Chapter 3
Maren
“Are you seriously expecting me to get into this thing?” I squinted at the white, windowless van that Leslo had parked in the lot.
Leslo shrugged. “What does it matter? It’ll get you there. Or would you rather walk all the way to Teterboro?”
Charters usually took off from Teterboro Airport, which was on the other side of Manhattan. Not an overly long drive, but...a windowless van was not the vehicle I was going to climb into without at least asking some questions first.
I spread my arms, shaking my head. “Why does your company think this is acceptable transportation for charter passengers?”
If anything, the van looked far more suitable for a psycho serial killer. The last thing I needed was to end up on some true-crime documentary.
Leslo flinched, staring at his van as if trying to assess it from my perspective. “Listen, things got a little messy this morning. The storm, the flight delays, you know...”
“How does the storm affect limo service?” I squinted at him, crossing my arms over my chest.
“They call it a ‘domino effect,’ ma’am. Ever heard of that?
” Leslo was getting defensive, his I-don’t-give-a-fuck mask slipping a little.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be at the terminal today.
I was just bringing some cargo to the charter when they called me to pick up this doctor lady at the arrivals.
Then I saw you, all stranded and lost...
” He spat on the pavement. “Serves me right for trying to help someone out.”
I felt a pang of guilt. It was nice of him to offer me the vacant seat. He could’ve just left me there, then I’d be inside the terminal, frantically searching for a solution that didn’t exist.
“Alright. You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “And thank you for the offer.”
He shrugged and opened the back of the van. It was loaded with crates and rolls of red and yellow canvas.
“Is that the cargo you’re delivering to the plane?” I asked, peeking into the van around his bicep.
Nothing inside looked valuable enough to me to warrant the charter transport cost, but maybe there was something unique or personal in those crates that someone treasured enough to pay for the delivery?
At least there weren’t any chains or cages in there, as far as I could see.
No bloodstains either. The space looked worn and scuffed, but clean.
Leslo grabbed my suitcase and situated it between a crate and a blue cooler.
“Do you want this in here too?” he asked, pointing at my oversized purse that I had slung over my shoulder.
Everything of any importance in my life was in that purse, including my laptop.
“No. I’ll keep it with me.” I gripped the handles of the purse.
“Suit yourself.” He opened the cooler and took out a bottle of shimmering, multicolored liquid.
“Do you want a drink?” He offered it to me.
I stared at the pearlesque swirls of pink and blue inside the bottle. It was pretty, but I’d never seen anything like that before.
“What kind of drink is this?” I asked.
“It’s bubblegum-flavored. My favorite.”
“No thanks. I’m good.” I declined.
He tossed the bottle back into the cooler, then closed the back doors and opened the passenger’s door for me.
I paused, clutching the handles of my purse.
What did I really know about this man? He showed me his driver’s license and a cardboard sign. Was it enough to potentially gamble with my life by trusting him?
“I need to take a picture of your driver’s license,” I said.
“What for?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Before I climb into this vehicle that looks like it’s last been seen at a murder scene, I’ll need to make sure I won’t end up in the news as your next murder victim.”
He snorted a laugh, reaching for his wallet again, then mumbled something about women and their overactive imaginations.
I took a picture of his driver’s license and sent it to Aisha and Liam.
“Do you have a company ID?” I asked next. Better to be safe than sorry.
From another back pocket, he pulled out a badge on a lanyard. His picture was on it. He even smiled here, which he’d never done in the few short minutes that I’d known him, unless I counted his numerous smirks.
“Why aren’t you wearing it?” I demanded.
“I was. I took it off when they told me the client wasn’t coming.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh, clearly getting annoyed with my suspicions. “Are you done with your interrogations? Because the plane isn’t going to wait forever.”
What else could I ask him for? Fingerprints? Police clearance report? It wasn’t like he’d personally fly me across the country. What was the worst that could happen on a drive to Teterboro?
“Get in.” Leslo tipped his head at the passenger’s seat, holding the door open for me.
I climbed into the seat. Leslo started the van and got us moving. I did it. I was going to make it on time after all.
Leslo remained silent, for which I was grateful. I had no desire or time for small talk. Instead, I send messages to both Liam and Aisha, updating them on my plans with an estimated time of my arrival.
