Go Big

by Joanna Blake

  Somehow though, she had.

  If this was an act of defiance… if she was punishing me for what had happened earlier in her dressing room… there would be hell to pay. She was playing a dangerous little game. I cursed as I turned a corner, finding another empty stage exit.

  The problem with the stupid set design is that there were too many places to hide. The dancers came and went from the stage through out the show, changing costumes and hairstyles. But Trista had remained on stage until the very end.

  And she should still fucking be here now!

  I’d watched the entire show instead of patrolling the area. If she’d been trying to prove to me that she could have any man alive, she’d done it. The seductive, emotional performance had made me feel like I was breaking into a million little pieces.

  When she’d sung her ballad, it felt like those pieces were put back together.

  If I hadn’t realized it before, I did now. She wasn’t just a sex object. The girl could sing.

  I’d been planning to tell her I loved her that night. I had to. I felt like the words were bursting out of me, watching her up there in the spotlight. She’d looked strong and vulnerable at the same time.

  It was the real her. The woman I loved. With no pretense.

  If she was that courageous, that brave, then I had to be too.

  But now she was fucking around and I was getting angry. Furious. Of course, she didn’t know about her stalker. The sick fuck with the penchant for disguising fan mail.

  But I did know.

  And I should have fucking told her. That was my mistake. She’d proven to me that she was a woman. She had the right to know. I’d treated her like a child.

  I was a hypocrite. I’d been wrong. And now I was paying the price for it.

  As the minutes ticked by, I was started to get worried. More than worried.

  I was petrified.

  I stared at the panels that lined the back wall. Dancers could slip in and out of the stage that way. They were black and unobtrusive.

  And the last place I hadn’t looked yet. My team had been back there but I’d been checking all the exits and coordinating the search with the venue staff. I ran to the back of the stage at full speed.

  I raced from one panel to the next, using a flashlight to sweep the small enclosures. Halfway across the stage I found something that made my blood turn to ice.

  Such a small thing.

  Such a small Earth shattering thing.

  Trista’s mic was on the ground beside a folded up square of fabric. Time seemed to stop as I bent down and used a pen to lift it to my nose. I knew what I would smell before I had a chance to sniff it.

  Chloroform.

  He’d knocked her out. He’d taken her. He had my woman.

  She was gone.

  All the times I’d faced death in battle I had never felt anything like this. Terror pulsed through my veins. I dropped the cloth and stood, alerting the venue staff and local police.

  “Tag that.”

  I barely noticed as my guys bagged the cloth and Trita’s mic. I was too busy running towards the closest exit.

  While I ran my mind spun with images of what that sick fuck might be doing to her. And a list of all the ways I had fucked up.

  Why didn’t I teach her self-defense instead of fucking her brains out?

  Why hadn’t I told her about the threat?

  Why had I let her out of my sight for even a split second?

  Why hadn’t I told her I love her?

  She was my woman. The woman I loved.

  And I had failed her.

  Trista

  I opened my eyes to soft gray light. I tried to focus my eyes, squinting in the dark. I moaned without thinking, trying to raise my hand to my head. A soft clinking sound and a strange heaviness accompanied the simple gesture.

  I stared at the thick leather cuff on my wrist. A chain attached to it. I looked down at my body and saw that all my hands and feet were bound.

  My confusion disappeared in an instant.

  I wasn’t just waking up. I’d been taken. And I was chained, helpless. At someone’s mercy.

  Panic hit me hard, thudding relentlessly through my body.

  I was laying on a mattress on the floor in what looked like an industrial warehouse. It was dark but from what I could see I was alone. Alone, chained and obviously in danger.

  But danger of what? Kidnapping for ransom? Assault? Something worse?

  I swallowed and closed my eyes, wishing Joss was here. But he wasn’t. I had to figure a way out of the situation myself.

  I inhaled deeply, willing myself to be calm. It was probably a simple kidnapping. They would want money. I would avoid eye contact and they would let me go when the studio paid up.

  Simple.

  Except… if they planned to let me go I would be blindfolded or something, wouldn’t I?

  I fought the terror down as I lay there. Then I heard it. A soft discordant whistling sound. The sound filled me with dread. And it was getting closer.

  Heavy dragging footsteps and muttering replaced the whistling. I stared in horror as a huge man walked into the cavernous space. He was wearing a mechanics uniform, smudged with grease. He was thick and strong and grinning at me stupidly.

  Oh shit!

  In my panic I had looked right at him. He had seen me do it too. Now he would never let me go…

  Stupid! I exhaled through my teeth, praying for guidance. I felt a sense of calm settle over me. Joss would come. In the meantime, what would he tell me to do.

  Remain calm first of all.

  Secondly, look for weakness.

  Thirdly, take any opportunity to escape.

  But most of all to stay alive.

  I thought quickly. He was far too big for me to fight him. That meant I had to use my wits. Trick him. If I even had a chance.

  Either way, I had to try.

  “Hello Trista.”

