Completely drained and both physically and mentally strained to my breaking point, I curl up on my side against the seat. I distance myself the best I can from Alreck and his implacable personality. Feeling abjectly helpless, I cry myself into a fitful sleep.
***
Waking from a dreamless sleep, I jerk upright as his vehicle rolls to a stop. There’s a tiny marina directly in front of us with a group of fisherman preparing their boats at the shoreline. The sun is just starting to show over the horizon. I blink several times, coming fully awake, and look over toward my captor, who is staring at me with an indecipherable expression on his face.
How long has he been staring at me? I open my mouth to ask but think better of it. I don’t want to rile him right off the bat because something tells me that this man is like a jungle tiger that you don’t ever want to poke with a stick.
“We take the ferry from here.”
His head inclines slightly toward a modern white and navy blue ferry with the name “Isen Maiden” written in bold letters across its sprawling back. The boat is three levels high and cars are beginning to load onto the lower deck. A fresh wave of familiar dread washes over me.
As if sensing it he says, “You will not cause me any problems here. Are we clear on this?”
The seriousness of his tone nearly makes me shudder. Without many other options, I nod and watch helplessly as his truck is waved ahead to cross the threshold onto the sleek vessel.
“We will get out once the ship has left land. I don’t trust you until then. From here we should arrive in The Lofoten Islands in just over three hours.”
I clench my fists against my jeans in frustration and ask him in a low, measured tone, “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? What you’re doing is barbaric and unjust. You do realize that it’s just a matter of time before I get the hell away from you, right?”
There has to be one person around here who knows the English term for Help me, I’ve been abducted.
I level him with a glare and for the first time see a flash of empathy in his luminous eyes.
“I won’t harm you,” he says quietly. “It would be best for you to understand that and accept that what’s happening is inevitable. We had no choice in this matter.”
“What are you talking about, Alreck?” I’m getting sick of all of the cloak-and-dagger responses. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Alreck doesn’t reply and I start to wonder if his cryptic statements are a sign he just might be playing with less than a full deck.
The boat suddenly lurches forward as we depart land.
Great, even farther from freedom now.
“Come with me, American. There’s a small snack bar inside. They serve tea and simple food. We should have breakfast now.” Alreck slips out of the truck and I follow behind, not too keen on hanging out in the freezing cold. There are only a few other vehicles on the deck alongside us and we weave our way through them. Most of the cars are already vacant.
“Why did you try to freeze me into an ice cube when I was unconscious?” I ask, suddenly curious.
Annoyed, Alreck pauses beside an empty car and replies, “I was trying to wake you up, not freeze you. You were never supposed to be out that long.”
Drugged, kidnapped? Ugh! What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower right now.
I tuck my shivering hands deep into my warm down pockets and ignore him as the side deck of the vessel comes into full view. My steps involuntarily slow and finally come to a halt as I stare in awe at the majestic fjord before me. I was so focused on not boarding the massive ferry at the marina that I didn’t pay attention. Now the view demands it.
The wide, winding body of fast moving water gracefully snakes its way endlessly toward what I assume is the open sea. I reach a hand out to steady myself on the rail as I tilt my head way back to look up at the imposing snowcapped mountains rising straight up from the crystal blue water. They surround us, essentially creating a valley.
“It’s breathtaking,” I whisper and continue to gaze at the stunning wonder that effortlessly humbles the humans who witness it.
Alreck perches his hip nonchalantly on the rail as he stares down at me. His voice is smooth as he asks, “You like the fjord?”
Despite myself I gush, “Oh yes, I’ve never seen anything so wondrous.”
His eyes break away from mine and slowly roam my face. I feel the heat of a tell-tale blush creep up my neck, so I’m relieved when he turns his head to take in the view with a thoughtful, introspective gaze.
“They were formed thousands of years ago by icebergs that broke away from glaciers. There are several famous ones throughout Norway. Come, before you freeze. You’ll have several hours yet to gaze out at the fjord.”
We enter through a thick glass sliding door and the warmth from within feels wonderful. It’s so nice to be out of the confines of his truck that I sigh in relief. The room we enter appears to be in the central gathering area of the ferry and there are both passengers and crewmen milling about the light-filled, open space. The crewmen are all wearing uniforms consisting of a light blue dress shirt with a dark tie and silver tie clip coupled with dark dress pants and black shoes. The passengers are dressed smartly in Northern European style—fine sweaters paired with pressed slacks and well-made leather shoes or high boots. I’m suddenly longing for a change of clothing and a much needed bath.
Inviting cushioned club chairs and low wooden tables are scattered about. Three of the four walls are made up of wide glass windows that offer a spectacular view of the fjord winding before us. Although the motion of the ferry is smooth, the constant undulation is noticeable and it takes me a moment to get my bearings.
“Sit here. I will get us something from the café bar.” He points toward a corner table located near the windows.
He’s gone before I can respond as I take a seat and shed my thick coat. It’s a relief to sit alone, if only for a minute. From what I can discern, the voices from the other passengers seem to be mostly Scandinavian. However, I spy a young Japanese couple at a table close to the opposite set of windows.
