by Dani Wyatt
“I don’t do anything dangerous or illegal, Babybear. There are no other girls for me. I promise.”
Daddy’s words ring in my head like bells announcing some impending danger.
The irony of his rule “Never lie to me” is the next thing that makes me realize, maybe I’m the one being played. Confusion rakes at me but anyway I turn, I’m settling with the fact that I’m going with her. I’m going back to the life I tried so hard to forget.
My eyes burn as Daddy’s voice echoes in my head. I do everything I can to not allow them to see my pain.
“Fine. What are we waiting for? Why bring me here anyway? You could have just taken me yourself back to the house. Why even involve her?” I nod toward my grandmother, tears threatening the corners of my eyes, and with a lick of my lips my heart breaks.
“You don’t get to ask the questions. And you’re not going anywhere. Not yet.” He barks. I’m surprised to see a look of fear cross my grandmother’s face. Whoever this man is, he scares her, and not just for her safety. “Don’t forget, I always win. You’re both staying put until I get what I want. Your family owes me.” His cold glance at my grandmother tells me I’m on the right track. If I thought the room had turned cold a moment ago, it was nothing, because now I’m physically shivering.
He stands up from the table and steps in front of me, staring down with something in his eyes that feels like death.
“Now. I need his phone number, the clock is ticking.”
E L E V E N
Stas
TIME IS FUCKING TICKING on the deadline.
The Learjet is taxiing to the runway ready for takeoff, but by the time we land we’ll have shaved off another hour or more. That doesn’t leave us a lot of time and I’m just hoping for some sort of breakthrough.
Ten of George’s guys are here with us and I’ve got the rest of the small army scattered around the three states where I think we might have the most luck finding information, but I still have no idea where they are.
Where she is.
I’m dying minute by minute, not knowing if my baby is safe.
In between every thought of Ginger is a thought of a more painful way to kill the fucker that’s taken my world from me.
“Boss.” George cuts into my thoughts. “You’re no good if you can’t think straight. Get an hour of sleep while we’re in the air. I’ll man the satellite phone. I’ll check every email and message. I’ll wake you if we have anything—”
A ring on my cell stops him cold and my finger is on the green button before we can blink.
“Yeah.” I answer the unknown number on speaker, my heart in my throat and my gut churning inside out.
“Hello.” The single ice-cold word lacerates any hope I had left that this could all be some crazy misunderstanding.
“You know you’re going to die.” I answer, unable to hold my cards.
A laugh comes in reply and my mind spins as George nods my way, taking a seat opposite me and hitting record on his own phone.
“We’re all going to die, Stanislov. So, stop being so obtuse. It’s bourgeois.”
“Nothing else is going to happen until I hear her voice. Put her on the fucking phone now.” There’s a strap around my heart waiting for his reply.
“Know who is okay?” He mocks in a sing-song tone.
“Your death is only getting more painful.” My jaw muscle turns to stone as I grit my teeth until I hear them cracking.
“Oh my god.” He elongates every word. “Such drama. Come now, we are all gentlemen here. All in a business that knows the rights and bounds of who we all are. You are no fucking saint. You will go for a trick for the rest of your life as well as I if the right information is made available to the right authorities. Let’s save each other time and irritation and dispose of the unnecessary threats.”
I answer him with silence. My request stands and if he’s got any smarts, he will know he has zero leverage on me without proof of life. I was obsessed with Ginger before. Fuck, when I get her back—not if but when—my life will be dedicated to her in every way, shape and form.
I will give her the world and then some.
But first, I need to deal with this fuck.
“Don’t be an ass. You know I’m not bargaining without proof. Or we can hang up now.” I dare the bluff, not sure how he knows about Ginger and betting he may not know enough to be sure I won’t sacrifice her.
A second longer pause than I expect tells me I called that right.
I hear a breath and I know it’s her. The world stops spinning until I hear the first peep of her voice.
“I’m okay.” The words cut through my sternum and eviscerate my heart.
Before I can ask her anything, the fuck’s voice is back.
“There you go. You have your proof. Now, let’s get to the important topic. Me. And how you are going to accommodate my needs in my...” He pauses, and George is holding a hand over his mouth. “...new life. It was so rude that you left our meeting so abruptly. You owe me an apology for that. After all, I am the customer and the customer is always right.”
I decide to gather as much information as possible.
“What do you want exactly?” I play into his ego. “I’ll give you what you want. I’m already working on the demands you left with my boss. Just give me the specifics so I can get it done and move the fuck on.”
A stony chuckle comes through the phone. “Now, that’s more like it. See how easy things can be when you just accept your position? Okay, here’s what I expect now in addition to what I told him before we met...”
I let my head fall back on my neck as he drones on. None of it matters, I’m not doing shit for him except ending his useless life. He prattles on about square footage, a pool with a hot tub, neighborhood, how many cars and the style...even if I did what he’s asking and didn’t kill him myself, the two mobsters certainly would.
He doesn’t seem to understand the idea of being low profile for a few years to save his dumb ass.
