by E. D. Brady
“It’s a pity that poor Manuel had to die for your games,” Robert added.
“We’ve already spoken to the police,” Jay warned. “They’ll be by at any moment to take a full report. And since you’re trespassing on private property, I won’t be held accountable if something should happen to you.”
“Ah, but you’re just out for a romantic walk with your girl,” Robert replied calmly. “So I’m betting you don’t have your gun with you. And besides, you weren’t really sure if we’d be able to find Ben Orton’s house, were you?”
Jay made a move to reach into his jacket pocket, knowing full well that it was empty, but hoping that they’d buy the ruse.
“No, no, no, Arthur, I wouldn’t if I were you,” Robert sneered, shaking his head. “While I’m convinced there’s nothing in there, Sam and Jason just might start opening up. And while we both know that would probably not affect you so much, you really don’t want pretty Layla to get hurt…or do you?”
“She has nothing to do with this,” Jay yelled. “Let her go on home.”
“I don’t think so,” Robert snickered. “In fact, I came for her.”
“You won’t have her!” Jay blurted out.
“On the contrary, Arthur, we’re taking her with us.”
Sam and Jason rushed forth and grabbed Layla by both arms while Jay tried desperately to fight them off. When Robert joined in the spat, Jay was no match for them. Robert stuck his hand up the inside of Jay’s jacket and spun him around, while Sam kicked him full force in the stomach. Jay crumbled to the ground, coughing uncontrollably.
Robert walked backward a few feet, smiling smugly at Jay.
Sam and Jason lifted Layla up off the ground while she kicked and flailed, and carried her over to Robert.
Jay jumped to his feet and made a move to go after them, but then Robert pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. He stood behind Layla and grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling her head back to expose her throat. He placed the blade sideways on her neck. “It’s very simple, Arthur. You have eight hours to bring us the juice, or she gets this.” He slid the blade over her neck gently, causing a thin red line to appear.
“DON’T!” Jay yelled, the blood draining from his body.
“That was just a teaser of the real deal,” Robert replied. “Just a scratch. If we don’t have the stuff within eight hours, I’ll sever her head from her shoulders and send it to you in a pretty box complete with ribbons.”
“WHERE!” Jay bellowed, horrified.
“We’ll be in touch, so be sure to keep your phone on. In the meantime, I suggest you get moving,” Robert replied before turning his back on Jay.
Jay walked forward slightly, just behind them, trying desperately to think of some way to save Layla. His legs trembled. Turning the bend, he witnessed Sam and Jason shove Layla into the back of the black fan that was parked on the edge of the sand where the beach met a small grass slope.
She let out a piercing scream as they shut the doors, causing every fiber in Jay’s body to pulsate with rage and torment. He turned on his heels, knowing that he was helpless to save her, and raced back to the house.
Barreling through the sliding doors to the living room, Jay fell down on his knees and combed both hands through his hair, pulling at his roots. “UGH!” he growled at the top of his lungs, unbearable emotional pain paralyzing him momentarily.
“What?” Issy yelled, running into the living room.
“They’ve taken her!” Jay bellowed, looking up at the girl with torment in his eyes. “Robert and the other two.”
“NO!” Issy moaned, putting her hand over her mouth.
Ben and Joey walked in and looked down at Jay, then at Issy. “What happened?” Joey asked with bulging eyes.
“They’ve taken Layla,” Issy replied.
“Jay.…” Ben started, but couldn’t find the words to comfort his friend.
Jay jumped to his feet and turned a complete circle, his hands still through his hair as if he was desperately trying to think of a plan. He walked forward slightly and booted the end table, knocking the lamp flying through the air—glass shattered all over the floor.
“What are we going to do?” Joey asked.
Jay stood stock still and stared at him, and then he narrowed his eyes slightly, reaching around to the small of his back. “I’m going to give them what they want,” he said flatly.
“Jay.…think this through,” Joey urged.
