Uncovering You 10: The Finale (14 page)

The man flinches back. I stride around my desk and advance on him.

“There is only one thing of importance to me,” I tell him in a soft, dangerous voice. “One thing! And unless you’ve come here to tell me you’ve made progress…?”

I let the question hang in the air, feeding his discomfort. He shakes his head minutely in response.

I stop in front of him. He tall enough to meet me at eye level, but when confronted with me like this, few are man enough to stand tall. His shoulders hunch under my scrutinizing glare.

“
Go
,” I whisper. “Tell the banks what I fucking said.”

He bobs his head up and down quickly, stammers and muted apology, and backs out the room.

The door closes. I hit the
lock
button. A second later, the entire glass wall exposing the rest of the office frosts into an opaque white.

I stride to the bar, every step hard and purposeful. I grab a bottle of scotch and pour a drink. I bring it to my lips, savor the liquor’s aroma for one sweet second… then tip my head back and swallow it whole.

My eyes are pulled to the bottle. It’s not yet ten a.m., and yet it’s already three-quarters empty.

“
Motherfucker
,” I whisper. I look back at the glowing computer screen, where the first email from Lilly’s captors blazes on the screen.

The words of that email are etched permanently into my mind.

“Motherfucking god
dammit
!” I scream, and in a fit of rage, hurl the bottle into the big glass wall.

It shatters with an explosion of sound. I ignore the vague forms of people who’ve stopped to take notice on the other side.

Instead, I stalk back to my desk. I throw myself into the chair, and, for the thirtieth time this morning, read the message from Esteban:

Good Morning Mr. Stonehart,

You might be surprised to hear from me. There is good reason I am writing you. Before reading on, please confirm that fact by opening one of the attachments.

I had. There were pictures of Lilly—
my
Lilly—in terrible shape. Oh, I wanted to see Esteban burn when my eyes swept over the photos.

The email continued:

Have you done so? Good. It seems you can follow instructions when necessary. Remember your capacity for that, for it will be tested again soon.

She is alive, if not entirely well. You may have her back. But first, you must give me what I seek.

What is that?

Reparation. Reparation for the damage caused by your blunt arrogance.

Think on your sins, Mr. Stonehart. You have no one to blame for this situation but yourself.

Don’t try to find me. Wait for my next message. There, I will state my demands.

Your response will determine if the next time you see Miss Ryder, she comes to you alive and breathing… or in a body bag.

-E.

“E.” The single letter gave me pause at first, but who could it be,
other
than Esteban?

Nobody.

Knowing that already puts me one step ahead of the game.

I lean back in the chair, mind working hard. A tentative smile spreads across my lips as I start to see the faintest glimmer of a rescue plan.

I open my right-hand drawer and take out my most precious possession. A photograph of the only woman I’ve ever loved.

“I’ll get you out of this, my sweet Lilly-Flower,” I promise, tracing my fingertips over her lips. “Come hell or high water, you’re coming home alive. That, I stake my life on.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Day three of my protest.

I’m awakened from a thin sleep by the sound of men storming the room.

Before I can blink, I’m being hauled up and carried out through the doors. My feet drag on the floor, limp and heavy.

We pass the operating room and return to the dank concrete bunker that was my first prison.

I’m forced into a chair. A bright light blinds me. I can see only enough to make out the familiar shape of the tripod and the camera.

And the flashing red light. Always, the flashing red light.

“Did you take the pills?” a voice demands. It’s that of the scar-faced leader.

I angle my face toward him as best I can and spit in response.

“Whore!” he screams. He hits me. I cry out and fall to the floor.

“Pick her up,” he snarls.

I am lifted. As soon as I’m upright, I’m hit again, on the other side of the face. I tumble the opposite way.

“Again,” he repeats, and I’m picked up and plopped in the seat. I cower in anticipation of the strike and pain.

The slap blindsides me. I collapse and see stars.

“Three times for three pills,” he tells me. “You see the camera?” He turns it away, so it faces an empty corner. “It caught all that. Now, all it will hear are the screams of a whore.”

Two men pin my shoulders to the ground as their leader lifts my robe, drops his pants, and begins to rape me.

In the dark, I lose all sense of time.

My sleep is thin. My wakefulness is misery.

A vague longing grows deep inside me. The need for submission. The need to give in. A natural willingness ground into me by the madness taking hold of my mind, I feel it rising. The demonic form consumes me from the womb, sapping my strength, and breaking my resolve.

A cry—no, a scream—rings out in the cold furnace of the night.
My
cry.
My
scream.

They’ve been looping the audio of my rape over and over for endless nights.

Is it even night? I don’t know
.

I am so tired. I am so lonely. I am breaking, and madness is taking hold.

It’s times like these that the animalistic urge to give in becomes nigh insatiable.

Day ten
.

The final day of my protest. The last day I am given a choice.

