Body of Trust: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Jeannine Colette

  I pull on my wrists again, harder this time, straining my body as I try to rip the material. It won’t work. My lungs can’t seem to get enough air as I fight for breath, winded and distraught.

  My eyes scrunch as tears sting from the inside.

  “We have to get out of here, and I don’t know how. You promised to protect me, but I couldn’t protect you. How could that be when I can’t live without you? God, I should have told you. I should have fucking told you how amazing you are. How sweet and kind and generous and strong and resilient you are. That’s why you have to wake up and walk out of here with me. You said it yourself. It’s us. Always us. But I can’t do it alone. I wish I could, but I need you, Jesse.”

  I stare at his face, still so beautiful, even in the dark and splattered with dirt and blood. “What I’d give to go back all those months and tell you how I feel. I fought you so hard, when I shouldn’t have. It was always you that I trusted. In the marrow of my bones, I knew you would be the one to bring me into the light. I was too scared to say it, but I’m not anymore. I’ve had a taste of that love, and I want it.”

  I roar in my seat with might, and it lifts and slams onto the floor. My body aches from the impact, but it reminds me I’m still alive. There’s still fight left in me.

  “Fucking Salinger! He did this to you. He ratted you out! We trusted him, and he did fucking did this! You shouldn’t be here. He brought you into this!”

  My sobs pour down my cheeks. Big, heavy, aching cries bubble off my lips. I feel completely useless.

  I failed Jesse.

  I failed my family.

  I failed myself.

  “I love you.” My words are an apology.

  Maybe if I hadn’t loved him, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t have tried to protect me.

  “It’s about time you admitted it.” Jesse’s words are soft and grumbly.

  “You’re awake!” I cry in delirium. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

  A soft smile tugs on his lips, his eyes still closed. “I’m okay. Just a broken rib. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “They beat you horribly. You’re still in shock.”

  “No, baby. I’m okay.” The eye that’s not swollen opens. The blue of his gaze lights up the dark room. “You are a sight for sore eyes, you know that?”

  I let out a laugh. “I was so scared. I still am. We have to get out of here.”

  “I know.” He looks down at his body, assessing the situation. His head rolls from side to side and then up and down. “We’re in a warehouse, but I don’t know the location. Lugazzi’s men hauled me away in a van and started beating the shit out of me on the ride here. It was only a twenty-minute drive, at the most.” His words are stated matter-of-factly as he tugs on the zip ties.

  “I tried that. It just leaves your wrists bloodied.”

  He looks at my injured wrists in dismay. “They’re going to kill me when they come back because I won’t tell them what I know about Frank Evangelista.”

  “What aren’t you telling them?”

  “Nothing. I just needed a reason to keep myself alive until I got to you. They’re going to kill you too. Carlo must not have seen what you did to yourself. Your ankles are bleeding. There’s no way they can turn you into the police, looking like you were kidnapped. It’ll be easier to get rid of you.”

  “Jesse!” I gasp in horror.

  He starts rocking himself back and forth. His movement makes it look like he’s going to fall backward in the chair as he lifts the front of the seat up in the air and down. As he does so, he pulls his right leg over so the zip tie is rubbing up against the moving chair and shimmies his body. Again and again, he thrusts his chair up and back while moving his foot creating a fierce friction that is severing the thick plastic of the tie. On what feels like the hundredth try, he frees his right leg.

  I want to cheer in happiness but stay silent, as I’m shocked by his moves.

  With his right leg free, he pushes his foot against the ground and slides his left foot down the leg of the chair that now can be lifted off the ground enough for him to free his left leg that’s tied as well.

  Whether he’s gonna run out of here with a chair strapped to his wrists or not is the only thing I think of him doing until he sits back down, folds his right leg over his knee, up close to his tethered hand. His fingers quickly start to untie his sneaker. When that’s done, he picks the shoelace, untied, strand by strand until the entire lace is almost completely unraveled.

