Betrayed (4 page)

Sloshed with alcohol, he s
taggered down to Regan’s room. His mind was fully focused on the blackmail speech that he had mentally prepared while slugging down the contents of the bottle. He slammed his fist across her door and waited. The door immediately opened and Regan stood there, her eyes dancing with joy. She wore a loose satin blue robe, and her hair was down and hung all around her pretty face.

“Rick! You
- oh my god - you’re drunk. Are you okay?” Concern swept over her face, and her forehead creased.

“I help her. She was taken
, and I couldn’t get money. I saw the photograph and decided I needed. You. To ask.” Disorganized words came tumbling out of his mouth, and the speech fell apart. 

“I don’t understand . Rick, what’s going on? I’m worried
about you. Can I help you in any way?” she asked holding him by his shoulders in case he lost his balance and fell. Rick tried to form the words again but when he opened his mouth, a flood of vomit spilt across the floor and on Regan’s robe. She let out a small scream and then a laugh.

“I guess w
e’re even now. Get in here. You need to sleep.” She guided him inside and made him sit on the bed. She poured a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and held it to his lips. She got him to drink some and then pushed him down gently. His head hit the soft pillow, and he almost drifted to sleep. The little part of his brain that was groggily still active, felt her removing his sandals, tucking him well under the blanket and kissing his forehead. He smiled involuntarily, passed out and began to snore. Regan giggled and watched his face without the worry and uneasiness that had haunted him since she first saw him down at the bar. She felt her heart flutter and moan with love.

CHAPTER
4

Numbness. That was all that was left in her. Every inch of her body seemed foreign, and she shuddered and writhed in pain, trying not to feel helpless. She concentrated on stirring and feeling her fingers but every little movement hurt. She lay balled up in the corner of the room with nothing but a thin blanket to save her from death. The air seemed to be filled with mist, and every ragged breath she managed to take - every puff of air she released - seemed to add on to the coldness she felt. She looked out to the snow packed window, an empty white canvas waiting for someone to fill it with life and colors. She waited for someone to bring life into her.

Tracy was thrown into the basement twenty four hours ago. When she
regained  consciousness, she was terrified and confused about what had happened. The last thing she remembered was seeing a man in a suit. When the entire episode finally clicked in her mind, she stood up in panic and ran towards the door. It was locked but she banged and screamed hoping someone, anyone would come to her rescue. When her palm burned and her throat gave way, she turned and looked around. The room was dimly lit by a bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was spacious but musty and smelled strongly of rust and dead rats. There was hardly any furniture around except for a spare table and a couple of cardboard boxes.

She moved around in search of something to pry the door open. She looked through the boxes but they were empty
then felt for any drawers in the table but found none. Her heart beating faster, she pushed the table against the wall, climbed on it and stood on her toes to get to the window but it was tightly shut with iron rods up the front. The lock inside was rusty and when she tried to give it a pull it broke and fell into her palm. Flinging it away, Tracy pressed her face to the window and looked through the glass. The large expanse of ground was at eye level with a sheet of snow over it and wisps of falling snow covered the already thick layer. She realized she was in a basement of a house in some lonely part of the country because she couldn’t hear any sounds of traffic. Turning back to the room, she sat on the table, letting her legs hang.
Oh my God, where am I? What are they going to do to me
? She thought and felt her stomach churn, making her nauseous.

***

Charles paced by the basement door, irritation gnawing his fingers. He wanted to get her beside the fireplace, he wanted to give her the thick woolen blankets, he wanted to hug her and make her feel warm, anything than standing outside and letting her freeze to death. He had sent Bill to ask Mr. Green if they could bring her up from the basement or at the very least provide her with clothes. It was five minutes since he had asked, and his patience ran out. He pulled the latch open and heaved at the door. Light spilled into the dark room, and he saw her huddled at the corner, not moving. His heart jolted in panic as he rushed to her side.

