by Juniper Hart
He asked her things that made no sense.
“Where are you?”
“When are you coming back for me?”
“Why don’t you fly away?”
Each night, his presence came to her, his silhouette sharper with each new dream, yet Nora still could not see his face, nor could she remember his name.
He was the man I was crying about by the river the day that Jerome took me, she realized, but that told her little. Ansel. His name is Ansel… isn’t it?
In her waking hours, she seemed a zombie, there but also not there, fighting through her own psyche to regain some knowledge of who she had been a decade earlier.
Her name was Nora. She was from Britain. How could she go back home?
A week after Jerome had taken her to meet Adrienne, he announced that he had to leave on business.
“When I return,” Jerome told Nora, “we will have a romantic dinner alone. I will dismiss the staff, and it will just be you and I.”
A thousand inquires wanted to spring from Nora’s lips. What had happened to Adrienne? What was the occasion for their romantic dinner? Was he going to kill her?
She said nothing, nodding as she clamped her lips together.
“While I am gone, you must only work on your art,” he said, gripping her arms. “You will not leave the house. Am I clear?”
“Yes, chéri,” Nora whispered. “Of course. I already promised you I would not.”
Jerome nodded, his icy eyes narrowing. “And you will not speak English again. I did not even know you could.”
Nora swallowed quickly, bobbing her head vehemently.
“Nor did I,” she lied. “I must have learned it in school… in Nice.” She prayed that he found her words sincere, though she couldn’t bring herself to hold his gaze.
Jerome stared at her for a long moment. “I will be back in three days. I expect you to be prepared for our private encounter.”
Her fear turned to disgust, bile swimming in her stomach as she recognized the implication of his words. The thought of him touching her was suddenly appalling.
Nora smiled weakly and nodded.
“Oui, chéri,” she murmured. “I look forward to it.”
Jerome kissed her on the cheek and turned for the front door, where his suitcase waited for him.
“À bientôt,” he said, reaching for his jacket. Nora watched him go, forcing herself not to flee the foyer before he had left.
I have three days to find help, she thought, staring at his retreating back. Three days to rescue Adrienne and get out of this house. But how? Collette, Alex, and Marc will be watching my every move. They will report everything I do back to Jerome.
Jerome paused at the doorway, eyeing her speculatively. “Are you all right, mon amour? You seem pale.”
“I will miss you,” Nora choked. “Please, hurry home.”
He nodded slowly, studying her face. Nora tightened her hands into fists and then ran into his arms, embracing him as lovingly as she could bring herself to. He couldn’t be suspicious of her behavior or he might return sooner than she expected him to. She also couldn’t give the staff any reason to be suspicious of her, or they would call for him to return.
Nora deposited a warm kiss on his cheek and stepped back, looking up at him in what she hoped translated to admiration. She did not know how she managed to keep such a phony expression on her face when all she wanted to do was run screaming from the chalet ahead of him, yet she must have pulled it off. Jerome’s face seemed to soften, and he nodded shortly.
“À bientôt,” he said again, whirling to leave her alone in the front hall.
As the door closed, Nora felt her knees grow weak, but she willed herself to stand upright and turn around. She could already sense eyes watching her every move, and while she could not see Collette, Nora could tell she was nearby.
She had to find a way out of this prison without being detected.
The odds were terrible. She was being watched in a remote area of Switzerland. The only phones were in Collette’s room and Jerome’s locked office, a room to which only Collette had the key. If Jerome ever called to speak with her, Nora had to take the calls in his office with the housekeeper in earshot.
All other technology was forbidden from the chalet. There were no computers or cell phones. There was not even a television.
The insurmountable task made Nora lightheaded, but she forced herself up the stairs toward her suite. She perched on the edge of the settee in the sitting room and went over her options.
I am being held in a perfect prison, she thought. Even if I find the means to escape, how will I get anywhere without freezing to death in the snow? I might have a chance in the spring, but I do not have that long! If I am to escape, it must be within the next three days.
“Mademoiselle Nora?”
Nora cursed under her breath. Was the woman going to be at her side until Jerome came back?
“Oui, Collette?”
“I have brought you some breakfast,” the housekeeper declared, entering the room. She seemed to be searching Nora’s face for signs of defiance, but the brunette managed to keep her expression stoic.
“That is very kind, thank you,” she replied, nodding as the girl set a tray down at her side.
Collette could not know that I was kidnapped, Nora thought, slowly rising to take a piece of toast from the plate. She was hired to work here with Marc. They did not know Jerome before then. If I tell her the truth about who I am, maybe she will help me.
The idea filled her with sudden hope, and she eyed Collette as the woman filled a cup of tea and handed it to her. Nora nodded, taking a sip.
She could call the authorities for me, and they would find Adrienne, even if I do not know where the girl is being held specifically.
“Is there something you need, mademoiselle?” Collette asked, cocking her head to the side.
Nora nodded eagerly, setting the cup down in its saucer.
