Authors: Maris Black
Numbness starts to spread over my body, a sort of systemic disbelief, and my brain keeps flashing on scenes from movies. Thrillers, most of which end badly. I can’t seem to come up with a single one that doesn’t kill off the main character’s love interest. I’m seeing heads in boxes, fingers in envelopes, bloated bodies dragged out of the river… When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Shit. It’s Possum.
“Hey, buddy.” I try my best to calm my heart and steady my voice. “Guess what? I’m sorry I sent you on a wild goose chase, but they made it back to the hospital a few minutes ago. Turns out the bastards were sitting down at the Huddle House drinking coffee.”
I can hear the sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Good, because I was getting really worried. There are some signs of a struggle down at the old house. Some blood, shell casings… Guess it’s unrelated. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad they’re alright. Tell them from now on to answer their damn radio.”
“Will do. Thanks for everything.” As soon as Possum’s call is ended, I dial the number on the paper. I can’t afford to waste any more time when Corey’s life is in danger.
20
BEFORE I hit send on the phone, I need to find out how much Mike knows. He’s so shaken up, I have to ask him a half dozen times. “What happened to Corey?”
“I don’t know, man.” His eyes are haunted, and sweat is pouring down his face even though it’s far from warm in the ambulance shack. “I just don’t know. He was walking in front of me, calling out, asking if anyone was there… if anyone was hurt. I told him it didn’t look right.”
“Did you see anyone? What’s the last thing you remember?”
“A man,” he whispers. “A tall man in a suit. He didn’t look like he belonged there. I only caught a glimpse of him before I heard them behind me. Then everything went black.”
“How do you know they tased you?”
“I know what it feels like. We had to do it to each other at work during training. Tear gas, pepper spray, the whole nine yards. They make us go through all that when we sign on.”
“Did Corey get tased? Did you see anything at all? Possum said there was blood at the scene. Are you bleeding anywhere?” I’m getting frantic now, my voice rising ever higher until it becomes a shrill ringing in my ears.
Deep breaths, Ben. Keep your cool. This is just like a code. If the doctor loses control, the patient dies.
“I don’t think that blood came from me, Dr. Hardy. I’m sorry, but I didn’t see anything at all.” He’s crying now, blaming himself.
“Get it together, Mike,” I growl. “You’re no good to Corey this way. If you truly want to help him, then be strong and let’s do it. You didn’t go through all of that hardcore training just to lose your shit the minute it becomes personal.”
He takes a big gulp of air, drying his eyes with the heel of his hand, and nods.
I hit the send button on my phone.
“It’s about time, Dr. Hardy.” The male voice on the other end of the line is smooth and unusually deep, with a distinct Hispanic accent. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d misjudged you. Corey was certainly beginning to wonder, weren’t you Corey?” I hear frantic grunting in the background, and the only picture my mind can conjure to go along with the sound is of Corey bound and gagged, trying desperately to communicate something to me.
“Who is this?” I’m surprised at how bland my voice sounds.
“Just call me Ambrosio. I don’t suppose Corey has mentioned me…”
“Nope. Never heard of you.”
“Of course not. I’m sure he’s painted a very pretty picture for you.” His voice goes impossibly deeper, and quieter as if he’s sharing some dark secret. “Has he told you what he did for a living… before he became an ambulance driver?”
“It didn’t come up.”
Ambrosio’s voice rumbles low like distant thunder, his version of a laugh. “I’m not surprised. He’s very good at what he does. I suppose you could call him a professional manipulator. He can’t help himself. It’s all he’s ever known.”
“That’s bullshit.” I can’t hold my tongue or keep the emotion out of my voice this time. Not coming to Corey’s defense would feel like a betrayal, especially when he’s helpless to speak for himself.
“Mmmm… He certainly got under your skin quickly enough, doctor. Tell me, what exactly does a stranger have to do to end up living with the wealthiest man in town in under three weeks? It took him years to get close enough to steal from me, but you… You just handed over the keys to your castle.”
