing his stark-white teeth. “No worries, Jules, I’ll keep you busy, and before you know it, you’ll be heading back up north.”

  “Are you going to play my knight in shining armor and rescue me from the castle?” I poke out my bottom lip.

  “Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad.”

  “Yes, yes it is, Jake,” I huff out. “You know how it is when I come home. I feel trapped, claustrophobic, and held captive. He’s out of touch and unrealistic. It’s like he wants to lock me up in that castle of his every time I come home, and then he all but throws away the key.”

  Jake chuckles and grins at me, shaking his head. I watch as he lowers his glasses and exposes his beautiful brown eyes, arching a brow. “I have all the keys, babe. You won’t have to play Icarus to get out. I have a few tricks left up my sleeve.” Then he waggles his brows, making me burst out in laughter. I really am thankful for Jake’s friendship over the years. I’m just glad to have him as my main bodyguard, and I get him all to myself.

  Seems like every time I come home on break, my father almost doubles his bodyguards. I don’t understand why we even have bodyguards. Every single time I approach the subject with my father, he just shrugs his shoulders and tells me my safety is paramount. He also tells me since I’m his little princess, he can never take enough precautions in today’s world, especially since I’m all the family he has left. The rest of the drive is spent in silence, and I watch the familiar surroundings pass by as we grow nearer to my gilded cage.

  Chapter Two

  ~Jules~

  “Ugh,” I grumble out loud as I pound my pillow. I roll over to find a new position, trying to get comfortable on my bed. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for some time now, but I’m too restless. Adam is supposed to be coming in tomorrow evening, and I’m too excited to sleep. He was able to fly in sooner than expected, and I find my mind racing, thinking of nothing but my fiancé.

  Over the past two months, I’ve had a heck of a time sleeping. Jake had held true to his promise, keeping my days busy. It’s only late at night when I find my mind restless, and it’s then I miss Adam the most. Jake was right; the past two months have flown by, and despite my dad’s overbearing rules, it has been one of my better visits. My father seems more relaxed this trip. Actually, this is the most relaxed I’ve seen him in a long time. I hope it stays this way. He even took a week off work and spent it with Jake and me. Well, I say he took a week off; he worked from home, but still, it was a major improvement. Maybe he is changing after all.

  The three of us have been putting the final touches on my birthday party. We’ve had a lot of laughs doing it, too. I turn my head, peering at the soft glow of my alarm clock through blurry eyes. It’s 11:30 pm. Shit. I let out a groan, thinking perhaps I may finally need to break down and take one of my dad’s sleeping pills. I’ve never been one to take prescription drugs; heck, I’ve never taken any kind of drugs, for that matter. I don’t even like to take headache medicine. I know my father has sleeping pills, though, because I remember seeing them last month when I ran out of floss and was looking in his medicine cabinet for more. Who am I kidding? I’m not going to break down and take that medicine. Maybe a glass of warm milk? Eww, that just sounds gross. I let out a sigh; I’m willing to try anything at this point.

  I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up, stretching out my tired limbs, making my way to the bedroom door to open it. Quietly, my bare feet patter down the dark hallway. As I glide my hand along the upstairs bannister, reaching the top of the stairs, I leisurely begin my descent. Maybe Jake will be up and we can make popcorn and watch a movie. When I get halfway down the steps, I’m pulled from my thoughts. I notice someone has left several lights on downstairs. My brows furrow in question; no one ever forgets to turn the lights out at night, especially that many.

  When my foot touches the last step, I hear raised voices coming from my father’s office down the hall. I freeze in my tracks while gripping the end of the bannister. I hear a strange voice bellowing an obscenity from the top of his lungs. Who in the hell would be at our house close to midnight in a rage? My ears go into high-alert as I slip into stealth mode, ready to eavesdrop.

  Growing up in this house, I have committed to memory which floorboards squeak and what corners are best to spy from. Noiselessly, with my back sliding against the hallway wall, I begin moving toward the voices, slipping into the dark shadows. As I move closer to my father’s office, the voices are getting louder and the conversation more heated. I jolt at the sound of my father’s commanding and prevailing voice as he roars in anger.