“Tracy! Tracy, dam
mit can you hear me? Open your eyes!” he said rubbing her freezing palms. Her body looked like an ice sculpture, pale and cold. He removed his jacket and pushed it around her, lifting her from the ground. Wrapping his arms around her body, he rubbed her back, frantically. A sudden moan escaped her lips and relief washed over Charles’ face. If anything happened to her . . . He pulled her away from him and looked into her half-opened eyes.

“Let me go
!” She used all her strength and tried to loosen his grip. His warmth was helping her body, and she wanted to melt into him but held back.
Remember the plan,
she said to herself, fighting the urge to fall into his arms.

The short whispered word
s attacked like quick arrows at Charles’s heart.
God, this was hard.

“I’m trying to fucking help you. Do you want to die?” he screamed
at her as fury fought against his concern. He tried to make her stand but she wouldn’t let him. He could have easily lifted her fragile body and pulled her up but he did not want to force her. He wasn’t good at hiding his feelings and pretending but he had to.

“FINE! DIE! I DON’T GIVE A SHIT.” His face red with rage
, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. His heart wailed, and his mind screamed. He hoped this would be over soon and her fiancé would show up with the money. He was fuming as everything in him burned. Just then, a man came down the stairs with a bunch of blankets in his hands.

“Here you go, give
these to her,” he said, offering the blankets to Charles.

“Give
them to her your damn self.”

                                *******

His head pounded, and all he wanted to do was make it stop. He opened his eyes, and the light and colors hit his eye causing a ball of stinging fire to roll in his forehead.

“Good
morning, Rick!” The voice came booming out, piercing his throbbing head, and he winced.

He
slowly turned to look at the source of that too happy voice and found Regan standing beside him with a glass of water in her hand.

“Here, drink some water. It’ll help you.”

“Everything hurts.” He tried to get up and reach for the water but she brought it to his lips.

“Of course it does. You were quite a mess last night
,” she laughed.

After a few glasses of water and a nice long, hot shower, Rick felt a little better
and tried to recollect last night. Regan had gone downstairs to the reception desk for news about the weather, and Rick used the time to think back. The only thing he could remember was deciding to ask Regan for the money.
Did I ask her? What happened
? He racked his brain but only hit dead ends.

He left the room and headed down to the lobby.
He spotted her talking to a couple of men. Rick stood by the elevator door and watched her, wondering what the butterflies in his body and soul meant? He observed her and then started walking involuntarily towards her, like a piece of iron being attracted to the magnet.

“Always for the best...
” Regan stopped talking and excused herself when she saw Rick.

“How are you feeling now?”

“What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I - I don’t. Please tell me.”

“It was nasty and unexpected.”

“Did we have sex?”

“You wish. After what happened, how could I
even think of that?”

“What
? Oh my god, Regan, I’m sorry. I had no choice. I’m desperate to –”

He stopped when Regan burst out laughing
, and he couldn’t understand why.
How could she be laughing if I did blackmail her? Did I make her lose her mind?
His face blank, his mind rapidly forming twenty questions, he helplessly stared at Regan who was laughing long and loud, holding her sides.

“You are so easy
to tease! Nothing happened, Rick! You blabbered like an idiot and then threw up all over the place! And when I dragged you to my bed, you fell fast asleep.” 

She stopped laughing and looked lovingly at Rick
. When was the last time she laughed so much, with so much ease? She couldn’t remember.

Her mind went back to the reason she was at the hotel in the first place.
Her mind had been exploding with thoughts about her father. She hadn’t been able to get his affair out of her head. It had been bothering her from the time she confronted her father about the rumor and he had said it was true. She had run away from him at home, pushed past the security men and hailed a taxi. She abruptly stopped the cab and entered the Grand Turn Hotel. When the manager rushed forward to her, she told him she was waiting for someone. She drank, lost in thought until a sudden commotion outside shattered her deep, lost memories. She turned her head towards the source of the blast of music. The woman beside her, who was seated at a better angle, told her it was a flash mob regarding the election.

True, sweetie….. I was meaning to tell you….she is amazing…I love her….not forgotten your moth
er…you will like her…six months.
Bits of the conversation rushed into her mind making her revolt with pain and rage. Composing herself, she smiled at the lady and stared outside at the traffic jam. She could see a bunch of cabs lined up and bicycles squeezing in through the gaps. Then she spotted Rick, and the tightness in her heart loosened, and she smiled at him. There was something about him that made her forget her troubles and swim in the unusual vibes her body had given her.

