Chapter 19 #2
How long they’d already been driving, Zita had no idea.
It seemed like she was in the dark for hours before the car slowed once more.
It felt as if they were driving over gravel or maybe on a dirt road.
Which scared her all over again. Had he driven her out into the countryside?
Was he going to shoot her and leave her for dead?
Or worse, bury her body so no one would ever find her?
Zita’s mind immediately went to Sage. He’d wonder where she went. He’d definitely look for her, but how would he find her if she was underground? Her parents would never know what happened, her brother would probably go crazy trying to find her.
The damn tears she’d briefly managed to stem started up again. She was overwhelmed and terrified.
She thought she heard Silas talking to someone, but the music was too loud for her to understand what was being said, and when she opened her mouth to yell again, they were moving once more. But much slower than they’d been before.
Licking her lips—and feeling more upset that she could no longer taste Sage on them, than she was that her face was swelling because of Silas’s punches—Zita tried to think about her best plan of action for when the trunk opened.
She knew all too well that allowing a kidnapper to take her somewhere wasn’t good.
She’d been unconscious and hadn’t been able to fight Silas when he’d put her in the trunk, but she was awake now.
And she wasn’t going to die without one hell of a fight.
She’d get his DNA under her fingernails; she already had her DNA in the form of vomit in his trunk.
She’d put scratches on him that no one could ignore.
Anything and everything that would point the police, and Sage, straight to Silas Graves.
It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t know where to start. He was the only person she’d had trouble with in the recent past. He’d threatened her just days ago with that vague “or else” warning. Thank God she’d told Sage about the encounter. Silas would be the first person he’d suspect in her disappearance.
She was so lost in her head, she almost failed to realize the vehicle had stopped.
The music shut off suddenly, and Zita could hear her own breaths in the quiet space around her.
She needed to calm down. Slow her breathing.
She could do this. She had no choice. She wanted the future she’d been hoping to have with Sage.
Wanted to start a new life in Virginia. She didn’t want to die.
The trunk latch disengaged, and Zita tensed—then she shoved the lid up hard and fast, hoping to catch Silas’s head with it.
To her surprise, no one was standing behind the car waiting for her.
Sitting up, Zita looked around, trying to understand where she was and what she was seeing.
There were weeds and high grass everywhere, along with rusted cars, trucks, and…was that an airplane?
Most discerning than the obviously abandoned vehicles, though, was the fact that wherever they were, it was desolate and deserted.
No one was around. She could hear the wind blowing and smell the scent of the ocean.
It was eerie and terrifying. She’d counted on being able to yell for help, to get the attention of someone, anyone, nearby to help her. She should’ve known better.
It was obviously still early in the morning. She hadn’t been in the trunk for as long as she’d originally thought, which meant she probably hadn’t been unconscious all that long either. The closer she was to Norfolk, and Sage, the better.
All those observations were done in seconds—then Silas appeared from around the side of the car.
She didn’t have time to catalog anything else or figure out how she was going to escape.
When Silas reached for her, she simply reacted, letting out an angry and terrified yell and attempting to punch him in the face.
But he was so much bigger and faster. He easily subdued Zita by grabbing her around the neck with both hands and pressing her back down into the trunk.
“Relax, bitch,” he growled.
Zita didn’t have a chance to take a full breath before his fingers tightened. Her hands flew to his, and she frantically dug her nails into his skin, trying to get him to let go.
He didn’t. But he wasn’t exactly choking her either. Just holding her down, overpowering her—which pissed her off more, knowing she was so easily controlled. That her attack was so easily repelled.
So Zita changed tactics, aiming for his face. She didn’t hold back, doing her best to scratch and gouge as much of his flesh as she could.
Silas growled and straightened his elbows, trying to put himself out of her reach.
In a last-ditch effort, Zita aimed for his eye—and jammed her thumb as hard as she could into the almost-black orb staring down at her.
That worked. Thank God.
He let go with a shout and slammed a palm over his face.
But she lost her advantage, her chance to escape. She was too busy trying to suck air into her lungs and climb out of the trunk at the same time. Being a tough-ass bitch was harder than any crime show or instructional video made it seem.
