Sophie Schlay 3.
I can’t move. My limbs aren’t tied, but I’m in a small space, and have no room to stretch. My legs and arms are numb, and my head is stuffed with cotton. I blink into the darkness and force myself to inhale slowly, then exhale. I’m in a suitcase.
Fuck.
The wheels on the suitcase are loud as they traverse wherever I am.
The ground is hard, probably concrete. Where the fuck am I?
Who took me? I try to sit upright when I remember the texts from Clark.
Did he do this? I just can’t see it, he’s so…
docile. A lot of my family can best be described as unhinged.
I didn’t get that vibe from Clark in the year we’ve been dating.
So, then who took me and where?
I cry out when the suitcase is dropped to the unforgiving ground, my shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact.
Male laughter surrounds me. I squeeze my eyes shut as the zipper is pulled back and bright industrial lighting burns my eyes.
The suitcase is tipping and I’m rolling out.
Rough hands grab my arms and legs, and they manhandle me until the shackles attached to the wall encase my wrists.
The click of their locks feels final. An ominous sensation travels down my spine.
I blink rapidly until the bright lights no longer bother me.
I’m in a warehouse of sorts. It’s empty, dirty, and private.
I can hear no sounds through the broken windows, no traffic or equipment.
It’s abandoned or at least shut down for the day in a secluded area.
I glance down at myself and grimace. I’m naked.
Of course, I fucking am. Other than being groggy, I don’t have any other injuries that I can tell. But if I’m naked…no trackers.
Fuck. Again.
Men circle me, their gazes heavy, bile churning at the dark intentions they do nothing to hide. I keep my mouth shut, knowing better than speaking and offer up any information that can be used against me. One of them kicks a bucket in my direction.
“You’ve been in that suitcase for 11 hours. Piss. The boss will be here soon to collect you.”
They move to the other side of the warehouse, though I’m under no illusion it is to give me any privacy.
My modesty disappeared along with my undergarments.
I force my limbs to move and squat over the bucket to relieve my bladder.
With nothing to wipe with, I shake my pelvis and with an inappropriate giggle at myself, I sit back down on the cold concrete flooring.
I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
There is nothing I can do right now. Might as well rest.
The raised voices startle me awake. My back and ass protest my position and location.
Is it true that sitting on something cold can give you hemorrhoids?
That’s the last thing I need right now. The men are laughing at something and it’s an ugly sound.
A couple of them walk over to me and stand, staring down at me in confusion.
“Normally, I’d take a little off the top.
” One leers down at me, and I understand his ridiculous double entendre.
I give nothing away, just stare up at him blankly.
“Boss wouldn’t much like that though.” He squats in front of me, smiling like we’re old friends.
“Sophia Goldman, you are a difficult woman to catch.”
Instantly, my brain connects the dots, and I fight hard to refrain from laughing.
Sophia Goldman. That’s not me. I don’t tell them that though.
Let them find out on their own. I’m almost grateful that I was taken by mistake.
Sweet Sophia would not be able to handle any of this.
Not that I want to, but better me than her.
I move my tongue around, trying to bring some moisture into my mouth. The drugs they must have used have dehydrated me. “You are so fucked.” My voice is raspy, not as strong as I’d like. The men exchange glances and laugh. They won’t be laughing when the Kosher Nostra gets their hands on them.
“Pack her up, we gotta move.”
“I thought he was coming here?”
“Change of plans.”
“Whatever. I’ll be happy when this fucking contract is done.”
The men pack up their meager belongings, then unchain me and lead me barefoot and naked out the door and into the trunk of a waiting vehicle.
I keep my mouth shut and quell the urge to fight back.
There’s no point right now. I don’t know where I am.
Don’t know who has taken me. The best plan is to wait.
Bide my time and let them tie their own ropes and when the time is right, I’ll kick the box from beneath their feet and let them hang.
I sleep in the trunk, knowing I’m going to need energy and strength.
I’m hungry, starving actually, but I push it down.
I don’t know how long we travel but the sky is bright with sunlight when they pop the trunk.
I sit up and swing my legs over the bumper before they reach in for me.
Those rough hands grip my arms painfully, trying to drag me into another building, though I’m not resisting.
I think my cooperation pisses them off and that thought makes me happy.
They secure my arms and legs to a metal chair. We’re in another industrial building, but this one shows a few more signs of life. It’s still in operation, just shut down at the moment. Special treatment, how lovely. I smirk at my captors, watching them watch me.
