Seven Years of Bad Luck (29 page)

“Alright, girl. You sure you got nothin’ you need to tell us?” The soft man asked me tauntingly as if he were enjoying my torture. The intonation in his voice made it clear that he was using me for entertainment more than information gathering. I knew that was bad news for me. No longer being of importance meant I was all the more disposable, and I knew I would be disposed of soon. I didn’t bother responding to the man. I only hung my head with exhaustion and defeat. I couldn’t give them the information I had without endangering Mrs. Kemp, Nate, and most importantly to me, my Ben. I accepted my fate in that moment strapped to that chair with comforting thoughts of Ben, Cheyenne, and my family raiding my fuzzy brain, chasing away the hell hounds. I lifted my chin to stare at the thugs who worked for the even bigger criminal who started all of this.

“Fuck. You.” The insult skated off my tongue with ease and left a tingle of exuberance in its wake. Just like that, the old me waltzed into that warehouse and I held tightly to the part of me I knew. It was the part of me that had left so long ago. It was the part that I longed for. It was the part of me that came to life in the moments just before what I was sure would be my death. I was glad to have the old me back all the same.

That felt good.

I inwardly relished my rebellious mouth. The pudgy man’s head snapped back marginally as if I spit in his face, and his eyes widened.

That’s right asshole. I said it.

I savored my moment and prepared for the pain I knew was about to crash over me. The man corrected his face, his nostrils flared, his jaw tightened and twitched, then he drew back and punched me like a heavyweight champ fighting for his title. My head popped back, then listed to the side as the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth again, and I spit my life source out by the mouthful. I bit back the tears that fought to run freely. I controlled my emotion. I refused to give this man any more enjoyment at my expense. I knew he was going to kill me anyway. They no longer needed me; he made that much obvious when they came back to the warehouse. I was already dead as far as I was concerned. I clung to the thoughts and memories of the people I loved to strengthen me, to bring me peace.

“Wanna try that again?” the man screamed into my face. The smell of his breath sent my stomach into an uproar, and I could no longer choke down the nausea. I vomited violently, narrowly missing him. I groaned as my stomach lurched and stilled repeatedly. I pressed forward. I was ready to get this over with.

Sooner I’m dead, the sooner the info I copied gets to the cops.

I was in more physical pain than I had ever known and was ready to get it over with. Sure, I wanted to run. I wanted to live, and if given the chance, I would do just that. I would run. I would try to make it. But as it was, I was dead, and I knew it.

“I said. Fuck. You. Asshole.” I bit out with as much venom in my voice as I could conjure. Blood dripped and sputtered out of my wrecked mouth. The muscular man gripped the other man’s arm and pulled him back before he could bludgeon me and make a huge mess that I was sure they would be responsible for having to tidy up. He pulled him into a private huddle, and the men whispered to each other for a moment. The heavy-set man was animated. He tossed his arms outward and spoke with his hands.

Pissed him off.

I watched the men and wondered if dying would hurt. I hoped not. I was already in so much physical pain I hoped that death would bring… release. I simply waited for the end. I couldn’t cry any more. I had no more tears. I had no hope to be set free unless my freedom came in the form of death. I prayed as I lost myself in memories of my loved ones. It was all I had to console me. After the men had a brief, yet heated discussion, they walked with purpose throughout the warehouse and gathered things into a pile before me.

Two shovels, a sheet, rope…

I sighed and looked away from the pile before me. I retreated back into my thoughts and memories while I waited for the end. A short time after they gathered their things, the muscular man began cutting through the tape that held me to the chair. He freed me from my bonds except for the tape that bound my wrists tightly together. The man stepped away from me, and out of nowhere, the overweight pig who enjoyed beating me stepped into view with a bat in hand. I could barely blink just before he aimed for the fences and swung. I heard a loud crack, and more pain ricocheted through my body lighting nerve endings on fire as it went.

“Arghhhhhh!” I screamed out.

“That’s for that sassy mouth of yours, bitch! Now we know you can’t run when we take you to your grave.” The man spit on me while I instinctively leaned forward and clutched my shattered leg. I groaned and whimpered as pain clawed at my resolve.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed at the savage man. The muscular man muttered something under his breath and ripped another piece of utility tape from the roll and stuck it across my mouth.

“You try to take this off, I will make sure your death drags out for days. Now shut up,” he warned.

“Let’s go. You drive the bitch in that Caddy. We gotta torch it,” the bat wielding asshole declared, and I was once again slumped into the muscular man’s arms and shoved into the back of Ben’s SUV. The jerk with the Louisville slugger drove another vehicle ahead of us, and within twenty minutes, we were parked in a small opening in a field that was flanked heavily with trees. We were thoroughly hidden as far as I could see, and there was a pre-dug grave in front of the SUV lit by the headlights that pierced the darkness. I managed to piece together that I had been with the men for a day and a half.

Must be Friday night,
I thought to myself.

Both men stepped out of their vehicles and stood together talking in front of the cars and my makeshift grave. Impulse and adrenaline possessed me, and I saw my opportunity shining in front of me like a miracle from the heavens. My eyes peered over the front seat and confirmed what I suspected.

Keys! He left the keys.

My muscular chauffeur left the keys in the ignition, and since I was no longer bound to a chair, I decided to go for it. I ripped the tape from my mouth and leaped over the seats despite the pain in my leg, head, and face. I slid easily into the leather seat, leaned forward, and turned the key with both hands. The engine roared to life, and I threw the gearshift into reverse. The men noticed the movement through the windshield and immediately began scrambling to the doors. Thankfully the auto lock feature on Ben’s SUV engaged as I put the vehicle in gear. The doors were locked, and the men couldn’t open them. As I sped backward, the men pulled guns out and began shooting. I ducked behind the wheel, and for once, thanked God for my generally short stature. I was able to sink low enough in the seat to avoid the bullets that zipped through my escape vessel. I cut the wheel hard and searched for a way out of the field. I put the car in drive and tore out of there, flinging dirt and grass everywhere behind me. I looked for the men in my mirror, and sure enough, they were chasing me in the other vehicle.

