by Ann Walker
"I don't think those ropes are really necessary."
I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of a new arrival. His accent was rich, lustrous, and I could only assume he was from somewhere in South America. Handsome in a non-traditional sort of way, he was tall and overpowering, yet there was a gentleness to his presence. I couldn't help but gawk, though that was cut short when my captor roughly turned my back around and started undoing the ropes that held my wrists together. I waited, patient and silent, until he was done, then brought my arms forward, rubbing the wrist that was the sorer of the two.
"Clara, right?" the new arrival asked, raising a thick eyebrow at me as he strolled forward. I nodded, unsure of what to say or how to act, and the felt my stomach knot uncomfortably when he smiled. "That's a beautiful name."
"Thank you," I croaked, trying not to shrink away when he walked straight up and into my personal space. Instead, I pushed my shoulders back, trying my best to hold his unrelenting stare. I wanted to ask who exactly he was, but I knew that if I vocalized the question, it would come across as rude. Instead, I remained quiet, waiting, hoping that this man might lead us to good things.
"You can call me Felipe," he told me, still smiling. "Let's go for a walk."
I blinked back my surprise, then forced my legs to move. They didn't want to. No, my knees wanted to lock, and I probably could have just pitched forward and smacked right into the ground if I didn't take care.
There was no telling if Felipe could see my nerves, but I'd be shocked if he didn't assume they were there. He walked as if we were going for a casual stroll, and I couldn't help but wonder if he clasped his hands behind his back as a means to mock me. I kept mine in front of me, knitted together briefly before I crossed my arms over my chest, unimpressed with the way my new acquaintance seemed to like looking me over.
Did Grant know about this? Was he still fighting with those two men back in our hut, demanding to know where I'd been taken? I hoped not: as much as I appreciated the way he fought for me, I didn't want him beaten into submission on my account.
"How do you like your new accommodations, Clara?" He purred my name like we'd been intimate with one another at some point, and I held in a shiver of disgust. "Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?"
It was a trick question—it had to be—and I wasn't going to fall for the bait. So, I offered him a small smile, then shook my head.
"We're fine," I told him, deciding in that moment to keep my responses concise and vague. He seemed like the type of man to take someone's words and twist them to suit his own purposes. Granted, I hadn't known him for more than ten minutes, but his vibe was incredibly off-putting.
"And Togo? Do you enjoy the country?"
I swallowed thickly, then gave another nod. "It's beautiful."
We walked along the big black gate that surrounded the complex, me situated between Felipe and the hot metal. The sun was unrelenting, and there were bound to be burns on my arms and face within the hour. Behind us, the man who'd hauled me unceremoniously from my cozy dark room marched at a good distance, rifle in hand. He caught me looking briefly over my shoulder, and his eyes narrowed. I quickly faced forward with a gulp.
"My men told me you had a chance to escape in the jungle," he said, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me, assessing me, no doubt waiting for my reaction to his statement. I gave nothing—or tried to, at least—and continued to look on ahead, my eyes fixed on the black metal wall. It curved around the camp, running flush with the base of the mountain, and I wondered if Grant and I could try to climb it.
Probably not. There was nowhere for us to get a good grip, and there was no way I'd be able to haul him up and over if he pushed me up first.
"My ropes came loose," I offered after a long, strained moment of silence, the tension suddenly thick between us. He'd shifted in closer too, his body heat adding to the slow roast of my skin. "It happened while I was sleeping… I didn't do it purposefully."
"But they came loose all the same," Felipe mused. "Why didn't you run?"
My lips parted as I drew in a breath, unsure of how he wanted me to respond.
"It seemed risky to go traipsing off into the jungle in the pitch black when I'd eaten nothing—"
He cut me off before I could get much more in with, "My men say you were trying to free your friend."
I sucked in my cheeks, nodding.
"Are you two lovers?"
"No," I said hastily, a blush rising to my cheeks as I looked up at him. "No, I just didn't want to leave him there."
We shouldn't have cuddled with one another. I didn't want anyone to know that Grant loved me just as much as I loved him, because they were bound to use it against us.
Trying my best to hold his gaze, I raised an eyebrow, but it was almost too obvious that he didn't believe me. Felipe grinned a grin that almost looked like a leer.
"How sweet," he chuckled. "I do enjoy love."
Not wanting to say anything more to bring Grant and me onto Felipe's radar, I pressed my lips together and said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for me to fight it, to deny it, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. We continued our stroll around the perimeter of the camp, though I refused to look anywhere but at the black exterior, not wanting to seem too interested in the comings and goings of things. I didn't want to suddenly find myself in a "she's seen too much!" kind of situation.
"You know, your embassy knows you're here," he told me after the silence between us dragged on for what felt like an eternity. I squinted up at him, my eyes still not adjusted to being outside. "No one has taken up our ransom demands."
"That's a surprise to no one," I said without thinking, though I managed not to roll my eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't have kidnapped Americans if you actually want to get paid. Everyone knows our government doesn't negotiate with anyone."