Jay held up his hands. “This isn’t open for discussion,” he stated firmly. “This is Layla we’re talking about. I will do whatever is necessary to save her life.”
Joey nodded but said nothing.
“Sebastian?” Jay said, turning to face Ben with questioning eyes.
Ben nodded also. “I would do the same for Isabella,” he replied regretfully. “Without a doubt.”
“So you’re all on board with this?” Jay questioned.
“Yes,” they answered, one at a time. Issy leaned into Ben, biting on her lip.
“Issy?” Jay pushed.
“Yes, of course,” she responded.
“And you’re all fully aware of the implications?” Jay added. “From here on out, we age as God intended.”
Again, they nodded.
“I need to borrow a car,” Jay said to Ben. “I need to get back to Connecticut as quickly as possible to load up the Mercedes.”
“Where are you bringing the stuff to?” Joey asked.
“They’ll call me with the details,” Jay replied.
“We’re coming with you,” Ben stated.
“No!” Jay said firmly. “You three will stay far away from this. I’ll handle this alone.”
“Jay, we’re going with you,” Joey argued.
“Don’t doubt for one second that Robert is incapable of murder,” Jay explained. “He already knows that bullets can’t kill us. He wouldn’t think twice about chopping off one of your heads just for effect. In fact, he’s already threatened to do that to Layla if I don’t meet him when and where he instructs.”
“Where did they come from?” Issy asked.
“My best guess? They never went anywhere. They stayed close by and followed us from the field. They were probably mulling around, waiting to catch one of us outdoors alone,” Jay answered, loathing himself for being so careless.
Ben left the room but returned seconds later. “Take the Ferrari,” he said, throwing the keys to Jay.
Jay nodded. He walked over to the far end of the living room and opened a drawer in the console that held a wedding picture and many small ornaments. He pulled out a handgun and shoved it into the inside pocket of his jacket after checking the magazine. In the opposite pocket, he placed a switchblade knife. He picked his Ray Bans off the entertainment unit and walked back over to Ben, Issy and Joey. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.
Issy flung her arms around his neck. “You take care,” she said, her eyes misting over. “You come back to us in one piece, you hear?”
“Good luck, man,” Ben said, hugging him when Issy had moved away.
“My brother,” Joey said in a soft, emotional voice, taking his turn to hug Jay.
Jay tapped Joey on the back momentarily. “I’ll be alright,” he assured him.
He decided against taking the ferry over to Connecticut. He needed to keep moving at all cost. The nearly two hours standing still would be his undoing.
Luckily, when he maneuvered onto the Long Island Expressway, the road was unusually empty considering the throngs of traffic, almost at a standstill, going in the opposite direction. And then he remembered what day it was, the day before Thanksgiving. People were more than likely heading away from the city rather than toward it.
He put on his sunglasses to cut down the glare of the sliding sun. He fiddled with the radio until he found a station playing classic rock, settling on one just as his favorite Eric Clapton song began. He chuckled once bitterly, the warped irony not lost to him—at that moment, Layla real
ly did have him on his knees.
He turned up the volume as loud as he could stand it and leaned back in his seat. Gripping the steering wheel with his right hand, he straightened his arm out fully, then, gritting his teeth, he floored the pedal.
Layla
Chapter 25
Layla lay in the back of the hard, dirty van, her arms tied behind her back. Looking forward, she got an eyeful of Jason’s muck covered work boots.
She pondered trying to free her hands momentarily until she realized that if she accomplished it, she would have no way of escaping them anyway.
Her side ached, every bump from every pothole causing more bruising. She tried to roll over to find some small comfort, but with the position of her arms, it was nearly impossible unless she rolled onto her belly first, and with Jason’s feet in the way, that was a no-go. She gritted her teeth against another jolt from the rough road.