Silas once again grabbed her by the front of her T-shirt. Zita heard it tear as he hauled her the rest of the way out of the trunk and slammed her to the ground. He kicked her twice in the side before pulling her upright with an extremely tight and painful fist around her upper arm.
“Walk, bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you right here and now.”
With no choice but to walk or be dragged, Zita stumbled alongside Silas.
Looking around, she still had no clue where they were, only that they were surrounded by giant hulks of rusting metal.
The occasional car or truck aside, most looked like boats and ships of some kind. Not too far away, she saw water.
Silas didn’t slow down. He weaved in and around the big structures as if he knew exactly where he was going, which Zita had a feeling didn’t bode well for her.
“Why are you doing this?” she croaked, her voice sounding as if she’d just smoked three packs of cigarettes in a row.
“I warned you. Told you to stay away from him. But you didn’t.
In fact, you flaunted your relationship.
Going back to his apartment, staying there all night.
Kissing him like a whore in front of your motel room.
All you had to do was leave him alone and you wouldn’t be here. But you didn’t—so you are.”
“But why?” Zita asked again. If he was going to kill her for loving Sage, she wanted to know the reason.
And just like that, in the middle of this fucked-up situation, it hit Zita like a ton of bricks. Of course she loved Sage. She wouldn’t be moving away from everything she knew if she didn’t.
It was a hell of a time to come to the realization…when she might not ever have a chance to tell the man himself.
“Why else? Money,” Silas told her nonchalantly.
“I’ll pay you double what you’re getting if you let me go.”
Silas laughed. And it was a mean sound, not a humorous one. “There’s no way you can pay me double what Carmen is.”
Carmen.
Zita had already suspected his threat would circle back around to that bitch. She wasn’t happy that she didn’t get what she wanted…Sage.
“Not to mention, she’s gonna make sure I get the best jobs when I move out to Hollywood. She’s got connections. I’ll be staying in the hottest motels, driving the nicest cars, and buddying up with the most famous actors and directors in the biz. And getting all the pussy I want.”
This man. He was delusional. He had no clue how Hollywood worked. How fickle its inhabitants were. If you weren’t one of “them,” you were a nobody. And while he might get lucky enough to work for a few famous people, he’d never, ever be on the inside the way he obviously hoped.
“Listen to me, Silas. Carmen isn’t going to get you any of those things. She’s using you like she uses everyone. She—”
“Shut up,” Silas growled, shaking Zita so hard her head throbbed anew. Nausea hit her suddenly, and she couldn’t stop the puke from exploding from deep down in her gut once more.
“Fucking gross!” Silas cried, as she barely missed throwing up on him.
Vomiting made her throat hurt even more. And her head. And her face. Tears once more streamed down her cheeks and snot leaked from her nose. It was as if her body was attempting to expel anything and everything it had taken in recently.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Silas said almost conversationally, as he force-marched her toward an absolutely massive hulk of a ship.
It towered over them like a creature from a horror movie.
Emerging from the water and ready to devour anyone who came close.
And Silas was dragging her straight toward a rickety-looking plank of wood that led from the dock—if the rotted boards held together precariously could be called a dock—into an open metal hatch on the side of the ship.
“Carmen wanted me to get rid of you permanently, you know. Said it would serve you right. Stealing the man she wanted.”
“I didn’t steal him!” Zita couldn’t help but exclaim. Her gaze was glued to the ship. What was Silas’s plan? She didn’t even want to guess at this point.
“Doesn’t matter. She wants you gone, so you’ll be gone. I’m no killer, but I am going to stick you somewhere you can’t escape and will never be found.”
As if leaving her to die wasn’t the same as killing her himself. He was the lowest of the low. A bottom-feeder. A parasite.
“What’s getting rid of me going to do? Sage still won’t want her,” Zita pointed out.
“Once word gets out that you’re missing, she’ll race back to Norfolk. Throw money at the investigation. Hire searchers. Be there for Obi-Wan. Be his rock. He’ll turn to her in his grief, and she’ll get her chance to fuck him.”
“That’s all she wants?!” Zita asked, both pissed off and incredulous at the same time.