Sins of the Heart

by Hoss, Sarah

  “This whole time, you have been using me. I was so stupid. How could I have been so blind? I recognized those people from the flea market.”

  He freed her ankles yet stayed squatted in front of her. Resting his hands on her knees, he tried to explain himself, but she wouldn’t let him. She jumped from the chair and moved over by the closet.

  “It’s the shield. It’s always been the shield. Here I thought I had found someone with a mutual love for antiques. Someone I thought was my friend.” She scrunched her eyebrows with a realization. “And I fell for you like some lovesick schoolgirl, and the whole damn time you were lying.”

  With the last statement, she began to cry. He hated to see her cry. He stepped toward her, and she scooted out of the way toward the front door, but as she opened it, she was brought up short by one of the men standing guard. She quietly shut the door then turned around.

  “Abigail, please listen to me.” He took another step toward her, but she darted past and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Leaning against the table, he walked toward the closed bathroom door. He had to make this better. He had to make her understand that he never wanted to hurt her. He cared for her too, and the last thing he would ever do was put her in harm’s way, but that was exactly what he did. Damn!

  He heard her lean against the door.

  “Why?” she asked in a tearful sob. “Why couldn’t you have just been honest with me?”

  He heard her slide down the door to sit on the floor. The sounds of gentle crying tugged at his heart and his conscience. If nothing else happened here today, he would make this right. First, he had to get her to listen to him.

  Abigail swiped her face and drew a shuddering breath. The floor was cold on her bottom but she didn’t care. The events of the day played through her mind. How could a day that had started out so wonderful turn into this? Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would be kidnapped over a stolen artifact, fall in love with a handsome foreigner and be held captive in a seedy motel. This stuff only happened on television or in the movies.

  She drew her knees in and clutched her arms around them as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She was scared. She didn’t want to think and she sure in hell didn’t want to be in this situation. She needed a distraction.

  She studied the bathroom. The tan tiles of the floor laid in perfect little rows except for five of them in the corner by the tub. The floor had been repaired for some reason and these five tiles were baby blue. The shower curtain that hung from basic metal hooks was off-white and the walls of the bathroom were white. How boring. What did she expect? This wasn’t a five-star hotel. Since everything was so plain, she wondered where they got or why they had the five baby-blue tiles.

  Water dripped from the sink at a slow and steady pace. One, two, three, drip. One, two, three, drip. She stood and went to the sink. Twisting the handles, she turned the water off, thankful to have the noise gone. The image reflecting back to her from the mirror looked tired. Her red nose and puffy eyes were telltale signs of her emotions.

  “Abigail, please.”

  He sounded so sincere and so anguished. She’d placed blind trust in a man she didn’t know and look at where it had gotten her. She couldn’t do it again.

  “You were right,” he said. “I wasn’t honest with you and for that I am sorry. When I started this search for the shield, I had one goal in mind.”

  He was pacing. She heard the gentle, even fall of his footsteps. Lowering the toilet seat, she sat down and listened.

  “It was selfish, I know, but that is my history and as Chief, I had to get it back. But even more than that, it belonged to my great-great-grandfather. And the little boy in me who idolizes that man wanted it back.”

  He stopped. She could understand where he came from. She loved history. Loved hearing peoples stories about their past. When she found an old table, she often wondered how many families had sat around it. What kind of conversations had it been witness to? Holiday meals, birthday parties, couples arguing, and maybe even a romantic moment. History is what made us. Her mother had always told her, “You cannot go forward if you don’t know where you came from.”

  It sounded like he placed his hands on the door.

  “Then there was you. In the beginning, it was very easy to just be History Buff to you because you were possibly a means to an end. But, the more we talked the less I became that guy and became Grant. I looked forward to getting a message from you.”

  He sighed, and so did she. She’d felt the same way, had said those exact same words. With her elbows on her knees, she placed her head in her hands.

  “Abigail, you have to believe me when I tell you that I would never have involved you had I any inclination that things would go this way. You’re in my heart now, Starshine.”

  New tears threatened to fall, making her vision blurry. Her mind told her that he could be saying whatever he wanted to get himself out of trouble, but her heart desperately wanted to believe that he felt something for her as she felt for him. Why did the mind and the heart have to be at odds with reality?

  “Please open the door.”

  Her heart ached. Her head ached. Her hands shook. So, she stood and walked to the door. Her hand lingered in the air above the handle before finally grabbing hold and turning the knob.