Her heartbeats had calmed down considerably. She guessed that she’d been in that position for over an hour and a half, but couldn’t be completely sure. Nobody spoke for ages; nobody had bothered trying to taunt her further. Robert made a point of driving home the reality that if Jay didn’t show up when he was expected, this would be her last day on earth. She didn’t doubt him for a second. He had a cruelty in his eyes, a darkness that was almost inhumane. She was nearly insane from mind-numbing fear when they first took off in the van, but as time went on and all remained quiet, she started to calm down considerably.
She felt her eyes prickle when she recalled the look in Jay’s eyes, the anguish and torment as she was being carried away from him, and despite her own terror, her heart broke for him.
When he proclaimed his love, all Layla could see before her was a boy, a young man of eighteen years. Suddenly, the billionaire entrepreneur was gone, and with him, the young man who had walked the earth for over five hundred years in unwavering confidence. There was just a regular teenage boy trying to tell a girl that he loved her for the first time. And nothing on earth could have prepared her for the force of the emotions coursing through her at that moment. She recalled how she touched him and marveled at the beauty of his face, the strong jaw line, the flawless features wallowing in her hand, filling her with a rush of sensations she never thought possible.
And then the vile memory of how their perfect moment, that one chance to feel the bliss of a first and only love reciprocated, was snatched from them by greed and evil. Once again, Arthur Vallen vanished, leaving a devastated boy, a helpless young man in his place. If not for her own sake, she hoped that she survived the night, knowing what her loss would do to him.
How ironic that she wanted to live more for someone else’s sake than for her own. Her mom had once told her that being a mother felt that way all the time, that the only thing you fear about dying is the pain it would cause the ones you leave behind. She realized in that moment the depth of her love for Jay. Regardless of what the heck his name was, or how old he was, the soul incased in that young man’s body was the most precious thing in the world to her.
Would he even consider handing over the water from the fountain to save her? Doing so could be suicide for him, not to mention Issy, Joey and Ben. But that look—that agonized look—of someone who had just found love for the very first time, and it was being ripped cruelly from them right before their eyes. As much as her situation sucked, she felt for the decision he had to make. Deep down, she hoped he chose life. She hoped he would let her go and move on. It wouldn’t be fair to hand over the water to save her. As much as she wanted to live, she didn’t want to live in a world without him.
And then there were Ben and Issy; no Hollywood movie had ever captured a love affair so beautiful, so gripping, so strong to have endured time, years of seclusion, unreasonable and narrow-minded prejudices—it wouldn’t be fair to end their lives in an attempt to save hers.
But then she thought of her poor mother. First to lose your husband then your only child, how could any mother ever bounce back from that? Not to mention the fact that James was obviously missing and more than likely being held by the same thugs that were taking her God-knows-where. Her mother may not even have him to comfort her. It was all too much for one human girl to wrap her head around. She said a silent prayer and decided to leave it in God’s hands. What was meant to happen would happen.
At least another hour had passed before the van finally came to a stop.
When the back doors opened, Sam climbed in and pulled Layla roughly by the arm. She shimmied forward on her knees until Jason took her other arm and pulled her upright.
It was nighttime at that point, but the streets were lit up brightly from the streetlights and the dozens upon dozens of illuminated windows incased in six-story buildings that spanned from one end of the long street to the other, all joined together, but with different entrances.
Layla recognized the neighborhood instantly.
They walked as casually as they could to the corner of 34th Avenue in Jackson Heights, Queens, a gun pointed inconspicuously at her back in case she got a bright idea of trying to alert one of the many passerby’s to her plight. Would Robert have been so stupid to take Layla so close to his own home?
When they reached the corner, they turned left and walked a few more feet before stopping in front of a stone staircase that led downward.
Robert walked down the stairs first and unlocked the heavy, metal door with a key he pulled from his pocket.
Jason and Sam both looked around to make sure no one would notice them dragging the girl down the stairs.
They entered a long, dark, gray hallway that smelled of garbage and laundry detergent.