“I
’m so sorry. I guess I drank a little too much,” he said, looking sheepish and jolting her back to the present.

“That’s alright. So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Here goes
. He just had to focus on Tracy, tell her about the affair and how he would not go to the media and let it out to the entire world if she gave him the money.
Get the money, stay locked in the room until the hotel arranges transport and then get to West Care
. As simple as that.

“
No, nothing,” he said, mentally kicking himself for being a coward.

“Well, aren’t you a mystery man.
I’m starving, want some breakfast?”

“
Yes,” Rick said, placing his hand on Regan’s back and leading her to a table.

****

He wiped his mouth and signaled for the dessert. Being tall and thin, he appeared to be weak but his cheeks were pulled in. Dark brown eyes that were almost pushed into his skull made him look anorexic. Appearances are deceptive is not a phrase people used without reason. A chef hurried in with a Hazelnut- Mocha Dacquoise. He cut two huge pieces and served both men seated on either side of the table. The thin man took two huge mouthfuls of the cake and pushed the plate away. He looked back at another man standing at the entrance of the room who  hurried forward towards him.

“Did Judge Laurence call?”

“Yes, sir. He said he’ll be here this month to sign the contract. Also, the bank called; they reported that the sixty million has been wired to our account by the Grist Company.”

“
The judge said next month? Well, that won’t do, will it? Ask Marc to set up a video conference, I need to remind him about his daughter’s health. Any news about Rick?” he asked.

“No sir. Nothing
at all. I tried contacting our men outside who were supposed to keep track of him but it seems they lost him because of the snow. They say he is here somewhere, in the North side.”

“
I think he’s not motivated enough. What do you think?” he asked turning to the other man who was silently eating his cake, the plate almost empty. He was a muscular man with a tanned skin tone. His black opaque eyes were fixed on his dessert, and his square jaw moved in a hypnotic rhythm as he chewed his food.

“He needs a push, Adrian. Or maybe he doesn’t love his
fiancée.” His voice was rough but had a clear ring to it.

“That’s too bad. She
’s a jewel. Maybe I’ll keep her for my entertainment,” Adrian noticed the man starting to flinch at his words. “What have we got here? Look here, Aaron. Charles has got a thing for the fiancée.”

“Call Rick. Tell him he has until tomorrow morning or he will find
the dead corpse outside his house,” ordered Aaron with a note of finality, as he put the last piece of dessert into his mouth.

Charles flinched again
, and his blood turned cold. He had been a part of innumerable crimes for the past twenty years but thinking about something happening to Tracy made him quiver in pain. He did not want anything to happen to her and almost asked them if they could keep her alive but let Rick believe she was dead but instead he nodded and took his phone out of his pocket. He could never dodge the Green brothers’ commands.

He made the call.

****

“You look pale, Rick. Who was it?”
Regan asked, concerned.

An announcement filled the air. “Ladies and gentlemen
, you will be happy to know that the storm has passed, and the snow removal trucks are on their way. In a couple of hours you will be free to leave. We hope your day brightens, and we are sorry for all the inconveniences caused. Thank you.”

The announce
ment created a happy buzz all around the restaurant but Rick was far removed from the excitement. His head was still ringing with the voice from the phone that left him feeling like he had been punched hundreds of times in the gut. He was numb from shock and after a minute the emotions crashed in. His heart hammered with panic, his legs shivered in fear, his hands held the phone limply, and his eyes bluntly stared at Regan whose lips were moving - but he couldn’t hear anything. He thought he was on the other side of the glass in a vacuumed room where all he could hear was the voice from the phone, put on repeat.
Tracy will die. Tracy. Money. Regan. I don’t have a choice.
When the words registered in his brain, the glass shattered, and his heart protected itself.

“Shirley Cannigan
,” he whispered. He watched Regan, as her smile stopped halfway in confusion.