Car doors slam shut outside and they stand alert, waiting.
The door opens and several bodyguards enter first. I’ve grown up in the Kosher Nostra, I know what to look for.
The brown-haired, sharp dressed man in his early 40s is not unexpected.
I don’t know him personally, but I know his type.
The self-importance oozes from his pores.
His grey eyes drift from man to man before landing on me.
The smugness of his expression drops into a frown quickly.
I smile in return, knowing exactly what his problem is. I’m Sophie…not Sophia.
“Who is this?” He might appear soft in dress and demeanor, but his voice is lethally sharp. The men who took me exchange wary glances before one of them steps forward.
“Sophia Goldman, sir.”
“No, it’s not.” He looks at me, his lips curling in disgust. “Where is my product?” Safely at home with her two beastly men, I hope. Far, far away from this fuckery.
It amuses me as the men flounder to explain.
I even laugh a couple times as they explain that someone yelled out “Soph” outside the bridal store when I jumped on the guy’s back that was trying to take Sophia.
The laugh breaks off in my throat when the man produces a gun from beneath his suit jacket.
“This is Sophie Schlay. You took the wrong fucking girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?
She is the cousin of the Avinu!” He pulls the trigger, one after another, until each of the incompetent hired help is on the ground…
dead. I swallow hard trying to clear my ears.
That was loud and disorienting. Though not as much as knowing this man has no qualms about killing if it suits his needs.
He runs his fingers through his hair for several minutes and then stops in front of me. “I need a phone number.” My eyes rise slowly, but my mouth remains shut. He backhands me but I stifle the cry of pain. Blood trickles down my chin. “Give me Moshe’s phone number!”
“867-5309.” He starts typing on his phone before glancing up at me.
“That’s not enough numbers.”
“911?”
One of his men rattles off the phone number for the Mishpocheh Consortium. He glares at me as the call rings through.
“Moshe Holofcener.” His face contorts. “Find him! Right the fuck now!” He inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I have Sophie-fucking-Schlay!” He pulls the phone away and stares at it for a moment.
It’s not on speaker but I hear Moshe answer before the man puts it back to his ear.
“No, you listen—” Moshe’s cold, detached Avinu voice gets them every time.
The phone call is put on speaker and Moshe says my name.
“Black snake groan.” I smile despite the situation, using our code words to verify proof of life.
“Babygirl.” I sigh as my father’s voice comes over the line. “Tell me you’re ok?”
“I’m peachy, Dad. Just hanging out with my new friends.”
“She’s alive. She will stay that way if you give me Sophia Goldman!”
“She will stay that way because she is your only leverage, Mr. Teuling.”
“I want Sophia.” This man is delulu if he thinks they are gonna hand her over.
“And I want to know what Meatloaf won’t do for love. But we don’t always get what we want. You will release Sophie immediately and I’ll spare you—”
“Don’t lie to me! You’re gonna kill me.”
“If you hadn’t so rudely interrupted, I was saying, I’ll spare you the long drawn out painfully gruesome death that awaits you and anyone who abets you in your foolish endeavors.
Make no mistake, Mr. Teuling, we are going to kill you regardless.
Your actions here determine how slow your death will be.
Though, the longer you keep her from us, the longer we have to piss off your friends.
Wonder which one will turn on you first? ”
Teuling’s eyes dart over the warehouse, a hint of fear in their depths that doesn’t bode well for me. “I’ll just keep her with me. Or maybe I’ll sell her to one of those friends you mentioned.”
“I would think very carefully, before you decide your next moves. We will find you, and we will dismantle your body just as we have dismantled your entire life…piece by fucking piece.”
Sensing Teuling is starting to panic, I scream out, “I love you, Dad! Tell Mom I love her!” He ends the call and then throws it at the wall with an animalistic roar.
“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Teuling grabs the side of my head, his fingers digging into my scalp and whips his arm around, knocking me and the chair to the ground.
“We’re leaving in 15 minutes, pack up what we need and then torch the fucking place.
” He’s breathing heavily, nostrils flaring as he stares at me.
“Looks like we’re gonna be spending some more time together.
” He squats next to me, running his hand along my arm.
My skin tingles unpleasantly, like bugs are crawling all over it.
“He said to keep you alive…there are so many things I can do to you while your heart stubbornly continues to beat.”