5. Ava
5
AVA
Squinting my eyes open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room. The tightness in my chest is suffocating. It feels like an elephant has taken residence on top of me. As I turn my head to the right, I’m greeted by the outline of a familiar figure. A sense of comfort shrouds me upon seeing him.
Elmo.
My loyal companion is with me. But where the hell am I?
Behind Elmo’s fuzzy image and his enthusiastic licking, a shadowy figure emerges. It’s a man. I should run or seek help from Elmo, but instead, I allow the man to approach me. Is this some kind of dream? The kind where you desperately want to flee, but your body refuses to respond? Strangely, I feel no threat, no urge to escape.
The man takes my hand, shaking it gently. Is he calling me ‘sweetheart?’
My eyes focus, my mind wavering between acceptance and disbelief at the sight before me.
“Ava? Can you hear me?” His voice is crystal clear, cutting through people’s chatter outside my room. It’s steady, asserting its authority as though he’s the only one with the rightful claim to my name.
Although I have no recollection of how I got here, this isn’t a dream. That man, he took me here. When we bid farewell in Bozeman, his hair was wavy and thick. Now, the ash-blond mane is neatly cropped, the signature haircut of a Marine. His face is clean-shaven, accentuating his sharp features. My goodness, he looks breathtaking.
As I sit up, pressure converges in my head. Jack tries to persuade me to lie back down, but now I understand why I’m here. My admiration for the Marine should be the last thing on my mind.
“Have you…” I struggle to finish my sentence, coughing from my dry throat.
“Here.” Jack offers me a glass of water.
Elmo attempts to join me in bed, but as usual, he fails. Seeing this, Jack gives him a push so the pup can lie next to me.
After a few gulps, I ask, “Have you found my baby?”
“No,” he murmurs as if he doesn’t want to deliver the news. “We’ve analyzed the CCTV from the hospital parking garage. We saw two men, but their faces were obscured, and the van registration number was fake. Do you remember anything about them?”
“I remember their faces. Give me a pencil and paper.”
Jack leaves the room and soon returns with a drawing pad and an HB pencil. My hand can barely grip them. Stroke by stroke, shaking as if I’m possessed, I manage to draw something.
My fingers unfurl, the pencil rolling down to the floor.
That face. It’s faint, but…
“I can’t, Jack. I can’t.”
“It’s okay. Forget about the sketch.” He tries to take the drawing pad away from me, but I hold onto it. “Ava, we’ll do it another time.”
I sob, staring at the black-and-white, faded impression of Quinton. My Quinnie-Bear is out there alone, and who knows what those men are doing to him!
Jack wraps his hand around my trembling fingers as I grip the paper tightly. But finally, I let it go.
“I do remember their faces, Jack. I just can’t put them on paper.”
“It’s fine.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, the other rubbing my hand. His eyes radiate with concern and kindness that my slowed-down brain can still perceive. “Can I get Sam to join us?”
I nod. Sam then enters and discreetly hides the pad and pencil, but not before he takes a quick glance at his brother, perhaps surprised at what I’ve drawn. Sam then passes me a strip of pills. “Your medication.”
“Thanks.”
Jack helps me pop the blisters and take out two pills.
Seeing the two brothers side by side, my attention is drawn to their contrasting appearances. Jack, the younger but taller brother, is more serious and reserved. His complexion is naturally light but appears tanned, hinting at days spent under the scorching sun.
By contrast, Sam the ex-Navy SEAL epitomizes the phrase ‘dark and handsome,’ with his brunette locks and dusky skin. He’s also the more laid-back of the two. Despite their physical disparities, a common trait unites them. Beyond their rugged masculinity, they radiate a gentle demeanor. From what they do and how they do it, it’s clear the men possess an innate ability to nurture and care for others.
After taking my time to swallow the pills, I confess, “I think I killed my fiancé. ”
Jack and Sam stare at me intently.
“Did you really do it?” Jack asks, his tone implying he’s not taking my statement literally.
“I put a sedative in his tea. I just wanted him to sleep so I could escape.”
“How did you find out that he died?” Jack presses.
“The men who took Quinton, they knew what I did. They told me my fiancé was dead. So now, when they make their demands, if I don’t comply or if I go to the police, they’ll hurt Quinton—or at least take him away from me forever—and expose everything. I’ll spend the rest of my life in jail, Jack!”
He holds me firmly, his face burning like hell has just put down its roots in him.
I add, “I swear, I measured the dose carefully. I just wanted him to sleep until the morning. Enough to give me time to disappear.” I pause, thinking about what could’ve happened. “He never did drugs. I didn’t smell alcohol on him. So there’s no way he died from complications. No way!”
