Chapter 4
RAFE
Four days. That’s how long I had to figure this shit out before Shelton turned me into his prized death fighter. Such a match would give him a huge payday, along with the revenge he craved. If I didn’t cooperate, he had only to remind me that my son’s life depended on it.
He had all the fucking leverage in the world, and no amount of pacing this cell, spinning all the angles in hope of finding a way out, would change that. The harsh reality of my situation hung over my head, crowding the air in the windowless room with desperation.
Spewing a string of curses, I banged on the door. “Hey! Is anyone out there?” I needed answers. I needed for him to talk to me.
Pound, pound, pound.
“Shelton! Talk to me, you fucking coward!” I beat on the door for several minutes, long after my knuckles throbbed.
Silence. Incessant, maddening silence.
The bastard had shut me in with the promise that he’d see me soon. That was sometime yesterday.
With gritted teeth, I stomped from the door to the far wall and back again—all of ten fucking feet. Waiting was the worst part. I had no idea if my son was okay.
And I didn’t have a clue where Zach might take Alex.
I had to assume he’d take her off the island, if he hadn’t done so already.
The thought gutted me. I banged on the door again, and the wood vibrated under the onslaught.
I could break through if I put enough effort behind it, but with my son’s whereabouts unknown, I couldn’t take that chance.
I took another angry loop around the closet-sized room. I was about to park my ass on the floor when the lock on the door suddenly clanked over.
Shelton stood on the threshold, flanked by two of his men. “What do you want?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I took a step toward him, tempted to pound that irritated smirk off his face. “If you want me to fight in your fucking cage, then let my son go.”
“You’ll do what you’re told, regardless.”
“How do I know you haven’t hurt him already?”
“I’m not in the business of hurting children.”
“No, just kidnapping them,” I snapped. “I want to see him. If you think I’m going to trust your word, you’re crazy.”
Shelton’s steady gaze bored into me for several moments.
“Fine.” He nodded toward the open door. “Come with me.” He pivoted, entering the hall, and I followed suit, almost expecting a trap because he was being too agreeable.
The place was built like a barn, but instead of open stalls, doors lined the hallway.
Shelton stalled in front of the last door on the right.
My son had been right down the hall the whole time, alone and scared. The fact that he’d been so close yet out of reach killed me, and I braced myself for what I might find on the other side.
Because I hadn’t set eyes on him in six months, and it had been even longer since he’d seen me. He had no idea who I was. In fact, he probably didn’t remember the day he’d spotted me from the back of his mother’s car last summer outside the post office.
The day I learned I was a father.
Shelton rapped on the door three times then waited a full thirty seconds before jabbing a key into the paddock.
He opened the door, hinges squeaking their protest. The room was windowless, like mine, but at least Shelton had attempted to turn it into a space suited for a child.
A twin bed sat against the back wall, and a desk and lamp took up space along another.
Artwork lined the walls—little stick figures playing basketball, and drawings of various animals. My gut tightened.
How long had my son been here?
Will sat on the bed, his jean-clad legs drawn to his chest while a blindfold shielded us from his sight. Now I understood why Shelton had knocked and waited, and I found it reassuring that Will hadn’t seen any of their faces.
It gave me hope that Shelton didn’t have plans to hurt him.
“I want to go home.” The demand sounded weak on the boy’s lips, yet somehow, underneath the thready quality of his nine-year-old voice, I detected strength.
Or maybe it was stubborn determination. Either way, I found bravery in those words and the way he said them.
Shelton cleared his throat. “Someone’s here to see you, Will.” He gave me a warning look. “You’ve got five minutes.” He exited the room and shut me inside with my son.
Will raised his chin in my direction. “Are you gonna let me go?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I crossed to where he sat on the bed and crouched in front of him, making sure to keep enough distance between us so I didn’t spook him.
“It’s not up to me, buddy, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get you out of here. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Realistically, he should be very afraid, though fear was the last thing I wanted him to experience.
“Who are you?”
Jesus Christ, he had to ask the tough question. “I’m a friend. I came here to make sure you’re okay. Has anyone hurt you?” I held my breath, hands balling into fists at the thought of anyone laying a hand on him.
But he shook his head, and I let the furious tension in me subside.
“Are they feeding you good?”
“Yeah, but I’m allergic to peanut butter, so I couldn’t eat lunch a couple of times.”
Nikki had also been allergic to peanut butter. “I’ll tell them to stop with the PB&Js.”
Hell, he looked so small and scared sitting there. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him everything would be okay, but I didn’t dare touch him.
Someone disengaged the lock on the door, signaling the end of my five minutes. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Listen, Will. I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. But I need you to do something for me.”
“Okay.”
No hesitation whatsoever. Just easy agreement. I wasn’t sure if his quick trust was a good thing, or a bad thing.
“I need you to keep that blindfold on when they’re around. Don’t ever take it off or peek at them, okay?”
He gave a rapid nod of his head. And maybe he knew as well as I did that if he could identify them, they might not let him go.
The kid was smart.
“Are they keeping you in a room too?” he asked in a whisper.
Smart and perceptive.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed his hand and squeezed, sidestepping his question. “You’re going to be okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“Time’s up,” came a gruff voice that didn’t belong to Shelton. I glanced behind me and found Military Dude standing in the hall. I let go of Will’s hand and headed toward the open doorway, putting some distance between us.
And it hit me hard that this could be the last time I saw my son.
The final glimpse of him tore my heart out.
He seemed so small, sitting in that dimly lit room, the only life in that space the vibrant doodles of a fourth grader.
The door slammed shut between us, and Shelton’s man latched the lock again.
“Are you satisfied?” Shelton said from three feet down the hall. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he arched a brow my way.
“You don’t need him here. Let him go back to his grandparents. I’ll cooperate as long as I know he’s with them.”
“You’ll cooperate anyway.”
Shit, I’d gotten myself into a real bind, and for the fucking life of me, I couldn’t see a way out of it. Except I’d gotten out of tough spots before, beating odds that seemed impossible. Could I do it again? I wasn’t so sure this time.
“He’s allergic to peanut butter, so he needs something else for lunch.”
Shelton gave a quick nod. “Consider it noted.”
A tense beat of disquiet passed. “If I win this fight, will you let him go?”
“Come out the winner, and I’ll consider it.
” Shelton closed the spaced between us and prodded me in the chest. “But you have a long way to go, Mason. You’ll need to prove your usefulness, and your trustworthiness.
” He dipped his head until we were nearly nose-to-nose, and his voice dropped.
“Fail to do either of those things, then your boy won’t see the outside of that room ever again. ”
It was then that it really sank in, becoming as real as a sledgehammer to crumbling plaster. This situation was permanent. Shelton wanted to turn me into his prized death fighter. Someone whose strings he controlled.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to test the consequences if I refused to be his puppet.