Love You Always (14 page)

“Let me talk to her.”

There’s a pause and then muffled background chatter.

“Marcus.” It’s Angela.

“Are you okay?” I immediately ask.

“I had a fever, but I’m okay now.”

A fever? Damn it, they’d better be taking good care of her.

“Are they treating you—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” The kidnapper’s voice is back on the line.

“5:50 on the dot.” He hangs up.

I dial Agent Crowley’s direct line.

“Agent Crowley,” he answers.

“Agent Crowley, this is Marcus King. I just got the call and instructions for the drop-off.”

“Okay, good.”

I tell him what the kidnapper instructed.

“Sir, Angela’s not going to be delivered at the same time.”

“Yeah, it’s not usually done that way. They’ll release her after they’ve safely gotten the ransom. Sometimes it takes a day or more.”

“Oh God, really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Have you had cases where they didn’t release the hostage even after the ransom got paid?” I don’t know why I’m asking this, because I think I know the answer. But my worry is overwhelming me, and I want the answer to be what I want to hear, even if it’s wishful thinking. Still, I need to know, even if I’m afraid to hear the answer I’m dreading.

He’s silent for a moment, which speaks volumes.

“Yeah, unfortunately, there’s been a few, but normally they release the hostage.”

So it’s a crapshoot then. Who knows if these kidnappers are in the wrong group—the ones who don’t release their hostages? Fuck!

“Don’t give up hope, son,” he tells me when I’m silent. He must sense my torment. “We’re going to do our best to get your sister back to you.”

“I know you will,” I finally say.

“I’ll be in touch when we put our plan into place for the drop-off,” he says.

“Okay, thank you.” I sure hope their plan works.

After we hang up, I go downstairs to where Laura and her sister are in the kitchen. Until we can fill Jade in on what’s going on, I didn’t want to talk to the kidnappers and Agent Crowley in front of her.

“Everything okay?” Laura asks as she makes sandwiches for our lunch.

Jade sits in the kitchen nook, watching her sister, but the minute I join them, her attention’s on me.

I smile at Laura and nod. I don’t want to worry her any more than she already is. She’s got her own troubles handling Jade.

“Did you fill Jade in on what’s going down?” I ask.

Laura glances at Jade. “Not yet.”

She stops spreading the mayo on the slice she’s holding. “I wanted to wait for you, to make sure you don’t mind her knowing.”

“Since she’s staying here, she’ll need to know.”

Jade glances back and forth between Laura and I with curiosity. “What? . . . What should I know?” she asks.

I sit down in the seat perpendicular to her. “My sister’s been kidnapped and we’re in the middle of trying to get her back,” I tell her.

Her eyes bulge. “You’re shittin’ me?”

“I wish I was, but unfortunately, it’s true.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Jade sits upright in her chair, her attention is peaked. “How old is your sister?”

“Twenty.”

“Are you filthy rich?”

“Jade, that’s not an appropriate question,” Laura scolds her.

Jade huffs and slouches back down in her chair. “You know, Laura, I’m seventeen and not a child anymore. You don’t get to boss me around.”

“Then act like it,” Laura replies.

The two sisters are only four years apart, but Laura is far more mature than her years and Jade far less.

Jade looks at me and scoffs. “This is what I get all the time from her. Ever since our mom left, she acts as though she’s in charge, like she’s the mother.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I had a mother, and she was a shitty one, I don’t need another one.”

“I’m sure your sister’s just looking out for you,” I say. “Laura cares about your welfare.”

Jade eyes me suspiciously. “Are you fucking my sister?”

“Jade!” Laura shouts.

“I’m afraid that’s none of your business,” I tell her gently.

“You are.” Her eyes gleam as if she’s just uncovered a dirty secret. “I can tell.”

She sits up in her seat again and puts one foot up on the chair so her knee is to her chest. She sways that knee side to side, spreading her legs so her short skirt opens to reveal her panties. I avert my eyes back up to her face. She eyes me up and grins wickedly.

“A guy like you, I’d fuck.”

“Jade, I’m not going to tell you again!” Laura is fuming now as she watches her sister try to seduce me.