He stopped abruptly, forcing me to do the same, and before I could get another word in edgewise, his hand collided forcefully with my face. I staggered back into the metal wall, thumping against it as pain flooded my cheek. The sharp sting of the slap slowly faded into an aching numbness, and I tried to straighten up as quickly as I could, blinking away my tears. Something wet dribbled from my nostril, and I hesitated before wiping at it. Blood smeared across my hand.
A soft squeak slipped out when Felipe grabbed me by my hair, his large hand fisted in it, and yanked me forward, only stopping when our faces were but a few inches apart.
"Watch your mouth, Clara," he whispered his eyes aflame with rage. "You've been doing so well thus far… I'd hate to see all that hard work wasted because you don't think before you speak."
I closed my eyes tightly, trying my best to give a little nod of acknowledgement. He held me there for a moment, his hand tightening in my hair, before finally pushing me away. When I opened my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest, I watched him stalk away, leaving me there against the hot metal.
But I wasn't alone for long. Very shortly after, my hands were bound again, and when I returned to my prison cell, all three men needed to restrain Grant when he saw that I was bleeding.
I merely sank onto one of the beds, numb, and waited for the scuffle to be over, praying for no broken bones.
Chapter Five
"Up against the wall!"
"Hands behind your backs!" a stern voice said.
"Let me see your hands!"
I wasn't even sure why they yelled anymore. As soon as Grant and I heard the telltale knocking at our door, we were already on the move. Weary as we were, we still managed to follow the rules, though it was odd that we had company between lunch and dinner.
We'd been in our little room—our love hut, as we liked to call it—for days now. Grant kept count, but I found it too depressing to keep track of the time. The last I'd heard, we had been missing from our volunteer village for almost two weeks. Did the others think we were dead? Had they given up? Were they still looking? The thoughts pervaded my mind whe
never there was a second to think, which is why Grant and I spent as much time as we could talking. I didn't like to be alone with my thoughts—not here… I'd always end up in tears.
So we talked to pass the time. Families, school years, friends… There were very few topics off-limits. It wasn't a surprise that Grant didn't share much about his job. I had the impression early on in our chats that he was a successful guy, but his status seemed to make him embarrassed, so I never pressed for much more than he wanted to give. I was happy to share my horror stories from the corporate world, which seemed like such a distant memory at this point.
He had two sisters and a brother, and his parents lived on a farm. He'd spent a lot of his childhood working with cattle and sheep, then he moved on to auto repair. In fact, his parents had thought that his part-time high school gig at a mechanic shop would lead to a lucrative career in the car industry.
"They were happy I chose engineering, I guess," Grant had admitted as we huddled together on one steamy evening, the humidity roasting us in our prison. "I mean, if I wasn't going to work on the farm, at least I was doing something substantial. I think they were always worried I'd run off and join a band. My mom told me once she thought I'd go model—"
I'd giggled loudly at the time, my hand cupped over my mouth. Grant had all the right looks to model, but I doubt he could have handled the lifestyle. He wasn't for the hustle and bustle of the vapid fashion world. No, it was much easier to see him in an intellectual, hands-on field that really required his bright intelligence.
I was grateful we were seldom interrupted. Our captors had food delivery down to a science now, and they could usually get in and out in a matter of minutes—including the whole tying us up part. Most of our meals were simple, but at least they finally kept us full. I'd initially worried that my slip-up with Felipe might have doomed us as far as feeding went, but it seemed my blunder had been forgotten.
Well, maybe I wouldn't go that far. Not forgotten, but possibly forgiven. I'd seen no repercussions—aside from the slap, which left my face hot and bruised for the rest of the day—for speaking my mind. Felipe had yet to wander back into my life directly, and for that I was also grateful. Grant probably would have beat him to a pulp if he saw the guy.
Trudging forward, I pressed my face against the warm dirt wall, my eyes closed and my hands falling into a familiar position behind my back. The shouting was louder and more aggressive this time—and none of the voices were familiar. Grant and I exchanged wary looks, and I willed him not to put up a fuss. I'd seen him beaten and bloody for me too many times since we'd been taken.
"It's going to be okay," he whispered, offering me a small smile. I tried my best to nod, to look like he'd reassured me, but I doubt I was very convincing. Rough hands grasped my wrists, and I shut my eyes tight as thick rope bound me. When I opened my eyes again, I noticed Grant getting the same treatment. And then a gag was placed over his mouth. Nothing more than a handkerchief—not threatening in a traditional sense, but my eyes still widened in horror.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, flinching off the wall when an absolutely massive man hauled him back. A hand shoved against me when I turned around, my body slamming back against the wall as I watched in horror. "Let go of him! Where are you taking him?!"
I always wanted to keep the horror out of my voice, to keep the terror in check, but sometimes it was just so damn difficult.
Grant kicked back, getting his attacker in the leg, then swung his bound fists into the guy's midsection. As much as his efforts were to be admired, they were, in the end, futile. The burly fellow soon had the situation under control, and I whimpered when another guy slammed the end of his rifle into Grant's stomach. He doubled over, but to his credit, he didn't make a sound.