  Grant seemed as tired as she did. He gently reached out to touch her cheek. His hand paused, waiting to see if she would back away or not. She didn’t and his hand was warm on her skin. She relished the feel of it, and she closed her eyes.

  “I just wish you would have been honest with me.” She opened her eyes and pinned him with her gaze. “This could have been so simple. Do you really think I wouldn’t have given you the shield?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. “But I forgive you.”

  His shoulders sagged, and she felt the tension leave his strained muscles. He had been on edge waiting for a resolution. Proof of his sincerity, and she was relieved.

  He embraced her, and they stood holding each other for a moment until he leaned back, placed his hands on her cheeks, and kissed her, a deep kiss that spoke of affection. She let herself drink from the well that he offered. A well full of promise, hope, and protection. She needed this. If she was to get out of this unscathed and alive, she needed him. They had to work together. Anything else, could be figured out later.

  She laid her head on his shoulder again and his arms tightened their hold. His right hand came up to cradle her head.

  “I will fix this.” He laid his head on hers.

  “I know.”

  The door opened, startling them. She released her hold and began to step back from him, but he grabbed her hand, holding tight.

  The two men who had been in her house stealing the shield now stood in the doorway of this crappy motel room. She felt on edge again and squeezed his hand one time.

  “How did the two of you get out of your binds?” one of the men asked as they stepped inside and closed the door. The second man set food down on the table and then withdrew out a gun from the back of his waist band.

  “Let the lady go.” Grant shifted her behind him as soon as he saw the gun.

  “Can’t do that and you know it.” With the gun pointed at Grant’s chest, the first man moved closer. “We wait for the boss.” As he kept the gun pointed at Grant, the other man reached around him and grabbed her.

  “No,” she said as she fought being taken by him.

  Grant threw a punch that landed square on the man’s jaw.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, my friend.”

  She screamed as the man holding
the gun took the butt and hit Grant in the head. He dropped to the tattered, stained rug.

  A cold hard stare met hers and her stomach rolled. The second man reached for her. “Now, come here.”

  Chapter 15

  Mumbling, he heard mumbling. Grant placed his hand on his forehead and kept his eyes closed. His head hurt like the devil and his thoughts wouldn’t come into focus. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

  “Son of a bitch.” Cautiously, he opened his eyes and glanced around.

  Abigail sat beside the bed, tied to a chair. All of the events of the day came crashing back to him again and he had to close his eyes to ward off the immense pain thundering in his head.

  The low rumble of the air-conditioning unit kicked on but his focus was on the occupants of the room. Grant took one more look at Abigail. Her eyes were locked on him.

  Are you all right? He mouthed the words to her, and she gave him a nod. Thank goodness. He then turned his attention on the men. He recognized them from the clan. Graham and John stood near the window. John spoke on the phone to someone. Grant shifted his head slightly to better listen, trying to make sense of what was going on.

  “No, we have her tied up. She isn’t a problem.” John glanced at Abigail and then turned his attention to him.

  Grant pinned John with a gaze he hoped warned him he’d better not try anything with Abigail.

  “He’s awake.” John nodded as if he was agreeing with what was being said on the other end of the phone. A few moments passed as the man listened. “All right, we’ll see you in a minute.”

  John turned to Graham. “He’s coming.”

  Grant’s pulse picked up. Finally, he would see his cousin and get to the bottom of this.

  The door opened, and Grant sat up a little straighter. His hands were tied, one to each arm of the chair. Abigail sat on the other side of the table, closer to the door, tied to her chair also. They let her up once to use the restroom, but other than that, they’d sat in these chairs for over an hour. He was losing feeling in his wrists.

  When Malcolm entered, he kept his eyes focused on him, but through the side of his vision he saw Abigail look at his cousin and then back at him.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Abigail began to laugh, a bit hysterically.

  “I brought food. I imagine you must be hungry.” Malcolm approached and placed a few blue and white bags from the 50’s diner on the table. .

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Grant heard his stomach growl. He’d missed the earlier meal when they knocked him out a second time.

  Malcolm turned to John. “Untie them.”

  He started with Abigail and she stared at him while he did it. Rubbing her wrists when he let her free, she turned to Malcolm. “So, are you his evil twin?”

  Malcolm never smiled. “No. We are cousins. Our resemblance comes from our fathers who are twins.”