There must be someone around here to whom I can plead my case. I bet most anyone here would understand me if I explained I need help. I’ll wait for the perfect time. Patience, Vail.
“Here’s a pot of tea for us. I will be back with the food. Do you need sugar or milk?”
Thoughtful.
“Just sugar please.”
I watch as he moves swiftly across the area to pick up a large tray from the male attendant at the bar. The young man is clearly wary of Alreck and takes a small step away from him. Who wouldn’t be intimidated? He towers over everyone here and is so confident and in control of his movements that he’s mesmerizing to watch.
Stop it right now. He kidnapped me and I detest him. No matter how hot he is …
Alreck returns with the large white tray and my eyes widen at the wonderful array of breakfast items. There is the typical Jarlsberg cheese with flatbread, a little plate of smoked salmon and an assortment of homemade jams with butter. My stomach gives off a loud rumble.
“This looks amazing, thanks.”
“Different from your big American breakfasts but this is all that is served on the ferry.”
“This is perfect, thank you.” I watch him shrug off his leather jacket and study the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally 2012 black t-shirt straining across his massive chest.
As I pour my tea I glance up and ask, “May I?” The pot hovers over his empty cup.
Glorious eyes lock with mine. “Takk. I mean yeah, thanks.”
I fill his cup with the aromatic tea and set the pot between us on the round wooden table.
Nodding to his t-shirt, I ask him, “Have you been there?”
Glancing down at his chest and back to me he answers, “Yeah, twice. I missed last year but Mikkel brought this back for me. Good times. South Dakota is quite a scenic place to ride. Have you ever been there?”
I’m sur
prised by the question. “No. I’ve heard that it’s incredibly scenic, especially in warm weather. So, do you ship your bike over?”
“We all do. We have friends in San Francisco who are bikers. They own a garage where they also build custom rides. We ship our bikes via freighter ahead of the flight and then we all ride out from there.” His chin tilts down an inch toward the table. “You should eat.”
I slather the thick strawberry jam onto the warm bread. It’s so fresh that I nearly groan as I bite down in delight.
“You don’t like fish?”
I swallow and then reply, “I like it just fine. But as you like to point out on a routine basis, being American, it’s just not a part of my regular morning routine. It’s all yours, big guy.”
I slide the plate across the small space and watch his full, pink lips twist into a grin.
What would it be like to have those lips all over mine? Would he be rough and forceful, as his demeanor suggests? I turn my eyes to the window, searching for something to look at that will keep my mind off the subject. “What body of water does this fjord flow toward?”
He takes a sip of tea before answering. “It ends at the Norwegian Sea, which we will cross on our way to port.”
“Oh.” His answer reminds me of the gravity of my situation, effectively killing all earlier fantasies. “Listen, I really need my eye drops and toothbrush. I assume that they’re both in my bag. Is it somewhere in the truck?”
Suspicion crosses his face as his brows draw together. “Yeah, okay. Finish your tea then I will walk you back to get it.”
“Um, can I wait here? I just got warm.”
His eyes tighten and pin me like a dart. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine,” I mumbled and turn to face the window again. At some point, he has to let me out of his sight. Right?
Chapter Five
***
You’re Fast, But I’m Faster
Nearly two hours have passed since we arrived on the ferry and I wonder if this could be my opportunity. Apparently even big bad bikers find it difficult to go more than twenty-four hours without sleep. After giving me the chance to freshen up in the ferry’s tiny bathroom, he brought us to a smaller, lower-level lounge area with comfy, padded bench style seating that perfectly frames the curved windows. Before falling asleep, he had grabbed my hand and held it in his, a tether rather than an endearment. Any movement away from him and he would wake up.
He’s been out cold for forty minutes now and I’ve tried to stay as still as possible in order to let him drift away into a deep sleep. With his hand around mine like this it would be easy for a casual observer to think we were a couple. Although the sheer mass of both his height and musculature are major contributors in his overall intimidation factor, he is also exceedingly beautiful and doesn’t give off an “I’m a kidnapper” vibe. His thickly shadowed jaw is a few days’ growth away from a complete beard, the dark gold hair blended with light brown. With different clothing he could be mistaken for a huge surfer back in California, thanks to his angelic hair and gold-hued skin. His lightly callused hand is still locked like a vice around mine, making it look exceptionally small and delicate. A myriad of fresh scrapes and older thin scars mar the back of his hand, probably from the work he does. I flick my eyes back up to his chest and watch the rise and fall become increasingly slow and deep.
Now or never.
Looking around the lounge, I spy an older couple seated within twenty feet, and they are definitely Scandinavian from their accents. A teenage boy with modern headphones on is staring at a laptop screen. The Japanese couple from breakfast are the only additional people in this area. My best bet is the Scandinavians because they’re closest. They appear well-dressed and I know for a fact that the majority of Scandinavians speak at least basic English.
Slowly, very slowly, I gently touch his thick fingers with my free hand to see if there is any reaction. Nothing, good. I run my fingers up to the tips of his and tentatively pull while sliding my hand from his heated grasp.
No change, excellent.
