The Honorable Warrior

by Kimberly Krey

  Chapter 20

  Sophia sighed a breath of relief as she wound her speech to a close. As invigorating as it had been, looking into the massive crowd, hearing the cheers of so many supporters, she’d been able to shed her fears in the first few seconds. But now with the finish line in sight, Sophia was ready to sprint for the door and get out without an incident.

  “…which is why I encourage you to get out to those polls and vote!” she cheered, raising her fist high. Proper etiquette called for waiting until the crowd died down to leave the podium, but as she thought about Blayze waiting backstage, Roman pulling up to the curb, a sense of urgency gripped hold of her.

  With one last nod, Sophia spun around to move in the direction she’d come, and nearly slammed into Shauna Welkins, the woman announcing the speakers for the night.

  Sophia stopped in her tracks, fisting her notes with sweaty hands. “Someone’s waiting for me out there,” she mouthed desperately. The security guard who’d escorted her on stage blocked the doorway, but Sophia saw Blayze waiting just behind him.

  Shauna chuckled, smiling at the audience as she explained. “In this side, out that side. Like a school drop off.”

  The crowd laughed. Sophia did a thumbs-up and leaned toward the mic. “Ah, if I had kids I’m sure I would’ve picked up on that.” She gave the audience a hurried wave and dashed toward the designated exit. If it circled around, Blayze was probably already on his way to greet her.

  She made it only a few feet before noticing a small cluster of interns gathered.

  “Hi, Ms. Vasco,” Jane whispered with a huge grin. She pointed toward a large door down the rounded hall. “You’ve got to go out that way. There’s a group of fans lining up to take their picture with you. They’re super excited because no one thought you were coming.”

  Sophia leaned to look beyond the door. The hallway might have looped around eventually, but it was one big loop—probably the size of an actual elementary pickup like Shauna Wilkins suggested.

  “I can’t do pictures right now, Jane. Have you seen… that guy I walked in with?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Matteo blurted. “I know who you mean.”

  Jane perked up. “The big, handsome one?”

  Frank broke through the cluster. “The back loop is blocked off. He won’t be able to get through, but I know where he is.” Frank spun to face the other interns. “She can’t do pictures. I’ll take her down to meet up with her bodyguard.”

  Jane gasped. “He’s a bodyguard?”

  Sophia was feeling more at ease than she was a moment ago. Seemed as if Frank knew what he was doing.

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  He took her a few steps back toward the stage exit she’d just come from. A thick, black curtain hung beside the open walkway; Frank moved it aside with the sweep of his arm, revealing a small, gray door. A printout of a stick-figure in a wheelchair marked the center, the words Elevator Lift printed just below.

  “This will take us right down to the parking areas,” he said as he opened the door. “It looks like a secret passageway, but it’s really just for those who can’t take the stairs.”

  A waist-high, iron gate stood between Sophia and the small lift. Frank tugged at a lever on the gate, pulled it open and motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  Sophia stepped inside, glad she hadn’t worn stiletto heels; they’d have likely gotten caught in the metal grate at her feet. A grate she could see right through, though with as dark as it was, there wasn’t much to take in.

  “Okay,” Frank said, rushing inside and closing the gate once more. He grabbed the doorknob leading the lift and shut that tight as well. “We better hurry,” he mumbled.

  Sophia nodded, fanning her face with her notes; it was stuffy in the cramped space. Unlike typical elevators, this contraption was roofless. The sides hid nothing from view, the cage-like container allowing darkness to penetrate the cab. “So, is there another elevator on the other side of the stage? Is that how Blayze is getting down?”

  Frank leaned over a small box with a couple of levers and squinted. “Yep. Okay, let’s go, let’s go…” He punched one of the raised buttons with two fingers, and at last the old lift lurched with a ruckus.

  Sophia squealed and threw a hand to her chest, calming the frantic beats. They declined at a slow but steady rate, the noisy thing rattling in protest each inch of the way.

  Clank clank screech.

  Clank clank screech.

