The dark envelops me yet again. I use my hands to sit up, and when I do, I feel lightheaded and dizzy. It takes me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Do I have anything on me that could help—my cell, the watch Elle gave me—so I can send out a message? But not surprisingly, a delve into my pockets turn up nothing, not even a stray coin—they’ve taken it all.
With a sigh, I turn my attention to my feet, which are still bound. I pull them toward me, but the plastic ties that secure them together turn out to be unbreakable with my bare hands. To hell with it—I’ll get up and explore my surroundings. Pressing my fisted hands into the mattress at my sides, I get to my feet. The first thing I notice is the dim outline of the table. As I take a hop toward it, I breathe in a mouthwatering aroma that gets my stomach growling. So that’s what is on the tray: food. I take a few more hops until I reach the table’s edge. My hand finds the back of a chair and I scrape it backward, twisting my body to seat myself.
My hands feel for the tray and find a small plate and a bowl that still feels warm on the outside. Next to it is a plastic spoon. I scoop up some food from the bowl and put it in my mouth. It turns out to be rice with some flavored meat—pork or chicken—, and the plate holds a small mound of pickled vegetables. To my surprise, it’s not all that bad, and I polish off the bowl by tipping it and spooning the last few morsels into my mouth. I wash away the greasy rice with a glass of lukewarm water I find on the tray.
After the meal, I feel a lot better. My stomach is full, and my aches and pains have subsided. My thoughts turn to my captor. If he is feeding me, there is still hope. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be killing me in the immediate future; he must be waiting for the ransom.
When I stand, I feel a pressing sensation on my bladder. What am I going to do? I don’t have a choice; I have to go to the door, bang on it, and call out for a restroom break. Surely he won’t let me soil myself and in the process, dirty the room.
I hop to the nearest wall and use my hand to hold on to it. I slowly proceed toward the door, feeling my way along. When I’m a few feet away from the door, I feel a ridge and a change of texture.
Another door!
It doesn’t take me long to find the knob and turn it. To my surprise, it’s unlocked. And as I open the door, the cool air and acrid odor indicate I have found exactly what I was looking for: a bathroom. I hop inside, feeling for a light switch on the tiled walls. I soon give up, spurred on by my increasingly pressing needs, and locate a sink. Next to it I find a toilet—thank God. After I relieve myself, I use the sputtering tap to wash my hands. I splash some water on my face and my neck, relishing its cooling effect. Having my basic needs fulfilled makes me feel a lot better—more human.
I feel around the sink, and am excited to find a cord above it. I pull it carefully. With a click, a light comes on: a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling illuminates the small bathroom. I am taken aback by the image in front of me. Bloodshot eyes, straggly hair, a bearded jaw—it’s my own reflection in the mirror. I am wearing a smudged and wrinkled white business shirt, open at the top, the first four buttons torn off. The shirt is half tucked into my navy business pants, and pulling up the legs reveals my laced shoes, and right above them, white plastic zip ties holding my ankles together.
I pull the door open as far as it will go to allow the bathroom light to flow into the bedroom. It is just as I imagined; it’s sparsely furnished with the single iron bed pushed against the opposite wall, the table in the middle, and a wooden cabinet next to the bathroom. On my right hangs a flowery curtain. Would it be covering a window?
But before I am able to find out, I hear a scrape and a click from the direction of the door. I place my hand against the wall, bracing myself for the confrontation with my captor. Was I supposed to find the bathroom? Am I allowed to switch on the light?
The door cracks open, and this time the bathroom light helps me discern the facial features of my captor stepping into the room. From his side profile, his round face looks as if a steamroller has flattened it. Somehow he looks familiar, but I dismiss the thought. Since we’ve arrived in China, I have seen so many men just like him.
The flat-faced man turns his gaze to me, but instead of grabbing me, as I expected, he flips on a light switch and strides toward the bed. The room is bathed in light, and I am studying my captive surroundings when another man appears in the doorway. In his twenties, he is a head shorter than Flat Face, but just as heavy-set, with his red Ralph Lauren polo shirt straining around his middle, its hem edging above a pair of belted khaki chinos. Combined with his modern black rimmed glasses, he looks like the epitome of new money—the rich 2G as Cecil called them.
“Ah, you’ve found the bathroom. Excellent.”
His accent sounds British, and this confirms my hunch: he must have studied in England, which means he comes from a wealthy family. A realization washes over me: he must be the mastermind behind this operation.
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Michael. Come, sit down and we’ll talk.”
He hisses a command to Flat Face, who grabs my arm and drags me to the bed, where he sits me down. Squatting down, he takes hold of my ankles with one hand and with the other, he cuts my restraints with a knife.
Michael pulls the chair from under the table and spins it around. “I trust you won’t try to escape, Mr De Luca. You’ll see I’m a reasonable man. If you cooperate, I’ll see to it that no harm will come to you.”
Slowly lifting my legs, I rub my ankles. They are so stiff and sore, I couldn’t even run if I wanted to.
Michael sits down on the chair, facing me. “I guess you wonder why you’re here.”
