Completely at random, I picked the fourth door on my right, jerked open the door and threw myself inside, slamming the door shut behind me. I pressed my ear against the door and heard the man's footsteps emerge onto the hallway, then stop.
“Oh, Christ... You've got to be fucking kidding me!”
I held my breath, daring to be optimistic for the moment. There were three other doors on either side of the hallway he would have to search before he got to this one, and that might buy me just enough time...
To do what, though?
I heard the first door on my side open, and my assailants voice ringing out, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
I rolled my eyes, and calculated. How soon would it be before he got to me? If he went straight down my side he was only three doors away. But what if he went back and forth from side to side? First door on the right, first door on the left, second door on the right, second door on the left...
Six more doors, then.
And what options did I have? Simply make a run for it while he was inside one of the other rooms, and pray that I was as lucky enough to get a lead on him again?
No, there had to be a better way...
I heard him open the second door, and step inside. But this too was on my side, rather than the alternating zigzag, left and right, that would have bought me more time.
Shit!
I needed to come up with something fast... I could wait until he was in door number three, grab a chair, wedge it up against the door handle, trapping him inside. Then I could run and get Luc! Yes! That was it!
Provided, of course, that there was a chair handy anywhere in the room.
I turned quickly, and squinted into the darkness at my surroundings, trying for the first time to figure out where exactly I'd ended up.
There were no chairs. The only items of furniture around me were trophy cases– I'd managed to end up in Luc's trophy room!
It was a scarier plan, but it might be the only chance I had.
I rushed over to one of the cases, opened up, and pulled out a particularly sharp looking college football trophy.
Please, please, please God, be enough!
This couldn't be the way it ended. I couldn't have come this far, found love or something like it with the man of my dreams, only to have it torn from my arms the very same evening I'd found it, and at such long, long last.
“Vanessa! Be a good girl, now!” the attacker's voice rang, as the third door on my side was opened. “This can all be over a lot faster, a lot more painlessly if you'll just cooperate!”
Vanessa? He thought I was Vanessa? She did live here with Luc, of course, at least when she wasn't out bedding his teammates. An absurd fantasy flitted through my thoughts, that maybe I could simply pop out, explain to him that he had the wrong woman, and that this was all just a big misunderstanding.
But of course that wouldn't fly.
I was running out of time now, and naive fantasies were a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment.
In desperation I rushed over to the door and hid behind it, trophy held aloft in my hand, knuckles turning white around the base of it. I stood pressed as close to the wall as I could get, breath held, heart pounding furiously in my chest.
His footsteps were approaching, slowly down the hallway, growing nearer and nearer toward me.
“Come on now, Vanessa... Be a good girl and come on out! Olly olly oxen free!”
His hand was on the doorknob. It raddled against the wood.
The wind in my lungs was about to burst, and tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!
Clk.
The door squeaked and pivoted on its hinges. The attacker stood inside the doorway for a moment, his breath sounding like that of a rabid wolf, ready to huff and to puff and to blow my house in.
I waited, and waited, and knew that my timing would be everything.
He took one step into the room, and then another, his gun held aloft.
“I don't want to have to shoot you,” he snarled, “but I will if I have to...”
And all at once I leapt at him, screaming.
There was a sickening crack as the trophy made contact with his nose. He howled with pain, and there was a clacking sound as one of his teeth popped out of his mouth, and went bouncing across the tile floor.
“GAH! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”
He thrust the gun in my direction, but I slammed the trophy against him once more before he managed to perfect his aim.
“I'M NOT FUCKING VANESSA!” I screamed, as though this was at all relevant at this point. The base of the trophy cracked against his forehead, its component parts snapping in two and the football clanging to the ground. There was a deafening crack, so loud that I was sure I must have been shot, despite feeling no pain beyond the ringing in my ears. Instead I heard the glass of one of the cases shattering, shards spilling like sand from an hourglass all over the floor in front of me.
I turned and saw my attacker swaying on his feet, looking for a moment like he could go either way– his muscles could collapse, or else snap back to full strength and fire again at me at any moment. Finally, though, he tilted backwards, his body angling in slow motion like a falling tree. Then at last he collapsed, his legs giving out from under him, his unconscious body hitting the floor like a sack of potatoes. His arm sprawled out in front of him, and his gun went sliding out into the hallway from his limp, twitching fingers.
I stared at the man, wide-eyed, wondering whether I might have killed him, not sure whether or not to hope that I had.
But there was no time for that now.
I threw the bloody football trophy down among the shattered glass littering the floor. I stepped past it carefully, a bloody bare foot the last thing I needed right now, and bolted over the unconscious man's body into the hallway. I stooped to grab his pistol from the floor, paid the man one final glance, then hurried off, yelling for help as loudly as I could.
This, I quickly learned, was a mistake...
“Luc! Luc! Please, help me!”