  Every few feet it let out an unearthly gurgle, the motor choking on the grease it took to run it. A bitter burning odor wafted in with her next breath.

  “Don’t be afraid, Ms. Vasco,” Frank said. “It might seem scary, but no one’s going to hurt you.”

  Hurt her? The words—spoken by this intern who hardly knew her—didn’t sit well with Sophia. A dart of fear sunk into her chest as she noticed the quickened pace of his breaths. She’d been standing close, arms touching, with as small as the elevator was, but she dared herself to take a step back. With her hand patting at the space behind her, Sophia took another step. Her fingers met the cold rails of the gate, assuring her she’d gained all the distance there was.

  She worked to calm her shaky breaths. Exhaling slowly through pursed lips. Stop it, Sophia, he’s just a kid.

  Through the iron grate beneath her shoes, she spotted a green exit light along the approaching wall. The bottom! They were close.

  She stared at it as they neared, then watched as it illuminated the small cab bits at a time. Frank’s loafers. His khaki pants, white shirt and tie, and then his face. His flushed, sweat-ridden face. He yanked at his tie.

  “Just about there,” he murmured. “Just about there…”

  Sophia tipped her head back to see how far they’d come when a small prick came to the side of her neck. Barely noticeable at first. She lifted her hand to cup the area, noticing something pencil-lead thin and hard in between her fingers and thumb. For a second, she pictured a dry stick of spaghetti, but she wasn’t sure why, because it was clearly a needle.

  Her notes scattered to the base of the elevator, the rustling sound of pages growing louder as she slumped down along with them. Frank reached his arms out, catching her as her knees gave out completely. The lift had stopped, she was aware of that much, but why couldn’t she get her brain to work?

  Sophia reached for the railing with thick, numb fingers, but her consciousness was fading fast.

  The sound of a few uttered words pulled her back for one second more. “Time to play that game.”

  Just as Sophia realized what he meant, the numbness took over.

  Chapter 21

  Blayze raced along the dark, circular corridor, furious that he hadn’t been warned about the exit change. “What’s happening, Roman?” he grumbled as he sped around the back loop of the stage.

  Dim wall lights sped by on either side as he moved.

  “I overheard someone telling Sophia the path was blocked. He said he was taking her to find you. Some secret passageway that was really an elevator.”

  Blayze slowed as he came to a set of closed double doors. Frantically, he jostled each knob, but neither budged beneath his grip.

  “Sophia?” he called, slamming the doors with his fist. “What do you hear now?” he asked Roman through the mouthpiece.

  “A lot of squeaking. And rattling. I think they’re on the elevator he was talking about. Don’t have a visual.”

  It’s fine, Blayze. She’s going to be fine. Yet, even as he assured himself that was the case, Blayze feared it wasn’t true. He reached out his phone and dialed her number before rearing back to kick the doors open. He was about to ram his foot against the weakest spot when the knob started to twist.

  One ring sounded from the line as Blayze dropped his leg.

  The door flung open. “Are you here with Ms. Vasco?” Jane asked.

  “Yes,” Blayze breathed, “where is she?”

  Second ring.

  He recognized the interns before him, told
himself he had nothing to panic over, but his instincts were screaming otherwise.

  “They went to go find you,” Jane said.

  Fourth ring.

  “Where?” he pled.

  “Down the secret lift. It’s just behind the curtain.”

  Sophia’s voicemail picked up.

  Blayze tucked the phone back into his pocket as he rushed past the interns and toward the thick, hanging fabric, vaguely aware that the last speaker of the night was still giving his speech. “Hey,” he asked over his shoulder as he moved back the curtain. “Who was she with?”

  “Frank,” the two hollered behind him.

  When Blayze opened the small door, a metal gate stood between him and the lift, which, he realized, was making a slow climb up back to the top. Rattles, clanks, and screeches marked its progress.

  “Sophia?” He called down as he waited. “Roman, you there?”

