Fears and Scars (23 page)

“
W
hy isn’t
she waking up?” a strong but muffled female voice questions from seemingly far away.

Where am I?

My eyes are too heavy, and when I want to open them, they don’t cooperate. At least my mind is listening to me again even my thoughts are still muddy.

“No idea. She was supposed to wake up two hours ago,” another voice answers, this one’s male.

God, my head hurts like a bitch.

“Do you want me to call the doctor, ma’am?”

“Let’s wait another hour. What’s the worst that could happen?” There's a hint of laughter in her voice. “The situation may resolve itself.”

The voices are coming from my right and are becoming clearer and memories come back at lightning speed, although everything after I saw the gun is blank. The terror swelling within me is overwhelming.

What did they do to me? What are they planning to do?

I can’t allow my brain cells to drown in fear. I need to calm down and think. That’s the only chance to survive. My mind frantically searches for some knowledge of self-defense and comes up with nothing except: I must fight and run. But my body is too weak for that.

No matter how scary this is, I need to open my eyes and see what I’m up against.

A second. I just need a second.

Does Ryan know I’m missing? If so, he must be out of his mind and sent the entire National Guard out looking for me. I just need to stay alive until Ryan finds me. There’s no doubt in my mind he will.

“Ma’am, here’s your coffee, and I have your husband on the line,” the younger male voice says in the distance. I take note that there’s no echo when he talks. We aren’t at some warehouse.

The woman huffs. “Tell him I’m in a meeting. I can’t believe he made this mess and now I have to deal with it. Typical Jonathan.”

I hear footsteps and a deep exhale. Whoever is near me isn’t happy.

Come on, Liza. Look at what you’re up against.

Everything is fuzzy when I open my eyes, and I squint against the brightness. My skin breaks out in a cold sweat as my eyes adjust and I see a woman, probably mid-forties, standing next to me. I stay silent and study her from where I lay in bed. Pale skin, heart-shaped face, flawless makeup, pearl studs in her ears, arms crossed over her chest, blonde hair piled high on her head in an elegant up-do. There’s not a strand out of place. My eyes trace her tall figure in pale pink blouse and beige pencil skirt. Must admit, this is not what I expected from a kidnapper.

“You’re awake. Good,” the stranger coldly states, her eyes never deviating from mine. “Took you long enough.”

Is she kidding me?

“Can you stand up?”

Not wanting to anger her, I sit up slowly, realizing I’m not tied up. That’s strange. I try to take a vertical position but the dizziness comes back, so with my hands groping for the bed to steady myself, I sit again.

“I guess sitting will have to do. Are you lucid? Do you understand what I’m saying?

I nod, and she says, “Cain, she isn’t talking. Whatever Tim gave her, did it affect her speech?”

My eyes follow hers to the corner of the room where a man with short dark hair and dark eyes and wearing black slacks and a white button down shirt stands. He’s huge with wide, broad shoulders and a short beard. He looks like he’s maybe thirty or so. I notice a small scar on his right cheek and try to find some other distinguishing features I should remember, but all the oxygen and blood rushes out of my body when I notice two handguns resting on his hips.

Don’t shake, Liza.

“I think she’s in shock,” he states. “It’ll pass.”

“Then bring her some water or something.”

“I don’t want water.” My words are hurried. I try not to let the horror pounding in my chest show on my face.

Even though my throat is dry and I’m thirsty as hell, I won’t drink anything. I won’t give them the chance to drug me again.

The woman frowns. The heels of her black shoes click on the hardwood floor as she goes to sit in the chair.

I have a moment to take in my surroundings. The room is spacious. I see two big windows with no visible locks, a dresser and a large mirror are to my right. I glance over to the left and see a coffee table, a chair and my bag sitting nearby.

God. What do I do? A million thoughts run through my head with lightning speed, but none of them registers through the terror that’s swallowing me whole.

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

“Why am I here?”

“Let’s get this over with,” the woman says, her posture perfect, her legs crossed at the ankles.

My stomach trembles uncontrollably as I stare her in the eye. I’m brave, and she needs to see that. “I won’t report you if you let me go. I won’t tell anyone.” My voice sounds calm even though everything inside me is in utter turmoil. I need to think, look for an exit, and run far, far away.

“My name’s Deborah North.”

Why is she telling me her name? Kidnappers don’t reveal their identity and keep their victims alive.

A broken “no,” leaves my lips.

“Cut it out with the dramatics, young lady, and let’s get to business.”

And then something registers—her surname. North.

“Jonathan North, your biological father, is my husband.”

That doesn’t sound bad.

“Okay,” I say, my voice shaky.

“I got the message you left for him.”

I frown. “You kidnapped me because I left a message for your husband?” Only a psychopath would do something like that.

“Caine brought you to me because I need to explain a few things to you. My husband was young and reckless when that Grace girl seduced him at a party. She saw he was drunk and threw herself at my boyfriend.”

“She was fifteen,” I protest.

“Well, apparently the love for older men runs in the family. Isn’t your boyfriend nine years older than you?”