“Oui,” she said, excitement coursing through her body. “I need your…” Her sentence died in her throat as a familiar dizziness washed over her. She turned to look at the cup she had just drunk tea from.
“Yes, mademoiselle? What can I do?”
But the housekeeper’s voice flittered in and out of her consciousness as she fell back onto the sofa.
“Again?” she mumbled. “You… you drugged me again? Why do you continue to do this?”
“Mademoiselle, it is for your own good that you rest,” Collette told her reassuringly, casting a sympathetic glance at her. “Monsieur Charpentier has told us about your emotional state, and we only want you to recover well.”
Her words danced in and out of Nora’s ears, but their meaning hit her as if Jerome had slapped her himself.
No one from the staff would ever help her—he had brainwashed them, too. They all believed Nora was crazy, and they had thought so since they had first met her. Nothing she could say would change their minds, much less would it change Collette’s.
Jerome had poisoned the staff against her from the moment she had set a foot inside his house, anticipating that she might begin to remember everything he had tried to erase from her memory.
Nora’s lids began to fall. Somewhere above her head, she could hear Collette speaking, but she could no longer understand anything she was saying.
Perhaps they are all right and I am insane, Nora thought. I have not been kidnapped. I live a wonderful life with Jerome Charpentier, and soon we will have a daughter named Adrienne.
She was floating away, high above the clouds. The feeling was comfortably familiar, as if she had once resided far above the ground. Looking down at her body, her human frame was gone, and she had transformed into a mythical beast of sorts, a long, purple creature soaring away from Collette.
As Nora fell into unconsciousness again, something called out to her, loud and plaintive. It was the voice of the man whose face she could never see in her dreams.
“You can fly away, Nora!
” he cried. “You can escape!”
“How? How can I fly away?” she called back aloud. “Who are you?”
From the sky above, she saw a look of confusion cross over Collette’s face, but Nora still continued to float upward.
I am flying! I am flying away!
“Nora, it is me, Ansel!” the voice told her. “I am coming for you. Tell me where you are!”
“Switzerland,” she mumbled. Then she spoke again, louder. “Lucerne! I am in Lucerne, Switzerland!”
Nora saw Collette’s expression grow more concerned. The housekeeper spun and ran from the room, but Nora was not worried. She didn’t even know if what she was seeing was real or not.
She turned to search for the man who kept calling out to her, and her eyes widened as his shadow took form, as his silhouette became a clear picture in front of her.
“I am coming for you!” he repeated.
Darkness enveloped Nora, but not before a spark of faith lit her soul. She had seen his face, and while she did not know how any of it was possible, she had the utmost confidence that she would be saved.
Ansel, she thought. I did not imagine him. He is real. Ansel will come and fly me away.
8
Carrie smiled to herself, humming as she flopped onto the unmade bed. She wrapped herself in the sheets, her naked body still hot to the touch. Ansel had just left, and she could still feel the delicious warmth from their afternoon of lovemaking.
He really is a lot of fun, the brunette thought, licking her lips to taste the aftermath of Ansel’s salty kisses. I hope I run into him again before he leaves.
The encounter in his suite with the gunmen had scared her, but Ansel had explained their arrival with near laughter.
“They weren’t real guns,” he had told her reassuringly. “It was just a bad joke my manager was playing on me. He had no idea that you would be there.”
Carrie had been skeptical at first, but Ansel had licked away her fears in seconds, and she had soon believed him.
After all, she reasoned, if they had been out to hurt us, they wouldn’t have left witnesses behind.
Carrie stretched leisurely and sighed happily.
A knock on the door caused her to jump, but she instantly relaxed, a grin exploding on her face as she jumped to her feet, wrapping a sheet firmly around her chest.
He’s back for more already, huh? What a beast!
She threw open the door and gasped.
“Hello, sweetheart. Remember me?”
The man pushed his way inside the hotel room, and Carrie stepped back, trying to make sense of what he was doing there.
“Ansel isn’t here,” she explained quickly, looking behind the man who Ansel had called Tony. She was relieved to note that he wasn’t carrying a gun, but she was beginning to doubt Ansel’s story.
“I know, honey,” Tony replied, allowing the door to close behind him. Carrie gulped back her fear and stared at him.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“I just want a little bit of information, sweetheart. I saw your boyfriend leave just now, and I was hoping you and I could have a little chat.”
Carried pulled the sheet tighter around her body, her face growing hot.
“I can’t help you. I don’t know anything,” she told him flatly.
Tony grinned lazily and looked around the room.
“I just wanna know a bit more about your boyfriend,” he explained. “What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. I barely know him at all!” she protested, gaping at him. “We only met a couple days ago after his fight.” And even if she knew something, she wouldn’t tell this man anything.
“You seem to be his go-to girl here in Vegas,” Tony purred, stepping closer. “You must know something,”
It was then that Carrie saw the gun in his waistband, and she shuddered slightly.
“You don’t need to get hurt, sweetie,” he continued. “I just wanna know why he is the way he is.”