“Those men lied to you!” Jack bellows, full of certainty.
In the silence, I try to recall the kidnappers’ expressions. I should have been able to read them, but at that moment, all I could think about was my baby.
“Maybe his body couldn’t handle it,” I reason. “We were going to get married. He sent out the invitations without me knowing. I couldn’t bear the thought of living another day with him, let alone forever! Maybe I accidentally gave him the wrong dose. I don’t know…”
“He’s trying to manipulate you,” Jack adds. “Don’t let him. Trust yourself. The sedative you put in his tea didn’t kill him.” He says it with such conviction that I almost believe him.
But no matter what I’ve done, I’ve put my baby in danger. “I just wanted to get away from him. I want Quinton to grow up free from such a controlling and violent man. And now, my baby isn’t even safe!”
Jack kneels in front of me, holding both of my hands. “Listen, if it’s true that your fiancé is dead, it’s because those men killed him. Whoever they are. Not you, not your tea.”
While Jack tries to comfort me, Sam says, “He’s right. You shouldn’t blame yourself. You’re not just a case, Ava. You’re our family. But let me tell you, I’ve seen how families get torn apart under pressure because they either blame each other or themselves. Blame is your worst enemy when you need to find your loved one.”
“Ava,” Jack interrupts, restarting the conversation. “If I’m correct in thinking that those men were lying and your fiancé is still alive, it means you won’t go to jail. And he won’t harm baby Quinton.”
“You can’t know that,” I reply.
Jack let out an exasperated huff, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you suggesting that the father of your child is capable of hurting his own flesh and blood?”
The intensity of his gaze is so intimidating that I instinctively look away.
“He… um, he never hurt Quinton. But he had a temper, and I was always there to protect my son. So I never really tested him,” I explain.
The air thickens with unresolved anger as Jack, his face flushed with fury, abruptly stands up and marches toward the corner of the room.
“I’ll talk to him,” Sam offers, apparently trying to ease the tension.
Jack hears him and shouts, “I’m fine! Just give me a minute.”
Jack Kelleher, a Marine who has likely witnessed atrocities that most people can’t even fathom, is shaken by the idea that Quinton’s own father could harm him. After another stretch of silence, he turns back to me and apologizes. “I just never thought I’d hear it. I’m okay now.”
Sam carries on. “Your fiancé must’ve suspected that you’d escape to Helena because of Morgan.”
I respond, “But he wouldn’t have known the place she had prepared for me. If only I hadn’t gone to the hospital.”
“You did what you had to do!” Sam reassures me.
“I just panicked,” I mention. My mother’s voice echoes in my head again, although not as loud as when I saw Quinton lying in silence. I rue my lapse of judgment. “Quinton only had a slight fever. I should’ve simply given him acetaminophen, and everything would have been all right.”
Jack embraces me, stroking my back lightly as he whispers, “Stop blaming yourself. Please.”
I’m used to fighting my battles alone, but in the midst of chaos, I now know what it feels like to have someone by my side. And it’s not just anyone. It’s a man who has stolen more than a piece of me and one who will go to any lengths for me.
The security in his hold and the way he props me up when I have nothing left within me solidifies the truth in my secret declaration of love for him. If only I could surrender myself completely, allowing him to bear all the burden. But I can’t. I’m a mother. For the sake of Quinton, I’ll set aside my despair and remain strong for my baby.
I indicate that I’m ready to continue the conversation.
“Do you have any idea what their demand might be?” Sam asks.
I reply, “I have no idea. Willem is a wealthy businessman. A tech guru. If he’s really dead, maybe one of his rivals wants something from me. But since I’m not married to Willem yet, I don’t have access to his estate.”
“And if he’s still alive?” Sam asks .
“I don’t know. Maybe he just wants his heir back,” I speculate.
“His heir? That’s how he saw Quinton?” Jack mutters, at a loss for words.
Sam adds, “No doubt your fiancé is aware of your connection with Red Mark.”
“I’m sure he is, yes,” I confirm. It’s a no-brainer since my best friend is married to the head of ops.
“And Willem Botha has the means,” Sam suggests. “He could’ve staged anything.”
“Willem Botha?” Jack looks at me intently. “Willem Botha is your fiancé?”
I whisper a ‘yes,’ too embarrassed to even hear that name. When I first met Willem, his name stood out and made me think of his Dutch-Afrikaans background. However, now, it carries an unfortunate connotation that has tarnished its uniqueness.
“Is that the AI chip guy?” Jack still doesn’t believe it.
Although Willem’s primary business is database technology, he recently made a significant breakthrough in microchip research. It caused quite a stir in the news not too long ago, and obviously, Jack knows about it.
“That’s him,” I confirm.
