by Callie Hart
“That might be difficult. I like being alive.”
“Then you should leave here. Right now. And don’t come back. Forget about the drugs. Forget about Plato. Get on your bike and go. Don’t look back.”
That’s probably very sound advice, but I’ve been on this road for so long now. I have no idea how to turn away from it. I haven’t got the faintest clue where I would go if I walked away from this lead. “I can’t do that, Natalia. I have to see this thing through.”
She huffs, pulling at the hand I have wrapped around her neck, trying to force me to release my hold. I have more strength in my little finger than she does in both arms, though, so she doesn’t get very far. She gives up, allowing her arms to fall slack. “You’re not as smart as you think you are,” she tells me. “You think I don’t know why you’re really here?”
I scan her face, looking for some sign that she’s grasping at straws, simply trying to get me to back off, but all I find is wildfire burning in her eyes. She’s defiant and angry. If looks could kill, I’d already be six feet under. “What do you mean, why I’m really here?” I demand.
“I knew as soon as I laid eyes on you, Cade. She told me you’d come for her one day, and I didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe for one second anybody would ever be so stupid.”
It feels like an invisible hand is clenching hold of my heart. I narrow my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but I feel like I’m about to fucking lose it. “Who? Who told you I’d come for them?”
Natalia grits her teeth together, scowling at me. “Who do you think? Your sister. Laura told me that you’d come. Now get your fucking hands off me so we can talk.”
******
“She’s dead.”
Natalia doesn’t pull any punches. She just comes straight out with it. We’re sitting at a counter in the kitchen—Natalia insists there are no cameras in here—and she’s brewing tea. Her machete sits on the counter beside the kettle. Neither of us wants or needs the tea, but this way we have an excuse for being in here if we’re found. “She was here for years. I’m not supposed to get friendly with any of the girls who show up here and get transported up into that room, but she was here for so long that it seemed inevitable. During the times when there were no guests at the house, no parties being held, my father sometimes lets the men and women from the blue room read in the library. Laura and I would meet there and talk. I wanted to know about the States, because…well, because I don’t know anything about my mother. I don’t know anything about where she came from. And Laura told me about you. From the very first time we spoke, she insisted you were going to come and get her.”
“And now she’s dead?” I can’t believe it. Can’t seem to make sense of it. It can’t be the case. “My friend spoke with her on the phone a little over three months ago. She can’t be dead.”
“She can.” Natalia reaches across the counter and takes hold of my hand. “She is.”
“Then how? How did Jamie speak to her?”
“My father records all of his guests when they first arrive here, as proof of life. Sometimes, if he finds out the girl or the guy is from a wealthy family, he will make a ransom request and send them back home. When Laura arrived, he found out your father was some big lawyer or something. He was going to ask for a ransom, but then…I don’t know. He decided to keep her. He didn’t want to let her go after all, so he kept her. It happens all the time. He doesn’t like to let go of his prizes.”
I feel like I’m about to throw up. So…the voice Jamie heard on the phone was Laura’s? And she was asking for his help? But the plea was recorded years ago? Can it be true? It makes sense that Fernando would make recordings of his kidnap victims as proof of life. And Julio never said he’d actually seen Laura, just that he’d been shown her picture as part of a portfolio of women he could pick from in exchange for his own woman, Alaska.
“When? When did she die?” I ask. My voice is hard. I barely recognize it.
“Three years ago.” Natalia looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
“How?”
“Cade—”
I get to my feet. “Fucking tell me. Right now.”
“Overdose. Some of the other girls here drink and do drugs, to cope with…” She trails off, clearly uncomfortable with voicing the realities of her father’s actions. “Laura didn’t, though. She always wanted to have a clear head. She was always looking for ways to escape. And then her friend Sylvia got caught running from the house one night, and my father…”
“He punished her?”
Natalia nods. “He fed her to the wolves.”
“And my sister couldn’t take it anymore?”
Natalia looks down at the two mugs of piping hot tea in front of us. Her eyes are shining brightly, filled with tears. “I loved Laura. She looked out for me. She helped me once, when one of my father’s men thought they would try to take me. She stabbed him in the neck with a letter opener. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t found us.”
I sit in silence, staring at the grain in the marble counter, doing my best to tune out the loud, high-pitched screaming that’s filling my head. I can’t hear anything around it, though. I can’t seem to think in a straight line. Everything is jumbled and confused. I feel like I’m barely holding onto my sanity.
“Cade? That is your name, isn’t it?”
My head snaps up, and I find Natalia standing in front of me; I didn’t even notice her slip around the counter.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I hate my father. I am nothing like him. If I could have left, I would have a long time ago. But I am a lot like Laura and those other girls upstairs, Cade. I’m watched over twenty-four hours a day. There’s no way out for me. Nowhere to run to.”
“You’re not.”
She gives me a puzzled look. “I’m not what?”
“You’re not like my sister and those other girls upstairs. Your father’s never made you spread your legs for a man while other people watch on. You’ve never been beaten and abused, and forced to do things repeatedly against your will.”
