by Ethan Egorov
“Not much happening in the world today,” Antonio said. “But—"
Before their father could continue, Tommy’s phone chirped on the table. Trent suddenly stopped chewing his sausage links when Tommy’s face went pale.
“Tommy, what is it?” Trent said, his gut warning him that something terrible was going on.
“I just got a picture message,” Tommy said, his voice shaky. “Trent, this is bad.”
He shoved the phone in Trent’s direction. Trent craned his neck for a closer view. There was a picture of the same white dress Kristina wore the previous night along with a message.
“Happy New Year.”
And then Trent looked a little closer. Someone was wearing a white dress, someone who had been beaten and bloodied.
“Oh God . . . Kristina.”
Kristina
Kristina woke up with her head throbbing.
She shut her eyes tightly in an attempt to block out any light that was in the room and felt her stomach lurch. She knew she was facing at least a concussion. She tried to remember her last memories, but all that came to mind was her in the cab, missing the international departures section, and then a chloroformed cloth being shoved in her face, overwhelming her and knocking her out.
Kristina rolled over onto her stomach and pressed her cheek against the cool ground, finally feeling a bit of relief from the pain in her head. She moved a bit more and pulled herself to a sitting position. She took in several deep breaths. Whatever had happened, her attacker hadn’t bothered to gag her. That was the good news.
The bad news was basically everything else. She didn’t know where she was. She felt sick. Her head hurt so much that even the small amount of light that got through her eyelids hurt like hell. And she didn’t see a way out.
And when she said she was sick . . .
After inhaling and exhaling several times, she felt her stomach lurch once more and, despite her efforts to keep herself in check, she vomited on the ground, hacking several times and expelling all the contents of her stomach.
“Ugh . . .”
She heard a metallic click in the room. Realizing she wasn’t alone, her breathing began to speed up again. She scooted herself backward, with her eyes still shut tightly. She opened them a crack and, once the throbbing in her temples eased, opened them fully. She was in what appeared to be a wine cellar of some sort, with only a low-hanging fluorescent light illuminating the room.
And there, in the shadows of the place, was the figure of a . . . person. It was too dark, and her head hurt too much to see if it was a man or a woman. One thing was for sure, though— Kristina was currently in no position to fight. Whoever this person was, they could kill her easily if they wanted to.
She heard the flick of a cigarette lighter. The smell of smoke wafted through the room, and she heard a sharp inhale and exhale. She couldn’t see the figure in the shadows, but she knew that someone was smoking and watching her movements. The smoke eventually made its way to Kristina, causing her to hack and gag.
It didn’t take long for her company to speak.
“Well, hello there,” a woman’s voice said. “I’m pleased to see you’re finally awake. I hope you enjoyed your little nap. You seemed like you were stressed, so I thought a little vacation may do you nicely. I am sorry, though, that you’re not going to make your flight. You’ll have to call them back some other time and apologize for the unfinished job. In my experience, a good work-life balance is something important for a healthy individual to have.”
Who the hell are you?
There was a part of Kristina that felt like she knew that voice from somewhere, and the tone and content certainly aligned with the warped voice that she heard on the phone call yesterday. But she wasn’t anywhere close to having a name, let alone something deeper, and she knew she wasn’t going to solve this in the next couple of minutes.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kristina said, trying to put all the pieces together. “Where am I?”
“Your location isn’t important. Just know that you’re safe here. For the moment, at least.”
I find that hard to believe when I got chloroformed and apparently hit in the head.
“What’s wrong with my head? Did you hit me with something?”
“No, no, no,” the woman said condescendingly. “You hit your head when you fell.”
Kristina was slowly regaining her composure enough that she felt she was getting her spark back. It was time to fight back verbally, even if she couldn’t physically fight.
“I think it’s time you let me go. Otherwise, things may get heated for you.”
She had no idea how that was going to work. The Salvatores had to assume she was in New Zealand by now. This voice wasn’t one that was connected to the Mikkelsons or anyone else she knew who hated the Salvatores. But she didn’t want to just sit there and take the abuse this woman was throwing her way.
“Except that’s not how this is going to work,” the voice said with absolutely no concern. “I know you don’t understand what’s going on here, but you will shortly.”
A pause came followed by a “hmm” from the woman in the darkness.
“You don’t recognize my voice, do you?”
“I know it from somewhere,” Kristina said.
But she didn’t say anything else. She knew if the woman was asking if she recognized her voice, then she wanted to be recognized in totality. Kristina just hated that it apparently was like pulling teeth trying to get the truth out of her.
“What about my face?”
The woman inched closer to her. In the low light, Kristina squinted. The woman had dark eyes and elegant features. Her makeup was impeccably done, and her eyebrows had a sinister arch to them.
Immediately, she knew who it was. She had seen this woman online, far too many times. The instant recognition crossed her face, she kicked herself for not knowing who it was sooner.
“Rachelle?” Kristina said, her voice shifting from shock to disgust. “What the fuck?”