"Please don't hurt him!" I pleaded, even though I knew, by now, that begging was useless. No one spoke to me. For all the yelling and shouting that had happened before tying us up, the four men who entered our prison were oddly quiet. In fact, the silence was almost more unnerving than the awful shouting.
And soon enough, I was alone again. Crumbling to the floor, fat tears rolling down my cheeks, I whispered to any higher power who was listening, “Bring him back to me alive.”
A part of me, however, wasn't sure I even believed in a higher power anymore. I'd never been especially religious, but the idea that some unseen deity was watching over my life certainly brought about some comfort. But how could any guy in the sky let this happen to me and the love of my life? As I sat there, arms aching from the strain of being restrained, I found it hard to believe in anyone or anything that might be there looking out for me.
I guess bad things happen to good people all the time. I wasn't special. In the past year, I'd lost my job, experienced a twinge of a mid-life crisis, and been kidnapped by terrorists in Togo. But then I'd also fallen in love—hard. I'd met a man who made every day worth fighting for, and now someone had taken him away from me. Sniffling, I took a few stabilizing breaths and tried my best to stop crying. I had to be strong for Grant. He'd been a rock for me through this whole experience, and I wasn't about to melt into a puddle of despair now that he was gone.
But my resolve faltered as time passed. The minutes ticked away, slowly but surely. There was no clock in our love shack prison cell, but I could tell from the location of the sun on the windows, the way the shadows fell across the floor, that hours had gone by since he was taken. I'd managed to get to my feet and pace, eventually I settled in front of our electric fan. The cool breeze managed to soothe me a little, managed to calm my frayed nerves just enough so that I could regroup and focus.
Thus far, I hadn't heard a shot, nor did I hear anyone celebrating a death. Maybe all they wanted was to talk to him? Maybe he'd been taken to make one of those terrorist videos I'd seen every so often on the news, where the hostage would read from a script to instruct their government or organization to pay for their release—or they'd die.
I closed my eyes again, breathing through the paranoia and the fear.
When I finally heard someone approaching beyond the wooden door, I sat up straight, my body tense as I awaited the harsh command to get back to the wall.
But no such command was ever made. Instead, the door opened, and in walked the love of my life—free and untied.
My strength left me in that moment. He came alone, descending upon me as I doubled over, my face screwed as fresh new tears started to pour.
"Shh," he soothed, kneeling in front of me and taking my face in both of his large hands. I stared through my watery field of vision, searching his face for any signs of new trauma while his thumbs swept away my tears. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
For a moment, I couldn't speak. Seeing him without chains or ropes, untied and unhurt… It was too much for me, but in the best way possible.
"What happened?" I eventually croaked, shifting to the side as he started to work on the ropes around my wrists. "Where did they take you?"
"I met with Felipe," he informed me, and a cold chill shot through my body. What if this was all a trick? What if Felipe was toying with us? He didn't strike me as the kind who shied away from such tactics. "He told me no one was going to pay our ransom. The government and the volunteer organization keep bargaining, but he's not in a bargaining mood."
I shook my head and muttered, "There's a surprise."
Once my hands were free, Grant gently brought them forward and kneeled in front of my again, massaging the tender flesh. I watched his hands move for a few minutes, the sweet relief of not being constricted a feeling I liked to savor.
"So what happened then?" I asked again. He didn't stop massaging me, though he did glance up with a small smile. It was an expression I hadn't seen since we were taken. Sure, we'd swapped anxious smiles and worried grins, pretending that a happy look might be enough to lift our spirits, but this was different. A rush of heat flooded through me, fending off the chill that Felipe's name had brought, and I cocked my head to the side.
"Grant… tell me."
"We talked a lot," he explained, sitting back on his heels before running a hand through his beautifully dark hair. I watched him, desperate for more. "Felipe's an interesting guy."
I made a face, unimpressed with his assessment. "Probably not the words I'd use to describe him."
"No, that doesn't surprise me," Grant mused. Finally, he rose and settled beside me on the small bed, taking both of my hands in his and bringing them to his lips. He then kissed each knuckle, his eyebrows furrowed, almost like he was treasuring the moment. When he glanced up at me, it was hard not to launch myself forward and wrap my body up in his arms.
"You're killing me with the suspense," I told him, hoping that wasn't an inappropriate use of wording. His small smile had grown, and he cupped my face, drawing me close. We both stunk, but it was easy to ignore.
"I've secured our release personally. Finally."
I stared at him for a long moment, not blinking to the point that my eyes started to dry out.
"W-What?" I stammered, my brain not comprehending a single thing of what he'd just said. "But… How… You…"
Grant drew me to him, pulling me onto his lap, and I went willingly into his arms.
"I'd been waiting for people to do the right thing since we were kidnapped," he insisted. I wrapped my arms around his midsection, my head resting just under his chin. "I'd hoped they would negotiate better… Not just leave us to die… But it's been going on for too long, so in the end, I told Felipe I'd pay his ransom."
"And did he go for it?" I asked, though the answer seemed obvious. Grant had walked back here without an escort, without ropes—alive. He nodded, and I felt my face wrinkle again, tears sliding out before I could stop them. "Oh my god… But how much—"