  Next, he bows down, and with his teeth and strapped hand, he ties a knot at the end of the lace still attached to the last loop of his sneaker. He uses his teeth again to put the other end of the lace through the zip tie, pulling it through and tying the lace of the sneaker on his other foot.

  I’m stunned into silence.

  Still seated, he lifts his feet in the air and moves them in a bicycle motion, pulling the shoelace back and forth over the zip tie on his wrist, creating friction against the plastic. It feels like he’s doing this for an eternity when, really, it’s probably only been a minute. The plastic of the zip tie snaps, and my jaw drops in surprise.

  “You just MacGyver’d your way out of that,” I state in shock.

  With his hand now free, he does the same thing with the zip tie on his other hand. He takes the same shoelace, untying it from the shoe and lacing it through the other wrist—faster this time—and then he secures it back on the sneaker.

  “How did you learn how to do that?” I ask as he unsnaps the second zip tie.

  “YouTube.” He’s up and putting the lace back in his sneaker with speed and precision, tying his shoe back on and waiting by the door.

  Jesse stands against the cold wall, a mere shadow in the room. I want to ask how in the world I’m supposed to get out. I don’t have sneakers, nor do I have super secret agent, get out of a hostage scenario training like he does. Nor do I watch nearly as much YouTube as he clearly does.

  The sound of thugs talking in the hallway makes my stomach drop. The door opens, and two come walking in.

  “All right, Davenport. Time to talk,” one says and then stops when he sees the empty chair. “What the fuck?”

  Jesse comes running up against one of the thugs, pulling him into a choke hold, and twists his neck, making him fall to the ground. The other thug pulls out a gun, but Jesse kicks it out of his hand and pummels him in the face and sides.

  With them both on the ground, he checks their pockets and produces a pocketknife. “This was my grandfather’s,” he says as he unlatches the blade, rushes over to me, and frees me from my chair.

  “You okay?” he asks as he takes my hand and pulls me to a standing position.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  I watch him pick the gun up from the floor, and he hands it to me.

  “You said you wanted to defend yourself.” He takes a gun from the other thug on the floor. “Now’s your chance.”

  The steel feels like a hundred pounds in my hand. I’ve never held a gun before, and on first impression, I can say, I do not like it.

  Then again, now is not the time to be second-guessing how I feel about guns.

  “Ready?” he asks, and I nod even though I haven’t been ready for any of this from the beginning.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jesse and I creep along gray walls, listening for footsteps and voices. We move together like a covert operation. Jesse is the torch, and I willingly follow his light through the tunnels of the building.

  We head through a door and into a room. The old building is empty, except for a few obsolete pieces of factory-like equipment. The corrugated walls are rusted with overhead beams stretched high above.

  There are double doors on the other side, painted a dark red. They’re closed, which means we won’t know if the other side is heaven or hell until we push through them. Jesse pushes me to the side as he opens the door like a soldier on a covert mission and checks the space for enemy combatants. When it’s clear, he pulls m
e with him.

  We’re back in another hallway and then run from one to the other with no rhyme or reason. This place is just walls and painted-over metal pipes.

  When we get to an intersection, Jesse raises his gun and peeks around the side. He reminds me to always check behind us. He tugs on my hand when it’s time to move, and I follow close, chewing on my lip with every step. It’s clear to see, he has no idea where he’s going.

  The sound of a gun shot rings in the air. I fall to the ground and cover my ringing ears, making my gun drop beside me. I scramble down, grasping it quickly while Jesse looks at me with a warning.

  “You’re lucky it didn’t go off.”

  “Where did that gunfire come from?” I ask him.

  His breathing is deep, and I try to decipher if it’s from fear or concentration. With Jesse, I never know.

  To my surprise, his feet slam on the ground as he rushes toward the gunfire. Down a dark corridor and then into a brightly lit one, which scares me more than the dark. The voices grow louder, and the words are spoken clearly.