The muffled sounds of Corey struggling to be heard comes across the phone again. It terrifies me to hear him that way and not be able to help him, but at the same time it gives me hope. If he can make noise, that means he’s still alive.
“Listen Ambrosio, you’re obviously enjoying our chat, but I really just want to get this whole situation resolved. Tell me what you want and where you want it. You return Corey to me unharmed, and we’ll call it even, okay? I’m not interested in playing vigilante, or involving the police, or anything crazy like that. I understand that this is strictly business—”
“Doctor,” Ambrosio interrupts, sounding more agitated than before. “Don’t try to fool me. I can hear the slight tremble in your voice. You want me to think you don’t care, but you’re scared shitless, aren’t you? Scared you’re not going to see him again.” He pauses for a long moment, prodding me when I don’t answer. “Tell me, or this ends right now.”
“Yes, I’m scared.” I’m not sure if admitting my fear is the best thing to do in this situation. The man who has Corey’s life in his hands is sounding more unstable by the minute, and I’m not exactly a professional hostage negotiator. It occurs to me that Mike might be trained in such things, but one look at his distressed face and the way he’s slumped in his chair tells me I need not bother asking. It’s up to me alone to get Corey back, and that means I’d better ramp up my negotiation skills fast.
“You should be scared, Dr. Hardy. If I don’t get my money, with interest, I’m going to start removing pieces from your precious boy. And I’ll start with the part you like best.”
The part YOU like best, asshole. Because you can’t cut out a man’s spirit.
And suddenly it hits me. In classic Jungian fashion, this smooth-talking creep is projecting his own unwanted feelings onto me. In reality, it is
he
who feels manipulated,
he
who believes he handed over the keys to his castle,
he
who is scared shitless that he’s never going to see Corey again.
This isn’t about money at all. It’s about betrayal, and that fact does not bode well for Corey. I can replace the man’s money as easily as dropping by the bank, and he obviously knows it. But there’s no way I can fix the damage to his self-esteem, and I can’t mend his broken heart.
“How much money do you need?” Though the money is obviously not the ultimate goal, my instincts tell me to keep him focused on it and off of his hostage until I can figure out what to do. “We can work this out together. I have no problem paying you back. In fact, I feel really bad that this happened to you. I want to help. If you had come to my house and explained the situation, I would gladly have paid you.”
“Why don’t we do just that, then? Meet me at your house.”
Home court advantage sounds good to me.
“Sure, Ambrosio. What time?”
“Hmmm, how about right now? I happen to be sitting in your living room as we speak. Hope you don’t mind, I grabbed a beer from the fridge.”
Oh, Jesus. They’re in my house
.
Since there’s only fifteen minutes left on my shift, I don’t bother arranging for another doctor to cover. I quickly explain to Mike that everything is under control and that he should go home and recover from his trauma.
“Do not tell anyone what’s going on,” I instruct him. “Absolutely no police. Keep your cell phone on you in case I need your help, okay?”
“You can count on me, Dr. Hardy. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it. I’m not quite sure what’s happened to me, the way I’m feeling… It’s confusing. But I’m starting to feel better now. You sure you don’t want me to come along?”
I have to reach up to clap him on the shoulder. “Thanks, but I need to do this alone. As for how you’re feeling, you’ve been in shock, but they may have drugged you as well, Mike. You were gone for hours, with no recollection of anything after you arrived on the scene, so go easy on yourself. I’ll give you a good going-over after I get things sorted out, but right now I’ve got to go get Corey.”
“As lame as it sounds, I’ve got my fingers crossed.” He holds his fingers up as proof.
I muster as much of a smile as I can for the battered fireman as he programs his number into my phone. Maybe he’s not so bad, after all.