  I felt him kneel beside the bed. I whimpered as he ran his hands over my arms and legs, checking my bonds. He was whistling again as he let his fingers slide through my hair.

  “So pretty…”

  I couldn’t help it.

  I started to cry.

  “Shhhh… it’s okay. Don’t be scared. I’m here. We are finally together.”

  Oh God. He sounded insane. I forced myself to open my eyes.

  Up close he was even more frightening. His skin was filthy, with grease smudges on his bearded face. But it was the lack of empathy in his eyes that truly terrified me.

  “I wasn’t sure you got my letters. You got them all, right?”

  I smiled and nodded as if we were old friends.

  “I finally got you all to myself. I’ve been waiting a long time. Are you excited?”

  “Yes. It’s just-“

  “What is it? Are you hungry? I got food!”

  He looked thrilled at the thought of feeding me. I knew if he tried to make me eat I would choke on it. I shook my head vehemently.

  “No. I- I just need to go to the bathroom.”

  He frowned at me, tilting his head. Obviously he had been imagining some other sort of reaction. Then he smiled, nodding his head.

  “Okay. I will get a bucket.”

  “No- please can I just use a toilet? I’m feeling shy.”

  He stared at me for a long time. Then he grinned as if it were all a big joke.

  “Of course, you are. It’s natural to be shy. We aren’t married yet. I’ll take you, don’t you worry sweetheart.”

  The thought of this man putting his hands on me made me clammy with fear and disgust. But he was gentle as he unchained my hands and feet. He left the bonds on and attached a small chain between my wrists, holding them close together in front of me. He held my arm as he led me to a long dark hallway.

  “It’s in there. There you go.”

  He acted like he was giving me a diamond ring, he was so proud of himself. I cringed at the sight of the toilet. It was disgusting. Roaches
scattered as he flicked the light on.

  “Thank you- I-“

  I tried to shut the door but he caught it, staring at me suspiciously.

  “Married people don’t close the door when they go to the bathroom.”

  I smiled reassuringly, still pressing the door shut.

  “But we aren’t married yet, are we?”

  He was still staring as I closed the door in his face.

  Immediately I locked it, then turned in a circle, looking for anything I could use as a weapon, or to help me escape. I looked for an air vent. An intercom. Anything.

  I riffled around quickly, running the water to make it sound like I was peeing. I knew I only had so much time. I was tempted to stay in here and hope for rescue but I knew that might just make him angry.

  For now he seemed peaceable enough. Deranged but peaceable. I knew keeping him calm was as important as finding a way out.

  That’s when I saw it. A screwdriver was on the floor behind the toilet. I was reaching for it when the doorknob started turning rapidly back and forth.

  “Alright you open up now. Whatcha doing in there? Come on and OPEN THE DOOR!”

  The tenor of his voice went from amicable to furiously menacing in less than thirty seconds. I stifled a scream as the door smashed open, wood splinters flying everywhere. I sat on the toilet, bent forward and covering myself with my hands.

  “I- I’m almost finished.”

  He stared at me dumbfounded then backed out.

  He never saw the screwdriver I held against my stomach.

  Chapter Twenty

  Joss

  Time seemed to crawl by as I stared at the security footage. A multiple screen set up showed the different entrances and exits to the amphitheater. There were ten of us crammed into the security office.

  Twenty eyes scanning constantly.

  So far, nothing.

  “There!”

  We all turned in unison to stare at one of the service hallways. A huge man was pushing a laundry cart. I could see something that looked like hair hanging over the edge of it.

  I swore under my breath as the head of security adjusted the monitor. Suddenly the color came into focus.

  Red. The hair was red.

  My stomach seemed to flip flop. I almost threw up at the thought of that animal with his hands on her. He could hurt her. Scare her. Or worse.

  “Where does that hallway lead?”

  “Atlantic Avenue.”

  Great. The busiest street in Brooklyn.

  “External cameras. Hurry.”

  He nodded, pulling up the feed. We watched as the man wheeled the cart out onto the street and over to a white van. He looked around surreptitiously and then tilted the cart so that the contents rolled out, directly into the van.

  I flexed my fists as he reached inside, tenderly arranging his load… Trista’s unconscious body. If he hurt her, so help me God, he would never use those hands again.

  “Can you make out the license?”

  Everyone shook their heads. It was too dark outside to see details and the van was too far from the camera. I snapped a photo of the guy’s face with my phone and stepped into the hallway while my team coordinated with the police.

  I knew the police had their own cameras. They would find the perp. But it would take time to get the van.

  Time I didn’t have to waste.

  So I had to go up the food chain.

  Way, way up.

  “Conrad. It’s Ice. I need your help.”

  The familiar sound of Conrad’s voice reassured me. Slightly. He’d left the Marines to go on to Intelligence work. And he’d gone far. Still, I would not be able to relax for even a second until Trista was back. Safe and sound in my arms.

  I was going to take her to bed for a month and never, ever let her out of my sight again. Not even for a minute.

