by J. L. Drake
“It’s hard being in the spotlight when you never asked to be there.” He sighs. “Sad that people care more about celebrities than what’s going on in their own country. Troops being sent over to fight for our freedom get less media coverage than the Kardashian family.” He stands and stretches his legs. “You did well today, Savannah. Try to get some rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy the sun while it lasts.”
“Thanks.”
My foot is propped against a small table, allowing me to gently rock myself. I lean my head back and smell the oncoming rain. A low rumble echoes over the mountains, warning of the storm that is brewing. It has been a long time since I’ve watched a good show of force from Mother Nature. In New York, we have the four seasons. I missed them terribly in my prison. My time without so much as a window was terrible.
“May I join you?”
I look up to see Logan standing next to the swing, holding a blanket, a thermos, and two mugs.
“Sure.” I sit up to make room for him to join me, surprised and a little pleased that he is being so thoughtful. I know how busy he is all the time.
“I love a good storm,” he says as he opens the thermos. “Abby told me you love your coffee. Seems we have something in common.” He hands me a mug, and I wrap my chilly fingers around it, seeking its warmth.
“Thank you.”
He leans back and drapes the blanket over my lap. “The temperature can drop quickly in Montana this time of year.”
Wait, what?
“Montana?”
He shifts, making the seat sway. “Sorry, but you hadn’t signed the NDA yet.”
“Now that I have, what else can you tell me?” I think I have the right to ask now.
He lets out a long breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I say without missing a beat. “But first you can tell me who you are.” I wave my hand. “Abigail filled me in some. She said you’re top of the line trained, and some of you are Special Forces.”
He sips his coffee. “We’re all Special Forces,” he corrects me. “My grandfather was the founder of this group. We’re called Shadows. The U.S. government wanted a group of highly trained professionals who could slip in and out of Mexico to gather information on the Cartels, Los Sirvientes Del Diablos, and a few other drug and kidnapping rings. At first, that’s all we did, and then they started to use us to retrieve hostages and bring them back across the border safely. That’s when this place was built. We needed a safe place to bring the kidnapping victims while we tied up the loose ends. We like to call them our ‘guests’ when they are with us. As soon as it’s safe, they go home to live their lives, and we move on to our next job.”
“Why Montana? Why not somewhere closer to the border, like Texas or California?”
“Because that’s the first place they’d check. Who would think to look in the back mountains of Montana? Plus, we have a pretty good advantage if attacked.” He waves at the view. You can see for miles all around us.
I try to remember my journey here, but I still blank out after the cabin of the plane. I think about the other people who were here before me and what it was like for them.
“Were there any who didn’t make it? You know, when they got back home.”
He nods. “Yes. Some refused our help and went back before it was safe and were taken again or were killed. Some couldn’t handle what they had been through and ended it themselves.”
Lovely. He must have caught my expression.
“We have a high success rate, Savannah. Eighty-five percent go on to live normal lives.”
“Who was the last ‘guest’ who stayed?”
He looks at me carefully.
“York mentioned something about the last one not being as pretty.”
He rolls his eyes.
“York,” he mutters to himself. “We haven’t had a lot of women here. It’s mostly wealthy businessmen. The two women we did have were in their fifties, and they were the wives of some important people. You’re the first who’s young and, well, pretty.”
I blush at his unexpected compliment.
He clears his throat. “Needless to say, the guys were all happy you decided to stay.” I don’t look up. “Plus, you give York shit, and that’s just plain fun to watch.”
“Am I the only vic—” I hate that word, “person like me here? Are there others?”
“Just you for now.”
I nod, thinking about what he said. The clouds start rolling in around us. It is a spectacular show. So many different shades of gray change the color of the lake. I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling my mood shift again.
“He makes me nervous,” I confess.
He peers down at me. “Who?”
“York.”
“Does he?”
I nod.
“Savannah, look at me, please.”
I peel my gaze off the floor and meet his stare.
“If he does or says anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, you tell me right away, okay?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I shake my head. I feel stupid even saying anything.
“Regardless, you tell me. You tell me if anyone here makes you uncomfortable.”
A loud clap of thunder makes me jump, nearly spilling my coffee. I set it down on the table and pull the blanket over me. I bring my knees to my chest, something I’ve done to protect myself since I learned to fear that terrible click of the key in the lock. The rain comes down like someone turned on a faucet full blast. We both shift toward the middle of the swing, getting out of the way of the splatter. His arm rests behind me and he turns into me, almost like he is shielding me. It must be second nature for him. Although it is a small action, it makes a bubble of warmth grow inside me. Huh.
“Can you see them?” I peer into the trees and force the feeling aside.
“I can because I know where to look. That, and I’m trained to sense their movements.”
“So, the whole time you’ve been sitting here, you can feel them around us?”
He nods, looking off to my right and pointing into a thick wooded area. “One there.”
I squint but can’t see anything.
“There.” He motions to the right a bit with his head. “Two down by the beach.”