  “Are you threatening me?” my father yells incredulously.

  “I’m just stating the facts from my chain of command. You can take the orders anyway you damn well please, but it won’t change the plans. You would be wise not to resist me.”

  “I’ve got this under control, dammit! I’m the one in charge here. I only need one more week, and I will have everything in order,” Dad argues. I have never in my life heard anyone speak to my father in such a way and live to tell about it. The fact Dad is letting this man get away with treating him this way confuses me. He has always been the one to have the upper hand in everything. Obviously, he doesn’t seem to be the one with the upper hand tonight. “Look, I ran into a small glitch; it just pushed me back one week. Just one fucking week! We’ve waited this long; one week is not going to affect the final outcome.”

  “Then yes, Lance, to answer your question, I am threatening you. Which do you prefer: pushing up daisies or feeding fish?”

  “You fucking asshole!” Dad’s voice booms through the doorway, and I have never heard him this mad. Holy crap! As I stand right outside his office door, my breathing turns shallow. I’m a little freaked out right now. God, I would really like to have a sneak peek, but I’d be exposing myself if I did. My gut tells me to stay out of sight to listen to how things will play out.

  My imagination begins to run wild as I picture what this stranger looks like. His voice reminds me of an Italian mobster. It sounds overbearing, spine-chilling, and villainous, and it all fits perfectly together with his thick New York accent. He sounds so stereotypical I wouldn’t doubt it if he was holding a Tommy gun.

  “Lance, you don’t seem to comprehend what I’m saying here; I have my orders from the boss. One week is seven days too long, and the time has come. We’re taking Julianna, and we’re taking her tonight. I don’t need your permission, or seal of approval. The boss wants her, and he wants her now. He always gets what he wants.

  “The man’s steel voice resonates with a clear-cut finality that has his last words ringing in my ears. Taking Julianna…say what? Taking me?! Holy shit!

  “He may be your boss, but he sure as hell isn’t mine. We had a business deal on my terms, not his. Get him on the phone; I want to talk to him.”

  “Uh-uh, that isn’t going to happen, Lance. He said this may happen, and if it did, I’m to use any force necessary to see it through.”

  Hearing this angry man who wants to take me only God knows where, my breathing starts to accelerate. Pressing my back harder against the wall, I try to inhale a calm, quiet breath. I really don’t feel like going anywhere with this guy, let alone meet his boss, so he’d have to take me kicking and screaming if he did. Shit! Maybe that’s what he plans on doing. Pure, raw terror overcomes me, making my stomach muscles clench.

  Dad’s voice bellows again with wild rage, “The hell you’re taking her anywhere!”

  The other man’s voice shifts from turbulent to eerily placid as he speaks calmly. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be, Lance. Make no mistake, I will be taking her…by force tonight, if need be. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, I’m done here.”

  It just dawns on me that come Hell or high water, this man means what he says, and I am witnessing the calm before the storm. I can feel it in the air; some serious shit is about to unfol
d, and all I can do at the moment is try to catch my breath. My thoughts get all jumbled up, vacillating between panic, confusion, what to do, and where to run. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut for a brief second, forcing myself to think on my feet as I run escape scenarios through my mind at Mach speed. There is no safety if I retreat to my bedroom; he’ll probably head there first. Shit, my purse and car keys are upstairs. I resign myself to making a break for it on foot; barefoot, at that.

  With my heart pounding heavily in my chest, I realize every second here counts if I’m going to escape with success. Judging by the impatient tone of the man, I know he means business, and I’m not fond of the idea of him getting his way. I don’t understand why this is happening to me, of all people; I have nothing to do with anything. I’m more confused as to what my father could be wrapped up in that’s so bad. Why would they feel the need to use me as leverage? Panic begins clawing its way back into my chest, choking me. Breathe, pull it together, girl. You have to think, Jules.