  Abigail tilted her head. “It was you who came into my store first, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “I thought something seemed weird. You played it very well, I have to say. After a while, I figured you were just nervous.”

  While Malcolm focused his attention on Abigail, Grant listened to the by-play.

  “My apologies, ma’am. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “But has everything to do with me, and I want to know what the hell is going on, Malcolm.” Grant glared at his cousin.

  Abigail picked up the burger that had been placed in front of her and took a bite. Malcolm took the two necessary steps to make it to the bed and sat down. When John was done untying Grant’s hands, he stepped outside, where Grant watched him light up a cigarette.

  Graham remained in the room.

  “You and I were as thick as thieves growing up. We talked about everything, did everything together. Why do you now hold secrets from me?”

  Malcolm sat forward, placing his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

  “Grant, this is so far out of reach, I don’t even begin to know how to tell you.”

  Grant grabbed his cousin’s wrist. “Why did you steal the shield?”

  Malcolm stared at Grant. “I was desperate.” He rolled his head trying to easy his tired muscles. “I got into betting. It started with one football game. I won. Easy money. So, I bet again and again.

  “Remember when the Glasgow team made headlines because Boyd took a dive and purposely lost the game?”

  He nodded.

  Malcolm stood. “That game changed everything for me. I lost. Big.”

  Grant sank back in his chair.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

  “I was ashamed. Seriously, the only thing that separates you and me from becoming chief is that your father was born first.” He paced the small distance of the floor between the bed and the dresser. “I was raised the same as you and look at how differently things have turned out. You are the clan chief, and I, a common criminal.”

  Grant stood and walked over to Malcolm. Grabbing him by the arm, he turned him so they looked at each other.

  “You aren’t a common criminal. We all fall once in a while.”

  Malcolm glanced down at the ground, turmoil rolling across his face.

  John stepped away from the wall and went over to Malcolm. Placing his hand on his arm he spoke. “Tell him, Malcolm. We can’t keep doing this any longer.” John looked between Grant and Malcolm. “Time is running out. We need his help.”

  Grant stared at John for a moment, trying to decipher this mystery. He glanced back over his shoulder at Abigail. She shrugged and sat forward on her seat. He focused his attention back to Malcolm.

  Malcolm shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because I owe the debt, I couldn’t pay it right away.”

  “How much do you owe?”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “One million.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Grant shook his head. How could anyone hope to pay off such a debt? He crossed to the table and took a big swallow of his cola, thoughts running through his mind like a freight train. His cousin was in a shitload of trouble.

  “How much have you collected?” he asked, dreading the reply. For Malcolm to have gone so far as to steal the shield and kidnap them, there’s no way his cousin had the money needed to pay off his impossible debt.

  A long silence followed as the three men spoke quietly.

  Then Graham made a phone call. He asked a couple questions then faced them.

  “Christina said we have only half the money,” Graham announced grimly.

  “How many people are with you?” Grant asked as he placed the cup of cola on the table.

  Malcolm sat back down on the bed. “Just the four of us. I was afraid to tell anyone else.”

  “Malcolm, tell him the rest, Graham said, crossing his arms over his chest

  Grant looked between Graham and Malcolm. “The rest?” Grant dragged the chair a few feet and sat down in front of Malcolm. No way his cousin would get out of here without answering all his questions. Malcolm opened and closed his hands several times. “Right before all of this happened, I took Keltie to the doctor. She had a felt a lump in her breast.” He met Grant’s gaze and a single tear slid down his cheek. “She has cancer.”

  Grant heard Abigail, still sitting behind him, inhale sharply. No one liked to hear the dreaded ‘C’ word.

  “They wanted to do surgery right away,” Malcolm continued, “and remove it before it spread to her lymph nodes. Her outcome didn’t look very good. They found the cancer in both breasts.”

  Grant grasped Malcolm’s knee. “I’m very sorry. I wish you had come to me. I could have helped you. Then you would be home with her instead of here.”

  Malcolm shot to his feet and stalked
over to the wall. Placing his hands on the rough surface, he leaned forward, then back, like he was doing a push up. Then he stepped back abruptly and punched the wall.

  “They fucking have her.”

  Grant felt a knot tighten in his throat. The anguish in his cousin’s voice was palpable.

  “They are holding Keltie until I get the money. If I don’t, then they will kill her. That’s why I set up this scheme and time is running out.”