“Are you playing me?” I ask with a skeptical look.
He smiles and pulls out a small radio and switches the channel. “Beta Seven, come into the clearing.” Sure enough, a man off to my right, exactly where Logan first pointed, dressed in camouflage, comes walking out. “Back to post.” The man turns and disappears into the woods.
“I stand corrected,” I say through trembling lips. It is starting to grow very cold.
He stands, offering his hand. “Come, let’s get you inside. You’re freezing.”
After a hot shower and some dry clothes, I head down to the living room to my favorite spot in front of the fire. Before I can even sit down, Scoot appears out of nowhere, pouncing on my lap. He walks himself around my waist under my open sweater—apparently, he is cold, or maybe he is marking me with his scent. Either way, it tickles and makes me laugh.
“Now, that’s a sweet sound.” Logan grins, sitting on the couch across from me. He has changed into a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt. He looks his age. Thirty-something? His shirt shows off how fit he is. No doubt. These guys always seem to be training for something.
“Feels kind of nice,” I admit but don’t make eye contact. Scoot hears Logan’s voice and pops his head out by my side. The little bugger made my pink tank top white along the bottom. “Hey,” I pat his head, “I thought we had a truce about the fur.” He looks up at me and meows. A bright light fills the room, followed by a crack of thunder that shakes the windows. The rain beats hard against the glass, and Scoot runs and hides under a chair. I want to do the same. I stand up, feeling uneasy. It is growing dark even though it is only two in the afternoon. I look out at the woods and think about the men out there. “This place i
s being monitored by cameras, right?”
“Yes,” Logan comes and stands behind me, “twenty-four seven.”
“Then why aren’t you calling in the guys? It’s pouring rain out. It’s got be freezing for them. Have they even eaten lunch?” I see a smile grow on his face in the reflection of the window.
“They have huts to protect them from the rain, and proper rain gear. These aren’t mall security guards.” He chuckles. “A stormy night is a walk in the park for these men. Besides, it’s their job, and they do it well.”
“But we’re not in any danger, right? I mean, you said only a handful of people know where we are, so why do they have to be out there―”
“Just because we can’t see danger doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he explains, cutting me off. Folding his arms, he comes to stand next to me. “The men who took you are part of the Cartels, a network that openly kills their own people in broad daylight in the middle of busy streets. The police have no control over them. Shadows has been doing this for almost three generations…just think how many people we’ve pissed off.” He looks down at me over his shoulder. His eyes soften. “Don’t worry. I make sure they get fed properly, and their shift ends in two hours.”
I nod, feeling a little better about the guys, but not so much about what he just said. “Abigail mentioned that you’re updating the security equipment. Is that just protocol or because I’m here and I bring extra baggage because of who is after me?”
“A bit of both.”
I figure since he’s on a roll answering my questions, I might as well go for the one that’s been eating me alive since I arrived.
“Did my father ask you to come for me?” A crack of thunder makes me stumble over the last word.
“I can’t answer that,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“When will I be able to speak with him?”
“Soon, when we know it’s safe.”
“There’s that word again,” I mutter, jumping at another clap of thunder. Christ, my nerves are shot! I hate feeling so jumpy. I start to grow angry as my emotions twist around. “How much did those bastards ask for my ransom? Tell me—what am I worth?”
“Savannah,” he turns to face me, “don’t think like that.”
I stare him point blank in the eye. Now I know I’m angry.
“Fifty thousand,” he murmurs quietly. I feel my stomach drop, tuck, and roll over the hardwood floor.
“Nice to know I missed my life for seven months and I’m only worth fifty thousand! So that’s, what—roughly over seven grand a month.” I shake my head. “No wonder they barely fed me.” I’m bitter, angry, and sad. I try to fight back the tears, but it’s no use.
He touches my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He is struggling with something, I guess about having to tell me my total net worth.
Suddenly, it hits me. “If I was only worth fifty grand, why didn’t my father pay it? Why did I have to rot away in that cell for almost a year?”
“It’s not as simple as handing someone the money, Savannah. There are always tricks and schemes, and in a lot of cases the victim is killed long before the families even agree to pay to have them returned. They make a fake proof of life video or take pictures before the victim is killed and use them throughout the negotiations.”
My blood drains from my face as another flashback plays out in front of me.
He grabs the tops of my arms, holding me steady. “Whoa. You should sit down.”
I shake my head, not listening. “W-why was I spared, then? Why not kill me? Then collect. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. When we came for you, we planted evidence setting up Rodrigo’s brother. There’s been some bad blood between them in the past, and we hoped to throw them off our trail. We knew it wouldn’t stand up for long, but it should take the heat off for a while. We need more time to figure out exactly what is going on.”
Evidence, fake proof of life, fifty thousand dollars—my head is swimming. Before I know what is happening, I’m placed on the couch and told to put my head between my legs.
