Wanted (4 page)

“Think you can manage?” I lifted my head. Wallace smiled. Polo was doubled over in laughter. Behind him, I could see nothing but hordes of trees and shrubbery. A new fear grew within me and I began screaming through the gag.

“Knock it off, already.” The grip of his forearm tightened around my knees, making them impossible to move. Steadily, he moved toward my doom. Behind me, I could hear something being stacked and another vehicle pulling into the gravel. I screamed and screamed until I thought the sheer force would make the tape come off my mouth. Maybe someone had seen something and was coming to help—but then I remembered the other SUV and the small truck. My despair spread, seeping into my organs and ceasing their ability to function properly.

Inside, I was yelling at myself. How I could have once thought this degenerate was attractive was beyond me. Whatever happened to female intuition?

The shadow of a building appeared over us. I could feel the mystery man lean his weight then heard the swing of something ancient and wooden bouncing back against itself. We entered some kind of old house or barn. The smell of mold dust was overwhelming. I screamed for my life. Despite my powerlessness, I had to do something.

There was very little light in the house, but when I tried to look past the wave of hair over my face, I could see cobwebs in the corners of misshapen floorboards. Maybe this was where they were going to kill me and dump my body. It would take awhile before someone would think to look inside the closet of an abandoned house for a corpse.

I screamed louder.

“Holy hell, will you stop that?” He carried me up a flight of stairs before he finally put me down on a cold surface. Instantly I sprung up and tried to fling myself from the floor.

“Take it easy there, Vicious.” He pulled my wrists to the side of a large metal object. I strained against him and continued to scream, but it was as though my actions weren’t even registering—they were hardly even an inconvenience against his brawn. Somewhere along the line, he had taken off his denim jacket, and I understood now why he wore it. Underneath he had been wearing a holster with two small-caliber handguns—something I wouldn’t have noticed in the rest stop with the jacket on. Without the collar of the jacket there to obscure it, I could see the lines of a large tattoo on the right side of his neck, something I imagined he was also trying to hide.

Unexpectedly, he reached out a hand toward my face. So here it was. He’d strangle me to death with one hand, or maybe he’d smother me. Maybe it was shock setting in, but, I wasn’t as afraid as I should have been. I tried remembering the steps of grief. Had I bypassed those first four stages and gone straight to acceptance? I closed my eyes and tried to think of something nice, maybe some place far away.

Yet his hand didn’t reach out to hurt me as I predicted. Instead, it brushed the falls of hair from my face, even attempted to place several of the more stubborn strands behind my left ear.

I don’t know why I expected his face to be different. I just did. He was a villain now, after all. He had abducted me against my will and would probably kill me before the hour was through. But still, his face was as ruggedly handsome as it had been when I first saw him. All of the features were the same, even more enhanced now I could examine them at close range with him kneeling next to me. His expression changed as he took off his oversized sunglasses—another gesture I hadn’t expected. I could see very clearly now the fresh bruise forming between his eyes and the slight swell of his nose. Had I done that? Good, I decided. I was glad I’d hurt him—even if it had given me a splitting headache.

We glared at each other for moments that had no end. His stare was making me angry. If he was going to kill me, why not just get it over with? I hardly wanted to be ogled or have a staring contest. Meanwhile, I ran through the inventory list of known colors in my head to try and place the palette of his irises. He reached out once more and again I failed to flinch away, but this time his thumb touched my face, pulling away an eyelash that had been caked on by my tears. Briefly, I wondered if it had been with me since the rest stop.

A voice called out from somewhere in the house, pulling him away from some thought I couldn’t read. He stood up, but only for a second, because when he looked back down at me, he made sure to secure the bungees to what I now recognized as an old radiator.

“Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” His voice was a whisper and he looked over his shoulder as though we were having an intimate conversation he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Just keep quiet.”

I was so angry I would have spit in his face if I could have.

He stepped out of the room with four quick strides. As soon as I was somewhat confident he was gone, I went back to thrashing against the bungees, only now that I had more room to work with, I scooted my legs against the radiator and pushed against them for leverage. I shoved against the cord with everything I had, but only felt the material gnawing against my skin. In frustration, I threw my bound hands against the radiator, instantly regretting it. The metal made my hands ache, and the sudden pain spread all the way up to my elbows. It forced me to refocus and take in my surroundings.

