Played

by Tasha Fawkes

  I was sitting in a chair, some kind of cloth that didn’t taste good stuffed in my mouth. I couldn't shift my position. My skin went hot and cold at the same time, my eyes wide now.

  Although I couldn't see clearly, what I could see prompted an urge to vomit. I wasn't in the nursery. Or my room.

  A moan escaped my throat. My heart plummeted and then raced again, pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. I blinked several times, trying to clear my blurred vision, my head pounding with every blink, my mouth so dry I couldn't utter more than a moan.

  Don't panic, don't panic… The words reverberated through my brain. Think!

  Another few pounding seconds and I realized the truth of the matter. I was bound to a chair, my arms pulled tightly around the back of it. And I couldn’t see Ethan.

  Oh my god, Ethan.

  Where was Ethan? Was he all right?

  I began to struggle violently, ignoring the pain shooting up my arms and into the back of my neck as I tried to pull my hands from behind the chair. With my fingers already numb, I desperately tried to feel what bound me to the chair. Metal. Handcuffs? My heart exploded once again and terror swept through me.

  A choked scream was muffled with the cloth, and I ended up a gagging sound. I couldn't breathe… couldn't breathe!

  Calm down. Slow down. Breathe.

  I forced back another gag. I instinctively tried to relax the muscles in my throat so that I didn't vomit, afraid of aspirating, choking, dying and leaving my son alone. My heart racing, my mind spinning, I gradually became more aware of my surroundings. I forced myself to push back questions of why and concentrated on where.

  Where was I?

  A darkened room that smelled of oil, grease, and rubber came fuzzily into focus. An abandoned garage?

  There was darkness everywhere but off to my right, where a door stood maybe a foot ajar, casting a glow into the room. I thought I could make out an oil-stained cement floor, but nothing else. On the other side of that doorway, a voice was low and muffled.

  Don't panic. Stay calm… for Ethan. You have to survive and get back to Ethan!

  I focused on the voice. It sounded distant over my own frantic heartbeat, and I turned my head toward the door to hear better. The person talking was in the next room. It was a male voice, echoing a bit, as if in an empty space. Who was he? What did he want with me? How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in the rocking chair in the nursery.

  Thanks to the increasingly brighter glimmer of light, the shadows in the room shifted to a gray-black, enabling me to make out some shapes. From what I could see, which wasn't much, I thought I sat in the middle of a room, bound to a wood-backed chair. The room was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet, but I couldn't know for sure. As I concentrated, I thought I could make out shelving — wood or metal, I couldn't tell. The shelves looked cluttered with boxes and odd shapes that I didn't recognize, but considering the smell, seemed to be old auto parts or pieces of engines.

  I looked up, ignoring the pain that shot through my head and neck as I did so, and my heart stopped. Was that a large hook with a chain attached to a pulley above me? Again, panic surged through my veins. I glanced wildly toward the partly open door, trying to make out what was beyond, but couldn't. The voice faded and grew quiet.

  I blinked back tears of panic, thinking only of Ethan. Was he all right? How had I gotten here? Had I been—

  Footsteps.

  I choked back a cry, my eyes wide now, focused on the doorway. The footsteps grew closer, and with each step, my terror increased. I froze, dreading the inevitable widening of that door.

  It pushed open, casting a larger shaft of light into the room, but still not enough to see who it was.

  A phone rang, the tone dull and muted, some type of jazz. The shadow in the doorway stopped, muttered a low curse, and retreated.

  The ringing grew louder and I imagined whoever was on the other side of the door had pulled the phone from a pocket. The footsteps retreated still more as the man answered the call.

  I didn't recognize the voice. "I thought I told you not call this number."

  That wasn't good.

  I took the reprieve and struggled frantically to free myself, ignoring the pain of metal scraping against my wrist bones, not even wondering what I would do if I did manage to get free. This room didn't offer any escape. Was my kidnapper— That's when I knew, I had been kidnapped! Why, I had no idea.

