by Luna, David
The silence on the other end didn’t bode well, but then he heard Brody suck in a deep breath. “OK, yeah, that’s a possibility, but if you call and he doesn’t answer, we won’t get anything. If you text and he eventually answers, it will be hit or miss. I’d have to edit my program to ping that phone every second after you send your texts, so that when a text is sent back to you from his phone, my program can ping it as it’s being received and then trace it back. Let me start working on that. It shouldn’t take long for me to edit my program, maybe an hour or two. Don’t take any action yet. Let me get working on this, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Braden woke up with a jolt when he felt someone slapping his face. He was completely confused, felt sick, and his wrist hurt like a bitch. He heard Eric’s voice. Wait, Eric’s voice? What the fuck was…. Then, it came back to him again, this time in pieces, or more accurately, in snapshots of what had happened since he’d gotten in that damned car, and he groaned from pain, frustration, and anger at what he’d gotten himself into. “Wake up! You didn’t hit your head that hard in the car, there’s no reason for you to be fucking sleeping right now!”
Braden groggily turned to look at the clock and realized it was after 5 p.m. He saw another water bottle on the nightstand table that apparently had been righted. He reached to grab it, putting weight on his left arm and realized his mistake when daggers of pain lanced his whole arm from fingers to shoulder. He wrenched himself back and lay there hoping the pain would subside, but it didn’t feel like it was going anywhere any time soon. He gave up on the idea of water even though he was extremely thirsty, and he moved to get more comfortable, maybe get some more sleep. He couldn’t understand why Eric was so confused about how tired he was. He was sure he’d been drugged. He felt so sick to his stomach, that it seemed like the only explanation, unless he hit his head harder than he thought and had a concussion, which seemed possible and might explain a lot of his symptoms.
Eric shoved a tray next to Braden’s pillow on the bed. “I made you a microwave dinner. You need to eat. You need to stay awake. We need to talk.”
Braden took one whiff of the meal and promptly lost whatever had been in his stomach all over the dinner tray. Eric screamed at him in disgust and shoved a trash can into his face; he grabbed it and continued to be sick into the can. Eventually, between bouts of nausea, Eric brought him into the bathroom and left him there, muttering under his breath that he wasn’t a fucking nursemaid and Braden better get his shit together.
He lay on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, feeling stabbing pain in his stomach and his wrist. His skin felt tight, dry and hot, like he had a sunburn. Maybe he had the flu. His stomach revolted again, and he was barely able to get himself positioned over the toilet in time. He felt short of breath and disoriented.
Eric came into the bathroom and kicked his calf. “What’s wrong with you? If you’re faking this shit, I’m gonna beat the hell out of you!”
He didn’t have the energy to move, let alone react to Eric’s anger and accusations. He heard Eric muttering in the bedroom and then it was quiet again. He knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to think about what was going on. Most likely it was a concussion. He’d had them before, and most of his symptoms fit. He felt as if he could doze off again, lying on his side on the cold tile floor. He just couldn’t seem to keep himself awake and didn’t really know why he should try, at that point. Hell, if he did, he might find himself getting beaten again, and he didn’t think his body could take much more.
In the confines of the café’s little office, Cade was afforded a small bit of isolation. He felt uneasy, and it was such a rare feeling for him that he needed to sequester himself for this possible conversation to come. As private as he’d like this to be, he had an audience of one in Brody, who had been able to update his program to hopefully catch Eric’s location if he responded to any of Cade’s attempts to communicate. His first try at communication was going to be a direct call to Eric’s phone. If he didn’t get a response, he’d leave a message on the off chance Eric would listen to it. Brody had given him the go ahead. He was monitoring Braden’s phone and his computer was pinging it for return signals.