The couple is still seated not far away. If I can get to them and explain what’s happened to me then perhaps they can get me to the captain and lock me in with him, away from Alreck, because he’ll be beyond pissed off when he wakes up to find me gone. At the very least someone would be aware of my situation and alert the authorities. I doubt very much that Lisetta will have done that. Anger rushes through me, giving me greater determination.
Slowly, Vail, keep it smooth, girl. Easy …
My hand is free and I gently lower his palm down to his denim-clad thigh. I test my luck and scoot an inch from him on the padded cobalt seat. When he doesn’t respond I move a few more inches. No reaction, he’s out. The couple glances at me and the wife smiles, oblivious to what’s occurring. I hold her gaze with my frightened one as I begin to stand. On shaky legs I take one hesitant step, followed by another, thinking that this could be it, my ticket out of this nightmare …
Suddenly, firm hands lock onto both sides of my hips and pull me swiftly down, backwards into an off kilter sprawl. I land on his lap and at the same time let out a startled, “Oh!”
I didn’t even hear him move.
Off balance and leaning at an awkward backward angle, I hesitantly tilt my face up to see how mad I’ve made him. Immediately I’m assaulted by his familiar agitated blue gaze.
“Going somewhere without me, my sweet?” he calls out loud enough for the other couple to hear; only I’m aware of his true underlying meaning. I slide off his lap onto the seat next to him.
“Nnn-no, no I wasn’t,” I stammer through the blatant lie. “I’m thirsty, that’s all. Where could I run off to on a ferry anyway?”
Rolling his shoulders back with a slow, controlled stretch, followed by a loud neck crack, he unfolds his long limbs and stands. “Well, let’s find you something then … together.”
With another glance at the couple, who are now watching us with curiosity after the odd display, he holds his palm against my lower back and marches me down the hallway in front of him straight toward the central stairs.
As we enter the empty narrow interior walkway, he thrusts me back against the smooth wall and I let out an audible whimper of distress.
“I thought I told you to be good for me,” he growls down against my forehead. His arms are forming a cage on either side of my head and he’s so close that I can feel the air coming from his flared nostrils. My only answer is to tremble while staring at his jacket as he pins me tightly between himself and the wall.
“I like that timid look. It means you understand that you can’t escape from me. Have you finally realized this? You will be free only when I allow it, so stop trying to run from me, American.”
To my horror, tears well up in my eyes and begin to spill as if from a faucet down my flushed cheeks. Through the blur I glance up to find that he’s watching me with a strangely sad expression. Slowly, the tension in his arms dissipates as a big palm gently touches the back of my head and pulls me forward against his leather-clad chest.
With my cheek resting against his smooth black jacket, I sob in exhaustion as his fingers stoke through my tresses. “Shhh, shhh, everything is okay. You’re going to be fine. Come, let’s get you that tea.”
Once I’m able to collect myself, I duck away from his hold, mortified over what just occurred. I frantically use my fingers to dash away the remaining wetness on my slick, pink cheeks.
***
We remain silent after the hallway incident for the final approach into the quaint port town of Moskenes. I’m thankful that he has yet to lecture me again about my “impetuous behavior” and I try my best to zone out while taking in the stunning views. The jagged snowcapped mountain ranges are the first to come into view. They reach straight up like sleeping giants from the narrow shoreline and proudly hover over the Norwegian Sea.
The town itself is nestled into a beautiful cove and many of the wooden buildings are painted a beaut
iful shade of scarlet red. White fishing boats give us a wide berth as we make our way toward the wide wooden dock.
“Come, let’s get into the truck. We will dock at any moment. From here we will travel about an hour north to Reine on the island of Vestvagoy. There we’ll stop to eat, but will need to be quick because it will be dark at around three o’clock. My rorbu is in a remote location outside of the town so we want to reach it by nightfall, if at all possible.”
Feeling as if I’m on the never-ending journey with Alreck, I reluctantly hop into the truck and turn back to watch the ferry sidle up to the dock. Panic begins to flicker through me once again. Escaping from a remote cabin will be far more of a challenge than sneaking away in a public place.
Several of the crewmen from our ferry are gawking in open interest at Alreck’s big Ford and I momentarily entertain the thought of yelling to them, telling them I’m being kidnapped, but I think better of it. Alreck has created the illusion of us as some sort of cutesy couple, and these men only have eyes for his truck, anyway. I suppose something this huge and loud is most definitely not the norm in the Lofoten Islands; but guys are guys and, regardless of the language, appreciate massive vehicles.
“They drive trucks this big on cattle ranches in Texas. Where in the world did you get this beast?”
In an amused voice, he says, “A guy in Oslo had it. I built him a custom ride as a trade.”
“Oh. So you build and design motorcycles then?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
He answers in a manner that states that he is openly uncomfortable speaking about himself. Could he be modest? I can definitely see it.
The line of cars crawls off the ferry while I peek out the passenger window at the charming port town of Moskenes. All the minimalist, A-frame structures are nestled close to one another and the houses near the water have long, natural wood docks. We pass by several charming shops that cater to the tourists milling about wherever you look.
“Several cruise ships come here on a regular basis,” Alreck says.
Naughty in Norway Page 5