Her expression turns dark. I see the flicker of pain in her eye, the twitch of the muscle in her jaw, and I know before she even opens her mouth that I’ve spoken out of turn. Her words come out as a whisper. “Hasn’t he?”
I jerk back. “He wouldn’t let any of those fuckers near you. He’s so fucking protective of you.”
“Oh, he is. And you’re right. He doesn’t let any of them near me.”
“Fuck. You’re not serious. You’re telling me—”
She spins around, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Enough. This isn’t about me. It was about Laura. Now, it’s about you leaving here before my father realizes who you are and has you killed.”
I am rocked, numb to the core. I don’t know what to say to her. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want me to say anything at all, but… god. His own daughter? How can that sit right even in his warped, fucked-up mind?
Natalia’s shoulders are shaking, hitching up and down; she’s crying. I want to get up and go to her, comfort her in some way, but who the fuck am I to be doing such a thing? I have no right. I don’t have the first fucking clue how to make her feel better. I don’t have the first fucking clue how to help her, either.
Natalia’s soft crying fills the cavernous kitchen, and for the first time in a long time I feel truly dead inside. My hope, the one thing that’s been fuelling me for so long, is now gone. Extinguished in a heartbeat. The suspicious part of me would be doubting what Natalia’s saying is true, that she’s lying to protect her father in some way, but that can’t be the case. If it were, she would never have told me Laura was here in the first place. She would have kept her mouth shut and let Fernando kill me whenever the fuck he felt like it. But no, she tried to warn me, and she knows things about Laura. She described her to me. She told me things about her only someone close to her would know.
And now she’s sobbing, trying not to
, struggling to keep her shit together, and I can’t think of a single thing to say to her to make it better, because it’s fucked. It’s all fucked, and I am a hollow, empty, treacherous thing that can’t be trusted. I didn’t save Laura. I didn’t fucking save her, and now I can’t be expected to do anything about Natalia. If I even try to help her, it’ll probably end in disaster, with both of us dead.
She turns around and her cheeks are streaked and wet, but she looks angry again. “Don’t you feel sorry for me, asshole. I don’t want your pity. I don’t need it.”
Of course she doesn’t need it. Pity isn’t going to help her; it’s only going to make her feel like shit. “I don’t pity you. I’m angry for you. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch for what he’s done to my sister. I’ll twist the knife that little bit deeper now, knowing what he’s done to you, too.”
“You can’t. Don’t you think people have tried before? He’s insane. Harrison and his men protect him all day, every day.”
“I can take care of Harrison just fine.”
Natalia slumps against the wall, looking miserable. “No. Seriously. Laura is gone, and the people here are already too damaged to put back together. Why lose your life over so many lost causes?”
“Lost causes are my specialty.” I stand, watching her. She’s the most stunning, graceful, breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen, even in her misery. In another life, one where we are both different people, I might have pursued her. I can imagine how she would fit perfectly into my arms. I can picture all too well what she looks like covered in sweat, naked, panting my name as she rides my cock. These are dangerous daydreams that simply aren’t practical here in this terrible, dangerous place, though. I slide my hands into my pockets, digging my short fingernails into my palms.
“Good night, Natalia.”
She stops me just before I leave the kitchen. “You’re not going to leave?” she whispers.
“No. I told you. I’m going to murder your father. I’m going to wait for the most perfect opportunity, when the time is exactly right, and I’m going to take his pride and his dignity from him, before I take his life.” I pause, and then ask her one simple question. “Would you like to watch?”
She doesn’t even hesitate.
“Yes. Yes, I would.”
CHAPTER NINE
AND THEN, THE RAIN
Two days pass, and I don’t see Natalia again. I don’t see Plato, and I don’t see Fernando. The only person I interact with is Ocho, who brings me my meals, and who, being mute, is zero fucking fun to talk to. I stay in my room watching bad Ecuadorian television in a language I don’t understand, and I do push ups. That is my entire existence: Ecuadorian Days of Our Lives, and a thousand push ups a day.
On the third day of what appears to be my solitary confinement, Fernando shows up with Harrison on his heels. Fernando looks pissed beyond measure; Harrison, on the other hand, looks gleeful, like a kid on Christmas morning.
“We agreed that your Mr. Aubertin would be here today, Kechu. Please, can you explain to me where he is?” Fernando’s furious, his voice clipped, his hands shaking by his sides as he addresses me. I frown, looking over his shoulder at Harrison.
“I couldn’t tell him to come,” I say. “Harrison took my phone. And I’ve been locked away in this fucking room for days. I tried to explain to Ocho, but I don’t think he understands English.”
Fernando turns, pinning Harrison in his severe gaze. “You took his phone?” he says slowly.
“Yeah, well, I mean we had to. He could have had anything on there.”
“And what did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well.” He shuffles his feet, looking awkward as fuck. “There were some weird pictures on there. Some fucked up text messages. But nothing untoward.”
“And you did not return it back to him?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“How are you to know what is important and what isn’t important? Give him back his phone.”
Harrison, unsurprisingly, has the damned thing on him. It’s probably been giving him a boner, knowing that he’s taken my toy away and it’s been sitting in his pocket this whole time. He thrusts it out to me, the dark look on his face just daring me to say something to him. I take it, smiling pleasantly.