  “I’m here,” said Roman through the small device. “I made a call to the police station in case there’s been foul play. They’re sending a buddy of mine out to help investigate. As for the body cam, my eyes and ears are shot. But that sound I can hear in the background right now… that’s the last thing I caught on Sophia’s end. You’ve got to be right where she was a minute ago.”

  Blayze nodded, willing himself to stay calm. The lift came into sight. He leaned over to take a closer look, realizing how painfully slow the old thing moved. He’d be waiting all day.

  Instead, he gripped the waist-high gate, then hoisted himself up, over, and into the dark, empty space. He caught a long stretch of air before crashing onto the wobbly contraption floor.

  With a quick survey, Blayze located the operating box and punched the round red stop button. He shoved a thumb into the down button next, waiting for the elevator to respond. At last it screeched to a stop, the thing rattling like a bear-jostled cage. With a whining groan, chains clattering, it began a jerky decline.

  Frank and Victor. Frank and Victor. The two had to fit together. An image of Blayze’s notes came to mind. The picture Frank drew on his nametag.

  “Hey, Roman,” Blayze said as an idea came to mind. “Dr. Frankenstein’s first name is Victor, isn’t it?”

  “Uh…yeah, I believe it is,” Roman said.

  A curse spilled through Blayze’s lips at the confirmation. Frank, aka Frankenstein, was Charles Locklear’s son. The young intern wasn’t trying to locate Blayze at all—he wanted to get Sophia all to himself, and somehow, he’d accomplished that very thing.

  “I know who’s got her,” he said. “It’s Charles Locklear’s son, Victor.”

  “What does he want with her?”

  Blayze shook his head. “I don’t know yet.” He caught sight of an outdoor exit as he neared the base, a small green sign making it clear. “Southeast side of the building. Head there.”

  “On our way.” Roman said.

  Once the floor was close enough, Blayze hoisted himself over the edge and jumped once more, landing on the cement floor with a thud. The small cab continued its slow decline, nearing the exit, but Blayze reached for the knob and rushed out beneath it.

  There were no cars parked on this side of the building. Only a pad of cement leading to a massive stretch of field grass broken up by pathways and stairs, each leading to a different part of the university. Though he’d rather run in any direction than stand in one place, Blayze forced himself to pause while he scoped out his surroundings. Each footstep in the wrong direction would cost him precious time.

  The small whiny elevator came to a jolting stop behind him, causing Blayze to realize he still held the door open. He went to release it, glancing back as he did, and noticed something had been duct-taped to the inside of the door.

  Blayze jerked an arm back, sneaking his fingers in the crack of the heavy door just before it closed. He pried it open, eyes widening as he saw what it was: A package – wrapped in red, white, and blue. Two words were printed on the card. Ring. Ring.

  Just as he’d feared. They hoped to use Sophia for ransom. Blayze ripped the package off the door and tore into it, snatching the small phone he expected to find. A square of paper was stuck to the device.

  See the row of utility sheds at the east end of the property. Theatre Department is where we’ll be. There’s a door in back. Knock. Bring a friend if you want Ms. Vasco to die.

  The sun had set not long ago, leaving a twilight haze to loom over the land. Blayze spotted the sheds—tucked into an isolated gully on the grounds—and ran, adrenaline surging through him like acid.

  “You there, Roman?”

  “Haven’t found anything on our end,” Roman said. “What about you?”

  “The sheds along the far east end of the property,” he breathed, his voice bouncing as he ran. “He’s only expecting me, and he doesn’t want any company. You’ve got just one guy with you, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Stay hidden for now.”

  “You got it,” Roman said.

  Blayze tucked his chin and ran faster. You’ve been trained for this, Blayze. You’ve just got to get in this guy’s head. Victor Malor.

  That’s who had Sophia right now. Boy, did Blayze miss Cannon in moments like these. He tried to repeat some of the words the man would utter when they faced the impossible on deployment. A choppy version cycled through his mind as he approached the row of industrial sheds.

  Please God, please, give me the words. And give Sophia what she needs to stay safe.