  The voice continued, speaking in hushed tones, bits of the one-sided conversation filtering in. "You guys were… Keep him occupied, at least for a few more hours… Disappearance suspicious."

  Keep who occupied? This had to be a mistake. Who would want to kidnap me, and why?

  Overriding everything was my concern for Ethan. I tried to think back, remember. Time stood still as my fuzzy thoughts slowly clarified. I remembered being in the nursery and then falling asleep. I hadn’t seen or heard any indication that would make me believe Ethan had been taken as well. Could this have been something to do with Joel's business? The takeover? But why would they take me? I had nothing to do with that.

  "I told you, Eric," the voice hissed as the man’s footsteps paced. "You're supposed to keep… You got that?"

  The name startled me. Eric? There were a million Erics in the world, but could this possibly be Joel's partner and business associate? Impossible. Why would Eric kidnap me?

  "I told you! I'll decide when and where. You two keep them busy, and if she has to watch over the kid for a couple of days, then she can just suck it up. I'll contact you… I don't care if she's getting panicky… her fucking problem. She better play it… Loses it, I can guarantee, I'm not going down for this, not by myself. You got it?"

  There was the soft chirp of the disconnected phone call and once again footsteps headed toward the door. My heart leaped into my throat and I held my breath. When the figure stepped to the door and pushed it open, I felt a momentary surge of relief, followed by a sinking feeling that brought tears to my eyes.

  In the doorway stood a man, a flash of silver metal on his chest. A police officer? Security guard? I stared, frustrated that I couldn't see who it was but also relieved that I couldn't. Could being blindfolded be good? It prevented me from identifying this man, gave me a small surge of hope that I'd be let go. That whoever this was would realize he'd made a mistake, that I wasn't worth kidnapping.

  I stifled a gasp at movement and the click of the light switch being flipped on. Light flashed on in the room, cast by a bare light bulb dangling from a cord in the ceiling. The man didn't move, his features still blurry between the gauze covering my eyes and the bright light that made me want to close my eyes against it.

  I couldn't swallow, couldn't speak, and didn't dare move as I stared at the figure. I felt his eyes on me and a shiver raced through me, causing me to jerk.

  The shadow leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed.

  I didn't like the sound, made my skin crawl with a sickening fear. What was he thinking?

  "You look better awake than you did unconscious."

  Unconscious? I tried to speak past the gag in my mouth, but it was so tight, crammed between my teeth that I could barely even move my tongue.

  The man pushed himself off the doorjamb and approached slowly, circling me. When his fingers brushed against my cheek, I jumped and jerked away. He laughed and kept circling me.

  I tried to hide my fear but he tugged on a tendril of my hair and I cringed.

  What did he want with me? Staring hard, I caught a glimpse of his name tag. Collins. I searched my brain, trying to tamp down my fear.

  I caught a scent of aftershave that in normal circumstances would have smelled nice but at the moment curdled my stomach. This had to be an awful mistake. It had to be! I tried to ask him what he wanted, but my words came out as gibberish.

  The man paused in front of me then squatted down, his knees inches from mine. He placed one hand on
my knee and I bit back a scream, fighting the tears that threatened. I stilled as he reached for my face, my strangled sounds erupting from behind the gag.

  Then, to my horror, he tugged at the gauze, pulled it up over my forehead. I found myself staring at a middle-aged man with a weather-beaten face. Brown eyes, hair to match, with a receding hairline, bags under his eyes. Thick lips curled upward.

  My heart pounded again, so hard I felt the pulse throbbing in my neck. He saw it and stared at my throat for several seconds before chuckling.

  "I'm going to take the gag off," he said calmly. "You can scream all you want, but no one will hear you. However, if you scream, it'll annoy me and I strongly suggest you not annoy me."

  His hand inched higher up my leg, resting on my thigh now. My leg burned beneath his touch. I tried not to squirm, tried not to scream, tried to stare back at him as if none of this bothered me. I'd read that some men got off on fear, wanted their victims to beg and cry. Well, I wasn't going to.