“I see you do recognize me after all,” Rachelle said with a cackle. “You know, it’s a shame Trent’s not here to see us both here chatting and getting along like old chums. I think that would make him happy. Oh well, c'est la vie. You’ll have to excuse me now. I have a party to attend.”
Kristina’s head was still spinning from her concussion. She was too weak to put up a fight as Rachelle reached over and pulled her diamond barrette from her long red hair.
Suddenly, things were starting to come together as much as they could in her concussed state. Rachelle was the one who wanted Trent dead, a scorned lover. She was the one who must have known about Kristina’s existence and knew how much she meant to Trent. She must have known this plan would put Trent in harm’s way, and then, if she decided, she could just as easily off her.
But Rachelle was just supposed to be a flirtatious, sex-crazed waitress at one of the Salvatore restaurants. What in the world was going on that made her . . . well, this?
Rachelle, though, chuckled as she watched Kristina’s red tresses fall over her face. She didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer questions. She seemed to take enough delight in knowing Kristina was suffering enough.
“There. If you plan on taking any selfies while you’re waiting on me, you may want to clean up some. I don’t think there’s a filter in the world that will fix the mess you’re in. Ciao, Bella.”
Trent
Trent’s father ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. The nervousness that swept over all three of the Salvatores was all-consuming and overwhelming. The girl that was supposed to be safe somewhere in New Zealand was now in a dark room, bleeding, and possibly dead.
“Oh God. Tommy, who sent that?”
“I don’t know, Dad!” Tommy said, sounding equally flustered. “It just came up with an unavailable number. I’m going to try to text Kristina. Trent, can you get on your phone quickly and see if Kristina’s ticket was used?”
“Yea
h, I’m on it,” Trent said, willing to do whatever he needed to make things better.
“This ends now,” Antonio said.
And ending it now is what Trent very much intended to. For all of the drama that existed between them, for all of the trouble they experienced between themselves, the feeling that Kristina was in danger was enough to compel Trent to literally run guns blazing into the streets. He was too frustrated, too infuriated to think rationally right now.
He could, however, still follow his family’s orders. He pulled up his phone, trying to ignore the moaning and concerns from his father and brother. He went through a few systems that he knew could monitor if Kristina had gotten on the flight.
Unfortunately, his family’s worst fears were confirmed in short order.
“I just checked Kristina’s ticket number,” he said after completing the task. “She never checked in or got on the plane, Dad.”
“Tommy, has she answered your calls?” Antonio said, barely acknowledging what Trent said.
“Nah, it’s all straight to voicemail.”
“Trent, did she tell you anything about this job she was working on?”
Poor Antonio seemed to be as worried about this as Trent was. That made Trent feel a little bit better that it was highly unlikely Kristina had any involvement in the attack on the old house and on their supply chain. He had suspected her in moments of weakness, but now he felt he could have a level head and not worry about that.
“Nah, just that it was supposed to happen at the hotel she told me to meet her at.”
Trent’s father was about to speak, but then he caught himself. Everyone seemed to take a moment to catch their breath. The last several seconds had been an enormous flurry of activity, and everyone just needed to take a step back to make sense of what was going on.
“Listen, Trent,” Antonio said, doing his best to speak slowly, perhaps to calm his mental state. “I know things have been, well, let’s say strained between you and Kristina since she went globe-trotting. But we need you to focus, okay? I need you to make sure that you stay as calm as possible as we work on this.”
“I understand,” Trent said, realizing there was a need to stay on point, and romantic feelings were a distraction. “What do you think the message means, Tommy?”
“I’m not certain. I mean, what’s so special about New Year’s? Did anything significant happen that day, Dad?”
“Nah. We’ve always had pretty low-key New Year’s Eves and New Year’s Days, considering our business. They’ve been mostly quiet.”
That felt like too easy of an answer to Trent. He didn’t doubt his father, most especially since he had experienced plenty of New Years with him. But that didn’t mean it didn’t mean something to the Mikkelsons.
But then he remembered what he had encountered in the hotel lobby on his way to see Kristina. The place was swarming with attendees for a New Year’s Eve event. It was unlikely this was connected to Kristina—after all, it wasn’t like New Year’s was an event celebrated only by a select few—but it was a starting point. And given that they didn’t really have a whole lot else to go on, it was something he could grasp onto.
“I have an idea, Tommy,” Trent said. “Get your jacket. We’re going to take a little road trip.”
“No funny business yet, Trent,” his father said. “We need to be organized for our strike.”
“Oh, nothing like that, Dad,” Trent said reassuringly. “I just need Tommy for a little backup. We’re going to go book a conference room. Tommy, bring your gun.”
Tommy nodded at Trent, perhaps persuaded by the confidence and certainty of Trent’s words, and walked upstairs for his weapon, returning quickly. He clutched his keys in his hands.
“Let’s go, Trent,” Tommy said. “I’m driving so you better buckle up.”
Finally.
“We’ll be safe, Dad, don’t worry,” Trent said, although it didn’t seem to do much to reassure the old man.
