by Lyra Parish
"Choose your words wisely, Miss Downs," Finnley said, and Luke laughed.
The car stopped at the train station. Luke slid out, and I followed him without a second glance.
"Why would you do that to me?" I said. He walked toward the boarding platform.
"Because it was necessary. I knew you wouldn't have gone if I would have told you, and you were already nervous enough. The way you two act is annoying sometimes. But you're in love each other, and it's disgustingly obvious. It radiates from you both."
"But–"
"Stop it, Jennifer. Sometimes you're just as hardheaded as him. I know that we will never have anything. And while it's fun to pretend, it's not real."
"Pretend?"
Luke lifted an eyebrow, leaned down, and kissed me on my cheek.
"Yes. What you and my brother have is real. What we have is just a silly one-sided infatuation. Now go to him. He's waited long enough to see you."
I walked after him and grabbed his hand to stop him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being who you are. For loving your brother. For caring for me. You're going to make someone very happy, Luketon."
He ran his fingers through my hair and down my cheek then sucked in a deep breath. "I know."
And that was the second time he walked away. Before he boarded the train, Luke turned and gave one of those sweet smiles he wore so often. "Your things will be waiting for you tomorrow. Don't leave him waiting. Go on," he said, and the door closed. Moments later, I watched as the train sped away into the darkness.
Because you are in love with each other. Love.
The word seemed foreign at times, and like my best friend at others. As much as I like to think I didn't know what love was, I thought about it way too often. If a person's name can draw strong emotions from one's core, or if the sound of their voice makes the heart flutter, that's love. Just the thought of Finnley controlled me, and unlocked places in my heart that I'd never been before.
When I was younger, my mother told me that a person never forgot the first time they fell in love. That it was something that will live even after death. Love was an emotion that was so powerful, so lovely, that even the memory of it could conjure those specific feelings that were felt at a previous time in our lives.
Some people think magic doesn't exist, but as long as love has survived, I'd like to think they were wrong. Love could bring light to a dark room. Love could move mountains. Love made people write silly songs, and sing them at the top of their lungs. Finnley did know what love was. He described it perfectly the night that he melded himself with me.
As much as I wanted to deny it, to run from it and hide, I knew that I had fallen head over heels, stupid-sappy-girl-movie in love with Finnley Felton. I took a moment to stare at the empty station, then walked back to the car that held the man that could roll me around in his palm like putty. The man that I wanted to push away, although it was impossible. The outline of his body called me, and I would go to him, and press my lips against his, and tell him how much I missed him.
The thought of us being together encapsulated me, covered me, and I was nervous and excited all at once. I had never really admitted it to myself, but Luke knew, hell, even his mother and father knew. The only question was, did Finnley?
FINNLEY
Twenty-four
I studied Jennifer as she watched the train in a statuesque manner. The lights faded away but she stood there for a few more moments. I wondered what she was thinking and if I was still the man she dreamed about when she drifted into solitude from the world.
Jennifer Downs had met my fucking parents. Talk about moving the relationship to the next level. But I had planned it for weeks, along with the perfect evening at the vacation home I rented. Everything would be complete with her in my arms, sleeping next to me. I would lay her down, tell her how much I missed her, and kiss that smart-ass mouth until she shut it. She had to know that I needed her and how she made me feel. Jennifer Downs was the only woman that uncovered the man that I hadn't been in years. I would do anything for her.
She turned and stared at me from afar with a smile. God, at that moment I really wished I knew what she was thinking. She walked toward the car and we made eye contact. I wanted to run to her, kiss her, and run my fingers through her hair. But I would wait for her, keep her guessing, wanting, needing more of me. Jennifer liked to play the game of Finnley Felton.
Something clicked inside of me when she was away, and I knew then that I had it bad for her. I was completely and utterly addicted to every piece of her. I still imagined the smell of her skin on mine and the touch of her lips on my neck. Jennifer fucking Downs… the only woman that could pussy-whip me. Me? How did I get into this situation?
I watched her, every movement she made. Jennifer looked so content, like she had just learned a secret. What had Luke said to her before he left?
My insides burned with desire. It would take every piece of me not to just lay her flat in the backseat, but I didn't know the driver and that would be a little awkward. I would wait, but not because I wanted to.
She stalked closer and was only a few feet from the car. In the distance, screeching tires echoed from a vehicle speeding down the road. Moments later it slammed on the brakes behind me. I turned around and looked. Men in black exited the car and ran toward Jennifer.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
The shock of it all froze me.
They grabbed her.
A blood-curdling scream escaped her. "Finnley! Help me!"
I tried to get out of the car and save her but the driver locked the doors. Fucking child-proof locks kept me inside.
"Go after her," I screamed, and the driver turned around and snarled at me.
"No fucking way," he said.
I reached over the seat and put him in a headlock. I would have choked the fucking life out of him. He opened the door and struggled to get out. When he hit the pavement, I had two choices: go after the fucktard, or go after Jennifer. I would choose her every time.
