Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Kylie
From the moment my memories returned, things changed.
The woman tasked with caring for me became less friendly. Odd since I hadn’t thought it even possible.
I had regained some of my strength, but my left leg was still incredibly weak.
It wasn’t as weak as I was pretending, though.
Something told me that once I could walk without the aid of a walker, things were going to change.
Since my gray matter was no longer cloudy, I knew I wasn’t a terrorist, so this confinement wasn’t a legal maneuver by the government.
Someone—I had yet to learn the man’s name—was keeping me there against my will.
I wanted to go home, but I had yet to share that with anyone.
The last thing I wanted was for them to use it against me.
And they would. Of that I had no doubt. I cried every night, but only when it was dark and only silently.
Maybe it wasn’t so much crying as it was letting a few tears slip out.
I was being watched every minute of every day.
And since these people clearly had an agenda, any weakness I showed would give them ammunition.
Speaking of ammunition… Speaker Man, the guy I suspected was in charge, hadn’t returned, but whenever I thought about him, I heard his voice clearly in my head.
Why was I declared dead?
Because I deemed it so.
Yeah. He was in charge for sure. And since winning him over clearly wasn’t an option, I had to come up with a different plan. The problem was, I had no idea why I was even here. Didn’t have a clue what he wanted from me. Punishment, sure, but to what extent I didn’t know.
Allison continued to come, but she no longer talked to me while we were in the room. Every now and then, she would speak in hushed tones in the hallway, but she never relayed anything of significance. Not since she warned me it was in my best interest not to ask questions.
I had heeded that warning in the beginning.
But as the days passed, I was no longer willing to be the passive victim.
I wanted to go home to my babies, to Travis and Gage.
Did they really believe I was dead? Had Speaker Guy given them the death certificate he mentioned, selling them some sob story about succumbing to my injuries or some shit, and they believed him?
And if they had, what were they doing now?
It pained me to think of them moving on without me, forgetting me.
But at the same time, I wanted to keep them far, far away from this asshole.
As long as he was focused on me, he wasn’t hurting them.
Strangely, I found some comfort in that.
Now, as I sat in bed, I looked up at the ceiling, finding the red glowing light. I stared at it intently, letting a minute pass. Then another.
“We need to talk,” I said, trying to make my voice stern.
I didn’t know whether anyone had been paying attention until two days later, when he showed up.
I had expected something was going on because the nurse had been on edge all morning.
She got that way from time to time. Usually after she had a phone conversation.
I suspected whoever Speaker Guy was, people—even those who worked for him—didn’t like him all that much.
Whether it was fear or mere distaste was yet to be determined.
“Hello, Kylie,” he greeted as he strolled into the room as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
He was wearing a suit, just as he had the last time I saw him.
It was black and a little faded with age.
The crisp white shirt underneath had been ironed within an inch of its life and starched to the point I was surprised the guy could move.
His tie was burgundy, and the knot at his throat looked a little loose, as though it had been choking him.
His dark brown hair was brushed back from his face, and I was pretty sure he’d gotten a little more gray since the last time I saw him.
I watched him make his way toward me, but I didn’t return the greeting.
“You said you wanted to talk,” he stated, staring at me with cold brown eyes.
“I said we need to talk,” I corrected.
He appeared amused. “About?”
“What’s your name?”
He leveled his gaze at my face. “Martin Calloway.”
I kept my tone cool and even, the same way I did when I was talking to one of my kids when they were in trouble. “What is it that you do?”
His brown eyes skimmed and assessed, his full attention on me. “I work for the FBI.”
Based on the way he said it, I was supposed to be impressed.
For the record, I wasn’t.
However, I felt a little better. If the FBI were in charge of my care, there was a good chance I would be getting out of his place soon. Once they realized they couldn’t charge me with whatever they thought I’d done, surely they would let me call my family so I could go home.
“Are you the boss?” I asked because I could tell he enjoyed talking about himself, and I was hoping to get some actual information.
“My official title is assistant special agent in charge. I handle transnational organized crime.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I had a very strong suspicion of why I was there, but I pretended not to.
“Assistant?” I prompted.
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “Yes.”
“So you’re not the BMOC?”
Again, he squinted. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Big man on campus.”
He didn’t answer, but I saw his irritation in the thin line of his mouth and the way his jaw ticked steadily.
Kylie: 1
Martin Calloway: 0
“How does staging my death and kidnappin’ me further your agenda, Mr. Calloway?”
He stared at me, surprise etched on his rounded features.
Martin Calloway was not what I would call attractive.
Perhaps he could’ve been if he hadn’t been responsible for upending my life.
He didn’t know it yet, but his life was as good as over.
After all, I had learned a thing or two from my husbands over the years.
“Who said I have an agenda?” he prompted, sliding his hands into his pockets.
I got the sense he watched himself in the mirror, practicing his movements to ensure he looked formidable.
“Let’s not play games,” I told him, holding his gaze. “I’m not here because you’re tryin’ to protect your daughter.”
His eyebrows dipped low. “Protect her?”
“You said people believe I’m dead. Since Juliet was the one who ran me down in the street, I assume she’s been charged with murder?”
“Juliet’s dead,” he stated without even a hint of emotion.
That was interesting news. And while I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse, I added a sliver of sentiment to my tone. “I’m sorry to hear that. How’d she die?”
“Your husband.”
Ice formed in my veins. I could practically feel the icicles elongating throughout my body.
I never considered what Travis might’ve done if he believed I was dead.
Did it surprise me that he would destroy the woman responsible?
No. Did I wish he hadn’t? I wished I could say no to that as well, but the truth was, I was glad he had.
The bitch hadn’t deserved to breathe after the living hell she’d forced us into when she had kidnapped Kate.
However, the thought of our kids growing up without him … it made my chest ache.
“Don’t worry. He didn’t do the deed himself. He had help.”
I inhaled deeply, realizing I had been holding my breath. Relief swamped me. At least he wasn’t in jail. The thought of my babies growing up without me was hard enough. I didn’t want them growing up without their fathers.
Because I could see fury glittering in his eyes, I decided to shift the topic. “Were you and Juliet close?”
That question seemed to surprise him, if the deep groove on his forehead was anything to go by.
I got the feeling Martin Calloway didn’t know what to expect from me.
So either he hadn’t done his homework, or he merely hadn’t cared enough to dig into my life.
He had another thing coming if he thought I was going to sit here and let him run roughshod over me.
I hadn’t been raised to be a wet blanket, and I damn sure didn’t intend to start being one now.
“I didn’t know her,” he stated firmly.
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
“But you said…”
“I knocked up a whore. When Juliet was born, I arranged to have a nice couple adopt her.”
The way he spoke … there was a coldness to his tone.
A complete lack of empathy whatsoever. And I didn’t think he was simply masking his emotions by relaying the information without allowing himself to feel.
No, I was pretty sure Martin Calloway didn’t feel anything.
For anyone. He wasn’t just cruel; he was flat-out dead inside.
Meeting his gaze, I held it. “I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, huh?”
“I guess not.”
Because this appeared to be a game I couldn’t win, I decided to get to the heart of the matter. “Am I a pawn in your game, Mr. Calloway?”
His smile was ferocious. “One of many, dear. One of many.”