Carrie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“I don’t know anything about Ansel,” she told him. “I only know what I’ve read in the papers. He’s a heavyweight champion from England.”
Tony scowled, reaching for his pistol. He struggled to remove it for a second, and even though Carrie had the opportunity to run, she decided not to risk it.
I’ll tell him whatever he needs to know, and then he’ll go, she thought. He let me go last time. There’s no need for any violence this time either.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, honey,” Tony growled. “I wanna know everything about him. Tell me about his family.”
Carrie shook her head again, her face gaunt as he waved the firearm in front of her.
“I swear, I don’t know anything about him!” she insisted. “Until a couple days ago, I only knew who he was from boxing. And…”
“And what?” Tony demanded, his patience waning.
Carrie lowered her hazel eyes downward, whispering her answer. “And we didn’t do a lot of talking.”
“Well,” Tony spat in resignation. “You are completely useless to me.” He raised the gun, and Carrie screamed out in terror.
“No! Wait!” she cried. “I know he has a girlfriend! Or an ex-girlfriend!”
Tony lowered his weapon slightly. “Oh? What about her?” Carrie struggled to catch her breath, terror spotting her vision.
“He’s looking for her. She probably knows everything about him!”
“I need a name, sweetheart,” Tony said. When Carrie remained silent, finding it was harder to breathe, he barked, “What’s her name?”
“Nora!” she gasped. “Nora…”
Suddenly her mind went completely blank as she tried to recall the name she had seen Ansel searching for in his computer.
“I’m waiting,” Tony hissed.
Carrie closed her eyes, trying to focus. “Nora…” She begged her brain to produce the information she needed.
The first shot landed in Carrie’s shoulder, and her eyes flew open in shock.
Tony had shot her.
“The next one will end it all,” he said flatly. “Give me a last name and give it to me now.”
Carrie shook her head, dizziness overwhelming her. Was this how her life was going to end? She had slept with the wrong guy, and now she would get murdered for it?
She gazed down at the blood gushing from her arm before looking back up at Tony.
“Nora Chambers,” she mouthed, falling onto the mattress.
Tony nodded approvingly. “Very good, sweetheart. Now, what else do you know about him?”
Carrie tried to shake her head, but the effort proved to be too much.
“I know you know why they call him ‘The Dragon’,” Tony continued. “How did he become that way?”
Spots danced before Carrie’s eyes, and she slipped toward unconsciousness. The question did not make any sense to her.
Why is he asking about his stage name? What does he want with Ansel?
“I need a doctor,” she moaned.
Tony snorted. “You tell me what I need to know, honey, and you can call yourself a doctor. If not…”
Carrie didn’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he meant.
“I… don’t… know… what…” Her words were barely a slur. She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore. “Nora… Chambers…”
Before her eyes fell closed, she watched as Tony pointed the gun at her again. The last thing Carrie ever heard was the sound of him firing another bullet at her.
9
Slight turbulence, and a series of gasps echoed through the cabin as the airplane shook, but Ansel barely noticed, reaching for his drink. He was impervious to the bumps and bruises that accompanied flying. Even if he had not been, he was far too distracted to care about anything but Nora.
The dream he’d had the previous night had been so vivid. He was certain
now that Nora was in danger. How had he not seen it before?
“You’re making me nervous,” Louis sighed, noting Ansel’s foot twitching dramatically. “What have you got to be so anxious about? You won!”
Ansel barely heard his trainer, his gray eyes fixed out the window of the airplane.
I can fly faster than this, he thought with some annoyance, and he wanted nothing more than to rip out the emergency exit and spread his wings so that he could go look for Nora. The minute we land, I will go to Switzerland.
Nothing made sense. Why would Nora be in Switzerland? How could she have forgotten him?
Ansel took a deep breath. Nora had always been able to care for herself. No matter what danger she faced, she only needed to shift, and she would overcome anything in her way.
But there was a nagging in the back of Ansel’s mind that told him that she had forgotten more than who he was; she had also forgotten who she was.
I will get to the bottom of this in a few hours, he vowed confidently, despite the sense of dread in his heart.
“Ansel! Stop it!” Louis snapped, grabbing his leg. “What is wrong with you?”
Ansel turned and glanced at the man.
“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“It isn’t easy being at the top, is it?” Louis chuckled. “There’s only going to be more to consume you later.”
“Not everything in life is about boxing.”
“No?” Louis replied, his face surprised. “What else is there?”
Ansel didn’t respond. He signalled the air hostess for another drink, and Louis gave him a warning look.
“You should take it easy,” the stocky trainer said quietly. “We don’t want a replay of what happened when you first tasted success.”
Under normal circumstances, Ansel would have ignored Louis’ reminder of a time he had lost control, but that afternoon, his nerves were much too taut for any jabs. He sneered at his trainer.
“How many bloody times are you going to use that as leverage?” he demanded. “That was years ago, and I have never gone astray again! You sound as if I run to the closest pub at my earliest opportunity.”