Cade dialed the number and listened to the phone ring, and ring, and ring. Finally, a computer modulated female voice repeated the phone number and a beep sounded. He took a quiet, deep breath, and began. “Hello, Eric, we haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Zavier McCade. I’m Braden’s partner, and I guess you could also call me his personal guard. It seems you felt comfortable taking something that doesn’t belong to you, which is going to be the biggest mistake you have ever made. Right about now, Braden is probably experiencing insulin withdrawals, as you’ve kidnapped him without ensuring that he has access to his basic medical needs. The longer he goes without insulin the worse his symptoms will get, until he lapses into a diabetic coma, which may cause brain damage and if left untreated, death.”
Cade’s hand curled into a tight fist, his anger palpable. “Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Pollard, if he lapses into a coma and he does not receive immediate medical attention; if he suffers brain damage or if he dies, there is no place you can go, nowhere you can hide that I cannot find you. Google my name, Mr. Pollard, and understand me fully when I say that you will be hunted down, and you will be killed viciously and painfully. Heed this warning, Mr. Pollard, and take this threat very seriously. Return Braden to me alive, or you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your short life.”
He hung up the phone, expelling a heavy breath, his body tense. He turned quickly when he heard a shoe scuff behind him. He found himself looking into the eyes of his horrified mother and immediately regretted not locking the door. He opened his mouth to apologize for what she had to overhear, but she looked down, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know you were on the phone. I was coming in to see if you’d like us to pick you up some dinner. No one really wants to cook right now, everyone seems too anxious, I guess.”
Cade interrupted her rambling. “Mom, look at me. Sit down across from me, and look at me, Mom. I’m still your son. I’m still the same one you came to help today. The same one who sends you flowers on your birthday, Valentine’s day, and Mother’s day.”
“I know. I know you are.”
“No, you don’t. You’re trying to reconcile the child you raised with the man who just threatened to viciously kill a man. Maybe, after we talk, you’ll understand. Let me show you my Braden and tell you a bit about him.”
Cade sat next to his mom and put his arm around her to pull her close for a kiss on her head. She leaned into him, and he handed her his iPad and manipulated it for her, signing in to pull up Braden’s Facebook page. He smiled when her breath caught at the first picture of Braden, which was a close up of him and Maya, both with huge smiles, him hugging her from behind. He flipped to another one of him sitting next to his grandmother, holding her hand and tilting his head towards hers. He moved on to many others, Braden in his running gear, Braden in his baker’s apron, Braden dressed to kill, sitting on the countertop of his kitchen island.
His mom had her hand over her heart, and he knew she was thinking how beautiful Braden was, and hopefully she could see exactly what he saw in Braden. She looked up into Cade’s eyes. “How tall is he?”
Cade chuckled at that. “He’s shorter than you are. He’s 5’9”, and he’s extremely fit and while he’s rather slim, he’s also muscular. His diabetes keeps him very disciplined with his eating, but it’s his running, coupled with his stretching, yoga, and Pilates that really keeps him so healthy. He’s just as beautiful inside, as he is outside, maybe more so. The first time I saw Braden, everything in the background went fuzzy and all I could see was him. Something in me recognized something in him, Mom. It’s the only way I can explain it. All I do know for sure is that he’s the love of my life and I’d do absolutely anything for him.”
He went
on to tell her all about Braden’s accomplishments with his business. He talked about Braden’s life growing up, his friendship with Maya, and his diabetes and migraines. He told her how hard he worked and how much he stressed and initially how hard it was for Braden to trust him and accept help from him, but how he finally let down his walls and let Cade in.
He shared with his mother all of the things he’d kept to himself since he’d met Braden. He knew one day he’d be having this conversation with her, he’d just had no idea it would be under such dire circumstances. He set the iPad aside, faced his mom and took one of her hands in his. He hated to put the thoughts in her head, but he didn’t see another way. Looking into her eyes, he took a deep breath and did what he felt he needed to do, in order for her to hopefully understand, if only just a little bit.
“What if Rowan found herself in an abusive relationship, and wanted to get out of it? What if she told him she was leaving and he beat her and raped her? Let’s say she even went to the hospital alone for her injuries and a rape kit, but never told anyone about it. And what if, over a year later, her ex decided to stalk her and kidnap her, and quite possibly kill her? How would you and dad react?”
