Man of Mystery: A BBW Romantic Suspense

by Lorelei Moone

  Could it be that actually I ended up going out with Maggie, and someone slipped something into my drink, causing all this craziness to unfold in my own mind? Could it all have been a trippy fantasy? No, it felt too real for that.

  I fall back into my pillows and close my eyes again. Ugh. I wish I could make sense of it all.

  He got into my car, then we went to the airport, then, after he saved the day we left. Where did we go? A hotel. And yet now I’m here, and he’s not. Even though I don’t remember getting home, I have a feeling that if I took a look outside the window right now, even my car would have made it back to its normal place somehow.

  Unsure how to feel about last night, I decide I’d better just get on with my morning routine, so I make it to work on time. After yesterday’s review, they’ll do their best to find more faults in my work, and showing up late is not going to help any.

  I stretch out my arms before slipping out of bed. Weird, I’m even wearing my normal pajamas.

  It’s only when I take the first step, that I get a clear sign that perhaps last night wasn’t just in my head. My thighs are incredibly sore, like that one time Maggie convinced me to join her at her spinning class.

  Images of last night come flooding back. How he had me on my back, my legs pushed up onto his shoulders, then spread wide. How I rode him a little later on, until I was so worn out I couldn’t continue, so he took over, finishing both of us off.

  I can’t suppress a smile, even though there’s no one around to see it.

  Carefully, and without putting too much strain on my already aching legs, I make it through the living room and into the kitchen. Everything’s tidy, just how I left it, except in the middle of the counter, there’s an empty mug with a piece of paper sticking out from underneath.

  My heart starts to race as I pick it up and scan the unfamiliar handwriting.

  Tess,

  Last night was incredible. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking you home and leaving you here on your own, but it’s for the best. My life is complicated, as you may have noticed, and you’ll be safer here.

  Still, I need to see you again. What do you say: next week, same time, same place?

  You have my number.

  Liam

  I fold the paper in half, and hang onto it tightly, smiling again.

  Next week, you bet I’ll be there!

  Man of Mystery - Part 2

  Chapter One

  I can’t believe it’s going to be another four days until I get to see Liam again. Time has slowed to a crawl, every day at work seems to last forever. How will I manage?

  Sitting in my car, ready to head home, I can’t decide quite what to do so I keep fidgeting with my phone, looking at nothing in particular on its blank standby screen. Perhaps I should just call him. But then, that would be needy, wouldn’t it?

  Some movement in the corner of my eye distracts. I could swear I saw something in my rear view mirror, but now that I’m scanning the office parking lot, all looks quiet. Great, now I’m losing my mind as well.

  Instead of dialing Liam’s number, I select Maggie’s. She’d better be free tonight!

  “Hey, Tess,” Maggie answers, sounding as groggy as ever before her shift.

  “Hey! Wanna meet up tonight? I’m all antsy and don’t know what to do with myself. Make up for last Thursday.”

  “It’s all that guy, isn’t it? You’re so screwed.” Always the blunt one, Maggie tends to say the first thing that pops into her head without fail.

  “Well… Yeah, OK, it’s the guy. I can’t stop thinking about him. If you’d seen him, you’d understand,” I try to justify myself.

  “I still can’t get over the fact that you spent the night with some stranger, who kidnapped you earlier that same night.”

  “He did not kidnap me!” I protest into the phone at full volume before catching myself. “Really. He did not.”

  “Well, he did just get in your car and make you drive him around, while waving around a gun.”

  I sigh deeply. Maggie can be quite protective.

  “Never mind that. I can handle myself.” I wave her protests away with a dismissive hand gesture, even though she obviously can’t see me through the phone.

  “Uhuh.”

  “Are you going to tell me whether you’re free to meet up or not?”

  “Not, I’m afraid. Can do tomorrow, though?”

  I sigh again. Balls. Looks like it’s Friends reruns and a sad, lonely takeaway dinner for me tonight.

