by J. C. Cliff
I feel as if I’m going to pass out from the suspense. “My son?” I can barely get the words out.
“Our son,” he calmly corrects me, “and he’s just fine. He’s been with me the entire time.”
My heart constricts and I grab at my stomach, doubling over in pain. Bile rises to the back of my throat, and I wind up in a dry-heaving fit until I can get a grip on myself. All I can think of is that I’ve been horrendously betrayed. “Why?” I croak out between gasps. I begin to rock myself back and forth, thinking surely I’ve lost my mind. “Why?” I whisper the question again. “I don’t understand.”
I must be in my own world, because I don’t see him approach, but I snap out of it when his hands gently touch my shoulders. They burn on contact. I jerk back with a shriek, slamming my backside into the wall to get away. “Do not touch me!” I hiss.
This time, Graham ignores me. He lifts me up off the floor as I struggle against him to break free, because his touch repulses me like nothing before. I kick and scream, but he’s got a strong hold on me.
It unnerves me how Graham seems to be so calm and collected; he’d always been this way in any given circumstance. My fisted hands pound against his broad chest. He’s built strong, full of muscles, just like Stryker. I know this, because not only is he able to contain me against my will without the slightest exertion on his part, but I can feel his rock-hard muscles flexing beneath his shirt.
“Caleb,” he calls out over his shoulder, “go ahead.” His voice is too even, and his command has me stopping long enough in my struggle to see what he’s talking about. A serious-looking man, big as a professional wrestler, who means business walks toward us while holding a syringe in his oversized hand. My eyes grow wide upon his advance, because he has a holstered weapon over his shoulder, making him look even more threatening.
The closer he gets, the more horrified I become. I look up at Graham in a panic, frantically shaking my head, but it’s too late. Graham’s stone-faced expression doesn’t change with my silent plea. He’s no longer trying to treat me with kid gloves. He means to put me down, and he means to do it now. I don’t know who this man is restraining me, but it’s not the Graham I once knew.
“Don’t,” I plead with tears in my eyes.
I think his eyes soften for a brief second, but then they go cold again, along with his voice. “We’ll talk when I feel you can listen to reason. Right now, your emotions are all over the place. I can’t say that I blame you, but once you’ve calmed down, we’ll try this once again.”
“You bastard!” I yell. With the palm of my hand, I strike his face with a resounding slap. He doesn’t even flinch, and I know it had to hurt, because my palm is throbbing in pain. He simply drops me onto his bed, and in a flash, he’s captured my wrists above my head. I thrash from side to side as he lays his bodyweight over my squirming form. “Let me the fuck go!”
“Caleb,” he says the man’s name again, this time a little harsher. My chest heaves with untold fury. Through the entire struggle, Graham’s eyes never leave mine. His voice is steady, as he tells me, “We’ll get through this, Valerie.”
“We?” I laugh sarcastically. “There is no ‘we’ Graham. You lost the right to say that twelve months ago.” His face goes expressionless and he appears calm, too calm, and it unnerves me more than the threat of Caleb’s needle, which is only inches away.
For some reason, Caleb is hesitating. I turn my head his way and snarl. “What are you waiting for, Caleb? Seems as if drugging me will be the only way my deceased husband is able to control me. Are you not man enough to handle me either? Go ahead and do it,” I dare him. I turn my narrowed eyes back on Graham’s and bare my teeth to him. “Drugging a helpless woman screams pussy if you ask me.” The moment the needle punctures the skin of my arm, I never remove my eyes from his, making damn sure he sees every bit of animosity radiating from my scathing glare.
As the drug slinks its way into my system, I silently think of how I will get my son. And when I do, I will find a way for Graham to never see either one of us ever again.
*~*~*
I wake up with a full body spasm, battering me from head to toe. I don’t think it’s the drugs causing my tremors as much as it is my new reality sinking in and freaking me out. I haven’t even had a chance to absorb all this crazy information, because every time I turn around, I wind up in a drug-induced sleep. How much of my day have I slept away?
“Ahh, she’s awake.” At the sound of Graham’s voice, I cringe but stay silent. I’ve never been the strongest of women, but then again, I’ve never had anyone take my son from me in the cruelest of crimes. I feel a new creature arising from within, one that will be a force to reckon with.
I watch in calculating silence as Graham gets up and moves to sit on the side of the bed closest to me. He gestures to the water on the nightstand. My eyes flick from the water back to his. “It’s not drugged, I promise. You need to drink. You’re dehydrated.”
“Since when do you care?” I hiss.
He closes his eyes, accepting the jab. Then he lifts the glass of water and brings it to my lips. I want to knock the glass from his hands, but my parched mouth seems to get drier, so I suck it up. I lean forward and take a small sip, hating his goodwill. “Is that all?” he asks, a little surprised. I give a quick nod, having nothing to say to this man.
He lets out a sigh and returns the water to the table beside me. “Valerie, you left me no choice. I had to give you a relaxer.” I look away from him, not wanting to hear anything he has to say unless it involves my son. “I thought… I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
I snap my head back and look at him as if he’s crazy, because he is delusional if he thinks I’d be happy to see him. He brushes a lock of hair away from my face, and it takes everything in me to hold still.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I did all of this for you.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” I tell him coldly.