All of my emotions went haywire. My adrenaline and anger spiked to an uncontrollable level, and I gunned the car forward. Jennifer had been taken.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Luke.
"Luke," I said breathlessly.
"What? What's going on?"
"Jennifer. Someone took her at the station."
"What? Where are you now?"
"Call the police. I'm chasing them."
I hung up the phone and searched for the car.
Not now. Not fucking now. This could not be happening.
I had been without her for far too long. Now I was on a wild fucking goose chase for the woman that I needed, for the woman that I couldn't live without.
I sped up through the valleys and headed toward the city.
If I were a kidnapper, where would I go? I went to the heart of the city and searched the back alleyways before the stress of losing her overtook me. For a moment, I thought I had found the men that took her, but when I advanced on the car, a man and his children peered back at me. I knew I looked like a maniac and with each passing hour, I became more desperate.
Frustration seemed to control me. I could barely handle myself, so I got out of the car and beat the shit out of a lamppost. The physical pain evened out my being distraught.
With bloody, stinging knuckles, I reached into my pocket to answer the phone.
"Do you have a description?" Luke was in a panic.
I knew he was worried. As much as he gave his blessing, I knew he still cared for her.
"No. They wore masks. Mum's driver was in on it. I am so fucking angry right now. I… I can't live without her. I can't fucking do this."
"We will find her. There is a search out for her. I called in a favor from a few people in London. We will find her. I promise."
"You did not fucking get them involved," I said. I sucked in a deep breath with hopes to calm myself.
"If anyone ca
n find Jennifer in London, it would be Abbot. You know that. I had no other choice."
I hung up and headed back to Mum’s. She opened the door—worry, fear, and sadness covered her face. I ran into her arms and let her hold me like she did when I was child. Her fingers running through my hair comforted me.
"Look at me. Look at me, Finnley. It's going to be okay. I promise. We will find Jennifer. And don't give me that look. Your father used to look the same when he was upset."
"Mum."
"She will be found. If anyone can find her, your old lot will," my mother said, and lowered her eyes.
"I did not call them. I did not want them involved."
"I know, son, but I think Luke made the right decision. Those men know the trade. Hell, they are the heart of some of the problems in London but I trust they could find anyone in this city."
I squeezed her and tried to hold back my emotions, something that I was good at doing. The negative fucking voice in the back of my head drove me to edge of insanity: most women that were taken were never found.
That night, I stayed at my parents’ house. Exhaustion from flying and the horrible fucking events tired me. I climbed the stairs, lay in my bed, and stared at the white ceiling. The last time I slept in that room was before I left for Columbia.
When I closed my eyes, I could almost smell her.
Hours passed, and I couldn't sleep. Horrific thoughts controlled me.
If they touched her or if they hurt her in any way, I would fucking kill the lot of them.
The last look of raw contentment that covered her entire body haunted me through the night. I would burn the world down searching for her.
Twenty-five
The car smelled like musk and cigarettes, and the stench choked me. The men spoke French¸ and I couldn't understand a damn word they said.
I screamed Finnley's name until my voice went hoarse. The disgusting creatures that pretended to be men stuck a gag in my mouth and slipped a black hood over my head. They jerked my wrists behind my back as I struggled to get away and tied them together tightly with rope. The darkness followed me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to walk into the shadows of the horrible things that poisoned my thoughts. Would I make it out alive, or would they kill me?
More French, a phone call, and the car jolted forward. I had no idea what direction we were going, but before I completely lost it, I calmed myself with the fact that Finnley had seen what happened. He would come for me. He would save me. Wouldn't he? I couldn't panic, not right now, not when I needed to stay focused and calm.
Although I couldn't see, I tried to focus on the faces of the men who weren't wearing masks. Mustaches, dark hair and eyes, they all could have been brothers.
My fears fucking taunted me.
What would they do with me now?
Sell me?
Kill me?
Where were they taking me?
I swallowed around the material in my mouth and counted to ten, trying to stay perfectly still. My lips were dry and hurt, but that was the least of my concerns.
Concentrate.
The night had been perfect. Why did this have to happen?
The man chatted quietly on the phone, and when one said Finnley's name, my heart dropped. Finnley Felton was surrounded by French words, and his name stuck out like a sore thumb. My heart stung with the mention of his name. No, no, no, it was not a random kidnapping; this shit was planned.
The car slammed to a halt, and my body flung forward. A man jerked me from the car, and I stumbled over my feet. His grasp faltered. I tried to pull away from them, to run, but he grabbed the sleeve of my dress with a hard fist, and it ripped.
"Don't fucking think so, sweetheart," the man said in a thick accent that I couldn't place. The smell of liquor and cigarettes melted through the material over my head and bile rose in my throat. Asshole jerked me forward, and I tripped up a flight of stairs. He slammed my body into a hard seat, then buckled me in after he grabbed a handful of my breasts.
With a swift movement, I jerked my knee upward and connected. Fucking bastard. Yeah, I played with boys all of my life and fighting was in my bones. I wouldn't sit there and let him feel me up.
