Tracing Hearts (13 page)

“You awake over there?” a man’s voice asks. I say nothing, but my sobs are full force now, and no longer silent. I feel the bed dip beside me, and I recoil in the other direction, in a don’t-touch-me kind of way. I hear him sigh. “If you promise not to scream, I’ll pull the tape off your mouth, okay?” My head bobs slightly in a subtle nod, and he reaches over, peeling the tape from my skin. “How’s that?” As soon as the tape is free from my face, I take in a huge gulp of air and scream at the top of my lungs, in hopes that anyone passing by can hear me. I shake my head from side to side, in an attempt to foil any plans the man has of replacing it, all the while trying to swipe at anything my still tied hands can make contact with. “Damn it!” he says, and I feel another piece of tape being firmly pressed against my mouth. I continue to howl, even though it’s a muffled sound now. But, soon, I’m too tired to continue, so I stop, panting. “Jeez. Are you done now?” the man says, clearly irritated.

I’m not sure how much time passes as I lie there. Just as I try to relax and keep still, I hear a door open again, then a second, hushed male voice. My heart goes into panic mode. I can’t fight off two men. I don’t stand a chance.

“Jesus! Why’d you tie her up like that? Was she really that much of a challenge for you?” says the second man.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she was. How about if I stop doing this shit for you, and you can be on your own?” says the first.

Someone sighs.

“Let’s at least uncover her mouth.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the first man warns.

“Dude, come on. In this place, even if she did scream, no one would think twice about it,” says the second.

Where the hell am I that a woman screaming wouldn’t alarm someone? This is bad.

“Hey, man. I’m telling you. You rip that tape off, she’ll wake back up and start screaming again.”

“She’s already awake, and no, she won't. Will you, Julia?”

I inhale at the sound of my name and, hesitantly, shake my head. I wince as I feel the mild sting of the tape as it comes off again, but this time, I don’t make a sound. I’m just too frightened.

“Good,” the second man says.

Still blindfolded, I bravely open my mouth.

“W—what do you want with me?” The sound of my shaky voice startles me.

“We can't say right now. Just trust us,” says man number one.

“Shut up,” man number two whispers.

“She’s gonna find out anyway. Why not now?”

They talk in hushed voices and even though I strain to hear them, I can only make out a word or two here and there. The last word I hear is an exasperated ‘
fine’
. The bed dips down next to me again. I flinch and gasp quietly. Suddenly, the man does the strangest thing. Leaning closer, over top of me, he presses his lips to my forehead, kissing me gently. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, bracing for something terrible, then I feel his breath in my ear.

“Please don’t be angry,” he whispers, just before he removes the blindfold.

The brightness from the overhead light is blinding. I squint and can barely open my eyes. I blink rapidly, desperate for my sight to adjust. I can see the shadowy figure of a man, still sitting next to me on the bed, and another one standing at the foot. It takes a minute or so, before my bewildered eyes land on the concerned face of Sebastian Vaughn.

I gasp, then swallow. This can’t be right. Am I seeing things? My eyes devour his face, looking for confirmation. His slightly older, half-hearted smile is one of repentance. His hair is shorter than I remember and sort of unruly at the top. It looks a little sun bleached too. His face is tan, as if he’s been living somewhere warm for a long while, although, I note he needs a shave. His sweet, little-boy dimples are still very visible as he sits quietly, a small smile on his lips. He says nothing, just lets me take in everything I’m seeing. Then, while I watch, he leans down, and releases my legs. He moves up to my hands next. Lifting a pair of scissors he produces from his back pocket and holding them up, he silently asks me for permission. I nod and he passes the blade underneath the tape and squeezes, cutting it in two, and freeing me from my final bond. I rub my wrists. We stare at each other. Me, not knowing how to react, and he, probably unsure of how to explain all this. I push myself up to a sitting position and lean against the headboard. I pull my knees up to my chest. It’s most likely a self-defense position, as I’m still not sure what to make of all this. His posture instantly becomes wary. Of me? Of what I might do?

“Sebastian?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper as it scratches against my irritated throat.

He nods gravely. “Yes.”

“How?” He shrugs, but says nothing further. “What… I—I don’t understand.” My brow furrows as I attempt to wrap my mind around this situation. “You’re dead. You can’t be here. You’re…not really here…are you?” I ask him, as if hearing his voice again will somehow solidify this dream I must be having.