  “Get rid of the girl.” Salinger’s rasp is recognizable.

  “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t kill women.” That’s Carlo Lugazzi. He’s a slime and a killer, but apparently he has his limits.

  “She’s a liability. She knows who I am. She knows Davenport. The whole operation will be compromised once she starts talking.”

  “Whose problem is that?” Carlo challenges and suddenly grows quiet.

  Jesse and I inch closer and get a look at the scene through a grate. Salinger has a gun drawn out, pointed directly at Carlo’s head, as he sits at a desk at the far end of a large, open room.

  Two of Carlo’s thugs pull their guns on Salinger.

  “Fuck,” Jesse groans at the scene.

  “Good. Let them kill each other.”

  He shakes his head while tapping his forehead with his fist, searching his brain for options. “I need Salinger alive, or I won’t get my life back. Salinger has definitely corrupted my file—unless he thinks I’m already dead. I can’t risk it. And you need Lugazzi to own up to what he did to you. We already heard one gunshot so one of Lugazzi’s men must have gone down. Salinger doesn’t have much time.”

  “There has to be a back door. A way out of here.” I grab his face and pull it toward me. “The important thing is, we get out of here together.”

  He kisses my forehead. “You’re right.”

  “What the hell do we have here?” one of the thugs booms from behind us.

  I look just in time to see him lift his gun. With an instinct I didn’t know I had, I raise my own and fire, hitting him in the chest.

  “Oh my God!” I gasp and drop the weapon. My hands are shaking. I’ve never fired a gun before.

  “What the hell was that?” Carlo says from inside, and the men in the warehouse seem to have forgotten what their own personal standoff was about.

  Jesse and I run as fast as we can down hallways, trying to get as far away from the pounding footsteps of the men following us.

  “Davenport!” Salinger yells.

  “They escaped!” a thug shouts.

  Now, there are more feet coming for us.

  We ditch and swerve, taking any random way we can find. This place is like a maze that leads to nowhere. No matter how far we travel, we seem to be running toward the voices.

  Jesse slips, and I grab his hand, helping him to his feet. He’s only working with one eye, so it must be hard for him to navigate these halls. Everything is a gray with panels and an industrialized ceiling. With no markings, it’s impossible to tell where we are or where we’ve been.

  Some areas smell like motor oil, which makes me think we’re closer to the garage. Others stink like natural gas. Those must mean we’re getting further from the outside walls.

  I drop his hand, so we can move quicker. I’m trailing, but he always looks to make sure I’m not too far behind.

  I lose my footing and hit a wall, making my shoulder shoot in pain in the spot where Carlo threw me to the floor earlier. I ignore the wound and move.

  Pow, pow, bang!

  We’re running as fast and as hard as we can, away from the carnage and violence. It feels like we’re getting a lead. The taste of freedom is on the tip of my tongue as we hang a sharp left. I’m positive this is the way out until we slam into a brick wall.

  “Shit!” Jesse gripes as I turn around, only to come face-to-face with Salinger.

  “Where are you going?” He ambles toward us with fake concern on his face.

  Jesse draws his gun making Salinger put his arms up in surrender.

  “We need to get out of here. The plan worked, and now, I can get you two to safety.”

  My scalp prickles as fear and adrenaline course through my body. “You’re working with them,” I say back.

  His dark gaze narrows. “Of course that’s what you think. I’m playing both sides, pretending I’m in on this with them. I was just about to take out Lugazzi when you showed up. The Feds are about to chopper in here.”

  I look at Jesse, watching as his brows curve in. Salinger is a man he trusted with his life. For Salinger to have given that kind of oath, too, must make it hard for him to see through the lie he’s telling.

  “Don’t believe him, Jesse. He drugged me,” I plea with him.

  His eyes are glassy as he tries to make up his mind.

  “You heard what he said to Lugazzi. He wanted us dead.”

  “It was undercover work. Jesse knows that as well as I do.”