Below me, I felt the grime of the linoleum floor. I imagined it had probably been yellow at one point. Now, however, it was a monotone of brownish-grays, covered in an array of large, male shoe prints. I supposed I was in what used to be a kitchen nook of sorts, although it was difficult to tell, as the plastic sections that used to be pantries had been taken from their hinges and were lying in scattered pieces on broken sections of countertop. Fixtures, and what I guessed were water pipes, hung useless below a small window with a torn lace curtain that was now brown from years of neglect.

Calm
, I told myself,
remain calm and think it through
. I knew I’d fit through the small window, but judging from the consistent lack of use, it would probably be incredibly hard to get open, and even if I did open it, where would I go from there? I closed my eyes and tried to think beyond the forest I had seen in front of the house. Had I heard any other cars? Were there any other houses?

Just outside of the window, I tuned in to the men’s voices from the SUV and the mystery man. It sounded like there were two or three more voices out there, so I strained against the bungee cord and pushed my feet on the radiator again, only this time I turned my head in an attempt to see anything from the new angle. The frustration was building again, and despite my instructions, I screamed inside the tape, hoping the owners of the new voices would bring help. As I did, however, the voices grew louder and more aggressive. One voice in particular raged above the others and seemed to echo in the stillness of the broken, old house.

“What did I tell you? What did I say?” The door slammed and running footsteps trailed behind, getting closer. My hands shook as I pulled at the ropes, the logic of it not lost on me—just misplaced. My brain called out to me and told me to get out. Danger flared my head, commanding me to leave immediately, yet I was stuck. I broke out in a fresh, cold sweat—the new terror strapped to my chest like a paperweight.

Suddenly, a large, muscular man stood before me. Trailing behind him, I caught a brief glimpse of Polo and some others, but my attention was focused on the man’s fist as it hit me.

I flinched at the impending blow and covered my head as best as I could—which was actually only raising my elbows like chicken wings. The pain would come. So far it had mostly just been awkwardness and fear, but now it would get physical. Really, it was almost a relief to know I wouldn’t have to wait anymore for my demise. But it was difficult not to imagine if they would torture me before they killed me.

I didn’t want to think how painful this would be for Dad; how much it would age him.

However, the most remarkable thing stopped the fist just before it connected with my face. And I was completely sure the fist was coming because I even felt the breeze as it moved by.

Then there was a lot of noise and several voices swearing all at once. My insides were shaking again and as I slowly opened my eyes, I realized my body was shaking as well. I was too afraid to turn my head, although I had an idea what I might see.

“I said no.”

Wallace was bent back behind some of the broken countertop, his chest heaving. My abductor was standing in front of me, staring at him with a steadiness in his eye that both frightened and calmed me significantly.

“Charlie’s right, Wallace,” said one of the men from the corner. I noticed how they remained at a respectful distance while my abductor and Wallace had their stare-down. “Let’s just wait to hear what Ben says.”

Polo pushed his way up to the front. “Did I miss something good?”

Wallace smiled and stood up in one fluid motion. His eyes left my abductor’s and fell on mine, and although I wanted to look away, I couldn’t manage it. Briefly, I was reminded of the eyes of road kill or frogs that get dissected in science labs. Like them, his glare towards me was indifferent and empty. I’m not embarrassed to say the lack of human acknowledgement in the moment frightened me more than anything else so far. Killing me would mean nothing to him—a mere inconvenience, like stepping in something that might mess up the bottom of his shoes.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “All right, then, boys—whatever you say.”

Although his fists remained clenched at his sides, my abductor said nothing as Wallace stood up and brushed some dust from his pants. Standing at full height, I realized he was larger than I had originally thought, being easily over six feet tall. He was also abnormally shaped with muscles that didn’t look fit for the human form. They even seemed to scope into the widow’s peak of his military-style haircut. I gulped and thought of Robbie. Would my big brother have heard by now that I was missing?