Hugh, Rose, and Esteban all enter my room. I cower from the light on the other side of the doorway.

They leave the door open. Through it, I see three guards. Scar face. Big Man. And the nameless, silent third one.

Rose comes to me first. She kneels downs and strokes my arm. “My, my, my,” she murmurs. “Look how far you’ve fallen.”

“I’m never going to take your drugs,” I spit, glaring at her, at Hugh, at Esteban. Hatred fills me.

Rose looks amused. “No?” she asks. “I think I can find a way to persuade you. You are, after all, very much alone.”

“Go to hell.”

“Not me, my dear,” she says. “But
you
. Soon enough. Soon enough.” She rises. “Bring the camera,” she says.

Big Man carries the tripod inside. Scar Face, the rapist, operates it.

Esteban giggles in the background

Rose sits down beside me and puts my head in her lap. I’m too weak to fight. Through blurry eyes, I watch her address the camera.

“Hello, Mr. Stonehart,” she says sweetly, calmly. “Look who I have here. It’s your precious Lilly-Flower. Isn’t it? Oh…” She makes a face. “but she isn’t so pretty now. Is she? Poor thing.”

She brushes my cheek. I hiss and flinch away.

Rose smiles. “Sensitive, she is, it seems,” she says. “Imagine that. The girl whom you trained to come for you on demand not wanting to be touched.”

I stare up at her, caught by disbelief. She looks down at me and puts on a pitying face. “Yes, yes,” Rose says. “I know all about your bedroom activities. I had Charles in love with me. Don’t you remember?” She’s speaking to both me and the camera now. “You, Mr. Stonehart, gave him access to the cameras. As my dear Hugh tells me, your flaw, your greatest weakness, was that you were too trusting.” She laughs in delight. “You thought yourself so safe in that castle of yours. Shielded off from the world. Immune to feelings and other failings of the common man. But I was there all along. Wasn’t I? You thought you’d made me your
pet
,” She throws her hair back and looks straight into the camera. “But as I taught you the night I made you a man,
Little
Jeremy, I am a woman who cannot be tamed. Not in that way. Not ever.”

She looks over at Hugh and motions him to come over.

I watch all this through heavily lidded, weak, drowsy eyes. I’m operating on the last bits of strength I have left. I feel like I’m barely alive.

Hugh joins Rose and me before the camera. “Hello, son,” he says. He looks down at me. “My! But this scene seems awfully familiar to me. Once more, I hold the life of a woman you care about in my hands. And, once more, I have passed you the gun. I created the scenario. It is up to you to decide what you will do with it.

“On the one hand,” he says, “you have your little Lilly-Flower. A tactless pet name, I should add. I always thought so. But…” He licks his lips, “…I was never in quite the right position to let you know.” He chuckles. “I am now.”

Hugh beckons Esteban closer. “Esteban, my boy! Come on over and say hello. My son must be shown what a grave miscalculation he made when he dismissed you as weak.”

Esteban struts over, his shoulders thrown back, that mad glimmer in his eye.

“And now we’re all gathered here again,” Hugh says. “Me. Rose. Esteban. And the fourth, most important member of our party.” He tilts my head up with his wiry hand. “Lilly Ryder.”

Esteban speaks next. “As you can see, we are in a position of strength here. Hugh told Rose you were too trusting. But do you know what
I
think your great flaw is?
Arrogance.

“It is American arrogance that brought Lilly here. Arrogance that let you give me enough time and space to be your undoing. Arrogance that allowed my men to rescue Hugh from that awful retirement home you shoved him in. Arrogance that made you think a twenty-million-dollar reward could alter the loyalty of my men.” He laughs. “Or is it forty million now? Honestly, we’ve lost count.”

“Now, now,” Hugh cautions patting Esteban’s shoulder. “Let’s not get carried away just yet. We still have certain things to see to.”

“Oh, yes,” Esteban’s eyes light up. He surges down and grabs me by the throat. I choke and gasp and sputter.

Big Man rushes in to help. He grabs my arms and twists them painfully behind me as I kick and struggle. Hugh has led Rose away from the altercation. The leader directs the camera—that vile, evil camera with its flashing red light—straight at me.

Esteban rages over me, his eyes afire with greed and determination and lust.

But it is not the sort of lust that a man feels for a woman. It is more insidious.

He lets go of my throat and grasps my jaw. His fingers press into me with horrible, unyielding strength. I continue to struggle, trying to resist. But Big Man has me caught like a trout in a net. My thrashing only makes things worse.

Big Man puts me in a headlock. His enormous arm restricts both air and blood flow.

I feel myself getting lightheaded. Weak. Whatever little strength I had left seeps out of me like air from a punctured tire.

Esteban pinches my cheeks and forces my mouth into an open O. He stuffs a handful of pills past my lips, seals my mouth with his palm, and pinches my nose so I cannot breathe.