  “Sure thing, tomorrow, let’s go for a movie or something,” I suggest, trying to look forward to it despite the twenty-four-hour delay.

  “It’s a date.” Maggie ends the conversation with a leisurely yawn as we say our goodbyes and hang up.

  Now what?

  I twist the key and listen as my car coughs to life. Again, a shadow or something makes itself known to me in the mirror, but when I turn around and carefully examine the backseat, as well as the surrounding cars in the lot behind me, all is clear. What the hell? Why so paranoid?

  Shaking off the craziness, I put the car into reverse and pull out of my spot. Off to the right of the lot, I can see Karen’s car. Karen’s much newer, much nicer car. It occurs to me that I could just bump into it a little to get back at her for screwing me over last week. The scratches won’t show on my old rust bucket, but it’ll drive her nuts, I just know it. There aren’t even any cameras inside the parking, only at the entrance and exit as far as I know.

  Stop it; you would never do something like that!

  I tighten my jaw, trying to swallow my residual anger as I drive past Karen’s Ford without incident.

  The road is clear enough to allow me to join it right away so I speed off, glad I don’t have to see this place for another fifteen hours at least. As I pass through the familiar roads largely on autopilot, I wonder if Liam is out there somewhere, investigating or chasing bad guys or whatever it is he does on a daily basis. Perhaps he’s out there getting into some other girl’s car, flirting with her instead of me. No! Enough already!

  I have got to stop thinking about him, or I’ll have an accident. During the rest of the drive, I try to keep my eyes and thoughts firmly on the road ahead.

  By the time I reach my neighborhood, my stomach starts to remind me how little I’ve had for lunch. I decide to park up outside the local Chinese takeaway to get my regular Monday night Chow Mein fix. Thank God there’s an empty space left, in between a van and the banged up silver sedan I recognize as the delivery vehicle.

  Efficient as always, they have my noodles ready within five minutes, and I head back out, keen to get home and tuck in. As I unlock my car, I hear the van doors behind me slide open.

  Two hands grab me by my arms, pull me back and before I complete the shriek that started to pass my lips, something dark and musty is pulled down over my head. I don’t get the chance to see my assailant.

  “Calm down, and you won’t get hurt,” a deep male voice whispers behind me, and something in his tone convinces me that he’s serious.

  What the hell?!

  I just freeze in the dark with my heart skipping a few beats. The food drops down beside me onto the pavement, making a muffled splatting noise, and my now empty hands are pulled back and tied up with something hard and thin, like a wire. What do I do? Run? As if I’d get very far, even if I did manage to shake off the man’s firm hold on my wrist.

  He drags me backward and lifts me up into what I assume is the back of the van. The door slides shut, and I sink down onto my knees, landing on a pile of something soft. I don’t even want to consider what it might be. Moments later, another click suggests one of the front doors of the van has been pulled shut, and soon after, the engine purrs to life.

  Maybe I should have fought back, tried to get away? Instead, I just gave up, like a complete coward. And it was just one guy, wasn’t it? At least, I only heard one.

  The van reverses out of the parking space and breaks so hard I’m thrown over
backward onto more of whatever soft thing I’d felt earlier. Whatever it is, I’m glad it’s there, cushioning my fall. The tires squeal as the van races off, turning sharply to the right, making me lose my balance again.

  Shit, I am so screwed.

  I’m stuck, completely cut off from most of my senses with a cloth bag of some sort over my head, which smells of sweaty socks. That, and the fact that the van is throwing me left to right repeatedly is making me feel ill until finally I curl up into a ball as best I can without the use of my arms.

  Minutes that feel like hours pass, and I’m completely disoriented by the time the van stops moving, and the engine is switched off. The resulting silence tries to deafen me, but then the door beside me slides open with the same ominous scraping noise from before. Wherever I’ve been taken, we’ve arrived, and I don’t have a clue how long we were on the road for.