His mom had gripped his hand hard with hers as soon as he mentioned rape, and her free hand flew up to her lips, pressing down there while tears rolled down her cheeks. It killed him, seeing her pain and regret coursed through him. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have used Ro as my example, that was inexcusable, putting those thoughts in your head. I just didn’t know how else to explain everything that’s going on and where my heart is. If I lose him, Mom… If I lose Braden, I lose myself.”
“Oh, honey. That poor boy.” His mom drew him into her and hugged him tight. After a moment she pulled back, fury in her eyes, her body full of angry tension. “You get him back, Zavier. Whatever it takes, you bring your boy home and you destroy the man that took him.”
Cade hugged her tight and sighed. “That’s my plan.”
It felt good, her support and love. He felt like the phone call and voicemail he’d left and his conversation with his mom was a step forward and he just hoped he’d get a response from Eric. His mom left the room with his food order, and he placed a call to Brody. Brody let Cade know it was OK to send whatever texts he wanted to send, so he sent several succinct texts making sure to mention insulin withdrawals and diabetic comas. He’d rattled that cage, and hopefully it would prove fruitful. He went back into the kitchen to resume his search for the stolen Honda.
Eric couldn’t believe the bullshit he was dealing with. He finally had Braden back where he belonged and what the fuck did he have to show for it? Braden wasn’t reacting to anything he said, he wasn’t speaking to him, he wasn’t looking at him, he wasn’t even responding when he was being shown the proper way to act. He’d always counted on Braden’s reactions to his discipline because he loved the way he could mold Braden’s behavior into what he wanted it to be.
He’d planned for this day for so god damned long, and instead of making sure Braden understood why he’d been so wrong to leave, so wrong to threaten him with that silly video of their heated exchange followed by their lovemaking, here Braden was, lying on the bathroom floor vomiting more than anyone he’d ever seen vomit. He was so pissed off he wanted to beat Braden’s ass, and he would, but he wasn’t going to get himself covered in vomit. He’d wait him out, wait for him to be done being sick and then he’d fucking teach him a lesson.
As much as he didn’t like the timing, he could be understanding enough about Braden getting sick, but when he was well, they’d be having a conversation about how their future would go, and Braden would realize the mistakes he’d made. Eric would be damned sure to force Braden to make up for his poor choices. He’d been so angry when he’d found that video and Braden’s letter. He’d practically ripped his townhouse apart and broken every breakable thing within reach. However, that was also the day he’d vowed to himself that he’d figure out a way, a way to get past the barrier of that video and what it could mean for his future, if it got out; a way to get Braden back into his life permanently, no matter what it took; and a way to punish him for thinking he could ever leave him.
He’d gotten fired from his job because of that fucking piss-ant Intake Advocate. He almost decided to teach that little shit a lesson he wouldn’t forget, but that would have to come later. He realized after he was let go that it might be a blessing in disguise. They said he’d be allowed to leave with the official story a secret because he’d put in so many years, they figured they were doing him a solid. The real story was that little fucker had manipulated events to reflect poorly on him. In the end they let him know they wouldn’t provide him with a recommendation, but they wouldn’t let anyone know he had been fired either. He could very easily settle in another city and use his position there on a resume, excusing his missing time as a family emergency. All he needed before he moved away was Braden, once again by his side, where he belonged.
He’d wanted to slowly ease himself back into Braden’s life. He’d decided he was going to keep an eye on him, make sure he was free and wasn’t fucking some schmuck that he’d have to take care of and get through in order to finally have Braden back. When he’d started watching him, he’d finally felt right. He’d finally felt like he was doing what needed to be done. Pretty soon, he couldn’t help himself; he started leaving little notes and love letters for him. He’d done it for months, and then the day came when he saw a man carry Braden from right outside of the café over to his house, and he’d seen red.
That huge man had picked his Braden up like he was his to take care of, his to nurture, and his to love. Braden had been sick in the fucking gutter of all places, with his little twit friend Maya trailing along. That giant of a man had picked him up, and he could have sworn the man had kissed him on the forehead and nuzzled him, while whispering something to him. He almost lost it then and there. Who the fuck was this guy? Where had he come from? Who the fuck did he think he was, touching Braden, like only Eric was allowed to? He’d decided his waiting was over, and he’d begun to make plans.