She knows about Ryan? How?

Deborah doesn’t wait for my answer and goes on, “My poor Jonathan could have gone to prison for what that horrible girl did to him. He was nineteen and she lied about her age. Thank God her family was reasonable people who did the right thing and hid the truth.”

“They sent her away.”

She studies her French-manicured nails for a moment. “As I said, they did the right thing. Anyway, long story short, I imagine you now understand that meeting you isn’t something my husband would like.”

I know I should speak, but I can’t. My shock is too complete. Is it true? My biological father wants nothing to do with me?

My gaze finds the man in the corner again. His brows are furrowed, his lips set in a thin line.

“You’re probably wondering why Caine brought you here.”

Is that what she calls drugging people and taking them against their will?

“I won’t beat around the bush, Elizabeth. In my position as a senator, I can’t allow your existence to become public knowledge.”

A senator? Shit, I should have read the whole file when I had a chance.

“You think I’ll go to the press?”

“A gold digger like you surely will,” she mutters and then gives me the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, showing her gleaming white teeth. “I mean from your taste in men, I’m sure we can agree on a sum that will keep your mouth shut.”

“I don’t want your money. And how can you be sure I’m his daughter?”

“Because the bastard admitted everything to me years ago,” Deborah snaps. “And I won’t be the one to pay for his weakness.”

I blink a few times, stunned. This crazy woman is clearly lying about what happened between Grace and Jonathan.

Deborah shakes her head and sits up straighter, if that’s possible. The mask of unaffected indifference that slipped moments ago is back in place. “Do you know that your boyfriend bribed a judge to give him custody of your brother?”

My speeding heart freezes.

When I say nothing, completely stunned, she smirks, “It’s jail time, Miss Williams. Very long jail time if I have a say, and I will. Oh and that Jacob boy stole a car, sold drugs, and only got community service. It isn’t fair. That’s not how our youth should be nurtured. Right, Caine?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Before we know it, he’ll join some terrorist organization or start shooting people on streets.”

She stands up and slowly closes the distance between us. Her finger is a millimeter from my nose when she says, “You’ll never contact Jonathan again. Never. You’ll forget our names, and the same goes for your boyfriend. If he or you try to do something, anything, I won’t stop before I destroy you all. Is that clear?”

Her words hit me with the force of a ten-ton truck. My heartbeat starts racing again. I’m still in shock from being taken, and now this …

My reply is quiet but fierce, “As long as Ryan and Jacob are safe, no one will find out about me.”

D
eborah repeats
her threats twice more. She must think I’m slow or is just used to repeating speeches over and over again. Either way, I listen to her calmly and nod every now and then. This woman is a psychopath, and my only chance of getting out of here is to please her.

“You’ll be going now, and remember: one word, one breath about my husband or me, and your boyfriend is done and well as your brother.”

So you told me, missy.

“I won’t say anything to anyone. Now can I have my phone back?”

I need to call Ryan. I can only imagine what’s going through his mind right now, thinking that I was taken, nowhere to be found.

She shakes her head. “You better have enough of a brain to keep your end of the deal. Caine, I’m finished with this stupid girl. Deal with this.” With that she exits the room leaving me with who I presume is her right-hand man.

“Let’s go,” Caine barks.

“You’re taking me back to the house?”

“No. After you were taken, our doctor put a Jane Doe into the system. The story is simple—you took a cab to the airport, messed up your sleeping pill dosage or something, fell unconscious, and the driver took you to the hospital. He also stole your purse. That’s why the doctors didn’t know who you were, and you were in no state to tell them.”

So the senator had an exit plan before taking me.

“I’ll take you to the hospital now, and they’ll enter you into the system. The police will be notified right away. It won’t be long before they inform your boyfriend. End of story.” Cain makes it all seem simple.

“But I didn’t take a cab. Someone might have seen me. There are cameras everywhere.”

“From my contact with the local PD, I know that your neighbor Caroline Young saw you getting into the black sedan, but it doesn’t matter since she didn’t remember the plates. Plus, people make mistakes all the time. Our task is to make it believable to the police. They won’t dig too deep as soon as they find you alive. And as for your boyfriend’s people, well, I’m sure he’ll deal with them after you explain everything to him.”

My boyfriend’s people?

“Wouldn’t they look for the cabbie who stole my purse?”

I can find a hundred of loopholes in this plan.

“It’s taken care of.”

“Let’s hurry then.” What matters now is Ryan. I don’t want him worrying out of his mind when I can prevent it.

My head is still swimming when I’m rushed to an awaiting car. This time I don’t even look at the driver. My heart is beating fast; my mind is a mess. Flashbacks from this morning overtake me; the terror I felt with that gun pointed at me flickers through my mind. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing and try to shake off the fear that threatens to consume me again. A panic attack is the last thing I need right now.

Breathe, Liza. Just breathe.

What matters most is that I’m alive and I’ll see Ryan soon.