  I swallow hard, working desperately to shake off the fear, allowing my fight-or-flight instincts to kick in. I need to get out of here and find a safe hiding place to hole up in until this blows over. Once I’m safe, I’ll call my father, and he can help sort this out. He’ll know what to do; he has to. I talk to myself as my feet begin to move silently away from the danger. Just pretend it’s a game, just like old times, sneaking around the house playing spy for fun.

  Moving swiftly and stealthily through the dark shadows of the house, I avoid all the noisy pitfalls in the floorboards. Soon, the kitchen door in the back of the house is within my sights. I stop, frozen in my tracks when I hear a strangled sound coming from the dark shadows of the kitchen. My brows knit together in confusion; it’s the sound of someone in pain. I slowly turn to find the source of the noise and lose my breath.

  “Jake!” I whisper loudly, and I find myself by his side. I’m on my knees, hovering over his body, feeling for where he hurts. “What’s going on, Jake? Where are you hurt?” I’ve lost track of why I’m even in the kitchen at this point. Jake is my only concern right now.

  Jake grabs my wrist and squeezes it almost painfully. “Run...Jules,” he croaks out in a whisper.

  I shake my head. “No, Jake, I’m not leaving you.” My heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Can you walk? Are you shot?” He lets out a pained grunt and squeezes my wrist harder until I whimper in pain. “You’re hurting me, Jake.”

  “Just run, Jules,” he growls out. “Shit’s going to get ugly. I can take care of myself.” He releases my wrist, and I just stare at him in shock. “If you trust me, you’ll listen.” When I just sit there stunned and wide-eyed at what I’m seeing and hearing, he barks at me, “Run, dammit!”

  I shake my head, clearing the foggy haze. Instead of running, I try lifting him up. I grunt. Dammit, he’s too heavy. “You always were a stubborn little shit. I’ll be fine; I promise, but you won’t be if you don’t get the fuck out of here!” I’ve heard my dad say the f-bomb all the time, but never Jake.

  “You promise me?” I whisper shakily.

  The muscles in his jaw flex as he speaks through clenched teeth, “Yes, I promise. Now for God’s sake, run for the fucking hills, girl.”

  “I love you, Jake.”

  He murmurs a curse word then says, “I love you…now go!”

  I lean down and give him a gentle kiss on his forehead before I slowly start to get up on shaky legs. I find my body moving away from him on his command. My mind is in total conflict. I don’t want to leave him, and this is gutting me. Jake has never lied to me before, and I have to believe he will be fine. I try rationalizing it; I can’t help him if I’m caught. Yes, that’s it: I will go and get help.

  With a renewed purpose, I slip to the backdoor, reaching out for the doorknob with a shaky hand. Just as I open the door, I hear Jake yell. Before I can turn around to check on him, it’s too late. It feels as if a hulk of a man has encased my small body from behind, slamming his hand violently down over my mouth, preventing me from screaming. I can feel the pressure of the screams backing up in my throat. Silent muffles no one can hear but me are locked down tight. I can’t even swallow; my throat has constricted itself so tightly. Despite his iron grip on my body, I kick and thrash; I am not going down without a fight. Where in the hell are all the other bodyguards? I think, outraged as I’m dragged back through the hallway from where I’d spied.

  I know we’ve reached the threshold of the front door when the hot, humid, southern air assaults my senses. I begin to kick and thrash harder in a final attempt to get free. In my adrenaline-induced panic, I almost breakaway. The man is forced to let go of my mouth to get a better hold on me. My diaphragm finally releases every suppressed scream in one fell swoop, piercing through the calm night air.

  I scream like a banshee from the front steps all the way to their getaway vehicle. I realize I’ve lost the battle when I’m haphazardly thrown into the back of an empty cargo van and two men surround me. I hear my father’s booming voice laced with anger from the front doorway, but he and the bodyguards are too late. The metal doors on the back of the van slam shut with a force of finality, its sound ringing in my ears, and I believe those doors just forever sealed my fate.