“Breathe, Savannah.” He runs his strong hand over my back. “You’re getting too much information too fast. You’ve been through a lot, and your body and brain need time to catch up. I promise I’ll answer all your questions in time, but that’s it for now.”
He is right; it is too much. I start to sob.
He pulls me into him, holding me close. His smell engulfs me. It’s been years since I had a man hold me, other than my father, and it feels nice…almost safe.
I wake to a booming sound that could restart a heart. I lie on the couch, staring at the fire, and try to catch my breath. Lightning fills the room, followed by another earth-shaking boom. I sit up and look around. I’m alone in this very large house in the middle of a freakin’ battle-of-the-gods storm. I make my way slowly toward the kitchen. Abigail must have left the light on for me. The clock reads eleven. I glance outside when the lightning flickers, illuminating the entire lake. I squeeze my eyes and cover my ears, waiting for the next—
“Ahhh,” I yelp when it rumbles all around me like a speeding train. It is so unpredictable. I hate it!
I hear voices coming from downstairs and follow them, hoping to find Abigail. I could really use some company right now. They become louder when I reach the entertainment room. The door is partially open. I take a deep breath and step inside. Logan, Mark, York, and three other men I recognize but don’t know by name are sitting around a poker table, drinking beer.
“Hey, there, Savi!” Mark gives me a cocky smile. “Did we wake you?” Everyone turns and stares at me.
I shake my head and jump at another boom. “N-no, you didn’t.”
“You look a little nervous,” York chimes in as he sips his beer, glaring at me over his bottle.
“Stop,” Logan warns. “Everything okay?”
“Umm, yes.” I jump again, heat rushing to my face. “Just looking for Abigail.”
“She went to bed a while ago.”
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling even more anxious about going back to my room, “Thanks.”
“Savannah, you want to join us?” Logan asks, giving a flick of the head. I know he is only being nice.
“No, it’s okay. You guys enjoy your—” Boom! I jerk, closing my eyes for a moment.
Mark stands to make room between him and one of the guys.
I sigh and give in. Who am I kidding? I’d probably sit outside the door just for the comfort of their voices. “Thanks.” Mark deals out a new hand and gives me some green chips.
He tells me they play for fun once a week, but once a month they play for money.
“Have you even played before?” York asks as he fiddles with his cards.
“A few times.” My grandfather played once in a while. He taught me the basics—mostly how to bluff. I look around the table at the three other guys. “Hi.” It felt wrong sitting without introducing myself.
“Savannah, this is the guy who was driving the night we brought you here.” Mark points to the man next to me.
“John.” He flicks his cigar off to one side as he offers me his hand.
“This was the man in the back, Paul.” Mark points, and Paul gives me a wave. “York was in the Escalade in front of us.” York smirks. “And this is Keith.”
“AKA Beta Seven.” Logan winks at me.
“Oh!” I say, remembering him from earlier in the day. Logan got him to come out into the clearing.
Boom! I jump—why does this place have to have so many windows? I stop myself, shocked that I went there. Do I miss my prison walls? No way! Christ, stop!
“Umm, well, I guess this is a little late, but thank you all very much for saving me that night. I owe you.”
“It’s all in a day’s work,” John says with a tight nod.
“I know how you can make it up to us.” York wiggles his eyebrows. Logan elbows him hard in the side, and he grunts, cursing out loud. “Fuck, s
orry! I was only playing.”
“Speaking of playing, shall we continue?” Mark asks, tossing a chip into the center.
We play a few hands, and I fold twice, mostly to watch the body language of the others at the table. Logan and Mark are hard to read, but the others make little slips here and there. By the fifth hand, I think I am ready to stay in, and I chuck two cards and wind up with a pair of twos. Crap! But I go with it; they don’t know what I have. Plus, it’s fun. Soon it is down to me, Mark, and York.
“Come on, Savi,” Mark chuckles, “break that poker face.”
I remember what my grandfather said. Grab at something serious that happened in your life and think about it. Pull that hard face from somewhere. So, I do…not like it’s hard.
He thinks for a minute then tosses his cards. “Fine! I fold.”
Great. One down, one to go. I glance at York, who is studying me. I toss two more chips on the table, raising the bid.
“Hmmm,” York mumbles as he stares at me for a few more minutes. “You haven’t played a hand yet, so I think you have something.” He looks at Mark. “Her face tells a lot. You just have to look for it.” York shakes his head in a cocky manner. “Fuck it, I fold.”
I couldn’t believe it. We had been at this hand for almost thirty minutes, and he’s folding. He thinks he’s so smart. What an ass. I start looking around the room, behind Mark’s chair, then under the table.
“What are you looking for?” York asks, annoyed.
“Oh, um, just your balls.” The whole table breaks out in a roar. Paul almost falls out of this chair. Mark turns over York’s cards, revealing a pair of tens.
“Well, what did you have?” York barks at me.
I don’t have to show him, but it only makes this moment so much better. I flip them over and watch his face fall.