  I cast a quick glance around at my surroundings. I was in what looked to be a small storage room in an abandoned garage or auto shop.

  "The garage we're in is part of an abandoned complex in a not so nice part of town near the docks. Even if you did scream and even if someone came to rescue you, you probably wouldn't appreciate the results."

  In seconds, he had worked the gag out of my mouth, and I sucked in a lungful of air. I glanced at his chest, at the badge. Yes, a security guard. Above his pocket, a fabric nametag was Velcroed to the shirt. Collins. My heart sank even more. Why was he letting me see him? I swallowed and stared at him, blinking back hot tears.

  "Where’s Ethan?" My voice sounded foreign, as if it belonged to someone else, strangled and filled with dread. My heart beat like it was going to come out of my chest.

  "The kid? He's okay. He's at Joel's house."

  Relief surged through me. I felt almost dizzy with it, and an overwhelming sense of emotion prompted a bubble of a sob to work its way upward from my throat. He was safe. He was with Joel.

  I studied the security guard, filled with questions. What did he have to do with Joel? Did he work for him? Was he a security guard or part of the security team at Joel's company, or for Kelli’s photo shoots?

  He seemed to read my mind. "You have no idea," he said softly.

  His gaze lingered on my lips, and I didn't like the creepy sensation it gave me. I blinked hard, trying to be brave, but not an ounce of bravery remained. "What do you want with me?" I managed.

  "You'll find out soon enough." He grinned as the hand on my thigh inched upward and toward the inside.

  I tried to pull my leg away, and it was only then that I realized my feet had also been tied to the chair legs. "Stop!" I snapped.

  My command elicited nothing more than a laugh. He stood, towering over me, his body half blocking the light from the exposed lightbulb.

  He walked behind me and I tried to twist my head to follow his movements, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and shoved my head downward until my chin touched my chest. I gasped. Terrified, I prayed he wouldn't kill me, but he'd taken off my blindfold. He'd let me see his uniform, his badge, his name. He wasn't afraid that I would be able to identify him, accuse him. I wanted to cry, to scream. A crazy laugh nearly erupted from my mouth before I choked it back. Stuff like this only happened in the movies or in fiction novels. This couldn't be happening…

  A door squeaked open from the far side of the space outside the room. A female voice called out, "Mick?"

  I stiffened with shock as I recognized that voice. The hair stood up on the back of my neck while goose bumps shivered across my flesh.

  Footsteps quickly approached the door and when the figure stopped, silhouetted against the light, I could only stare, every muscle in my body taut with dismay.

  Kelli.

  The man behind me spoke, his tone filled with anger. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?"

  Kelli just grinned as she sauntered into the room, circling me as the guard, or whoever the hell he was, had done moments ago. My shock gave way to fury. If I could've gotten my hands loose, I had no doubt that I would’ve pummeled her quite severely. How dare she! How dare she put Ethan at risk! What the hell was going on?

  "You've probably figured it out, haven't you, Sarah?" Kelli stared down at me with a smug expression, her hands placed on hips accentuated by her designer jeans.

  I was momentarily rendered speechless. Finally, one word escaped my throat. "Why?"

  She let out a tinkle of laughter. "You want me to explain? Okay, I'll explain."

  "You need to keep your mouth shut," the man growled. "We're already going to be in deep enough shit—"

  Kelli glared at him. "I would suggest you keep your mouth shut, Mick."

  I'd never heard that edgy tone of voice from her before. This didn't bode well. Neither of them bothering to hide their identity… Not good. Not good.

  "You gone fucking crazy, Kelli? You—"

  "Don't forget who's paying you enough to retire to that private little beach you've coveted for so many years." She gestured toward the door. "Go watch out front for him."

  Mick gave her a nasty look, then shrugged and left the room.

  I stared up at her. "Kelli, what are you doing? You can't possibly think that you can get away with this."

  "Don't tell me what I can or can't do, Sarah," she said, moving several feet away without taking her eyes off me, arms crossing her chest. "And don't forget where I found you. How desperate you were… are. Still, you're expendable."