Jack’s eyes narrow as he asks, “Did he know about me?”
“No.”
“Are you absolutely certain that you never mentioned me to anyone in Cali?”
It feels unjust and hurtful. As if I’ve wiped him out of existence. But I answer, “Nobody knows.”
“In that case, we should split up,” Jack says, looking at his brother.
“What do you mean?” Sam asks, puzzled .
“I don’t believe Willem is dead,” Jack repeats. “You and Red Mark can investigate the kidnapping here. He’s too clever to think that Ava won’t turn to Red Mark just because those men threatened her. So, let’s play along. But we’ll keep the police out of this. Meanwhile, I’ll go to Cali and find out what’s really going on.”
“Jack…” I tremble, worried that he’s doing this without thinking it through.
“You go with my brother. You’ll be safe,” Jack insists.
“I can’t involve you in this, Sam!” I say.
“Of course you can,” Sam responds lightheartedly.
“You have a family!”
“Who will gladly welcome you into our home. Look, Ava, if eyes are still following you, they’ll know you’re with me. And that’s all right. My house is secluded and secure. I won’t let anyone follow us. Trust me, I’ve been in this line of work for a long time. I understand the risks and how to handle them. And remember, you’re family, Ava.”
Jack nods, offering reassurance.
I absorb the moment with quiet awe as I gaze at the Kelleher brothers. Their smiles reflect genuine acceptance—I’m no longer an outsider.
But before I can fully revel in this newfound belonging, Jack’s voice breaks through. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m going to use my…um, previous name, Jack Benedict.” He mentions the name heavily.
“You had another name?” I ask.
“After drifting from street to street, not even knowing my own name apart from ‘Jack,’ a nun from a Florida monastery took me under her wings. She was part of a Benedictine sect, hence the name.”
Sam observes him. “It’s a good idea, but are you sure about this? ”
“Yeah. I’m good. I’ll get a new phone, okay? I’ll let you know as soon as I get there.”
“I’ll give my second phone to Ava,” says Sam. “And Jack.” He looks at his brother from head to toe. “Have you got a suit in your bag?”
“Why?”
“If you want to blend into Willem’s environment, you’ve gotta look California rich. Cargo pants and a T-shirt won’t cut it.”
I cringe and nod, agreeing with Sam.
He advises Jack, “Go and see Ben before you leave. He’s your size. He’s got spares in his locker.”
Morgan has shown me photos of Tyler and his colleagues. For sure, the Red Mark men know how to work a suit. It’s like an unwritten rule.
“Yeah, all right,” Jack concedes, brushing his pants and T-shirt as if realizing he’s far from looking presentable. Although for myself, I don’t care. He looks as handsome and rugged as my dream hero.
Sam mentions, “Gloves, masks, and ballistic vests are in room 201.”
Jack gives him an ‘if I must’ stare while Elmo circles the Marine as if questioning what the fuss is about.
“He’s so adorable,” Sam remarks, lightening the mood slightly. “How old is he?”
“He’s six, but he’ll forever be a puppy. He has skeletal dysplasia, a form of dwarfism,” I reply with a smile.
“Bless him,” Jack says, bending his six-foot-six frame to pat Elmo. “Take care of her.”
“Can Elmo come with us?” I ask Sam.
“Of course!” Sam responds. “I have a German Shepherd named Maximus who’s constantly trying to challenge my authority in the house. He only has three legs, but I’m sure he’ll get along with Elmo. That dog is just a big ball of fluff and overflowing with love.”
“Maybe he’ll finally get to be the alpha to someone,” I glance at Elmo, who lets out a few soft barks.
“Oh, he gave me this, by the way.” Jack takes something from inside his cargo pants pocket, handing over Quinton’s giraffe teether.
Fingerprints graze the dirt-covered toy. No doubt they are Jack’s. It’s a small thing, but the moment signifies that our worlds have truly merged now.
My hand quivers as I hold it, feeling the smooth texture beneath my fingers. I know I can clean it later, but right now, I can’t help but imagine how my baby is coping without his cherished toy, possibly still feeling under the weather, too. And he’s without me, his mother! The hurt in my chest intensifies, threatening to unleash a sob. I lift my gaze to Jack, my eyes filled with gratitude, but the words get caught in my throat.
He draws a breath, his exhale a faint sound separating us. “I’ve got to go.” He looks away as his eyes start blinking rapidly. With a swift turn, he pats Sam’s shoulder, the impact audible as a soft thud. I strain to hear his whispered words, just loud enough for me to catch, “Never leave her side.”
Sam responds, “You can count on me, brother.”
Jack departs without a backward glance. Unable to utter anything, I watch his every move until he disappears from sight.