“Cute dude,” Aisha replied to my text with the picture of Leslo’s license.
Cute?
He was conventionally handsome, I supposed. But that tattooed, bulky look Leslo was going for did nothing for me. I preferred men in expensive suits with their minds sharp as a blade and their ambitions matching my own.
Was Liam that man? He certainly had a closet full of very expensive suits and made partner at the firm when I did not.
I glanced up from my phone for a moment, then took a second look, noting the road Leslo was driving on.
“Um, why are we going south when the road to Teterboro is north from here?”
“Traffic,” he replied, not looking at me.
“How is driving through Midtown Manhattan going to result in less traffic for us?” I asked, confused.
“It will,” he said, not elaborating.
I put my phone down.
A hair-thin string of alarm tightened inside me. It was possible that there was some traffic on the road to Teterboro. Construction maybe? Or an accident? I still had some time for a detour if it didn’t delay us much.
But something about Leslo had changed, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose in apprehension. His face was void of any expression now, looking more like a stone mask. He didn’t grow tense or stiff, just completely...blank. Like he no longer had the need to even appear human.
I cleared my throat, eager to break the grave silence that had descended upon the van.
“Listen,” I cleared my throat. “I sent the picture of your driver’s license to everyone I know.”
He remained silent, staring straight ahead, like I hadn’t spoken at all.
I lifted my phone and snapped a picture of his face.
That got his attention. He flinched. Hitting the button on his door, he opened his window, then grabbed the phone from my hand and tossed it out of the window.
“Hey!” I screamed. “What the fuck did you just do? That’s my phone...”
I let my voice trail off, realizing that of course he knew what he was doing. I couldn’t call for help now, which must be his intention.
“The picture is on the iCloud anyway already,” I mumbled, disgusted by the sickening fear descending into the pit of my stomach. “I share the account with my fiancé. He’ll see it. He has your driver’s license too. He’ll go to the police. You won’t get away with this.”
“I will. We always do,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he kidnapped people for a living and never faced any consequences.
He also said “we.” Meaning he wasn’t acting alone.
Were they a gang? A human trafficking ring?
The realization chilled me with dread. What were they going to do to me? Did I even want to know?
I stared straight ahead, unable to process the terror of what was happening. But I couldn’t just sit here while he drove me to some warehouse to lock me in chains or pump me with drugs. To rape or kill me. Or both?
I should never have gotten into this van. But if I ever wanted to get out of it alive, I couldn’t wait until we reached the final destination.
I had to act now.
The traffic slowed down the closer we got to Manhattan.
If I jumped out of the van now, I might break a few bones, but I’d probably survive.
There were also enough cars on the road for people to hopefully intervene if Leslo tried to drag me back into the van while I screamed and kicked.
Because I was certainly going to scream bloody murder the moment I got out of here.
Shifting the handles of my purse up onto my shoulder again, I paused for two breaths to collect my thoughts and courage. Then I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open.
“Fucking bitch.” Leslo grabbed my neck with his right hand.
I screamed. With the door open, maybe someone would hear me?
Moving with the traffic, Leslo steadied the steering wheel with his knee, then raised his fist.
“Stupid human,” he growled through clenched teeth. “You should’ve drunk the glacier saffron. Would’ve made things easier.”
He swung his massive fist. It connected with my face. Pain exploded through my brain.
The world tilted sideways, then sank into darkness.
THE WEIGHT OF A MOUNTAIN seemed to press on my chest. My lungs burned for a breath, but my nose was closed, and so was my mouth.
I opened my eyes in horror but saw only darkness. I thrashed in panic, clawing at the hand over my face. It held my nose pinched and my jaw shut, preventing me from drawing a breath.
I kicked my feet, but they met resistance, moving through air as if through water.
Or maybe it was water?
Was I under? Drowning?
Panic lanced through me.
If the cruel hand over my face didn’t suffocate me, the water certainly would.
The darkness thinned behind my closed eyelids. The hand moved away from my face. But before I could open my eyes again or even take a breath, someone slapped me.
“Wake up! You’d better be fucking alive,” Leslo cursed.
I gasped a lungful of air and snapped my eyes open.