  He takes a step toward us, and I back myself against the wall. I don’t have a gun. If I could, I’d shoot the man myself.

  “Lower your gun, and let’s walk out of here together.”

  Jesse tightens his jaw. I can see the pain of the situation weighing heavily on him.

  “Don’t trust him. He’s not good. Not like you!” I cry.

  “I know,” Jesse says and fires a bullet at Salinger but not before the unrespectable director raises his own firearm at Jesse.

  “No!” I scream and throw myself over the man I love.

  The bullet pierces my skin, and I arch back at the burn it leaves.

  A series of shots echoes in the small space as I fall to the ground.

  Jesse is quickly at my side, dropping to his knees and grabbing my cheeks. “Amelia!”

  My shoulder is throbbing, but surprisingly, I don’t feel as bad as I thought I would after being shot. Looking up into his tortured face, I can see he’s okay. Salinger, on the other hand, is lying on the floor, gasping in pain.

  “I’m okay, I think.” I slowly stand up, and Jesse quickly assesses my injury.

  “You’re one lucky girl, you know that?”

  “Sure, I guess you could say that.” I point over at Salinger, who is flinching like a man who’s been electrocuted. “I thought you didn’t want him dead.”

  “He’s not. Shot him in the leg. He’ll live if we get out of here in time to call a bus.”

  He takes the hand of my uninjured side, and we race out of the tunnel with Jesse kicking Salinger’s gun out of reach.

  “We have to go back to that room. It was the only way out that we found. Maybe they’re gone, looking for us,” I suggest.

  “Stay close.”

  It takes a while, but we manage to make our way back to where we saw Salinger in a standoff with Lugazzi.

  “It’s empty,” I whisper.

  Jesse lifts his gun. “Never trust an empty room.”

  We walk further, passing the grate where we can see into the room and come upon an opening. The closed garage doors line the other side of the vast space. SUVs are parked near them. That’s our way home. Just cross the room, and we can be free.

  It all feels too easy.

  We look up and around, back and forth. No one is here as we crouch and run through the space. We’re almost at one of the black trucks when a voice comes out on a loudspeaker.

  “Not so fast!” Carlo
’s voice shouts.

  Two thugs appear from the other side of the SUV, forcing Jesse and me to back away. He protectively puts his arm around me, and I flinch at the pain in my shoulder.

  If Jesse was right, now that I’m shot, Carlo will never turn me into the police. Being convicted as a criminal is better than death, and I can’t even be afforded that luxury anymore.

  “Drop your weapon,” Carlo commands.

  Jesse does what he said. “I’m sorry, baby. I tried,” he says, but I won’t hear it.

  “Never apologize. We had a short time together, and in those moments, I learned more about myself, about life, and most importantly, about love. I’d never trade that for the world.”

  The pain in my shoulder be damned, I hug him, pulling myself into Jesse’s chest and melting into his embrace one last time.

  “What the hell is this shit? Boys, take them into the mountains. You know what to do.”

  They pull Jesse from me, and I cry out loud as we are dragged toward opposite trucks.

  I’m being tugged by the waist. My first instinct is to panic. Then, I get a sense of déjà vu, and the lessons Jesse taught me in his living room come to mind. With my foot stepped forward, I muster my energy, twist at the waist, and elbow the thug as hard as I can in the nose. I’m not surprised to see Jesse has done the same thing.

  We run toward the garage doors, but like a bad mirage, I am met with ten more men, all with a weapon of some sort in their hands.

  Carlo descends from the office he was in and walks across the warehouse floor, clapping.

  “I have to give it to you,” he says, entertained. A callous laugh rumbles from his chest. “You two put on quite a show. But seriously, it’s time for you to go.”

  I look at the wall of criminals and once again feel defeated.

  I turn to Jesse, wondering what in the world he could possibly have up his sleeve. The downhearted look in his eyes says he’s out of options.