Love You Always (13 page)

I let each swipe of coolness take me, relieve me of the heat that emblazes my body. Another moan escapes my lips as my fever continues to engulf me. He lays the cloth on my stomach and my mound until it absorbs my heat.

As he continues downward, he spreads my thighs, and I writhe as the cloth rubs over them. He leaves it there, in the crease of my thigh, and then removes it, turning it over to do the same to my other thigh.

He misses no part of my flesh—he cools me down thoroughly from my face to my feet until my entire body calms down to a reasonable degree.

When he’s done, he touches my forehead again, then my cheek.

“Your temperature seems to have come down.”

He leaves me and I hear the ice cubes moving again. When he gets back, he puts a cube to my lips.

“Open,” he says.

I open my mouth very slowly, because I’m so very weak and have no energy in me. He pushes the cube in and the coldness immediately hits my tongue. I welcome it.

“Suck on that slowly. Don’t chew it,” he instructs.

He throws a blanket over me and tucks me in.

“Now sleep,” he says.

I watch him as he leaves the room.

My mind wants to drift off and I close my eyes. But before sleep overtakes me, I hear . . .

“You better pick up some aspirin . . . she’s sick, she’s got a fever . . . yeah, I got it down for now, and she’s sleeping . . . I can handle it. Just don’t forget the fucking aspirin.”

* * *

“Here, drink this,” the young kidnapper tells me as he hands me two aspirins and a glass of water.

I sit up, holding the blanket to my chest, and do as he says.

“You feeling better?” he asks.

I nod my head.

He touches my forehead.

“You’re still a little warm, but it’s way better than last night.”

I don’t say a word.

“I’ll be bringing you some breakfast in a bit.”

He pauses and looks into my eyes.

“I won’t be taking you back to the shed. You can stay here until you’re better.”

I’m wondering if I took his bed and he had to sleep on the sofa, but I don’t want to ask him any questions and tick him off again. Anyway, why should I even care? He’s probably only concerned about me now because they still need me to get the ransom.

But this man confuses me. Even if he’s just keeping me alive for that, he shows signs of being caring, as he was last night when he took care of my fever, yet he can be horrible and cruel, like what he did to me in the shed.

I don’t know what to make of him. It’s as if he has two separate personalities—like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

The older kidnapper appears at the door.

“So, what’s the deal here?” he asks.

“She’s still got a slight fever,” the young kidnapper replies as he turns to look at his partner, “but the worst is over.”

“Good, because she better not screw this up.”

The young kidnapper turns his attention back to me and while he looks into my eyes, he replies, “She won’t.”

The older kidnapper looks at me in disgust. “She better not or I’ll kill her slowly and hack her to fucking pieces.”

My heart races and I feel nauseous. I’m shaking again, but not from the fever. These two are a roller coaster ride that is terrifying the hell out of me. I don’t know what they’re capable of and if they mean what they say—they scare me to death.

“I’ll be back with breakfast,” the young kidnapper tells me as they both leave the room.

I hurriedly put my clothes back on before they come back. I sit up in bed and hug my knees to my chest while I listen to their conversation.

“You need to get her back to the shed,” the older kidnapper says.

“Look, she ain’t going nowhere. She takes one step out that door and she freaks. She won’t flee.”

“You better be fucking right about that.”

“Don’t worry. Even if she does try to run, where’s she gonna go? There’s nobody around for miles. She’d get lost. She can’t escape.”

Oh God. Is he just saying that, knowing I can hear them, to keep me from trying? But he’s right. I won’t make it even ten feet from the door—my agoraphobia will hold me back.

I am so screwed. How am I going to get out of this? I pray Marcus can pay the ransom, because that seems my only hope . . . unless their plan all along is to kill me.

God, I want to live.

~* Laura *~

Since originally I hadn’t planned to stay more than two weeks at Marcus’, I decide to go home to pick up a few things.

“I’ll drive you,” he says.

“There’s no need for you to accompany me. It’s just a waste of your time. I’m sure you have better things to do,” I tell him.