“I know you have it somewhere in your heart to forgive me, and I believe in time you will. I had to do what I did. I was forced to.”
“So you’ve said as much already, but you’re not saying why. Truth be told, there is no excuse anyone could give me to make it all right to steal my son from me.”
He leans forward, caging me in with both hands pressing into each side of the mattress, making it dip. His masculinity and stark features surround me. He oozes power from every pore and I shiver.
“Our son,” he says sternly.
“No father would kidnap their son in an effort to keep them away from their mother. You lost that right.” I’ve angered him; I can tell. I’ve probably said too much, but I don’t care. I’m angry, too. I truly loved this man at one time, and this hurts, seeing him alive and well, while I lost my mind for an entire year. It cuts like a knife.
“I’m not keeping your son from you.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me, Graham,” I say with bitter sarcasm.
He bends down farther, getting only inches from my face. His demeanor morphs into something I can’t place. “I took him for this reason right here.” I blink several times, trying to understand. “You’re looking at me with such contempt.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“Stop it,” he orders. “I’ve been miserable everyday for the past year without you.”
“Oh, forgive me if I don’t give a damn.” I’m so over this conversation.
I start to roll to the side to get away, but he pulls me back, his fingers digging into my shoulder to keep me in place. “You know I love you,” he growls with passion.
“Funny way of showing it,” I cut in.
“Stop it!” he shouts, startling me. I stare at him wide-eyed with my heart beating out of control, wondering what he’s going to do to me.
“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath, as he reigns in his temper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
I say nothing in response, too on edge to speak a
nother word, even though he looks upset with himself for losing his cool.
“Valerie,” he softly pleads, “I know this has got to be the hardest thing you’ll ever live through, and I know you feel betrayed. It truly makes me sick to think of all you went through. I didn’t want you to face that alone. It’s the reason I had—”
“Celia,” I blurt out. Her name tastes like warm, moldy milk on my tongue. “She’s known all along, hasn’t she?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation, his lips curved down in a frown. “It was her job to keep you from falling apart until we could be together again. Every thing had a precise timing to it, Valerie.” He tentatively reaches out then caresses the side of my face, but I can hardly feel his touch. I’m numb. “Had you known what I was doing, and just who and what I was dodging, you would’ve left me.” His voice comes out almost heartbroken, and my brows pull together in disbelief.
“Are you justifying your actions now?” I ask, stupefied.
“No, honey. I’m simply stating facts. I wasn’t willing to risk losing you. Even if you were a party to the plan and willing to play along with my untimely demise, there’s no way anyone would’ve believed you. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re too transparent, and no matter how hard you’d try, you wouldn’t have been able to act out the mourning.”
The venom inside me builds to a new level. I didn’t think it was possible until now. The two most important people in my life have betrayed me in the worst possible way.
“So you took my son with you? That makes no sense.”
“I took him for insurance,” he says unapologetically.
I gasp for air, not believing my ears. “You took him so I would comply and bend to your will?” I ask for clarification.
“I did,” he says without hesitation, not even looking the slightest bit guilty about it. “During the past year, we’ve been able to grow closer than ever before and without distractions. You can call it insurance if you want to, but I love him too. You both mean the world to me.”
My head is spinning, and right now, I’m glad I’m lying down. “Why, Graham? Just tell me why.”
“I had to get the FBI off my back.”
Oh my God. “The FBI?” I prompt. “What the hell are you into, Graham? No, wait, I changed my mind. I don’t want to know. I want to go home.” I try to push him off me, but he grabs my arms, and the look in his eyes is threatening me with the possibility of more drugs. I swallow hard and sink back into the bed.
“I’m one of the main suppliers for weapons trade here,” he confesses.
My lungs squeeze as if I’m having a severe asthma attack, and the panic starts to become real. Graham picks up on my body language, and is quick to add, “Our son knows nothing. He’s been very sheltered and highly protected the entire time.”
“So all those business trips? Every one of them was your coming out here to set up camp in Central America?” I ask in dazed shock.
“Not all of those trips were related to this.”
I can’t believe I was married to a mobster. Or am I still? “This can’t be happening,” I whisper to myself. Is the man so crazy he would make those types of detailed plans, going to such lengths to escape the FBI, then to trap me by playing my son against me? I guess he obviously would.
“I want to see James,” I demand.
“Not right now,” he says calmly. I run a shaky hand through my hair. I’m about to crawl out of my skin, sick with grief, when he says, “He’s waiting to see you. Hell, the boy can’t stop talking about wanting to see you.”
“Then why can’t I?”
“You’re not stable enough just yet, but mostly because I have to clue you in on a few things first.”
I’m all ears by this point, hanging on his every word. “He’s missed you terribly. You need to know he’s written you letters almost every week, but of course, I couldn’t mail them. I pretended to. I’ve saved each and every one of them for you to read over.”