Reluctantly, I reach out and touch his arm, which is exposed thanks to his sleeveless shirt. If it’s him, he’s a lot more muscular than he was the last time we saw each other. His well-defined bicep ripples as my fingers graze over it. I hear his surprised intake of breath, and I look up, into his sorrowful, blue eyes. Then, without a second thought, I lunge at him. Relieved I’m not dreaming, and elated by his presence, my arms find his neck, and I wrap them around him tightly. His breath shoots out audibly, and his arms wrap around me in return. His nose is buried in my neck, and I can feel his hot breath as it’s expelled. My hand pushes through his hair, grabbing a fistful. I can feel his stubble against my cheek as a grateful tear falls onto his broad shoulders. Please don’t let this be a dream.

After holding each other for several minutes, he releases me, but keeps a hold of my hands. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he’s trying to find the words. I’m not surprised. Then, he reaches up and with his thumb, he softly wipes the wetness from my cheek.

“Julia.” He exhales loudly. “Where do I begin?”

“How about the beginning?” I say, adjusting my legs to sit cross legged.

He smiles and nods. “Easier said than done. There’s a lot to tell.”

“Well, I’m a captive audience, aren’t I?” I smirk.

He snorts, finding the irony in my statement. He looks up, into my eyes.

“You know you’ve not really been kidnapped, right? I’m not holding you here against your will.” I raise an eyebrow. “You can leave anytime,” he says in a rush.

“I’m in no hurry,” I say to reassure him. “Besides, I’m dying to know what you’ve been up to since I last saw you, six years ago.”

“Ahem.” The other man clears his throat. “Are you going to formally introduce me, douchebag? Or would you rather she just think of me as
the perp
?”

Sebastian chuckles. “That would be okay with me,” he teases. “Peter, this is Julia. Julia, meet my best friend since elementary school, Peter.”

Peter’s reddish hair is longer than Sebastian’s. He looks to be about the same height but not as muscular. He walks over with his hand extended for me to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Sorry about the…um…abduction.” He laughs uneasily.

“Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years, though lately I’ve
learned
about you even more.”

With a crooked smile, he shrugs his apology. I return my focus to Sebastian.

“So, what’s this all about? Why did you kidnap me? Why didn’t you just tell me you’re alive?”

He looks down.

“It’s complicated,” he says apologetically, I think.

“I’ve already guessed that.”

He says nothing, just looks at me. His expression, regretful. He sighs.

“I don't want to tell you too much. Just what you need to know.”

“You want to put me on a need to know basis?”

“You could say that.”

I take a deep breath. I’m confused, a little irritated, and feel as though he owes me some answers.

“I think I deserve to know why I was drugged, dragged, gagged, blindfolded, bound, and brought here against my will. Don't you?” I say, as I cross my arms at my chest. My snarky comment leaves him wounded. He stands and begins to pace. Then, he pushes a hand through his hair.

“I just think you’re better off, the less you know.”

“
Why?
”

“Because.”

“Because is not an answer,” I say as I throw my hands in the air. He rolls his eyes. “Because is something you say when you don’t want to say what you really mean.” My voice is getting louder, the more frustrated I get. He left me abruptly six years ago, and I’ll be damned if I let him stand here now and remain silent. “
Well?
” I insist.

“Julia…,” he says. I can see the indecision on his face, as he comes back and sits next to me again, one leg folded underneath him. “I don’t want you to get involved.”

“Apparently, I’m already involved.” Petulantly, I cross my arms at my chest again.

“No. Not as much as you could be. I can’t put you in harm’s way, just so I can benefit.”

What?

“What the hell are talking about?” I say, exasperated. “Sebastian, just tell me!”

He looks back at Peter…for advice? Peter just shrugs.

“Your call, man,” Peter says. “I’m gonna go find something to do. If you need anything, you know how to get a hold of me.” They nod to each other before Peter exits, and his attention comes back to me.

“Does this have something to do with what you saw a few days before your plane crashed? You know, the one you supposedly died in. At least, that’s what your family thinks.”

He winces slightly. I’d imagine it’s hard for him, knowing his parents think he’s dead, when in fact he isn’t. He picks at a string on the bedspread.