I rounded into the adjacent hallway and nearly lost my balance in the process. I stormed forward several dozen more yards, certain to the point of arrogance that this entire nightmare was about to be over.
What I didn't see, what I couldn't see, was the second darkened figure lurking in the shadows, waiting for me, alerted to my approach by the sound of my cries, and ready for me the instant I drew near.
A body materialized from the pitch blackness. Arms reached out and seized me, fingers around my neck. I shrieked. I fired the gun once, twice, three times.
Out of bullets.
“Now, now. No need for that. It's all over now. You've done your part. Just lie back and rest. It'll all be over soon.”
“No! No! No!” I screamed, kicking and flailing, trying in utter desperation to free myself from the man's vice like grip. But then came the damp rag, pressed against my face. The burning smell of either, tears flowing from my eyes. The already considerable darkness of the hallway getting blacker and blacker, the snowflakes through the picture window drifting so slowly, so quickly out of focus.
“I'm not Vanessa!” I protested with my very last breath, as though it mattered at all at this point. “I'm not– Vaness–“
And then I was no one.
I slipped away, off into unfathomable distances, never to be stirred again, I was sure.
This was it. This was the end for me.
At least I'd gotten my love story, I told myself. Even if it had lasted for only a single night...
6
Luc
I awoke to the magnificent light of morning, beaming from the fresh blanket of snow that had covered up the lawn overnight. I sat slowly up in bed, feeling rested, feeling incredible.
I can't believe that really happened, I thought, and it felt as though my entire life had been turned around. The hollow feeling that had remained lodged in my chest
the entire past week, and really for the past decade of my life or so, had been filled up at last. My muscles quivered with the memory of Sylvia's thin body pressed up against me. I smiled at the memory of her warm breath, and of her dark eyes permeating deep into my soul.
That did it, I told myself. I was going to tell her that I loved her. Maybe it was too soon, but that didn't make the feeling any less real. I loved her, and I needed her to know it. From the sound of things, she seemed about as interested in me as I was in her, and the way I saw it we'd already wasted enough time.
She deserved honesty from me. She deserved everything in the world that I could give her.
I wanted to give it to her.
The only problem was, at that particular moment, there didn't seem to be anyone around for me to give that love to.
I hung my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching naked in the sunlight, trying to figure out what had become of the woman who'd shared my bed with me the previous evening. I pressed a hand to her side of the bed. It was cold, apparently vacated for quite some time now.
I scratched my chin, and peered down at the scattered remains of our love across the floor. Her bra and her dress. My hastily removed pants and underwear, along with my football jacket. Her panties were missing, I noticed, as well as the t-shirt I'd had on beneath my jacket the night before.
I smiled, as a cozy domestic scene suddenly materialized in my mind. A girlfriend in her hubby's oversized t-shirt and panties, and absolutely nothing else as she stood at the stove, cooking breakfast for the two of them.
The image relaxed me, and I sighed, thinking that that, or something like it, must be the case.
I stood up, worked my body from side to side to work out all the kinks, then stooped over to pick my discarded shorts up from off the floor, and slid into them.
I yawned, left the bedroom, and made my way lazily down the hallway, scratching my ass as I went. I stopped at the picture window facing out back, dazzled once more by the glowing fields of snow under the morning sunshine that greeted me there.
“Beautiful day,” I muttered to myself. The first of many, I was confident. Then I continued my way down the hall and to the kitchen.
Only Sylvia wasn't there, either.
Puzzled I stood there, looking around for any sign of her, but there was none to be found. The stove was off, all the burners completely cold. I furrowed my brow.
I went out to the front door and peered through the glass. Her car was still there, piled up with snow, so she hadn't left while I was asleep.
“The hell?” I muttered, unable to figure this out.
I strode back down the hallway. Tried the bathroom, but the door was open, and there was no one inside.
I began to grow worried.
“Sylvia! Sylvia!” I called out, expecting and not expecting her to echo back to me at any moment, and clear all of this up with some simple explanation.
But she never did. She didn't make a single sound. The woman I was in love with, it seemed, wasn't anywhere to be found.
I stood in the center of the hallway, nervously biting on the inside of my cheek. I kept going, and turned down the adjacent hallway, and only four doors down I saw it.
The folded note taped to the door of my trophy room. Dried blood smeared along the wood and across the floor.
My heart did somersaults, certain I would open the door and find her beautiful body lying sprawled out on the floor inside. I shoved the door open and rushed inside without thinking.
“Ah! Motherfucker!” Shards of broken glass dug into the sole of my foot, thankfully none of them large enough to do any significant damage on their own. I dug the pieces out, blood trickling from my sole. I peered over to see that one of my trophy cases had been burst open. A college football trophy lay discarded on the floor, broken in two, the silver football snapped clean from its base. Both parts were positively drenched in blood.
But there was no body.
Whether that was a relief or still more cause for concern, I still wasn't sure.