  The words sent a shiver of dread through me. "And Ethan?" I choked out. "Is Ethan expendable too? What do you plan on doing with me? And Ethan?" I couldn't help the panic that rose in my throat. Every cell in my body turned to ice. I wavered between fainting and fury, as behind me, my hands trembled even though I clenched my fists. The metal of the handcuffs bit into my skin. I felt cold, so cold. What would happen to me? Oh god, what would happen to Ethan? I blinked back tears, and for a second or two, I was overwhelmed with the idea of how disappointed my parents would’ve been in me if they'd been alive today. What had I done?

  Oh god, please help me! I didn’t pray that often, but right now, I needed a good old-fashioned miracle.

  "Don't you worry about your little rug rat," she snapped. "He'll be fine. At least for a while. But my plan has come together, and to be brutally honest, I don't like the way Joel looks at you. I don't like the way you look at him either." She paused and glared. "You were about to ruin everything!"

  "I'm not going to—"

  "I'll do the talking, Sarah. I'm in charge here. And as soon as I have accomplished my goals, I'll figure out what I'm going to do with you. I'm mulling over a couple of options."

  I didn't even bother to ask her plans. The sound of male voices caught my attention from the other room. Two of them now, speaking softly.

  Kelli glanced over her shoulder with an irritated frown before looking back at me. "Hold that thought, Sarah. I'll be right back."

  She joined the men and as I listened to the quiet conversation going on in the next room, everything fell into place.

  The other man Kelli was talking to was Eric, Joel's best friend. “Joel and Sarah have been making eyes at each other, and I can’t let it continue. I’m getting tired of waiting for you to make your move.”

  “She hasn’t been at Joel’s that long, Kelli,” Eric responded, apparently trying to reason with her.

  “I want Joel ruined. Sooner rather than later. Now, you have no choice.”

  Eric sighed and responded, “I’ll negotiate the last trade of shares for Graphica as soon as I leave.”

  The pieces fell into place. Eric, Joel's friend, was responsible for the takeover bid, and it was obvious by their conversation that Kelli's overall goal was not to get back together and eventually marry Joel, but to get revenge on him.

  Kelli's voice grew more animated, and both the guard and Eric tried to calm her when she started talk
ing about getting rid of both Joel and I.

  "Nobody kicks me to the curb," she snapped as she grew irate. "I don't care that he caught me in bed with one of his friends. Nobody kicks me to the curb. I will have my revenge, Eric, and don't you think I won't. And that goes for you too, Mick. You're in this now as deep as we are, so nobody better talk."

  "But kidnapping?" the guard exclaimed. "Fucking A, Kelli, you've just screwed us all, you stupid bitch—"

  A sharp slap cut off his words.

  There was a scuffle, Eric chiming in now. "It's done and we can't go backward," he said. "We'll have to do something about her."

  My heart thudded harder.

  "Do you hear what you're saying?" Mick gasped. "This wasn't supposed to go down this way. What the hell were you two thinking, kidnapping her? We can't let her go to identify us, but hell if I'm going to go down for murder."

  "You'll do what you're told, Mick, or take the blame along with us. Watch her just a little longer, then Eric and I will take care of her. You'll get your money, and you can take off for Mexico if you want."

  "I didn't agree to any plan involving murder," Mick insisted again, the last thing I heard as the trio moved out of the room and a door slammed shut.

  Frantic, I struggled against the handcuffs, knowing that I was not going down without a fight. I would not leave my son without a mother. I wouldn't!

  Eighteen

  Joel

  I paced my office, back and forth, back and forth. I couldn't make myself sit down for more than a few minutes at a time, and even that brief time was a struggle.

  I’d called into the office and checked in with my secretary several times over the past few hours, and she’d told me that so far, things were quiet. I informed her I'd be working from home today as long as things remained calm at the office. I certainly didn't want to go into my personal life, or set off alarm bells at the company.