I swallow a chuckle remembering how Tessa came on her couch. Now is not the time to think of Tessa’s pussy, and to the taste of her on my lips. My dick can’t get hard while I’m bound to a chair, a gun to the back of my neck.
It presses hard on my first vertebrae sending a shiver down my spine. I haven’t felt cold hard steel against my skin in a long time.
Not something I missed though.
“We came to get the girl who’s asking too many questions, and we get the guy who likes to toss shit around. Much better catch.”
I’m not sure where they are from, but they aren’t American; that’s for sure. There is a slight Germanic accent, but they aren’t German either. Maybe Dutch?
If only I could see their faces and study their body language.
They’ve put a bag over my head and confiscated my glasses.
I woke up wherever they wanted to take me, which meant they drugged me at some point. The hit wasn’t strong enough for me to lose consciousness and be brought somewhere without me being aware of it.
“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” There are two guys. Or at least two speaking. I pretend to be asleep, my head hanging a little, my muscles relaxed, forgetting the gun pointed at me. If they don’t know I’m conscious, they can’t start whatever they’re being paid to do.
“It depends on how much you injected.”
Injected. My arm feels the pinch of a needle when I hear the word. Good old chloroform on a handkerchief isn’t good enough anymore. Everyone has seen episodes of CSI. They certainly infused something intractable — some good knock-out drugs. The fog of my brain lifts a little more. I pull out my tongue to recognize the material of the bag over my head.
Paper…
As if I was a fucking McDonald meal.
They didn’t tape it under my neck. And I’ve certainly been with this over my face for more than a minute already.
Those dickheads are going to asphyxiate me.
Trying to take a big breath in an undetected way as possible, I hold it as if I was underwater. I have three minutes. Or I used to. Slowly I focus on the white sounds of my ears and visualize time stopping. Focus on the point. I still listen to their voices, but I need to block them out. Survival mode is kicking in. The echo of their voices tells me we’re in a relatively empty place. The smell gives away the fact we aren’t in a disinfected area. Maybe someone’s basement. It’s flowery and moldy at the same time.
“What have you got?” The voice I hear is a surprise, and I’m glad the two goons have my face hidden. I need to figure out real quick what the actual fuck I’m tangled into.
“He was with the target, and because you wanted her to get to him, we just took him. For a former navy SEAL, that guy was easy to catch… Fucker didn’t even see us coming.” I snap out of my disbelief. My brain catching up to the pieces of information I needed to understand the situation. They were there for Tessa so they could get me.
So they didn’t know who I was, but they knew I was sniffing around.
They knew I’m a former SEAL and that Tessa was asking questions.
I hope she didn’t ask anything to my captors directly, not that I know who was behind all this until now, not that I knew there was something to be behind.
“Remove the bag and get me a bucket of water so I could wake him up.”
I have no doubt who will stand before me. It’s always the one you expect the least who will be your element of surprise. The one that gets through the cracks. The one who can fool you the most. The goons finally remove the paper from my head and I snap my eyes open. I’m not ready to get drenched, or worse submerged because I’m pretending to be sleeping.
I’m out of focus for a second, but when I can see better, I smile.
Time to play my best moves.
A common mistake people who hide something make is assuming you know more than you really do. They worry and slip up. Like kidnapping the guy who hasn’t found shit about their past except an old picture in a yearbook.
Nervousness is your worst enemy when you have secrets.
I didn’t know what I was looking for, but the moment I get out of here alive, I will.
“Oliver Spencer, I presume?” I nod and turn my charms on.
“Mrs. VanHorn, a pleasure to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but…”
She gives me a tight polite smile that doesn’t illuminate her face.
I suppress a laugh. How nice of her not to be rude to her captive.
How wrong was I to think VanHorn was behind it all. I believed those two guys were his. I forgot that the first reason for which any man will make the worst mistake is love.
Like me running outside instead of being smart about it.
Like me, allowing Tessa to instill light in the cracks of my heart.
Like me finding comfort in her.
I would do anything for her.
Slowly, like waves crashing against the precipice of my grief, she shaped my sorrow for Elaine into love for her.
The realization hit me. I love her.
When did it happen?
Count on me to comprehend such things when I’m stuck to a chair facing her mother.
Mrs. VanHorn studies me, trying to read my mind but being far worse at it than her daughter. Her eyes tell me what l need to know. She’s cold and calculated and has done far worse than tying up a guy on a chair to interrogate her. It’s in the darkness of her gaze, in the resolution of her smile.
I wait her out.
She does too.
I see the resemblance to Tessa. I hang on to her face a little too long, analyzing every detail that differentiates them. They both