Shit! Shit! Find help. Go to people. Find some people.

My eyes scanned my surroundings, and I recognized nothing in the dark. I drove with renewed determination, and the adrenaline pumping through me made my injuries nonexistent for the moment. The men gained on me quickly and rammed into the back of the SUV. I fought against the steering wheel with my bound wrists, to maintain control. The men kept shooting at me. Bullets rained down on Ben’s gorgeous Cadillac. The men kept at their efforts of setting me into a tail spin by ramming and nudging the Cadillac repeatedly. Each time I fought to keep control and prayed more fervently for a store, a gas station, a diner, anything.

“People. Please, let there be people,” I chanted to myself. I saw an illuminated marquee in the distance and kept my eyes directed at what I hoped would be my salvation.

“People. Please. People.” I rounded a corner entirely too fast and nearly crashed. I regained control and tore down the quiet street that I had turned onto. I knew I had to be somewhere outside of Dallas. We had only driven for about twenty minutes when we left the abandoned industrial district. I reminded myself that I would come up on the city if I could just hold on a bit longer. I saw an intersection near the illuminated sign that towered high enough for drivers to see from far off. I pressed down harder on the gas and barreled into the parking lot like a maniac. Much to my relief, I saw big rig trucks parked neatly, one beside the other next to what was clearly a truck stop-diner. I saw a state trooper’s car parked right in front of the diner doors, and without further hesitation, I squeezed my eyes closed, braced myself and floored it. I crashed into the rear, quarter of the State Trooper’s car. The trooper’s vehicle skid sideways and took out a handicapped parking sign in the process. I wanted to cause a scene, and, well, I made one. Troopers and truckers alike poured out of the diner. I swung the door open with my bound hands, and stumbled out of the Cadillac deliriously on my broken leg. My eyes instinctively turned to locate my captors. They were gone.

Gone.

It was the last thought that tumbled through my tormented brain before everything went silent and dark.

“As I told you last night, she has what is a called a simple fracture, which basically means it was a clean break. Her leg will heal in about six to eight weeks.”

Who was that?

“As for the contusions to her face, we have cleaned them and treated them with topical antibiotic ointment. She has a hair line fracture in her sinus cavity, but there is nothing we need to do to treat it. It will heal naturally in a few weeks. The bruising will fade in about the same time. The thing we need to watch closely is the bleeding in her brain. Thus far, there has been minimal swelling. It has not increased, but it hasn’t decreased either. She may wake up soon. So you may want to stay close.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Thank you, Dr. Graham.”

Ben! My Ben!

A phone rang causing me to cringe.

“Yeah?” Ben’s voice was impatient, strained. “No. She isn’t awake yet, but I just spoke with the doc, and he says she may wake up, soon. How’s Cheyenne?”

Chey! Oh, God, Chey! Did they get Chey?

My brain jarred and awakened a bit from slumber as fear for my best friend’s safety ignited my awareness. “Ben.” I found my voice, but it sounded foreign to my own ears. I sounded like someone else entirely.

“Gotta go,” he snapped into his phone. I pried my heavy eyes open only a fraction.

“Oh, Jesus, baby,” he breathed out. A sliver of light burned my weary eyes, and they reflexively watered.

“’s bright,” I whispered and sealed my eyes closed again.

“Hold on a sec.” Ben closed the drapes, turned off the overhead lights, and left on the small nightlight above my bed. I could tell through my eyelids that the room darkened, and I reopened my eyes. Ben came back to my bed and sat beside me on the edge. His strong warm hands swept my hands into his and squeezed.

“Ben,” I croaked. Tears began spilling out of my sensitive eyes.

“Don’t cry, baby. God, I’m so relieved to hear your voice.” He shook his head then raised one of my hands to his lips to place a soft kiss first on the back of my hand, then on my bruised and raw wrist.

“I-I’m sorry,” I sputtered and then began sobbing. Ben carefully scooped my battered body into his strong arms and held me close to his chest and comforted me.

“Shhh. Shhh. Don’t cry. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’m here,” he said softly against my ear. His chocolate-brown hair brushed against my cheek, and the scent of his skin filled my nose. Even in his presence, I longed for him as if he were not there with me. It was not enough to be in his arms. It could never be enough. I knew I would never get my fill of Benjamin Chase. I loved him. The stubble of his day-old beard grazed over my face as he brought his lips down on mine. His lips were soft and drew mine into the kiss as it deepened. We drank each other in for a long moment; then he released me but continued lightly cupping my face.

“I was so scared that I’d never see you again. They… they were going to kill me. The grave—” Ben laid me back into the bed and stroked my hair from my forehead. His deep blue green eyes grew stormy.

“I know, baby. You don’t need to worry about them anymore. You’re safe. Your things have been moved to my place. You live with me now, and don’t you dare try to fight me on…” He held up his hand in preparation to argue with me about living with him. I cut him off before he could finish speaking.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. Ben stopped and stared at me. His stormy eyes cleared and softened.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I know,” I conceded.

“You don’t have to do it until you feel you can, but at some point you need to tell me everything from the beginning.” He spoke sternly and stood from my bed to pace the room. “I can hardly believe you put yourself into this situation. It was a monumentally careless and dangerous thing to do.”