CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
“And I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Jack replied in a soft, seductive drawl.
Our gazes held for long moments and heat sparked between us.
I wanted to act on it, to give and seek the comfort we both needed.
I wanted curl up with Jack, and sleep in his arms, but this situation was too messed up.
Why had we been abducted, drugged, and locked in a cabin on a fucking ship?
Did someone want to harm us…ransom us? We were the stars of an international blockbuster movie and our faces were on billboards all over Berlin.
We needed to get out of this cabin and off this boat.
Berlin was surrounded by rivers and lakes.
It was far from the nearest large body of water, the North Sea, so I hoped we weren’t at the coast. River cruises seemed popular in Berlin, so it was more likely we were on a river.
I’d spent a lot of my childhood in the water and so I was a strong swimmer.
And Jack, he was a God in the water. We needed to find a way out and then swim to the shore.
“There were two men,” I recalled. “One of them asked us for a light, and I turned to say that neither of us smoked. I don’t remember anything else,” I revealed.
Jack bit his lip in thought before saying, “I don’t remember anyone speaking to us.
I was giving you a side-hug as we walked, and this stinky rag was suddenly over my mouth.
I was pulled backward and I tried to fight back but my body wouldn’t obey.
The fucker dragged me to a vehicle. We were chloroformed or something, I’m sure of it,” Jack said reaching out, his fingers pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
It was an affectionate act and the care made me shiver.
We remained silent for a moment, watching one another with wonder in our eyes.
“I, eh, had weird…lucid dreams,” I admitted.
“About what?”
“My dad, mostly.”
“Yeah. It was probably the effects of the drugs scrambling your noggin.”
“Maybe.”
“What happened…to your dad? You don’t have to tell me,” Jack stuttered awkwardly.
“It’s okay, it’s been a long, long time,” I admitted, and took in a steadying breath.
“He was a petrochemical engineer. My parents decided we’d stay put in Washington State, not follow him from job to job so Beth and me could have stability.
For a lot of my childhood Dad would be away for months working, and then be home for months and we’d be a family.
His work was in the US, but as my sister and I got older, he started to take jobs abroad, sometimes in the UK, or Europe, sometimes in the Middle East.” I paused for a moment, the feelings of bewilderment creeping up on me, as if it had all happened yesterday…
realizing I’d never see my father again.
That’s the thing with grief, it lurks in the shadows and bowls you over when you least expect it, even years later.
“Pop was supposed to be back in country for my graduation from Julliard. We were waiting for him at the hotel before the ceremony, my mom, my sister and me, all dressed up for the celebration.” I paused, remembering the gut punch of what followed.
“He never arrived; his phone didn’t even go to voicemail.
Instead we got a knock on the hotel door.
I opened it to see two men in suits; they showed me their government IDs, they were from one of the Alphabet agencies, maybe the Bureau of Consular Affairs…
I can’t recall. They asked to come in and I remember this sickening icy cold feeling creeping over my skin.
One of the men told us my dad had been working at an oil production facility in Saudi Arabia and there was an accident. ”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah! We’re not sure what happened…if it was a terrorist attack, or just an industrial accident. But losing dad…it gutted our family…crushed my mom. We didn’t even get a body to bury.”
“How awful, my god, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, so, I’m Mr. Daddy Issues,” I said, doing jazz hands.
“We all deal with grief differently,” Jack said sagely, and it was true.
While I’d found myself an older man to marry, let dominate me, and control my life, my mom, Martha, shut down the part of herself that craved a romantic partner.
My sister Beth became anorexic and was sick for a long time before she met her boyfriend, got pregnant, and started to look after herself.
“There was this other weird dream,“ I said sheepishly, recalling how I’d woken up dry humping Jack’s sleeping form. I couldn’t make eye contact and was kinda embarrassed by what I’d done.
“Oh, babe! That wasn’t a dream. I was conscious by then, sleepy, and relaxed. I was more than happy for you to use my body to get-off. I liked how possessive you were, holding me close, controlling me, grinding against my ass. It was fucking hot!”
A heated blush rose over my face at those words ‘use my body to get-off’. Damn. “If I was out of line, I need you to tell me.”
“Winkie swear, I was all-in for the ride!“
“Don’t you mean pinkie?”
