Chapter 2
(Audra)
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“Psst, Mr. Police officer,” I call, trying to get my fellow kidnapped victim to talk to me.
I woke up about twenty minutes ago. From what I can tell, I’m in a basement of some sort—tied up and a little bruised. Also tied up in front of me is the man I met in the alley, whose gun I subsequently stole. In hindsight, that was a little reckless of me.
I stepped out of the alley and fired two shots.
Fortunately, one of the shots hit a kidnapper standing to the left.
Unfortunately, there were way more of them than I expected.
We put up a good fight. The mysterious broody man and I are lucky they decided not to kill us.
After disarming me, the kidnappers knocked me out.
The last thing I saw was my fellow kidnapped person, taking down one of them with a punch to the jaw.
He seems well-trained. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his forties or mid-thirties like me.
Tall, a little slim but pretty muscular with brown eyes, curly brown hair, and olive-colored skin.
He has this exotic, handsome look going on for him.
He’s the kind of man I would walk past in the street and do a double-take.
He’s that good-looking. I imagine a smile would do wonders for him, but there’s a huge frown on his face right now.
He’s glaring at me like he might actually kill me.
“Would you please talk to me?” I say in frustration.
He scoffs. Wriggling his body, probably trying to find a more comfortable position. His hands are tied at his back, and so are his feet, stretched out in front of him. I know I should apologize for getting him into this.
“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” I start.
This time his response is a snort.
“Would you quit it?” I ask.
He finally speaks.
“I have two questions. One, what exactly makes you think I’m a police officer? Two, are you American?”
“Yes, I'm American. I’m on vacation.”
“How’s that going for you?” he questions with a smirk.
“Asshole,” I state with a sniff. “Anyway, you’re giving off a law enforcement vibe. You had a gun, and although I’m not a hundred percent sure…you were on a stakeout of some sort when I interrupted,” I say awkwardly.
“Interrupted? That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Do you want me to apologize or something? Cause it won’t get us out of here.”
“Of course not. We’re probably getting out of here in a body bag,” he states offhandedly.
I almost choke.
“Please tell me that’s a joke. They’re just kidnappers, right? They’ll want a ransom or something….”
He sighs.
“Why would you run out there like that?”
“Why did you follow me?” I retort.
He gives me an exhausted expression before closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
“It was a gut reaction. I couldn’t just stand by and watch while they did that to her. She sounded so scared.”
“She wasn’t yours to save,” the man says.
“I know, but I didn’t think. I heard all the shouting, and I just acted. I’ve been told it’s a bad personality trait.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” he says with a snort.
He seems like a bit of a jerk.
“What’s your name? You’re American, too, right?” I ask him.
He looks at me warily, like he’s considering the implications of revealing his identity.
“Who taught you how to use a gun?” he questions.
Sheesh, it’s not easy getting anything out of him.
“Actually, I’m a detective. NYPD.”
“Really? That’s actually not bad. No wonder you ran into the line of fire like that,” he says.
There’s an appreciative glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Your turn.”
“My name’s Ethan Boyne. Special agent in the USSOU.”
My eyes widen.
“Special agent? What does USSOU even mean? I’ve never heard of the organization before.”
“We’re off the books. Legit. It means United States Special Operations unit. And now I’m praying they didn’t bug this place. If they did, they’re really going to kill us,” he says, looking around the bunker or basement like he just realized the magnitude of his admission.
“As opposed to how sure you were that they would kill us before?” I question.
“Before, I hoped they would think we’re just dumb civilians. Now, there’s a slight chance they’ll know we’re American law enforcement.”
He looks really worried.
“I’m sure they didn’t bug this place. It’s disgusting.”
It really is. There’s dust everywhere and bugs as well. It’s taking all my years of training and all my willpower to keep my cool and not freak out.
“That’s not comforting in the slightest,” he groans.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Ethan. My name’s Audra, by the way.”
“Audra,” he repeats. “Pretty name.”