“And just what are you going to do, big sis?” Jade challenges.

“Okay, now, let’s just settle down,” I intervene. “Jade, if you want to stay here, you’re going to have to make an effort to get along with your sister. Can you hold a truce for now?”

She looks into my eyes. “For you? Sure.” Again, the naughty grin.

Damn. This girl is going to be trouble. Unfortunately, we can’t send her back to her father. No, we’re going to have to put up with her for now.

With all that’s going on with Angela’s kidnapping, I sure didn’t need another worry on my hands.

Christ.

~* Angela *~

There’s one thing I’ve noticed that may mean they’ll eventually let me go . . . they don’t call each other by their names.

That’s a good sign, right?

Sigh.
I guess I’m trying to find every reason to keep my hopes up. Not knowing what they have in store for me is unbearably frightening. Although, if they straight out told me they were going to kill me, yeah, that would be worse. But maybe I’d be more inclined to take a chance to escape because if they were going to kill me anyway, what would I have to lose? As it is, if they hadn’t planned to kill me, yet I give them a reason to while trying to flee—that would be a bummer.

Maybe this is why most people don’t put up a fight when in a hostage or victim situation—they don’t know if they’ll make matters worse if they fight back, thinking less harm would come to them if they’re passive, if they cooperate.

I used to get upset when the victim in a movie wouldn’t fight back, but now that I’m in that situation in real life, it’s a whole nother story. When I was a spectator and not a participant, it was easy to make judgments and suppositions on what one should do, but as a real life victim in this crime—I’m finding it’s not so easy to be brave.

Maybe if they’d just shoot me in the head, quick, painless, it wouldn’t be so bad, but the thought of being tortured, mutilated, suffering a slow and horrific death, is what chills me to the bone. This is my fear with these men.

“Why are you calling me?” I hear the older kidnapper say. “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed this entire week.”

There’s a pause.

“Jesus! What hospital?” His voice sounds frantic. “Yeah, okay, I’m on my way.”

“Fuck!” I hear him yell.

“What’s the matter?” the younger kidnapper asks.

“My kid, he got into an accident. It sounds bad, man.”

“What? . . . Fuck.”

“I gotta go see him. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, go. I can handle things here.”

“You should put her in the shed.”

“Nah, she ain’t gonna run.”

“You better be right.”

“Her head’s messed up. She
ain’t
gonna run,” he repeats. “Now, get going, your son needs you.”

I almost feel sorry for the older kidnapper having his son hurt, maybe even dying. Somehow, knowing he has a son he obviously loves and is so important to him that he’d leave a crucial kidnap for, makes him seem human, unlike when he talks to me, how he treats me, as a hostage.

The young kidnapper comes into the room. I’m sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall with my legs stretched out in front of me.

He comes over to me, sits on the side of the bed, and touches my forehead. “Your fever’s gone. You feeling all right?”

I nod my head instinctively, but then immediately rethink my answer.

“No, I’m not all right. I don’t want to be here,” I say boldly.

He laughs at me.

“Well, you’ve got spunk, at least.” He brushes his fingers over my leg. I pull them in, abhorred by his touch. “I’m afraid, princess, you ain’t got a say in the matter.”

I sigh and feel frustration come over me.

“At least tell me the truth if I’m going to live through this. Can you at least give me that small ounce of peace of mind?”

“But it wouldn’t give you peace of mind if I were to tell you that we’re going to kill you, now would it?” His eyes gaze into mine with a sinister smile to them, playing with my emotions, bringing on a cold sweat.

“What caused you to be so cruel?” I ask, my heart thumping wildly, knowing I may be in for more of his wrath. But I probe him anyway.

Since the bed is situated in the corner of the room, he leans on the wall perpendicular to me, and stretches out his legs. He crosses his arms at the same time he crosses his legs as they lay in front of me.

“Tell me about yourself. Give me a reason to let you live,” he says with a smug grin, a grin that says to me that he holds my life in his hands, that I’m at his mercy.