Pulling Layla forward, they walked past many doors on both sides until they came to a standstill at another large metal door in front. Layla knew that they were crossing from the basement of one building into another.
Halfway down another hallway, Robert turned left and stopped. He took out his keys again and unlocked a door, flicking on the light as he entered.
The room was empty but for a broken washing machine, a mangled bicycle, three metal chairs and a fold-up table.
“Have a seat, Layla,” Robert ordered.
She walked forward and flopped down on one of the chairs just as a dark-gray mouse scurried across the floor. Layla flinched and tried to hold her feet off the ground, causing Jason to laugh. “That’s what you’re scared of?” he snickered.
“Don’t like rodents,” she mumbled.
“Rule number one of being held prisoner is to never tell the enemy your fears, silly girl,” Robert gloated. “They will use them against you if need be.”
Layla cursed inwardly, appalled at her own stupidity. If they started dangling rats in front of her, she would die on the spot.
“I’m going to head upstairs to give lover-boy a call,” Robert stated. “Let’s see how much you mean to him.”
Jason sat on the table and pulled a box of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. He tapped the back of the pack until one jutted forward, and then he grabbed it with his lips. Lighting the cigarette, he took a long, hard drag.
“Those things will kill you,” Layla said, trying to break the unnerving silence.
“Won’t matter much after tonight,” Jason said smugly. “Not if your boyfriend really does care enough about you to save your life.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” she lied.
“Really?” Jason questioned. “You mean he didn’t love you enough to let you in on his secrets.”
“I know who he is,” she answered smugly. “I know he’s really Arthur Vallen.”
“He’s so much more than that,” Jason gloated. “Or so I’ve been told.”
Layla picked up on that little confession immediately. “Maybe you’ve been told wrong,” she said. “Maybe you’re being led astray by Robert. Have you considered that he might be pumping you with lies to get you to help him blackmail money from Arthur?”
“Robert wouldn’t do that,” Jason rep
lied, taking the bait.
“Wouldn’t he?” Layla pushed. “He didn’t seem too broken up about Manuel.”
Jason’s smug looked wavered slightly. Layla was about to jump on the opportunity to drive the wedge in further when Robert walked back through the door, glaring at her.
“Not nice, Layla,” he said, shaking his head. “No playing games. There will be repercussions for that.”
“What sort of repercussions?” she asked, a shiver running up her spin.
“Let’s just say that you’re a very beautiful girl. It would be a real pity to mess up such a lovely face,” he replied calmly, sitting down on the corner of the fold-up table.
Layla threw him a disgusted look.
“Maybe you don’t care about that, Layla, but think how poor Arthur would suffer seeing your pretty features all rearranged.”
Jason threw his cigarette butt on the floor and stomped it out with his boot.
“It’s different for men,” Robert said reflectively, staring straight at her. “While a woman will feel deeply saddened when her man is hurt, for a man it’s torture, especially if the injuries are inflicted by another man. We’re protective by nature, you see.” He stood up and walked over to her then cupped her face and squeezed her chin hard, pulling her head up so that she was forced to look at him. “It induces a sense of helplessness and failure. Nothing wounds a man more than the failure to protect his woman. It burns deep, makes him question his identity as a man. Some men never recover from the pain of it.”
Layla pulled away, causing Robert to laugh. He walked back over to the table and reclaimed his seat. “And for a man like Arthur Vallen, it would take on a whole new dimension. Mr. Vallen has the world at his feet, snaps his fingers and things happen. Imagine the agony that he must be feeling right now, knowing that he can’t buy his way out of this. My point is, Layla, don’t make this any harder on him. Don’t add another painful layer to his suffering.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Good girl,” he said condescendingly.
For ages, they sat around in silence. Jason and Robert chain-smoked while Sam flicked through a motorcycle magazine. Layla sat clued to her seat, not daring to make a sound. The less attention they paid her, the better for her physical health.