  I hear the tires squeal as the van takes off at top speed. The quick, forward momentum of the vehicle abruptly tosses everyone around in the back of the van, including me. I hear the men cursing as they clamber over each other, trying to get a foothold. The van speeds down the driveway, taking me away from my home and family. I don’t realize I’ve never stopped screaming until a man yells from the front seat to the back of the van, “Shut her the fuck up!”

  The same familiar, hulking hand is smacked back over my mouth in an attempt to stop my tirade. Like a worm on a hot rock, I find myself wiggling and thrashing to beat the band of men. They have a hell of a time trying to contain me, and I know I kick one burly man in the nuts. I’m glad; I hope he becomes impotent.

  I feel the giant hand losing its grip over my mouth as I continue to scream and thrash, and it creates the perfect opportunity for me to inflict pain on the man in hopes of an escape.

  My teeth find themselves sinking into the flesh as I bite through skin and into knuckle. The harder the man struggles, the harder I bite, trapping him in the vices of my maniacal snare. I begin to feel warmth spreading over my lips; it’s blood, and I hope the bastard needs stitches.

  “Son of a bitch!” The man above me howls into the night with pain like a wolf in the wild. “Get this fucking bitch off me! Get the damn needle now!”

  I’m backhanded ruthlessly across my temple, but I refuse to let my mouth open, keeping my jaw clamped down. Another man comes into my periphery, attempting to help his partner. He straddles his big body over mine and begins to wrap his thick, huge hands all the way around my neck, cutting off precious air. I feel beads of sweat beginning to form along my hairline, and my breathing becomes ragged as I begin fighting for breath.

  The man choking me squeezes even harder, sneering through his clenched teeth, “Let go, bitch!” Lifting my head by the death grip he has around my neck, he then slams the back of my head down against the hard metal floor of the van. Shit! I see stars as the pain courses through my head, and it only serves to make me clamp down harder. The man howls with an ungodly scream. My body overrides my brain; it needs air, and I quit flailing around and automatically begin clawing at the man who’s choking me.

  My fingers find his thick biceps, and I begin digging my fingernails deep into his skin. Starting at the top of his shoulders, I scrape down the length of both of his arms. I feel his skin rippling and curling underneath my nails, drawing blood—gives new meaning to blood-red nails. “Goddamn it! Motherfucker, who’s got the fucking drug?” he screams, both burning pain and seething rage lacing his shout.

  The back of my head gets slammed against the van’s flooring again. As my lungs begin to run out of their reserves, I start to wonder if I’m going to die this way. Bef
ore I can feel the terror of my imminent demise, I am blissfully spared the experience. I feel the prick of a needle passing through the barrier of my skin and almost immediately, my muscles begin to betray me. My jaw loosens its grip, and the man yanks his hand from the snare of my canines.

  “Thank God! What the fuck took you so long, asshole?” he sneers vehemently.

  I feel every last one of my faculties rapidly losing their resolve and ability to fight. The man hovering above me graciously backs off his death grip, allowing me to suck in a gasp of air. My lungs frantically claw and inhale for deep breaths to keep my heart beating. Everything is peacefully beginning to fade into a dark haze, and the last words I hear are, “’Bout fuckin’ time, you asshole. Boss ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout the merchandise being knocked around like that.”

  Then everything goes black.

  Chapter Three

  ~Jules~

  I can feel the state between my drug-induced sleep and just waking up. In the background, I faintly hear men quietly chatting. I can only hear bits and pieces of what’s being said. I’m fighting to arouse my body from its drugged mayhem. My mind is telling me to feign sleep so I can eavesdrop on what these men are saying, but the urge to touch the back of my head is too overwhelming. I hear myself groan as aching muscles protest against any movement. My head is throbbing with a pounding pressure attacking me from all sides. My head is a Georgia pecan, and it’s being crushed ruthlessly in a nutcracker.

  My mouth is dry and it’s somewhat welcome, since my throat hurts like hell for me to swallow. Remembering my struggles from last night, I can still feel phantom hands strangling the last breath from my body. I truly didn’t think I’d live to see today.