Tears clog my throat. How many letters did he expect back from me, never to have received them, because I didn’t know? How many times did I crush his heart? Does he think I’m a bad mother? I cover my mouth, stifling a gut-wrenching sob.
“Hey now….” Graham tries to console me. This time, his eyes are full of remorse. He rests his elbows on either side of me to get closer, and I inhale nothing but his musky cologne. The same fragrance that used to be my favorite is now making me feel nauseous. “He wasn’t ever left hanging,” Graham softly explains, trying to calm me down. “I had Celia send me pictures of you through encrypted email, along with reply letters. He’s been hearing from you all along, and he knows how much his mother has missed him.” He pauses, his expression sincere, as he adds, “He’s a very happy boy. That much I can guarantee. You’d be proud of him, Valerie. He’s beyond his years academically.”
Bitterness boils in my blood. I’ve missed all his achievements, all his scraped knees, and everything that comes along with raising a boy. My anger is off-the-charts over the fact Celia played a mother to my son for the past year. The hate reaches to the deepest part of me, and the pent-up fury is causing my hands to shake.
Graham grasps my hands in his, trying to settle me, but I pull away. “You’re not the Graham I was married to,” I whisper, “and how dare you play James against me.”
“I’m the same man today as I was yesterday, and I’m sorry that—”
“Are you, Graham?” I ask in a steely voice. “Because if you had a conscience, you never would’ve taken him in the first place. Love doesn’t do that. I’m taking James back home with me.”
“You’re not getting it. There is no leaving. You’re in the middle of the Darian Gap. You’re in my compound, and you’re fenced in. You’re now part of this… part of me.”
My heart beats double time, my emotions all over the place. Tears well up in my eyes.
“See?” he prompts, studying me closely. “That emotion right there… that look in your eye as you think about James… that’s what I’m talking about. That look was for me not too long ago, and I want it back.” He pulls away with a heavy sigh. “I will be patient with you. I know this is going to take some time. Hell, I was warned about this, but I didn’t want to believe it. It’s only natural for you to feel animosity toward me, but once you see that everything was created here with our future in mind, I think you’ll start to lose the resentment.”
I remain quiet. There is nothing more for me to say, and there is no sense in arguing with him. He’s living in his own fantasy world, and I realize the more amenable I am, the sooner I’ll get to see James.
One thing is for certain. I will never forgive Graham for this, and I will never live this life of crime. I don’t know this man who’s sitting before me anymore. He’s some kingpin in a cartel. I can see it now. I don’t know how I didn’t before. He always carried a particular look of extreme authority that demanded respect the second he walked into a room.
I can’t help but think he was the one who hired Stryker and didn’t know who he hired. Or maybe one of his men hired Stryker, but then that wouldn’t make sense, would it? Stryker tried to get me away from those men who were coming for me. I’m severely confused right now, but I have to ask anyway.
“Did you hire anybody to watch or guard me on this trip?”
His forehead wrinkles as he thinks about what I’m asking him. “Celia was in charge. There was no need for guards, because there was nothing for anyone to be suspicious about. Plus, I didn’t want to draw attention to you.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I warn.
He looks at me oddly, and then asks, “What the hell are you getting at? Did someone follow you? Is that how the Darian Police were prepared to whisk you away?”
I immediately backpedal, and I don’t know what or how much Celia has told him. I’d imagine she wouldn’t want to tell Graham I’ve been sleeping with my old boyfriend. He’d go ballistic. I’m pretty sure, by this point, she has covered the past coupl
e days, painting them with lies.
“No, Graham,” I tell him with false irritation. “How the hell could I know anything? I don’t know who is who or what is what anymore.”
Graham leans closer, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s going to kiss me, but thankfully, he doesn’t. “I can’t believe you’re finally here,” he says, already having dismissed any suspicions. And worse, it’s as if he refuses to believe my true hatred for him.
All I can do is live in hope that Stryker will come for me, except there’s one small problem. He doesn’t know where I am. I imagine he’s going crazy this very minute.
“Where’s your wedding ring?”
I blink my eyes several times, willing my head to get back in his game. How does one even begin to catch up with a deceased husband, let alone trying to understand all the whys and wherefores, not including all his criminal activities. Our conversations are all over the place, and it’s hard for me to keep up.
“Valerie,” he warns when I don’t answer.
Is he serious right now? “I left it at home.”
“Why? You’ve never once taken it off. Why now?” He’s growing agitated at me, and that pisses me off.
“Because you were dead, Graham! And it was high time I started moving forward with my life!” I shout. His lips thin and his jaw clenches. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“Celia was supposed to keep other men from getting to you,” he tells me, as he tilts his head with suspicion. “Did she fail? Is that why you took the ring off?”
“You have no right to my personal life. You lost that the day you died,” I tell him with a sneer. “If you’re so curious, why don’t you ask your partner in crime?”
He bares his teeth at me, and I shrink back into the pillow. “She won’t say. I can’t get her to tell me anything.”
I laugh out loud, but it’s humorless, full of derision. “I’m surprised there. I mean, she’s betrayed me in every other way imaginable. Why stop now?”