“I know exactly what I mean, Nate! I woke up horny. You had my consent.” Jack leaned in then and kissed me softly. I pulled back, wincing as my split lip opened and left a drop of crimson on Jack’s plump lower lip.
“Shit, sorry!” I said, running my thumb across his lip to wipe away the blood. I licked my lip, hoping to staunch the blood flow. We eased back onto the bed and snuggled in an embrace. Sleepily, Jack asked,
“What do you think they want with us?”
“I don’t know. Our faces are on billboards all over the city. Maybe some local criminals thought it would be an easy payday to kidnap the stars of the latest spy thriller premiering in the city.”
“Christ!” Jack said, aghast. “Do you think they’ll ask for a ransom? How much are we worth. You’d be worth way more than me…being super famous and all. Would Maritime even pay a ransom?”
“Yeah. They’ve got contingencies for this kind of thing. I’ve got kidnap insurance too.”
“You do?”
“You don’t?” I sat up and glared at him. “Are you shitting me? We’re in a business where motherfuckers see us as walking dollar signs. There’s always a risk that someone’s going to be crazy enough act on it—as we saw in Paris! Lucy should have an action plan for her client’s security.”
“Nahh,” Jack pacified. “It’s not Lucy’s fault. I don’t live in America where every nut has access to guns and bombs,” he said smugly. “We’re a little more civilized in England. I don’t think we even get celebrity abductions,” Jack shrugged.
I didn’t want to argue or point out the obvious—that he’s not in England, he is a celebrity, and he’s just been abducted! I pulled away and rolled off the bed.
“We can’t just lay here and wait for them to decide what they’re doing with us,” I said irritated that the drugs had done a number on both of us and neither of us was at our best. I strode to the porthole window and looked out.
“We’re not at sea; we’re on a lake or river. There are boats around, and I can see a wooded shoreline across the water,” I stated.
“Yeah, I figured,” Jack said with a yawn, his tone lethargic.
“Have you heard anyone else pass by our door, like guests or staff?” I asked, my logical brain finally beginning to come online.
“Not a peep…weird, isn’t it? If it was a working ship hotel there would be more sounds…
guests getting up for breakfast and staff galumphing around,” Jack said half-heartedly.
Was he gonna go back to sleep? Hell no, I couldn’t allow it; we had to get out of here.
I wished one of us had a phone so we could call for help, but no such luck.
“They didn’t abduct us to rob us,” I stated, as I held up my left arm. “Still got my Rolex Daytona. The watch alone is worth a quarter of a million,”
Jack sat up. “You wear a watch worth half of my house…on your wrist? Are you mad?”
“Not mad, just loaded,” I chuckled. “I don’t like to flaunt it, but this particular watch is a work of art,” I replied with a smirk. “And there’s a tracker installed to locate it if it gets stolen.”
“The watch hasn’t been stolen; you have!”
“Yes, but the info packet Roz has as part of my kidnap insurance states that my watch has a tracker. If we can’t get out of here at least there’s some way of Roz telling the company how to follow my trail via the watch tracking data.
” I glanced at my Rolex to see it was coming up to six fifteen a.m. I checked the right back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the card security sleeve containing my American Express Black credit card, and the hotel keycard.
“I don’t understand it. They haven’t taken anything of value from me, so what do the kidnappers want?” I noticed then that was something in the left back pocket. I removed it.
I showed Jack the card for Venture Trust, a bank I’d never heard of. “This isn’t mine,” I stated flatly, “And there’s no name on it.” We shared a look of confusion.
“At the club last night, that guy, you know the one, Hugh Jorgen.” We both smirked at mention of the name.
“The dude we let have one of our suites?”
“Yeah, he was there…at SODA. I went to the bar to get us another round. He sidled up to me, got way too close for my comfort, tried to buy me a drink. I told him I was on a date,” I explained.
“He told me my hotel keycard had fallen out of my back pocket.
But now I wonder whether he slipped this card in while I was distracted.
Jack fished into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his Starling Bank credit card.
“My hotel keycard’s missing,” he revealed.
“I bet they’ve gone to search our room. What the fuck are they looking for?
” Jack then eyed me curiously before saying, “Let me have a look at that bank card.” I passed the Venture Trust credit card to Jack.
He eased off the bed and moved to the porthole window for better light.
Jack inspected the card, moving it this way and that in the shard of sunlight, and then ran his thumbnail around the edge.