“Look,” he says, holding me by the shoulders, “you’ve been accompanying me all over the place these past few days. I want to do this for you.”

How can I refuse when he gazes into my eyes this way—the way that weaken my knees and melts my insides.

“If you insist,” I say with false reluctance, because I love his company and being with him every minute.

“I insist.” His eyes capture me again.

When we get to my house, Jade is yelling, my dad is yelling—we can hear them from the driveway as we step outside the car.

Maybe you’d better stay out here,” I tell him, embarrassed that he’s hearing my family squabble.

“Okay,” he agrees without protest. I’m sure this must be uncomfortable for him.

I walk in the door and Jade is crying while yelling obscenities at my dad. My sister was never one to hold back on her outbursts, even to my father, but this is the worst I’ve seen her.

“You’re a fucking loser, a drunkard, and an asshole!” Jade spews out.

They’re so focused on each other and their quarrel that they don’t seem to notice I’m here.

“You little whore!” my dad yells at her before slapping her across the face, hard enough to send her sprawling onto the floor.

When it looks like he’s about to strike her again, I yell, “Stop!”

Dad looks at me and freezes mid-swing. Next thing I know, Marcus is by my side. He must’ve come in when he heard me yell out.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” Jade cries, holding her cheek, tears spilling from her eyes as she glares up at Dad.

As she runs upstairs, sobbing, Dad yells, “That’ll teach you to fucking talk to me that way! I’m still your father, and don’t you forget it!”

I stand petrified to witness what just went on between them. I’ve never seen my dad hit her like that. Sure, we got spanked when we were kids, but Dad wasn’t violent with us. I admit we had a crappy childhood, but not because we were abused, mainly because our parents never gave a shit about us. At the age of eleven, I mainly took care of my siblings while my parents were either working or gallivanting around. They did their minimum duties as parents.

Even though Dad wasn’t the violent type, after Mom left and especially after Spence’s death, he changed—his mood darkened, he drank more—but he still never abused us, at least not me. Was he abusing Jade while I was away at college?

I assumed her change was because of Spence’s death, but could it have been because of Dad?

Oh God, I hope not.

My dad slumps to his chair. “Your sister is going to be the death of me. I’m ready to wipe my hands clean of her.”

“Dad, you don’t mean that.” I walk over to him and sit on the couch that is perpendicular to his chair. My eyes plead with him to take back those words.

I glance at the three beer cans on his side table.

“Dad, this is Marcus.” I turn to beckon Marcus, and he sits down beside me.

“Sir,” Marcus greets him with a nod of his head. He’s not smiling though, and his voice isn’t friendly; it’s matter-of-fact. I assume the scene he just witnessed disturbed him.

Dad doesn’t say a word as he stares at Marcus for a few seconds and then turns his attention to me.

“Yes, I do mean it. Your sister is driving me crazy.”

“Dad, are you hitting her?”

He doesn’t answer.

My heart is beating fast. What the hell is going on behind my back?

Dad looks at Marcus. “You’re putting up my one daughter; can’t you take the other one off my hands too? I swear, if I don’t get some peace, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Dad says as he swipes a hand downward over his face. He looks so tired. “I’ve got enough pressure at work. I don’t need this crap from her.”

Marcus and I look at each other. I can’t ask him to do this, especially with everything going on with Angela.

“I’ll be happy to have your other daughter stay with us,” Marcus says.

“Good. Take her with you today. I don’t want to see her back here until she behaves.”

I feel awful. Marcus is being thrown a responsibility he can’t refuse. How can he say no to this?

Although I don’t want Marcus to feel obligated or forced, I see no other alternative. Jade can’t stay here with my father feeling the way he does—who knows if he won’t hit her again. There isn’t any place else she can go; we have no relatives close by she can stay with—there’s nobody.

“I’m going out. She better be gone by the time I get back.”

My dad leaves.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, apology written all over my face.

“Why? I would have offered it even if he didn’t ask. After I heard you yell, and seeing your sister on the floor, I could guess what was going on.” He holds my hand. “I wouldn’t have let your sister stay here another day with him.”