I’m like a robot when we arrive at the hospital. A woman in blue scrubs—a nurse I presume—is waiting for us near the back entrance. After Caine has a quick word with her, she greets me with a big smile and says her name is Nancy. I force my feet to move and get into the wheelchair she brought for me. Apparently, protocol still stands even if you’re assisting in covering a kidnapping.

Nancy wheels me through corridor after corridor, babbling about some patient who’s been singing for seven hours straight.

Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into.

I noticed it was dark outside when we arrived, so I ask her what time it is.

“Almost midnight,” she replies cheerfully.

I’ve been missing for nearly twelve hours now.

A doctor wearing a white coat and holding a folder is waiting for us at the hospital room. I frown when I notice another patient is in the bed to the right.

“Don’t worry. Mrs. Cunningham is in a coma,” he mumbles looking bored, and then proceeds to give Nancy instructions. After I change into a hospital gown, she hooks me up to different monitors and an IV.

“It’s not real medicine, just some vitamins.”

God, everything is so bizarre.

It doesn’t add up. What about this nurse and the doctor who just signed my chart? Won’t they will get fired?

“You need to relax, Ms. Williams. You look white as a ghost,” Nancy tells me sweetly. “But maybe it’s for the best.”

“What will you tell them? I mean what’s wrong with me?” I’m not sure if I should ask her something like this, but I can’t help myself anymore.

“Nothing serious. You messed up with the amount of anti-anxiety medication you took. You were drowsy all day long, drifting in and out of sleep. Your blood pressure was really low, but it’s getting better. Other than that, you are perfectly fine.”

It doesn’t sound very convincing to me.

“What about my name? Why didn’t you put my name in the system?”

“My fault. I was too distracted and only did it half an hour ago when my shift ended and realized my mistake.”

“Will you get fired?”

“I won’t. It’ll be taken care off.” She winks at me.

Unbelievable.

I feel so small and cold. Noticing my shaking, Nancy brings me a blanket.

“You’d better prepare, the police are on their way. I won’t be here when they arrive because my shift is over and I went home.”

I manage a weak “okay,” and she disappears behind the door along with the shady doctor.

The next fifteen or twenty minutes of waiting drag on like hours. But then the door swings open and Ryan rushes to me. His eyes dart all over my body, searching to find any injury.

It breaks my heart beyond repair to see him looking like at least a decade has been taken off his life.

I’m immediately tugged against him, his arms wrapped tightly around me and his face buried in my neck. I hold him just as tight.

“Oh my God, I thought I lost you,” he whispers. “I could have lost you.”

“I’m okay, Ryan. I’m okay,” I choke out.

His body shakes, and I feel the wetness from his tears on my neck.

God, Ryan is the strongest, most solid man I’ve ever met and now he’s crying because of me. Pain practically pours out of him, all because of me. I should have never made that stupid call.

A sob rips from my chest. Ryan climbs in the bed with me.

The only thing I can do is hold him tighter, try my best to let the suffering seep out of him and into me. My fingers brush through the soft hair at the back of his head, and I keep murmuring that I’m fine and that I’m not going anywhere, ever.

More tears erupt. We’re crying, touching, and whispering words of reassurance to each other between kisses.

“You’re really all right?” he eventually asks, his voice full of relief, his eyes glassy.

I taste our salty tears when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me like I’m the most delicate thing in the world. He must be thinking I’m sick.

I need to tell him the truth but I’m not sure it’s safe to tell him everything here.

“Ryan, can you take me home?”

“We have to ask your doctor when you’ll be discharged, sweetheart, but I’m not going anywhere.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sick.”

“They still don’t know what’s causing—”

“No, Ryan. It isn’t true.”

I can’t listen to this anymore. This needs to stop.

I put my arms around his shoulders and whisper the truth into his ear so no one can hear us. From time to time, he pulls away a bit to look me in the eyes, but he doesn’t ask any questions.

When I finish, he watches me for a long time. I see him processing everything, then he blows out a thick stream of air and declares, “We’re going home. To New York.”

Even though I recognize resolve in his tone, I ask, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. We go home, check if you’re okay with a real doctor, and then we decide what to do.”

“What about the police?”

“I’ll talk to them while you get dressed. Mark will keep an eye on you.”

I nod, my whole body still feels shaky. My lower lip trembles. “Just leave it alone, Ryan.”

What I fear most is what he’ll do to protect me. Leaving things to run their course isn’t Ryan’s style. Neither is trusting others. He’ll want to take matters into his own hands, to make Deborah North pay for taking me, and I can’t allow him to mess with a ruthless person like her.

“Let’s leave it behind and go on with our lives. Revenge isn’t something I’m looking for. She’ll get what she deserves in the end.”

“Hey.” He gently lift my chin. “Sweetheart, look at me.” When I do, he goes on, “I won’t do anything behind your back. I promise. I’ll have Clayton dig up some dirt on her to ensure she stays away from us, but other than that, I won’t do anything. At least without you knowing.”

“Okay. I’m just shaken from the whole thing,” I quietly confess.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers, our foreheads touching. “I’ll hire an entire army if I have to, but I’ll keep you safe.”