“I’m pretty sure I already know.”
“Oh yes? Please enlighten me, I’d be interested to find out.”
I sigh. “This is about money. Tell me how much you want. I’ll pay.”
His brow shoots up. “Not everything is about money, Mr De Luca.”
I snort. “Really? What are you trying to tell me? That you’ve abducted me—for what? For nothing? Don’t tell me no money is involved. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I’ve never said this has absolutely nothing to do with money. Of course it does. But sometimes it’s just not enough.”
“I believe there’s a price for everything. Just give me a number.”
Michael shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that.”
“If you’re not after my money, tell me what I can do for you to release me.”
“Right now, Mr De Luca, there’s nothing you can do. It’s all up to your girlfriend now.”
My heart skips a beat. This can’t be happening. If he has Elle, if he does something to her, I’m going to kill him. I stand, my fists balled by my side.
“My girlfriend? What about her? What have you done to her?”
I am about to take a step forward, but Flat Face flashes his knife in front of my face.
“Calm down, Mr De Luca. She’s fine.”
“Did you take her, too? Is she here?”
“As I said, I’m trying to be reasonable. But we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
Raising my hands, I inhale deeply, willing myself to stay calm. “Just tell me if you’ve taken her.”
“No, I haven’t. But don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on her. A very close eye.”
“She’ll pay you. Just ask her to pay you.”
He laughs. “Yes, I know she will. She’ll try, anyway.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean by that?”
“Let’s just say, she’ll be the one responsible for your freedom. It’s up to her if you get out of here or not. Your life is in her hands.”
“What the hell are you getting her to do?”
His lips lift into a smirk. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
I point at him. “Don’t you dare touch her! You can do anything to me you like, but stay away from her.”
“Or what?
What are you going to do? You’re not exactly in a position to make demands.”
I press my lips together, bristling inwardly at the knowledge that he is right—there is nothing I can do.
The asshole smirks at me. “I thought so. The only thing I’m asking from you is to cooperate. If you do exactly what I tell you to, everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“Just promise me you won’t hurt Elle. I’ll do anything. Anything. As long as you don’t hurt her.”
“We’ll see. But right now, I need you to calm down, to stay quiet. Can you do that?”
I nod.
He takes out his cell and presses on the screen. I hear it ring twice before a female voice picks up.
“You said you wanted proof? Here it is,” Michael barks into the cell.
Keeping his eyes on me, he stands and holds the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
My breath catches in my lungs. It’s Elle!
Hearing her husky voice again makes a warm glow radiate through my chest.
“Elle, is that really you?”
“Ryder! Baby, are you okay? Did they hurt you? I’m so worried about you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m okay, beautiful, I’m—”
Michael snatches the phone away from me, and as I am grasping at the air trying to get it back from him, Flat Face’s thick hand shoves me on the bed. I hear Elle’s muffled screams on the other end of the line, and Michael narrows his eyes at me, his fingers making the gesture of a gun toward the cell.
I raise my hands. The least I want to do is get Elle into more trouble. If I lose control, God knows what they’ll do to her.
“As you can hear, your boyfriend is alive and well. Now get on with it.”
After ending the call and putting his cell in his pocket, he turns to me. “As you can hear, she’s unharmed.”
He gets up and turns to the door, with Flat Face following him like a dog.
“Oh, and Mr De Luca? I trust you won’t do anything crazy without the restraints. I know exactly where your girlfriend is and what she’s doing. Don’t ever forget—I can get to her, and if I have to, I’ll hurt her.”
He steps into the doorway.
“Wait!” I say, and he turns around. “Please, there’s no need for her to get involved. I’ll do whatever you want her to do. I’m willing to make sacrifices. I told you, money is no object.”
“Be patient now, Mr De Luca. All in its own time.”
He disappears in the next room while Flat Face closes the door and locks it behind him.
I drop my head into my hands.
What’s going to happen now? I don’t give a damn about what will happen to me, but the thought of Elle getting hurt makes me see red. They could kidnap her, imprison her—who knows what else? And there’s absolutely nothing I can do. Not even my millions, or billions of dollars can help me now. I have never felt more helpless in my life.
I just have to face it: there’s nothing I can do but wait.
Chapter 9
Elle
I’m mulling over my options.
Borrowing from a loan shark: this would be the easiest way to get the mil together. But if he really does monitor me closely, he’d find out I didn’t exactly earn the money.
Dealing drugs: I wouldn’t know where to start, and even if I would, it would take me a whole lot longer than a night to earn such a huge amount.
Betting: in Hong Kong, the locals are passionate about horse racing, but I don’t know much about it, let alone make money from it. Besides, races are held only on certain days, and today is not one of them. Online betting is not an option, either, as I won’t be able to collect my winnings in cash. If I were at home, I could have taken part in some bike races, but even those wouldn’t make me a million dollars in a night.
Selling my body: again, it wouldn’t nearly make me enough, especially not in this short time span.