I know the blow to my head knocked a few screws loose in my head. Because otherwise, how can I explain the immediate hotness burning my cheeks at his words. I’m suddenly grateful for the dimly lit basement. Otherwise, he would have seen me blush.
Get a grip, Audra.
“Thanks. So does that mean you’re not mad anymore?” I question.
“I’m still mad. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. We’re already captured. Now we have to figure out how to get out of here,” he explained.
“You still didn’t answer my question, though,” I point out.
“What question?”
“Why did you follow me out there? You could have been safe if you had just stayed hidden.”
He ponders that for a second.
“I guess it’s the same reason you wanted to save that girl. I couldn’t just watch you put yourself in danger like that.”
That’s oddly sweet.
“Thank you. And I’m really sorry I got us into this. I promise we won’t die.”
I think I see a smile on his face, but I can’t be too sure.
“And how do you know that?” he asks.
“It’s more like I can’t die. I have a family back home waiting for me, and I’m sure you do too.”
He gives me one nod.
“Then I promise we won’t die too. No matter what, we’re both getting out of here alive.”
A few hours later, the door slowly opened. A small, gangly man, or should I say, boy, steps in carrying a tray of what we assume is food. He only looks about sixteen and is nervous as hell. He places the plates in front of us. On them are brown globs that look like…I can’t even say it.
I look up at the boy.
“Is this supposed to be food?” I ask in Spanish.
I don’t miss the impressed look Ethan throws my way.
“Es buena comida,” he replies, meaning it is good food.
I throw him a doubtful look while Ethan gives me a confused one. I guess he doesn’t speak Spanish, which is dumb. Why come to a foreign country on a mission if you don’t know the language.
The boy has a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. He’s definitely enjoying this. At least they didn’t send one of the evil-looking kidnappers.
“Donde Estamos?” I ask, meaning, where are we?
He shrugs.
“No se. Soy cautivo como tu,” he says sadly. It loosely translates to ‘Don’t know. I’m a captive like you.’
It’s then I notice how thin he is and his tattered clothes. My heart breaks for him.
I’m about to say something else, but he doesn’t let me.
“Comer. Solo obtienes comida una vez al dia.” Meaning, ‘Eat. You only get food once a day.’
With those words, he releases the ropes binding our arms and climbs the ladder out of the bunker. Ethan immediately speaks.
“Translate, please,” he states dryly.
I almost smile as I relay the entire conversation.
“He was probably kidnapped as well. What kind of people are they? It’s horrible.”
My mind flashes to the young woman we couldn’t save. I wonder where she is and what they’ve done to her.
“Human trafficking,” Ethan says, as though he’s reading my thoughts. “The girl you were trying to save. She’s probably already sold here or on her way to another country to be used as a slave.”
I raise my hand to cover my mouth.
“Who are they?” I ask, horrified.
“From what we know, it’s a terrorist cell.
They seem to operate worldwide, but we tracked a major operation here.
They’re involved in all sorts of illegal things that fund their terrorist activities.
It started in the U.S. but has gradually become larger in scale.
All efforts to shut them down have been unsuccessful.
We nab one leader, and another one comes up in his place. ”
I try to understand the magnitude and implications of all that.
“Wow, you special ops aren’t playing, huh. The worst thing I’ve had to take care of in all my years as a detective was a serial killer.”
Ethan shrugs before grabbing a spoonful of the glob on the plate.
“You’re going to eat that? That’s awful. What if it’s poisoned?” I ask, disgusted.
“You need to eat to have enough strength to escape. Also, if they wanted to poison us, I’d like to think the food would be better looking than this,” he states, taking a sip. Then he nods, appreciating.
“It’s actually not that bad,” he tells me before proceeding to eat.
I follow suit after a few minutes, and I have to admit he’s right.
Still, I’d rather be in my hotel room or on the beach.
Just yesterday, I was soaking up the sun and getting a tan. Now, I’m in captivity. Life really works in funny ways. But at least I’m in captivity with a debatably nice, good-looking man. It could be worse. Of course, it could still get a lot worse too.