As soon as the man left the room, the tension seemed to break, and someone sighed. I cautiously turned and saw someone lighting a cigarette.

“He needs to relax.”

“Really? I think his Charles Bronson impersonation is getting pretty good.”

Now that I could see them easily, I hardly felt comforted by the appearance of any of these strangers. One man who had come from the second SUV was leaning against the door frame. Like Wallace, he was muscular and rigid. But the main thing I noticed were the abstract scars on his forearms and wrists. Like lines on the pavement, they crossed and jagged on his raven skin. Next to him was a lanky-looking man with dark hair and the shadow of facial hair to match.

Although, he might have been average looking, it was difficult not to miss the absence of his left index finger and the tip of his right thumb. In front of them stood Polo, a shorter man with reddish hair and a large smile.

I looked up at my abductor—the one they had called Charlie. His face was flushed with fresh rage. Not understanding the source, the anger frightened me. Yet it was the way the rage so visibly coursed through him: his pupils dilated, his fists clenched. He seemed nearly as monstrous as Wallace. Then all at once, the terror I had felt blooming inside me reached a head when Polo flounced over and waved his hand in my face.

“Hi, my name is Polo. That’s Yuri and Reid!” He gestured to the men in the doorway, but it was difficult to pay attention as I flinched back so hard my wrists hit the radiator again and I cringed as the pain flooded my nerves.

With the same kind of discipline one might show a puppy, Charlie slapped his hand away and glared at him with a stern look that suggested future bodily harm if he continued.

The man with the dark hair, however, laughed. “Bad Polo! That’s a very bad Polo!” he said. He too had some sort of dulled accent I couldn’t quite place.

“What?” Polo asked. He seemed genuinely confused. While the sudden movement had startled me, it gave me a unique moment to take a fleeting look at the bunch and observe them. While the man named Yuri lit another cigarette, the dark-haired man rubbed the space between his brows and tried to ignore Polo, who was all but dancing around him.

“What guys? I don’t get it. Did I miss it again? What did I do?”

My breath came in and out easily now for the first time since I had left the truck stop. Charlie lifted himself onto what was probably the platform for a wood stove and took a phone from his pocket. I saw the bags under his eyes and the distinct look of worry.

“What time is Ben supposed to be here?” Yuri asked.

“Soon enough,” he snapped back.

It occurred to me then … the complete lack of organization with only the anticipation of violence. These men weren’t kidnappers, they were only thieves. Any provocation they might have to hurt me would be directly related to what I had seen—or what I might have seen.

So there was still a possibility I might live through this. But what about Wallace? He could have easily done me in with little effort on his part. And yet this Charlie person had put forth the effort to stop him, and he had also told me I wouldn’t be hurt. But who was he? Why should I believe him? He had taken me against my will!

What if preventing me from getting my block knocked off was all part of some elaborate ruse to gain my trust and get me to develop Stockholm Syndrome or something? I closed my eyes and began rummaging through all the case studies I had read in those abnormal psychology textbooks. My mind even sorted through those terrible made-for-television movies and tried to remember the statistics for human trafficking and…

I counted to ten and then backwards twice more before the thoughts went away. As terrible as it was, the sophistication behind some elaborate trickery like that wouldn’t be very cost effective and would require too much effort for guys like these.

Just then, the squealing of tires broke up my thoughts. The guys jumped out of the room and the door banged once more. Most of them were yelling, swearing profusely about a ‘screw up.’ I was reminded of children on a playground running to a teacher to tattle.

Charlie was the only one who stayed behind.

Silence between us felt strangely comfortable. With just him in the room, I had the feeling I was less likely to be harmed than I was with the rest of them. I stole a brief glance and could see the rage had ebbed away while he smoked. He stared out the small window with such intensity that I thought maybe he was avoiding looking at me. It surprised me when he finally spoke.

“If I take that off, can you keep quiet?”

While I thought about the potential of screaming again and the possibility of rescue, a brief glint of annoyance in his eyes persuaded me that it wouldn’t be wise. As it was, the skin around my mouth was dried and chapped from the maltreatment. I carefully nodded my head twice.