“Yes,” he says softly.

Progress. This is good.

“Okay. Do you want to start by telling me what you saw?”

He shakes his head, adamantly. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Well, can you at least tell me why you brought me here in the manner in which you did?”

He thinks for a moment.

“It was to keep you safe.”

“That’s very vague.”

“I know,” he simply says.

I sigh out of frustration and swing my legs off the bed, then I stand.

“I’m leaving now,” I say as I start toward the door.

The panic in his expression is evident.

“What? No! You can’t!” he says, standing too.

I stop and turn toward him.

“Why not? You told me I was free to go at any time. If you’re not going to tell me what I want to know, then I’ll just leave and find out for myself.” I take another step to walk past him, but he counters with a step in my path, essentially blocking my way.

“Wait.” I stop, thrusting my hands onto my hips. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you a little more. Just…please don't go,” he pleads. I nod subtly and sit back down on the edge of the bed. He sits next to me and takes my hand in both of his. His deep breath is evidence of his internal struggle. “I’m a witness to a crime.”

Oh.

“What kind of crime?”

“I can’t say.” I open my mouth to scold him, but he continues. “But,” he hushes me. “What I
can
say is it’s a big case, one the justice system would really like a conviction on, and I’m their only shot at it.”

“So you’re their star witness, so to speak,” I say, as to get this straight in my head.

“Yes.”

“And they're hiding you?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re in the witness protection program?” He nods. “I see. So what does this have to do with me?”

He sighs heavily.

“You’re involved because of me.” My look of confusion causes him to continue. “After I…saw what I saw, I was shaken up. I wasn’t sure who to confide in. I didn’t want to talk to the wrong people and get myself killed, so I went to my dad and told him everything. He was frightened for me. I was due to fly a mission two days later, and to make a long story short, he made a few calls, and arranged for my plane to crash,
without
me in it.”

I inhale sharply.

“You faked your own death?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then, who crashed in your place?” I ask, horrified.

He chuckles a bit, I’m guessing at my reaction.

“No one crashed in my place. The pilot who was flying it, ejected just before the engine was rigged to fail. He parachuted down safely.”

“Oh…good.” I’m relieved.

“Anyway, in exchange for my testimony, the US Marshalls agreed to hide me in the program. But, too much sitting around, and not feeling safe enough to move about freely, gave me cabin fever. I started thinking about you and how you’d eventually hear I was dead. I knew I didn’t want that for you, so I did a few things that, in hind sight, I shouldn’t have. I contacted Peter.” He chuckles again and shakes his head. “He was so pissed, when he found out I was still alive, but mostly because he wasn’t in on the secret.” His smile fades as he refocuses. “He does intelligence for the Army, so it’s very easy for him to hack most computers. He’s the best I’ve seen,” he brags. “Anyway, I asked him to find out anything he could about you. I learned you moved to North Carolina, which surprised me, I’ll admit. He found out what college you went to and all of your social media information. I even got to see surveillance video of you about town.”

“That’s creepy,” I say, scrunching up my nose. I’m a little shocked.

“Sorry. I was desperate,” he says, guiltily. “These things were all fine. But, it still wasn’t enough for me.” He hangs his head. “I had to see you, even if you couldn’t see me in return. I watched you for weeks. I’d park in front of your apartment, just waiting to catch a glimpse of you walking out. The same scenario at your job. I wanted you to know I was okay, not dead, even though you didn’t know that yet. I put that note on your car and watched you find it. I was disappointed when you didn’t read it right away, so I texted you. Using technology was a dangerous mistake. Even though I’d used a disposable phone, I knew if anyone else was watching you, they’d just found out I was alive and in contact with you. That made you a target. Though, I wasn’t sure, I panicked. I hated myself for being weak and putting your life in jeopardy. Then, I found out you called my mom and that she was sending the boxes of letters. I didn’t want you to read them, especially the last one. I tried to intercept the package, but I was too late. You got to it first.” He pauses briefly. “I saw your face when you left for work that next day. You’d been crying.” I nod sadly. That was a dark day for me. “So…I asked Peter to hack into your computer at work.” My eyebrows shoot up. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I was out of control. But, it’s a good thing I did. It was then that I saw the emails you were sending to who you thought was me.”