  Two hands grab my ankles so hard it hurts, and I thrash about trying to evade them. It’s pointless, though, all that’s done is make the kidnapper’s fingers dig into me harder.

  “Stop messing about,” the same voice growls at me.

  I swallow hard, realizing that perhaps I’m taking unnecessary risks. Perhaps my first instinct of just going along with whatever this guy wants from me is the safest bet. He drags me over the hard wooden paneling of the van floor, until my legs dangle out of the door, then flips me over onto my stomach and lifts me by my arms.

  My knees shake uncontrollably when he sets me down onto my feet. Shit, I bet my outfit is ruined. That’s just perfect.

  Try as I might, the sweaty bag on my head blocks out all light, until suddenly, he yanks it off me. I’m blinded by what look like those super powerful spotlights you see on building sites, unable to see what’s beyond.

  Where am I? A warehouse? Whatever it is, it’s big, judging by the echo when the kidnapper shuts the van behind me. I turn, hoping to get a look at him, but he’s dressed head to toe in black, including a mask concealing his features, even his hair color.

  He reaches out for me with gloved hands and drags me by my arm towards one of those steel reception chairs you see in offices, a few feet away from the van. I stumble over my own feet on my way there, then am roughly pushed down into it. He fiddles with my restraint and opens it, giving me some relief from the dull ache that had started to develop around whatever wire it is he used to tie me up. But my respite is short-lived, because he immediately fastens my wrists onto the metal armrests of the chair.

  “Don’t try anything, you hear me?” he grunts.

  I bite my bottom lip and wait, with the sound of my own frantic heartbeat filling my ears. What does he want? Why am I here? The man in black turns, then takes a few steps away, beyond the nearest spotlight facing me, making it impossible for me to see him, it’s so blinding.

  I want to scream, cry out for help, but I doubt anyone would hear me. And anyway, now that panic has taken hold of me, I doubt I could utter a sound.

  “Tess Aldershot. I apologize for my associate’s rough treatment of you, but good help is hard to find nowadays,” a much calmer male voice speaks from beyond the spotlights. I forget to breathe and threaten to choke on a stray droplet of saliva that’s trying to head straight for my lungs, making me cough violently.

  How does he know my name?

  That means this wasn’t random but a planned abduction.

  Chapter Two : Liam

  “Goddamn it, Clark, this one’s locked up tighter than the A4 on a Friday night.” I straighten myself and look over at Clark’s equally weary expression. The suspect in the interrogation room is turning out to be a lot more trouble than expected. Days and days of questioning have led nowhere. The only thing we seem to have worn thin is our own patience, not his.

  “Stubborn bastards, these Nexus guys,” Clark responds. “Hey, Everson, how about we try another tactic?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “It seems they’ve scared this guy into silence, so we’ll just have to convince him he has more to fear from us.”

  “All right. Bad cop, bad cop it is then.” I give Clark a final nod before pushing open the steel-reinforced door leading to our cuffed suspect.

  “You want to tell us again how it is you were found smuggling unauthorized cargo into the baggage hold of flight SV118?” I say, while placing my - unloaded - gun on top of the steel table in front of the terrorist.

  The man looks at the weapon, blinks a few times and presses his lips together tightly while evading my gaze.

  “We’ve got all night and then all day. You haven’t even been processed. Nobody will come looking for you,” Clark responds. “You won’t believe the amount of discretion we have when holding people like you.”

  “Only last week, there was a horrible accident with a suspect… One form. That’s all the paperwork we had to fill out, and we’re in the clear.” I put my hand on top of the gun, caressing its smooth finish.

  “Everything you think you know about human rights doesn’t apply in this building. In fact, this facility doesn’t even officially exist…”

  The suspect looks up in shock, then stares at the wall on the far end of the interrogation room again.

  “Please. They’re going to kill my family,” he stammers at last.

  Finally, now we’re getting somewhere. I let out a sigh of relief, but do my best not to let the man see it.