As for Corey, there’s no way in hell I’m letting anything happen to him. I’m no badass like the heroes in the movies, and in fact I guess I’m about as far from that as a person can get. I live on the other end of the spectrum— the safe end that ensures I don’t get hurt, or touched, or affected by anything. I’m used to carrying my pain home and wallowing with it in the cool dark of my bedroom, confronting it only in the depths of my nightmares where I have no choice but to look.
This is different. For once, I’m driven by something so powerful it makes my fear irrelevant— the feeling that I’m bound up so inextricably with another person that what I’m doing is pure self-defense. Like a hunter struggling with a grizzly, or a diver punching a hungry shark, I know that I’m fighting against the odds. But doing nothing is more frightening than fighting.
The strangest thing in all of this mess is that within a matter of days I’ve gone from being alone to being something of a unit with a person I barely know. As much as I tell myself it’s irrational, that it couldn’t happen, that it’s all an illusion… it doesn’t matter. I’m in love with Corey, and I’m going to get him back or die trying.
*****
My house looks normal from the outside, except for one thing. There’s a large SUV parked around the corner in the same spot where the private investigator’s car had been, and I know without a doubt whose it is. Matte black in color and styled like a tank, it’s got a star emblem on the back that I think I’ve seen before in pictures.
Is that a freaking Dartz? Who have I got in my house?
I wish like hell my stomach would stop churning, but besides that I’m oddly calm.
“Honey, I’m home,” I call as I push open the door. I’m sure the sound of the garage door has already signaled my arrival, but I want to be careful not to surprise or alarm anyone who might have a gun.
“In here, Dr. Hardy.” I recognize Ambrosio’s deep voice from our phone conversation.
As I move through the kitchen and into the living area, the first thing I see is an enormous bruiser with a buzz cut standing guard by the French doors that lead to the foyer. He has two guns strapped to his body in one of those intimidating double shoulder holsters worn by gangsters and FBI agents in the movies.
When I see Corey, my breathing speeds up, putting me on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. He’s sitting on the sofa, but his arms are restrained behind his back, and he’s got a black ball gag in his mouth. His hair is more disheveled than usual, hanging lankly onto his forehead, plastered to his skin by a sheen of sweat. His blue scrubs are torn in several places and smudged with dirt and debris. The look in his eyes is what gets to me the most. He looks defeated and ashamed, turning his gaze away from me as I come nearer.
Without a thought for safety, I drop to my knees at his feet and take his face in my hands. “Are you okay?” I can barely speak or breathe through the panic that’s seizing my chest.
He nods without looking at me, a tear trickling down his cheek. I wipe it away for him, since he can’t to do it for himself.
“Get up off your knees, Ben,” Ambrosio says from behind me, and I turn to get a look at him. Tall, handsome, poised, with short dark hair and skin the color of creamed coffee. He wears black dress pants and a white button down dress shirt with pale gray pinstripes, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled casually to the elbows. He’s as comfortable in the formal threads as he is in his own skin.
Again, I have to wonder who the heck I’m dealing with. He’s obviously not the run-of-the-mill thug I expected. This man is
somebody
.
“Nice to finally meet you, Ben. I’ve seen photos, but they don’t quite capture the essence.”
He holds out a hand to me, several gold rings adorning his slender brown fingers. It pains me to shake hands with Corey’s captor, but I do it anyway. Once he’s got a grip on my hand, he looks straight into my eyes in a way that threatens to unnerve me, and he doesn’t let go for a long, uncomfortable moment.
I meet his gaze as unflinchingly as he holds mine. “You don’t seem like a man who would come all this way for such a small amount of money. Why are you really here?”
He cuts his eyes at Corey, and I see a flash of anger that I didn’t mean to trigger. “You’re right. I do intend to be repaid, but the money is secondary. I don’t appreciate being disrespected, and that is exactly what he did to me. He took my generosity and threw it back in my face… and then he stole from me.”
Corey shakes his head violently, whimpering, trying to talk around the gag. His body quakes, and I want so badly to get him out of this, but I don’t know how.