I flash through my memories and try to think of what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve done to deserve to live—but shamefully, I can’t think of anything. I haven’t done anything significant for someone else, to better their life, to bring them happiness. Marcus is the only person important to me, but I haven’t done anything for him either—he’s the one who’s done everything for me.

Until this kidnapper asked me this question, I never thought about what I’ve done with my life, what purpose I have to be here on this planet. This sudden wake up to the reality of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I have no clue what to say to this kidnapper to convince him why he should let me live.

Tears sting my eyes.

“Why are you crying? You don’t want to live?”

I lower my chin and my tears drop to my lap. Yes, I want to live, of course I want to live—but I can’t think up a reason he should let me.

“C’mon, don’t tell me such a pretty girl like you doesn’t have some redeeming qualities.”

“I have no reason to give you for why I should live, all right?!” I finally blurt out, glaring at him.

He doesn’t say a word as if shocked by my confession and boldness. Strangely, his face softens and he almost looks sympathetic, but I could just be imagining it, wanting to see this emotion from him.

“Everyone has something redeeming about them,” he says as though he means it. “Take my partner, he’d do anything for his family. He’s doing this for them because he was laid off and couldn’t get a job. He has young kids who need and depend on him to bring home the food, to clothe them, and provide them a home.”

Why is he trying to make me feel empathy for his partner?

“Does he threaten to chop his kids into pieces and murder them slowly?”

The young kidnapper chuckles. “Well, no, but it doesn’t mean he’ll do it.”

“So, he’s just acting, playing out a part to scare me to death?”

“I didn’t say that. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.”

I look at him, more confused than ever. My eyes squint at him angrily.

“You like messing with me, don’t you? Playing with my sanity?”

He laughs again.

“So, what are
your
redeeming qualities? Because quite frankly, I can’t seem to see any,” I say with sarcasm.

“I didn’t rape you, did I?” His gaze pierces mine.

“Gee, thanks. You only nearly gave me a heart attack in the process of not raping me.”

I remind myself that I’d better watch how I talk to him. He may go off like a time bomb and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

So far, his reaction is in check, he doesn’t seem upset. I’m going to tread on eggshells though, just to be safe.

“Are you doing this for your family too?” I ask him, no longer in a nasty tone, but in an honestly curious one.

He brings his knees up and rests his forearms on each of them. He looks me in the eyes.

“No. I don’t have a family.”

“You’re not married?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Why am I asking him these questions? He flew off the handle the last time, he might do the same again. But for some reason, I want to know these things about him. Not because I care about him, but because I want to know why he is the way he is.

“What the fuck does love have to do with anything,” he says with a harsh tone. I suck in my breath and my heart races—oh shit, I’ve ticked him off.

Just when I think he’s about to be cruel again to me, he sighs.

“Love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he says to my surprise. “Love sucks, actually.”

Hmm, sounds as though he’s been hurt—and pretty badly.

“Love doesn’t suck. When with the right person, love is beautiful,” I retort.

His eyes scan my face, then my hair, down the rest of me. My breath catches—I don’t like the way he looks me over. As handsome as he is, he scares me more than his good looks can compensate. I’ve read about Stockholm Syndrome and that isn’t going to happen to me. I can’t let that happen to me. What he’s doing is such a bad thing that there’s no excusing it. I wouldn’t wish what I’m going through on anyone, not even someone I disliked. It’s terrifying and horrendous.

I look away from him so I don’t have to watch his eyes devour me.

“So, princess, has a man taken you yet?”

Oh God, why is he asking me this? Why did I have to bring up love in the conversation? Oh yeah, because I thought I could appeal to his compassionate side, but with this guy, his emotion is like the prize in a Cracker Jack box—you never know what you’re going to get.

I don’t answer.

He leans forward and grabs my chin.

“I’m asking you a question,” he says with authority.

I slowly shake my head.

“Really? So you’re a virgin, huh?” He sits back to his previous position and rubs his chin. “Hmm, I’m surprised.”

My heart pounds hard again and my palms feel clammy.

“So why hasn’t a guy popped your cherry yet?”

Where’s he going with this line of questioning?

“I–I–I don’t date,” are the words that come out of my mouth.