"You bitch." His fist crashed hard into my face, and I saw white, even though I was surrounded by black. No one, not one person, had ever struck me with such power. My face felt like it had shattered, and my breathing increased, causing the anger inside me to build. Although fear existed, rage seemed to fuel me. When I was a child, my mother always said I had my dad's temper. She insisted that I learn to reel it in because I often got lost in it. Over the years, I had learned self-control and to blow off things, but right now, I didn't want to see past the rage. I couldn't. I swore to myself that if I was able to get away, I would seek revenge. The word seemed dirty on my mouth, but I craved it.
The man laughed, and a tapping on hard plastic echoed in the background.
I tried to take myself from my body, pretend that I was somewhere else, anywhere but here. I tried to ignore the pain that pulsed across my face where I had been struck. I searched my happy memories until I landed on Finnley. The thoughts of him would keep me strong.
The man removed the hood, and I let my eyes adjust to the light. When I squinted, the pain spread, but I refused to show weakness. I was on a small plane and several men surrounded me. No women.
He took the material from my mouth, and I looked up at him. If looks could kill, they would all be dead.
"Now be a good little bitch and don't speak."
"Fuck you," I said, and he grabbed my face so hard that I almost whimpered. Almost.
"I was warned about your smart fucking mouth. I kind of like it but not right now."
My cheeks throbbed. I was bruised in more ways than one.
"Raphael. Bring it to me," he said.
Another man handed Dickhead a vile with a clear liquid. He pulled a needle from his pocket, along with a rubber strap.
"Don't you dare," I said between clenched teeth. He grabbed the makeshift gag, and before he placed it in my mouth, I screamed.
Dickhead wrapped the rubber tight around my arm, placed the needle in the vile and pulled the syringe. The liquid filled the inside, then he lifted it toward the light and tapped.
"Be still or you'll be real fucking sorry."
I closed my eyes.
I needed Finn.
I needed Luke's pretty pictures.
I needed every happy moment that I had experienced in the past week to flood me. But most of all, I needed love to hold me, guide me, and to tell me everything would be okay. When I left Texas, I promised that I would tell the people I loved how I felt. One of my biggest regrets was not telling my parents how much I loved them. Now, in a situation like this, I realized that I had done the same fucking thing again. Did Finn know? Did he really know my true feelings? Sure, we fought like cats and dogs, played ridiculous mind games but... my vision swirled.
The needle broke skin. Finnley's smile was all I could think about when the liquid mixed with my blood and tainted my thoughts.
I wanted nothing more than to crawl out of my body, to slip into another place and time, but no such fucking luck. I didn't want to be in my own skin, which seemed to be melting from my body. I itched all over.
Before I lost all inhibitions, I thought I could hear Finn's laugh resonate in the plane, but that was just the demons that visited before everything faded into nothingness.
No one would keep me safe.
I truly was alone, just as we were when we sleep or die.
Twenty-six
I woke in an empty room with a single light blaring down on me. As I came to, the pain of a swollen face accompanied by a horrible headache hit me full force. I tried to remember what had happened.
I tried to shield my eyes, but my arms were tied to the wooden chair I sat on.
I looked down and saw that I wore a slutty bra and panties.
What the hell?
Oh, God. That meant s
omeone had… I couldn't think about it.
The ropes around my wrists caused sharp pains to shoot up my arms and through my back. My neck hurt, and my throat burned. I needed water.
I had been out long enough for dehydration to kick in. I tried to fully open my eyes but couldn't focus. My mind wasn't completely clear.
The room shifted, and I closed my eyes to steady the world.
When I opened my eyes, I saw movement in the corner. A person stood, waiting for me to wake. I tried to focus, to make sure it was real and not a figment of my fucked-up imagination. I licked my lips and tried talking, but couldn't.
I assessed what had happened: dinner with the parents. Cab ride. Oh God, kidnapping. Plane ride. Here.
I swallowed and forced out words. "Where…am…I?"
A broad shouldered man stepped from the shadows with an evil grin on his face.
"You should be worried about where you aren't."
He untied me and yanked me up by my arms. They were sore liked I had been jerked around like a ragdoll. There was no doubt in my mind that I had. I stood, unsteady, but still on my feet. He opened the door and led me down a hallway. I stumbled along the way. We passed rooms of caged women stoned out of their minds, wearing scandalous clothing that was worn to the seams. Some were even ripped in places.
They were whores. Real whores. And when some smiled at me, I saw nothing but gums. If screaming were possible, I would have.
The women reached out to grab me as I passed, and I thought I might fall. I was too lightheaded and kept fading in and out of reality.
"Oh, you got a new one, did you?" one woman screeched.
"She's pretty. Make Daddy a lot of money," her friend cackled.
He continued to drag me to the end of the hall, and slammed the door behind him. More women walked around this new hallway, but in big costumes. Some were completely naked with fake tans and tramp stamps. They all smelled of stale perfume, used to cover up the dirty stench.
We walked through a dressing room full of strippers and prostitutes. For all I knew, they were all prostitutes.