Amazing how ego can interrupt intelligence. This guy is clearly wicked smart, savvy, but his weakness is what will get him killed. He’s a bit blind in his quest for the win.
Only, it will be my pleasure now to do the honor of ending his life.
When he finishes I finally respond. “Fine. Got it. But you don’t get shit until I get her. So, I’ll do this, finalize it all and meet your guy. It will take me a few hours, so where do we pick up Ginger? And she best be in the same condition as when she left or your deal is dead. So are you.”
“Enough with the death threats. If you want her to live, you will follow my instructions and never see her again. You won’t be picking her up from anywhere.” The silence that follows echoes in my head and I’m not sure what’s coming next. “I get my new life. And she gets her old life. You get to do whatever the fuck you want, but it won’t include her or I’ll make sure there is no her. Do you understand this, Stanislov? No matter where I end up, I’ll be watching.” I hear him laugh. “Oh, and if you’re watching for my connection, thinking you’ll be able to get to me, don’t bother. He’s just a courier. He has no idea where the package is going until it’s in his hands. I’ll give him a call when he’s on the road and let him know where to meet me. If anything happens to him, he’s delayed even a minute or if he even thinks he’s being followed, he’ll let me know and I’ll slit her pretty little throat.”
It takes every ounce of my control to not come undone.
“I read your note, Calfus, but you need to give me more or the deal is off. Ginger comes home with me.”
His words ‘her old life’ play on repeat in my mind. From what she’s told me, she has no old life. Her parents are deceased, the village or whatever the fuck it was is gone. She has no one.
Visions of Ginger pound through my mind. Her scent surrounds me and I can’t help but focus on the thought that my seed could have found its home in her womb already and we just don’t know.
I’ve fucked her enough
unprotected for us to have bred an army, but for some reason I haven’t taken root yet. But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be true right now, this moment, while that less-than-human has her.
Has my family.
That thought has my vision cast in red. She’s my babygirl. But fuck, the idea of a family is something I never considered before her. Now, I can’t imagine the hell I could unleash on anyone that would threaten my wife or my children.
Wife.
I need to take care of that shit right away.
As soon as I get her back.
What the fuck I was waiting for I’m not sure, but as soon as her hand is back in mine we’re going to the courthouse or the church—or whatever she wants—and she’s going to be mine in every way. She’s never getting away from me. Ever. I shake my head, refocusing on the issues at hand and trying to calm my racing heart.
“I don’t need to give you anything.” He answers, breaking into my thoughts. “Your trump card is played. You want her alive. I’ll keep her alive and she will stay alive as long as you never see her again. Never try to contact her again. That’s the deal you are being offered, the only one that lets her live. There is no negotiation. My life for her life. Fair trade. Now get to work planning my new life. Your time, or her time, or both is running out.”
The line goes dead.
T W E L V E
Ginger
THE NAUSEA I’VE BEEN fighting all day is growing with each minute.
I’m straining to hear the muffled whispers of grandmother and the guy. They stepped out onto the front porch but before they did they secured me with a handcuff around one wrist and the other end attached to a pipe on the wall.
I catch words here and there as I lean farther toward the window where the sound is clearest.
“I cared about you.” I think I hear that right from my Grandmother but I can’t be sure.
“I wasn’t good enough for your family then. But now I have what you want.” The man’s low voice seeps through the closed door. “How things change.”
“It was the way it had to be. I kept in touch as you’d asked. Sent you pictures. But, that was all I could do, you know that. My husband, he would have cut us all off if—” Grandmother’s voice trails off as I hear feet moving around on the wooden porch. They are too far away for me to hear anymore.
Every second I imagine Stas busting down the door and making this all go away. But I’m still sitting here, it’s been a couple hours since the phone call, and besides some cryptic information from my grandmother about this man and how he ties into all this it’s been a vacuum of silence.
They come back inside as I feel my insides lurch.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I manage to say through the waves of sickness.
I hate that in this moment I’m feeling so weak. I want to be a granite wall but my body isn’t cooperating.
“You just went.” The man paces by the window as Grandmother sits across from me at the table, hands folded in front of her with that same look of disdain and disappointment that is her permanent make up.
“Fine. I’ll sit here and channel Linda Blair, shall I?” I lower my head, slipping my hands into my hair on both sides and practice some deep breathing. When I sit back up I push my glasses back up and ask, “Can I at least get a cold towel or something?”
Heat begins to raise in my core and the room feels like it’s pulsating.
“Get her a bucket or something. She looks green.” He heads toward the front door as his phone begins to ring. “I’ll be back.”
I turn my head and look through my dangling hair at my grandmother, who isn’t moving.
“Just let me go to the frickin’ bathroom! I’m sick. What am I going to do? There’s nothing in there. No gun hidden behind the toilet. It’s practically just a hole in the stupid floor.” I take a deep breath and sit up, staring her down.
She presses her lips into a thin line, drawing her brows together.