At this point, though, placating their father was merely secondary to unraveling everything that was going on. Antonio would be most settled not by Trent staying behind and comforting him but by Trent getting the damn job done.
Tommy wasted no time getting them through mid-morning traffic. They went back to the same hotel where Kristina had first tried to seduce Trent. They walked into the hotel with purpose. Tommy didn’t take the time to even speak to anyone in the lobby and walked straight to the front desk, where a thin-lipped man smiled casually at him.
“Hello, sir, may I help you?”
“Yes. You certainly may help me,” Tommy said. “Listen, my business associates and I are interested in booking a conference room for our annual New Year’s Eve office party. Can you tell me what’s available?”
Tommy always knew how to work a room, so Trent trusted that he would know how to work this front desk receptionist. It was necessary to establish a base to operate from. Otherwise, moving back and forth between the mansion and here was going to be a giant pain in the ass, not to mention a slow move.
And in a spot like this, speed was absolutely of the essence.
“Oh my,” the receptionist said. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but the majority of the hotel has already been reserved. Bigger businesses tend to book it not only for their parties but also for their after-parties. Not to mention this year is the annual Gala, and I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but the Chamber of Commerce throws their dinner here as well as their party. It’s in the main lobby, and, well, let’s just say it’s quite a posh affair.”
Tommy’s jaw muscles began working. Trent knew what was about to happen next, and it wasn’t going to be good for the receptionist.
He stepped even closer to the counter and stared directly into the desk clerk’s eyes. His own were a pit of rage as he placed both palms on the counter. He lowered his voice to a menacing growl. Apparently, it was time for a little more direct approach.
“Now, listen to me,” Tommy said, unafraid to express a certain level of darkness in his tone. “I own several of the largest businesses in this city. Frankly, I find your tone insulting, and I think it would behoove you to find us a spot. You understand?”
The tone conveyed everything the words may not have. The clerk swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and exhaled nervously while Tommy smiled at him just as thin-lipped as before.
“Yes . . . yes, of course, I understand.”
“Good,” Trent said with a bit of a sarcastic smile. “We can both do our jobs and be happy, can’t we?”
The clerk hurriedly typed in a few numbers, trying not to look into Tommy’s eyes. Frankly, even Trent had to admit that Tommy looked a bit intimidating.
“You will be in conference room C for the event,” the receptionist said, doing his best not to show how frazzled he was. “I just need your ID and a credit card now to finish booking you.”
Tommy handed him the information he needed to enter into the computer.
“I need a little bit more information as well,” Tommy said, leaning forward. “I know you said the Gala was going to bring in some pretty posh customers. I need a list of every business and Chamber of Commerce member that’s going to be at that event. Let’s just say I have a presentation concerning my own business they’re going to want to see.”
Admittedly, this was part of the task that Trent wasn’t sure he understood. But it began to dawn on him that if this was somehow connected to Kristina, then someone on the attendee list would likely have some connection to her, perhaps someone from the list would have hired her.
“Sir,” the clerk said, nervous. “I can’t do that. I could get fired. You don’t understand, the hotel has strict privacy policies.”
“You know,” Tommy said, with a slight chuckle, completely unfazed by the clerk’s devotion to the ethics of his job. “I do appreciate your desire to follow the rules of your organization. However, I feel that you’re meant for much greater things than a front desk clerk anyway. I think
you’re a good kid with a solid head on his shoulders, so I’m going to give you a couple of options. I want to test your business savvy. You go ahead and get me all the information I need, and hopefully, you won’t get caught, but if you do, I’ve got a little backup plan for you here. You can choose not to believe me, or you can choose to do the right thing. Am I making myself clear?”
The clerk nodded and went back to the computer, punching a few numbers on the keyboard. He returned with a packet of paperwork and a couple of room keys as well. Tommy had done all he needed to do.
“Well, sir, it seems you’re all set here. I have your conference room reserved, as well as some complimentary rooms until New Year’s Eve. You’ll find everything you need in this packet right here. I, uh, do hope you enjoy your stay at our fine establishment.”
Tommy smiled broadly at the desk clerk.
“Thank you for your business.”
It’s always our pleasure doing business here.
Trent and Tommy pocketed the keys that the clerk gave them and walked upstairs to the corresponding floor. Trent took a look at the key information and had to chuckle. It was one of those serendipitous moments that might just mean things were working out.
Or, conversely, it could be an unfortunate trap.
“Hey, Tommy, you know what’s weird?”
“What’s that?”
“The key he gave us,” Trent said, still staring at it in disbelief. “It’s the same room Kristina had her meeting scheduled for with her client.”
“When you got shot at, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think it’s a trap? Do you want me to say anything to the guard?”
Trent knew he’d be foolish and stupid if he didn’t at least consider the possibility of it being a trap. It hadn’t seemed as ludicrous as it might have earlier to suggest that Kristina was in league with the Mikkelsons. That was false, but to say someone was pulling strings to fuck over Trent or even kill him was certainly not.