“Thank you, Harrison.”
Fernando waits for the exchange to be over, and then he pivots on the balls of his feet and slaps Harrison across the face, hard. Harrison’s head whips around with the force; his eyes are the size of dinner plates. He’s shocked. He’s overflowing with anger too, but he’s not that stupid. He knows he can’t do anything to retaliate. “Leave,” Fernando commands. “Kechu and I must talk alone.”
Harrison looks stung that he’s being sent away. No doubt he wants to stick around to listen to Fernando threaten me in some way, but it looks like today is not his lucky day. He leaves, and Fernando places a hand on my shoulder.
“I already know about your conversation with my daughter the other night, Kechu. She came to me very first thing the next morning and told me herself.”
What the fuck? She told him about our conversation? I glance sideways at Fernando as he guides me out of my room and down the hallway. He doesn’t seem as mad as he should be, but then again the man always seems cool and calm. He’s had two days to allow the information to settle, too. Still, I’m ready to fight, ready to jam my knuckles into his throat and throw him over the bannister, down two flights of stairs if I have to. He sighs, slowly shaking his head. “She explained that you ran into each other in the kitchen, and you held a conversation at her insistence. I was perhaps too quick to tell you that you should not talk to her alone, Kechu. This house is big, but it’s only so big. You’re bound to run into one another, and it would be discourteous of you to ignore Natalia. I have reconsidered my rule. You may talk to her as and when you see fit. However, if I discover that you have tried to abuse her good nature, or mine, in any way, there will be repercussions. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely.” So she was covering our asses, not informing her father of my identity? The wall of relief that hits me is massive. He’s gonna know exactly who I am before too long. I’m going to tell him myself, as I’m digging the pointy end of a fucking screwdriver into his eye socket, but I’m not ready for that yet. I like to think while I work out, and for the past two days, as I’ve been counting off my push-ups, I have been thinking very deeply indeed. How long did Laura suffer here? How long did she hold out before she finally decided she couldn’t handle it any longer and she took her own life? A very, very long time. So I’m not going to rush this. I’m going to wait, bide my time, and I’ll know when the perfect opportunity presents itself. In the meantime, I’m going to continue playing this game, figuring out my enemy, and I’m going to be patient.
Fernando leads me downstairs, through the foyer and out the front door, where the mud splattered Patriot is waiting for us, engine idling. “I apologize for Harrison’s behavior. He can be a little petty sometimes. Overzealous. It’s a trait I’ve noticed in many of you American men. Anyway, now that your property has been returned to you, please feel free to contact your employer and let him know that he is expected. And in the meantime, I’d like to take you hunting with me and my men. I’m sure you have spent time with a rifle in your hand before, no? I find hunting to be a stress-relieving exercise. I’m positive you would benefit from some time outdoors, after being cooped up for so long.”
He makes it sound like he had nothing to do with the fact that I was barricaded in my room for forty-eight hours, when he is the only person who could have ordered such a thing. I’m not about to point this out, though.
Hunting. In the forest. With the man responsible for my sister’s death. This is going to be difficult. Every time his back is to me, I’m going to be filled with the temptation to put a bullet in the back of his head. I won’t give in to that temptation, though. Fernando Villalobos will see his d
eath coming, unstoppable and undeniable, and he will know it’s being dealt to him by my hand.
“I love to hunt,” I tell him, smiling easily. I’m probably a sociopath. I can put up a front like this without a second thought. I can lie and mislead people until the cows come home. I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate. The words just fall from my lips, and no one is ever any the wiser. Fernando nods, holding his hand out, gesturing for me to climb into the passenger seat of the Patriot.
“Perfect. The others are already waiting for us. Let’s go and find them, shall we?”
******
Natalia is the first person I notice when we arrive at our rally point. Another six vehicles are already parked, half concealed by the trees and undergrowth, and eight men with rifles are standing around, leaning against the cars, chatting amiably in Spanish as they wait for us to arrive. Natalia’s eyes meet mine as I get out of the car, and my dick stirs in my pants. I can’t fucking help it. She’s too goddamn beautiful for words, and I’m a hot-blooded male with an overactive imagination. When I look at her, I see too much. I see her naked, pinned to a mattress beneath me. I see her eyes rolling back into her head as she comes. I see my own tongue, burying itself into her pussy as I eat her out from behind.
Her cheeks color, as if she can read my thoughts, and I have to make sure I’m not sporting some serious wood. I’m not, thank fuck. I don’t know how I’d explain that away to Fernando. The prospect of hunting gets me hot and horny? Yeah, I don’t think that would pan out too well.
Natalia slings the strap of her rifle over her shoulder, looking away. One of Fernando’s guys says something to her and she nods, walking away with him to collect empty bags from the back of one of the vehicles.
Fernando gives instructions to his men in Spanish, and then he relays them to me in English, obviously assuming I haven’t understood him the first time around. His orders are simple: we’re here to hunt for small game. Anyone that shoots a wolf will regret it for the rest of their incredibly short lives. We’re to pair off into twos and rendezvous at regular intervals.