  A wide garage door centered the west-facing sides of each structure. On this side there were numbers to mark them. One through at least a dozen. Blayze darted between the two closest sheds—eight and nine, then attempted to read the names on the doors. It was darker on the east side of the sheds, but light enough to read the brown letters stenciled over the tan paint.

  Football and Track. Band. Maintenance. Theatre Department.

  Blayze stopped in his tracks and banged on the door. He checked the knob next, the stubborn thing rigid beneath his grip. “Sophia?” he hollered, desperate to hear the sound of her voice.

  The phone rang, and Blayze brought it to his ear with a hand that felt detached from the rest of his body. “Frank?” he rasped.

  “You made it.”

  Chapter 22

  “…Think you and I should talk out front… know I’ve been like a yoyo with you, but…”

  Sophia reached for consciousness, desperate to stop Blayze from finishing his sentence.

  “…don’t really see a future for the two of us…”

  A groan sounded somewhere in her throat as the ache kicked in. This was what she hoped to avoid. How could she step onto that stage—but then it hit her. She already had.

  In a flash her eyes popped open. They closed just as fast as she flinched from the light. She felt something soft like velvet at her cheek. But the reality of where she was—or at least who she was with—was sandpaper to her senses.

  She sat up, trying to orient herself while her head spun and swayed. A quick pry of her lids revealed a row of hooded, industrial bulbs hanging from a pitched, metal roof overhead.

  When she allowed herself to fall back, something stopped her. She was in some sort of chair. Her mind begged her to force her eyes back open, see where she was, and just what was happening, but her body was stuck.

  She was alive. At least there was that. And the conversation she had with Blayze hadn’t gotten that far. He hadn’t said what she imagined after all. The idea gave her hope.

  Sophia sighed in relief as her body sank further and deeper into the chair. Then beyond the chair… through the floor… and into the ground.

  No, don’t drift off! She pinned her lips hard between her teeth to keep from falling back to sleep. Feel that. You’re awake. Stay awake.

  “Before you and I talk, I need to know that Sophia’s safe.” It was Blayze’s voice.

  Sophia’s eyes shot open once more. She tried speaking his name but couldn’t get it to move from her mind to h
er lips. A small gasp pulled at her chest as Frank suddenly walked into her periphery, and then out. In, then out again. He held a phone inches from his face, pacing in front of a massive shelving unit before disappearing down an aisle.

  “There are a lot of things I need too,” Frank said. “So…”

  “I want to hear what you have to say, Frank,” she heard Blayze say through the phone’s speaker. “I do. But first let me hear from Sophia.”

  “She’s fine. I didn’t hurt her. I used a tranq-shot so I could get her down here, that’s all.”

  Sophia mentally felt for the rest of her limbs. Wiggling her toes. Twisting her ankles, breathing life into each as she put her focus on them. Her shoes were still on, she realized, feet planted on the floor. But her arms… they were strapped behind her back somehow. She hoped he’d used zip ties or duct tape. Blayze had taught her how to escape those, even from behind.

  “Tell me what your name is,” Frank demanded.

  For the first time since waking up, Sophia realized how bizarre it was that Frank was the one who’d kidnapped her. What did he have to gain from all this?

  “My name is Blayze. I’ve been hired to help keep Ms. Vasco safe. If I promise to help you out, I’ll need you to help me in return and keep her safe for me.”

  “No, I’m not promising anything. I make the rules now, not you.”

  “Okay,” Blayze replied. “Why don’t you tell me why we’re here?” Blayze sounded out of breath, a fact that caused a rush of questions to run through Sophia’s mind.

  Where exactly were they? Seemed to be in a shed or warehouse. She figured only a short time had passed since she passed out, but that wasn’t necessarily the case.

  Sophia squinted as she took in her surroundings. An odd, seventies style lamp stood on an end table beside her, the bulbous, orange glass catching reflections of light hanging overhead. The floor was cement, but someone had set up a room of sorts. One of those oval, braided wool rugs lay beneath a coffee table before her, just a foot or so away from an empty sofa.