“He’s never been like this before. At least, not in front of me. Jade must really push his buttons.”

“In any case, we’re taking her from here.”

“Thank you,” I tell him as my eyes also show him my gratitude.

“Do you want me to come upstairs with you?” he asks.

“No, I can handle it. I’ve been handling her for years.” I remember my manners. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m okay.”

“Help yourself if you change your mind. The kitchen is through there.” I point my finger in its direction.

I leave him and head upstairs.

Knock. Knock.

“Jade, let me in.”

“Go away.”

“We’re taking you away from here. You can stay with me for now.” I tilt my head and rest it on her door.

There’s silence.

“Jade?”

I hear the door unlock. She opens it.

“Why should I want to go with you?” Her voice is sarcastic.

“Because it’s a hell of a lot better than staying here with Dad like this. Why do you push him?”

“You don’t know anything, Laura.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She looks me in the eyes. Jade inherited my mother’s hazel eyes, while Spence and I inherited blue eyes from my dad. When we were kids, she wished she could have blue eyes like my brother and me. I, on the other hand, always thought her eyes were beautiful because they would shift in color depending on the lighting or the way the sunlight hit them.

“Never mind,” she dismisses.

I look at her with curiosity. I can’t understand her most of the time—she’s like a code I can’t decipher.

“Get packing. We’re leaving after I gather some things,” I tell her.

I leave her and go to my own room. I throw some clothes into a box to change up the wardrobe I’ve been wearing for two weeks, since I anticipate being at Marcus’ for a while.

When I’m done, I stop by Jade’s room again. Her door’s ajar so I just go in. She’s not here.

I retreat downstairs and she’s sitting next to Marcus, talking with him. Marcus looks up when I enter and stands to his feet. “You all set?” he asks.

“Yup.”

As we head out, Jade walks next to me and says, “I think I’m going to like staying with your boss.”

I look at her, and she’s staring at Marcus as he puts our things into the trunk of his car. Her eyes gleam, looking wicked as though she’s setting her sights on a brilliant gem that she wants.

Oh God, why do I have a bad feeling about this?

~* Marcus *~

Jade and Laura are like night and day. From the way she dresses to her attitude—Jade is wild and reckless, immature, and cares only about herself. I don’t know what we’re in for, but I sure hope she doesn’t cause problems for Laura. I can sense Laura wants to be a big sister to her, but Jade doesn’t let her in. Maybe they can work things out while Jade is staying here.

I got the call from George that the paperwork is done, so all I need to do is sign and pick up the check. I’ll then head over to the bank to cash it. I’ve hired a security escort because there’s no way I’m carrying five million in cash in public without protection.

Laura wants to come with me, but I told her I need to do this excursion alone. I’m not taking any chances in case something goes wrong. No way in hell will I put her in harm’s way. Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity for her to be alone with her sister so they can talk.

Once I have the money, I wait to hear back from the kidnappers.

Hang on, Angela, you’ll be home safe and sound soon.

* * *

“You got the money?” the kidnapper asks.

“Yeah, I got it.” My tone is dry.

“Good.” I can imagine he’s smiling, feeling smug, on the other end. “Now, you’re gonna follow my instructions.”

“I want to speak to my sister first,” I demand.

“I’ll let you talk to her after I give you the instructions. You got a paper and pen?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” I say, but I’m taping this convo so I don’t need to write it down right now.

“You’re to put one mill each into five large dark brown carry-on bags. At exactly 5:50 p.m., you’re to drive to the phone booth on 44th and Jones. When the phone rings, answer it, and you’ll get your next instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Good. You follow exactly as I say, and when we get the money, you get your sister back.”

“Will she be there for me to pickup when I make the drop-off?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think we’re stupid? If we gave her to you at the same time as the drop-off, we’d have no collateral anymore, and the Feds would be all over us. This ain’t the movies, kid.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You don’t.”

Fuck. They’ve got the upper-hand and I can’t do a damn thing to negotiate things any differently.