  “In that case, it’s in your best interest to cooperate so that we can find the people responsible and ensure your family’s safety. Because the longer you’re in our custody, the more certain your buddies at Nexus will be that you’ve cracked,” Clark says. We share a look, indicating we’re both aware that we’ve all but won.

  “Where did you get the package? Who ordered you to smuggle it on board?” I bark.

  The suspect sighs, then hides his face in his hands.

  “I never saw his face, only a silhouette. Said his name was Fletch.”

  “Fletch. So it’s true,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

  “In the video, I could see my little girl tied up and crying. Fletch was standing beside her, but the lighting was such that I couldn’t make out what he looked like really. Average build.”

  “Anything else? Anything you could recognize?”

  “Just his voice. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.”

  Damn. I try not to let my disappointment show. In all the time we’ve been investigating Nexus, and its figurehead, the mythical Fletch, this is the closest we’ve come to identifying who are involved. And still, we’re no further.

  In my pocket, the familiar buzz of my phone is vying for my attention. Mine is an unlisted number, so the only calls I get are from a very select few. It’s almost always important.

  I turn towards the door, with my hand slipping into my pocket.

  “What’s going on? Where are you going?” The terrified voice of the suspect calls after me.

  “Relax, we’ll investigate your claims,” Clark says.

  “What about my family?” the man asks.

  “Do you have a copy of that video?” Clark retorts.

  While the two of them continue their back and forth, I make it to the corner of the room and check the screen on my mobile. Unknown number. Strange.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Agent Everson. I believe I’ve got something that’s very dear to you. Someone, rather,” a peculiar male voice says. Nasal, as well as particular, how he pronounces every syllable very carefully. The background is suspiciously quiet, no ambient noises, no hiss of a bad line or iffy mobile signal. Something about this call seems off.

  “Who is this?” I ask.

  “You already know,” the voice answers. “Say hello, why don’t you, darling.”

  “Uhh… Liam?” a choked voice says. Shit. That sounds a lot like Tess! So while I’m trying to find out more about the ghost we only know as Fletch from our suspect, the devil himself phones me up. How ironic.

  “Are you OK?” I ask. A cold sweat erupts all
over my body as I realize what’s happened. How could I not have seen this coming? I’ve been so busy trying to find out more about the airport incident that I don’t consider they could change strategy and go after Tess.

  “Who are you talking to?” The scared man behind me interrupts. “Shit, tell him I didn’t say anything. Tell him not to kill my family!”

  “Shh!” I hiss, while gesturing at him frantically to keep his mouth shut while keeping my finger on top of the microphone towards the lower edge of the mobile phone.

  “If you want to see her again - alive - you’ll have to do a little something for me, Agent Everson.” Fletch’s voice sounds as if he’s grinning. Clearly a narcissist, so proud of his own cleverness.

  “What’s that?” Though I’m no stranger to having my own life endangered, I’ve never had to deal with a threat to someone I care about. That’s why this unit hires people like Clark and me. No family, no attachments, nothing to lose.

  “My associate, who succumbed to an unfortunate cyanide poisoning at the airport. He had something on his person that’s of value to me. Bring it to me, and only then will you see the girl again.”

  “What? Where?”

  “X marks the spot. You’ll receive further instructions momentarily.”

  “I didn’t say anything. I don’t know anything,” the suspect sobs behind me, making me close my free ear with my finger to reduce the distraction. “Please save them. I’m so sorry.”

  A click marks the end of my conversation with the criminal mastermind, Fletch, and my attention is immediately diverted back into the here and now, when I hear Clark shout something unintelligible, followed by a struggle.

  Just when I turn fully to look at what’s happening, I see the man, his hand covered in blood spewing from a wound in this throat where he’s managed to wedge in a ballpoint pen I assume he’s taken from Clark.

  “What the fuck? How did he get that pen?”

  “Took it right out of my pocket.” Clark steps back, holding his hands up as though trying to distance himself from the horrible scene in front of us.

  “Jesus Christ, I turn my back for one minute!”