“Go. But you do anything funny and you’ll regret it.” She reaches into the pocket on the side of her skirt and draws out the tiny key, then unlocks my wrist and nods toward the small bath just off the kitchen.
“Didn’t think you understood the concept of regret there, dear Grandma.” I take ginger steps forward, each one seeming to only push the bile up in the back of my throat.
The smell inside the bathroom is so pungent I lose my balance. My insides turn and before I can take a breath, I’m heaving whatever was left in my stomach into the stained bowl of the commode.
When the retching finally stops, I step to the sink, pull off my glasses and set them aside and throw cold water on my face, then look in the mirror and realize the guy was right, there’s a green tinge to my usually white skin.
My grandmother’s voice stabs in shrill splinters through the door. “Are you alright?” The hint of irritation there tells me she doesn’t really care if I’m alright, but she’s making sure I’m still here.
“I’m okay. I’m sick. I just need to sit here for a minute. You don’t want to come in here, trust me.” I add, standing at the commode and flushing it again for effect. “As soon as things stop spewing from my body I’ll be back to entertain you.”
I hear her huff and walk away as I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair as I move put my glasses back on.
“Jesus.” I drop my head and lock my elbows, hands on each side of the sink, trying to get my bearings. “This week sure took a turn,” I mutter under my breath, turning on the faucet then leaning down to suck in some water and swish it around in my mouth before spitting it out.
It tastes of metal and Sulphur but at least it’s an improvement over the taste of vomit.
As the waves of nausea subside there’s a ringing in my ears, but outside the small window above the commode I hear the guy’s voice.
He must be walking around the cabin, but he’s still on the phone so I close the lid and stand up on the seat, pressing my ear to the bottom of the window so if he looks he can’t see me.
The words are unintelligible until he comes closer and I hold my breath, listening.
“You don’t need to know where she’s going. She’s safe, going back to her family. She ran away three years ago and they’ve been searching for her. Stephanie is a troubled girl. I don’t know exactly what she’s told you but I don’t think you really know her, Stanislov. She will be taken care of I assure you. Her grandmother is here to take her home if you do as I ask. But that’s not important, do you have my requests secured?”
Silence as my heart is in my throat. All my lies are unraveling.
I can’t imagine what Daddy is thinking right now. Besides the insanity of everything else going on, now he’s going to figure out almost everything I told him about myself is a lie. My world is crumbling under my feet.
I’ve finally found something I didn’t know existed. Someone that feels like they fit me in a way I never dreamed. Someone that trusted me. Told me the number one rule was never lie to him and I couldn’t even trust him enough to open up when it really mattered the most.
And now those lies have caused all this.
No way he would want me back now. Everything I am was built on lies and once the trust is broken, as Stas said, things are never the same.
It was only a matter of time before a guy like him would get bored anyway with a girl like me. I think I was delusional to believe he would want me, just me, forever.
I listen as the man starts talking again. “Good. My courier will be waiting for you. And it will be just you. He sees anyone else, he gets spooked or he gets picked up after the meeting and I’ll see fit that she doesn’t make it back to her family. And her end will not be quick.”
A beat of silence then he continues. “You weren’t that hard to find. You are no match for me. I had your place staked out days before we met. Your Malcolm slipped and I took it from there. When I saw you with your precious girl, well what a twist of fate that was. Your hand was dealt. Fate has a
way of closing circles in life. Let’s just say, when I get what I want, others will as well.”
I don’t know what that means, but I know it means he’s been watching us. I hear him walking away and I shove the heels of my hands on the window frame. I stifle a grunt as it makes a cracking sound from the layers of paint that have it stuck in place.
Doing my best to keep it quiet, I thud my fist on the corner then grab the tarnished brass handle and push up with a grunt. To my surprise it shifts and opens a crack. I push harder and again it moves. It’s three-quarters of the way open.
I stop and listen for a moment, hear the sound of the front door of the cabin closing and know I only have a minute or two before one of them comes to check on me.
With another grunt, I grab the outside of the window frame and put one foot on the back of the toilet. The porcelain makes an unhappy crunching sound under my weight and I pull my other foot up onto the edge of the sink, trying to disperse the pressure.
I pause and listen. When I hear their muffled voices I push upward, angling my shoulders and jutting my head through the opening while straining to pull my weight up. Pushing up on my tiptoes I scrape one shoulder through, biting back a yelp as something sharp tears at my skin.
I’m jerking and wincing, using every muscle to try to compel my body to fit through the opening. Gathering my thoughts, I remember that this could be life or death. I pretend my effort isn’t just for me but that I need to get myself free in order to save some imaginary wide-eyed orphan on the verge of certain doom.
The adrenaline rush I’m hoping for from that image evades me, but I get something else in return.
I’m stuck.
Stuck here in this window in my donkey pajamas. Too bad I can’t take a picture because this is a Kodak moment if ever there was one.
My feet are a few inches off the connection to the commode and the sink now, one arm and shoulder through the opening and the balance of my weight pressing down on my diaphragm, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Gravity is not my friend, and the pressure amplifies the formerly diminished feeling of nausea.