I heave a sigh and turn to lay face-down in bed, my face buried in the pillow. This whole situation doesn’t make sense to me. If he wants the million, why can’t I just withdraw it from the bank? As long as he gets it, he shouldn’t care about where I get it from. And how would he know if I’ve actually earned the money or not? He can’t possibly follow my every move.
I have to put it to the test.
I jump up from the bed and get changed into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. My hair is in a ponytail, which I hide under a black cap. I put my own cell in my pocket, but leave Ryder’s behind. He must be using its GPS signal to keep track of my movements.
When I reach the street, I follow the crowd, trying to blend in as much as I can. At every intersection, I turn, and after a few more turns I find myself in a deserted alley. I advance carefully, glancing around me constantly to make sure no one is following me. When I reach the end of the alley, I swiftly turn the corner and press my back against the wall. I slowly swing my head around the corner.
No one.
I breathe a sigh of relief. The asshole who abducted Ryder must be using his cell as a tracking device. I have bought myself a short window of time; I shouldn’t waste a minute of it. Determined, I start walking again, negotiating the masses of people until I spot a sign for the subway station. Inside, I find what I’m looking for—an ATM. I retrieve my cash card from my back pocket, intending to withdraw the maximum amount, which is probably not much, but every bit helps.
I insert my card, which the machine swallows with a click. A prompt for my PIN number appears on the screen. So far so good.
My finger presses the “1” key, and I feel a vibration in my pocket.
Damn.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The fury emanating from the receiver causes me to take a step back.
“Do what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re getting cash from the ATM.”
“How—how did you know?”
“I told you, I know all your moves. And it seems you’re not listening. I told you, no withdrawals from the bank. You’ve got to earn the money.”
“I just need a little bit to get me going.”
“I’m warning you. I. Will. Hurt. Him. If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I can assure you, you won’t get him back in one piece. Now, take the card out and get busy. Time is ticking.”
“Why can’t I just give you the money? I’ll get you—”
A click. He’s hung up the phone.
I’m frozen to the spot, and would have remained so, weren’t it for the insistent beeping of the ATM. When it spits out my card, I yank it out of the slot and toss it against the wall.
I’m done for.
The asshole knows where I am. He’s tracking me through Ryder’s cell and mine. What I should do is get another phone so he won’t be able to find me. But what if I miss a call? He’ll know exactly what’s up. As it is, I’m already wasting precious time. Time I should have used to figure out a way to earn the money.
Feeling numb and hollow inside, I trudge up the stairs. Outside, the neon lights are flickering on to illuminate the darkening streets. In the distance sounds the horn of a ferry, and between the tall buildings appears a sparkle: the last rays of sunlight reflecting on the harbor. I plod on mechanically, the water drawing me near. When I reach the waterfront, I sink down to my knees. I grab my cap and toss it in the water where it lands on its surface, floating, not even giving me the satisfaction of a splash.
I have to face the truth: there is only one way to earn that money in time. A way that I’ve dismissed outright. It’s just too risky. And it’s the very last thing I’d want to do.
Gambling.
I vowed to myself I’d never gamble. It goes against my anti-capitalist principles—accumulating money being its sole objective. But I also have my personal reasons. After my father’s death, my grieving mother took some of his insurance payout to go to the Resorts World casino. She soon got hooked on the slot machines, increasing her weekly visits to twice, thrice a week, and not long after tha
t, she called in daily.
What started as some harmless fun—a way to momentarily forget her sorrows—became out-of-control binges. Plied with alcohol, she became an addict, gambling nearly all our savings away. We almost lost our house if it weren’t for my aunt, her sister, who got her out of her mess just in time. We struggled to make ends meet for a long time, and the added stress didn’t help in our domestic situation.
What little we had of a mother-daughter relationship swiftly deteriorated after my uncle’s fateful visit. She refused to believe he raped me, to ensure her brother would keep his promise of giving her money. Who knows how my life had turned out, had my mother not turned to the casino. That is why I’ve always been dead set against gambling.
But at this very moment, I don’t see another way out—I have to break my vow.
With odds stacked against the player, gambling is a huge risk; it is a near impossible task to win against the casino. But what choice do I have? There is no other way I’ll be able to get the money together in such a short time. I have to give it a shot.
I stand and hardly straighten out when my cell vibrates. My heart jumps—it must Ryder’s abductor. Perhaps this time I can talk him into giving me some more time. I pick up the call, but it’s not who I expect.
“Hey. Are you all right? Have you found Ryder yet?”
It’s Ying. I should have known she would call me. I wish I could just tell her what is going on, but I can’t take the risk—I’m pretty sure my cell is wiretapped.
“Um, yeah. I have.”
“That’s great. So, where has he been all day?”
“He was in meetings. He was so busy he forgot to call me. And then he found out he’d lost his phone.”
“What? Forgot to call you? So this wasn’t what we thought? You know, the jewelry he was supposed to pick up?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The disappointment in my voice is real. How I wish he was playing some game. As much as the thought filled me with fear before, I’d give anything for him to propose to me right now.
Burn for You Page 11