  “Business or pleasure?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “It’s personal. Trista Davis has been kidnapped.”

  “The pop star?”

  “Yes. She’s- she’s with me. I’m going to marry her, Con.”

  I hadn’t put it into words before. But there was no doubt in my mind that that was what I wanted. What I needed.

  As soon as I got her home safe, I would tell her so. After I kissed her senseless.

  “Fuck man, what do you need?”

  “I have a face but no license or name.”

  “Get me the photo and any other footage you have.”

  “Thanks man. I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing. I could never repay you for saving my ass multiple times. But I do want to meet the woman that finally got you to settle down. ASAP.”

  “Yeah. I promise. Just help me get her back Con”

  “You know it.”

  In ten minutes the Secret Service had gotten a match. In eleven minutes I was on the way to the suspect’s private residence. It was an apartment over a machine shop in Bushwick. I notified the police on the way, conveniently leaving out how I had gotten the information.

  God bless America.

  Trista

  My captor was singing again. It was a haunting, discordant sound. He was unbalanced, that was clear, but he was also simple minded. I felt almost sorry for him. Until he started picking me up and squeezing me like a plaything.

  His fetid breath made me gag as he laughed happily. He bounced me in the air like I was a rag doll. Just because he was happy did not reassure me in the least. I’d seen the way he snapped in the bathroom.

  Nothing he was saying made any sense. That scared me more than anything. He seemed to think we had a history together. And a future.

  Apparently, he’d been sending me letters for the past few years. Making plans for us. I had never seen anything but I kept my mouth shut, going along with it.

  He told me we were getting married.

  I smiled and nodded.

  He told me we were going to Mexico. Or Florida. Or Nebraska. His story kept changing. So did his mood.

  I smiled and nodded.

  He kissed my face, and I turned my head slightly while he slobbered over my cheek. I almost screamed when I felt the erection in his pants brush against me.

  I sagged with relief when he sat me down at a table.

  “Dinner time. You’re hungry right?”

  I was still bound so I had no choice but to agree. I was afraid of what he would do if I said no. So I just sat quietly and watched as he dumped a can of food into a pan on a hot plate. The smell of franks and beans filled the room, salty and rank.

  He sang to himself as he filled a plate and carried it over to the table.

  “We share.”

  I turned my face away when he offered me a bite.

  “Sa’matter?”

  He frowned.

  “Too hot?”

  He blew on the food and offered it to me again. I closed my eyes tightly. I was tired of playing games with him. I just wanted this to be over. Tears started to run down my face as I gave in to the terror.

  I wanted to go home.

  Wherever that was.

  The image of Joss’s house sprang to mind. I hadn’t been there long, but I’d felt safe there. Protected.

  I’d even felt loved when we were in bed together. Could he really turn it off when we weren’t being intimate? It seemed unlikely.

  It was more likely that he was just better at hiding his feelings…

  That made me feel better. If I didn’t make it out of this, I knew at least he had cared about me. If not love, at least he had felt something real for me.

  I knew it in my gut.

  What had my Gran always said?

  ‘Listen to your mind, follow your heart but trust your gut.’

  Thinking of Joss gave me courage. When my captor offered me another bite, I took it. I was chewing when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

  I took another bite, trying to look around without being obvious.

  There- by the lad
der that led to the roof. A shadow.

  My heart leapt in my chest.

  A Joss shaped shadow.

  Hope burst in my chest. He did care. He had come for me.

  I opened my mouth for another bite and slid my eyes to the side. He held his finger to his lips and I nodded imperceptibly.

  It was all going to be okay.

  I was going to be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joss

  She was alive.

  I felt my body relax as the realization hit home. I fell into combat mode. It sounded strange to say that relaxation was part of it but it was. I was in a state of relaxed readiness.

  Every muscle, every sinew was pumping with blood. Loose but poised. Prepared to spring into action. My breathing was slow and my mind was perfectly clear.

  I loved her.

  And I was going to tell her.

  The moment I got her away from that monster.

  I started calculating the best ways to attack. He was huge, thickly muscled with a layer of fat over it. He was slow, but strong.

  I suspected he was mentally-disabled, as well as disturbed.

  Fantastic.

  The one thing I was counting on was that he had no desire to hurt Trista. Not deliberately anyway. He’d drugged her and restrained her, yes. But he hadn’t hurt her.

  Not yet.

  The main thing was not to startle him into a panic.

  Cornered animals were unpredictable.

  I held onto the memory of his letters. Not one of his disgusting ‘love notes’ had been violent in nature. Creepily, childishly romantic- yes. ‘I want to wear your skin’ scary- no.

  Thank God for small favors.

  Not that she shouldn’t be terrified. I was impressed to see her keeping her cool, playing along with him. I watched in awe as she distracted him, smiling and thanking him for the food.

  My girl was cool as a cucumber.

  I crouched low, sticking to the shadows as I approached. The cops would be here soon. But I needed to be close in case he panicked and did something rash once he heard the sirens.