That little mother fucker had finally gotten into a relationship and of course, the asshole had to be some huge jock type. Not that it scared Eric, muscle bound idiots were just that, stupid caveman that didn’t know their dicks from their brains, and Eric knew he wouldn’t be a problem. What pissed him off is that he was never away from Braden. It seemed like that huge fucker had literally popped into Braden’s life and taken residence, and he didn’t look like he was budging. Eric had even seen them start to hold hands. However, maybe, just maybe, it was all an act, because all of a sudden there were three other men around, going in and out of Braden’s home and café and wasn’t that just so interesting? Maybe Braden was getting a little scared and had hired some two bit bodyguards to protect him.
Once he’d figured that out, he’d been thrilled, and he’d begun to make some noise. He wanted to be heard, and he wanted to shake up the status quo. Oh yes, he was going to have everyone on their toes, and then he was gonna do what he did best, manipulate Braden using his biggest weaknesses, his love for his family and friends. If those muscle bound jokers thought they were a match for him, they’d be surprised how quick and painless his check mate was going to be, whisking Braden away from them all with barely any effort on his part.
It had worked, too, but again, he hadn’t been counting on Braden developing the fucking flu or god knows what. He’d given him some soup, and that had stayed down for all of 30 minutes. He’d tried to give him crackers and some fruit and that had come up, too. He was drinking a lot of water, but when Braden did try to eat, it wasn’t much, and it all came back up. Now it was just a matter of bile and mostly dry retching, so fucking disgusting. He’d had to check on him and move him from bed to bathroom four times in so many hours.
Finally, he’d just left him there, and he’d been in there, on the floor, for hours now. Jesus, he could still hear him retching through the walls o
f this ugly fucking cheap ass house he was renting. Not that he was really complaining. He knew he was damned lucky to have found this place. He’d been driving along, in one of his stolen cars, going through some of the rental listings, when he’d come upon one of the locations and knocked on the door of the owner. It had been some little old lady who had been more than happy to accept six months’ rent under the table, in cash.
He’d grown a beard and then dyed all of his hair a dark brown and had added a bit of weight to his middle by stuffing a very small pillow under his t-shirt and then covering both with a hoodie. He’d made himself look like a hairy, chubby, trustworthy guy who just moved into the city to find a new job. He’d even offered to take care of the yard work himself, so no one would disturb him. The old broad had eaten his story up, said he looked like her grandson and even offered him coffee and cookies of all things, stupid bitch. But, it all worked out, because he had a place to hide that was off the books and a place to bring Braden, before they made their move out of town together.
It was close to midnight, and after about 30 minutes of silence, he went into the bathroom and was horrified to find vomit and bile all over the bathroom floor and also on Braden’s shirt. Braden seemed to be asleep. Disgusted, he dragged Braden out of the bathroom by his feet. Realizing he was just dragging him through his vomit, he yelled and kicked Braden’s thigh. When he did that, Braden’s body rolled so he was on his back, and he realized that sometime during his vomit fest, he’d fucking peed himself. Just great, he didn’t want to deal with this bullshit right now!
Finally, he yanked Braden’s clothes off, picked him up and dropped him into the tub and turned on the shower to rid him of most of the filth stuck to his skin. He wasn’t about to actually clean him with soap; the water would have to do. After several minutes he realized Braden hadn’t even reacted to the cold water like he’d hoped he would, and he saw Braden’s lips turn blue so he dragged him out of the shower, dried him off as much as his patience would allow, and then picked him up under his arms, and dragged him back to the bed. Normally he’d be taking advantage of a naked Braden, but he looked pathetic and still smelled like a god damned sewer. He didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about what was going on with Braden, because if he did, he’d freak the fuck out. He’d done all of that and Braden hadn’t reacted at all, almost like he was not just sleeping, but passed out or something.