I stepped back out of the room, holding my breath, my hand trembling as my fingers clasped around the edge of the note. I tore it from the door, and unfolded it, vision blurring as I tried to take in the words.
“Congratulations, old friend, on your incredible Superbowl victory. It's been everywhere, all over the news. We here at the RDS couldn't be happier for you.
Unfortunately, I'm afraid, we also have a problem. You seem to have forgotten which team you're really playing for. About how no one who ever joins the RDS ever leaves it. You seem to be laboring under the delusion that you are the exception to the rule. But the RDS doesn't make exceptions. The RDS makes examples out of those who believe they are exceptions, as I fear we must now do to you.
We cannot allow our members to underestimate the commitment they have made to our organization. We cannot allow one of our lifelong members, prospering as you so clearly are, to believe that they can get away without paying their proper dues.
We have your sister Vanessa. She is safe, for now. No harm will come to her, except perhaps by your own hand.
Bring us $100 million in cash within three days' time, and you may just get to see her again, and in one piece at that. Otherwise, no promises can be made.
The clock is ticking, so please. Be quick about it. And most importantly, be discreet. If you even think about dragging the police into this, it will be the end of you, and everything you care about. Including your precious, vulnerable sister.
Don't do anything stupider than you've already done, and maybe we can still work this out.
Sincerely yours,
Your loving family, forever.”
I stared at the note, my absolute worst suspicions confirmed.
Vanessa? No... No, that couldn't be right!
I raced back down the hallway to my room, hobbling on my still bleeding foot. I yanked my jeans up off the floor and dug through the pockets for my iPhone. I opened up my contacts and pounded the tip of my finger against Vanessa's photo. The phone began to ring, and I brought it impatiently up to my ear.
“Come onnnn, comeoncomeoncomeon...”
“Hi, you've reached Vanessa Stalworth! I'm unavailable to take your call right now, but please leave your name, number, and message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!”
“Damn it!”
I hit redial.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hi you've reached Vanessa–“
End call.
“Come on Vanessa! Please, please, pleeeease!”
Redial.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Clk.
“Oh my God, Luc, what do you want? I'm a grown woman, you don't need to check up on me every time I decide to stay over at–“
“Oh, thank God, Vanessa! Vanessa, where are you right now?”
“Um... I'm at Daryl's house, exactly where I told you I was going to be, not that it's any of you–“
“Okay good. Please, please stay there. Or, I don't know, how safe is it there? Does he have a security system, or–“
Not that my own alarm had stopped them from getting in here. They must have disabled it, I surmised.
“Jesus, Luc, what the hell is going on?”
“What is it babe?” I heard a second voice ask her on the other end of the line, and I was too shaken to even be disgusted by it at that point.
“Someone broke into the house last night, after the party. Or hell, I don't know... Maybe they snuck in with the other partygoers, then stayed until after the place had cleared out. I guess that would explain how–“
“Oh my God! Did they take anything, or–“
“You...”
“Wh-what?”
“They left a note, and they said they kidnapped you. That's why I'm calling. That's why you cannot come around here.”
“Luc, I'm fine! You don't need to worry, I swear!”
“No,” I said, shaking my head as though she could see it over the phone. “N
o, you don't understand. I do need to worry, because they did take someone. Someone they must have thought was you but wasn't...”
“Oh my God, who?!”
I hesitated, unsure how my sister might take the news that I'd hooked up with her best friend. Then again, in all probability she was naked in bed next to one of my teammates at the moment, so she could hardly say it was unfair of me.
“You remember how you asked me to keep an eye on Sylvia last night after you left?”
“Uh– oh my God... You and Sylvia–?”
“We went to bed together, yes! And her car's still here, and she isn't, and the only thing that makes sense is that they knew you lived here, and they thought she was you and–“
“They thought I would be in your bed with you?”
“What? No! I think she got up or something during the night. There's blood and broken glass all over my trophy room, and they said she was alright, but–“
“Oh my God Luc, you have to call the police right now! What if they do something to her?!”
“No!” I said. “No police! They said in their note they'd hurt her if I got the cops involved, and I know these people! They will absolutely make good on such promises if prompted to do so...”
“You know these people?!”
“I did,” I said, hating myself more and more even as I said the words.
“So what, you're just going to sit there and do nothing?!”
“God, no, I'm working on it! I'm going to get her back!”
She broke down crying suddenly, and this was the last thing that I needed at the moment.
“Luc! Oh God, Luc! You better get her back! You can't let anything happen to her! I just don't understand!”
“I know,” I said, trying to calm her down and end this conversation. “I know... Look, just stay there with Daryl. Maybe even get out of town together if you can, somewhere safe while I sort this out. I promise you I will sort this out. Sylvia will be okay, I promise you! Just lay low, and I'll call you when this is all over. I promise you.”
But as I ended the call, I wasn't at all convinced that I could live up to my own word.
The Red Zone: Second Chance Sports Romance Page 5
