Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Madelyn
We've been on the road for over an hour, and all the old man's treats have now settled in the bottom of my stomach. Both sandwiches were homemade, no doubt. I feel a little guilty about snatching them, but at least he’s not dead.
My mouth mumbles a silent thank you to the old man.
It's amazing what a bit of food can do for your mentality.
Not to mention physically. I finally feel like I may be able to use my newfound strength to outrun Jackson, especially if he doesn't eat soon.
No matter what he says, a person's got to eat, and it's been a long time since he's had anything.
“How much further?” I ask trying to get a plan in place.
Jackson mumbles something incoherent and effectively gives me no answer.
He's been nothing but quiet since we left the national park.
Normally, I welcome the silence, but not with him.
He's told me before too much silence makes his thoughts roam.
Obviously, not a good thing for me. But neither is pressing his buttons, which I've been doing a lot lately. So, with a sigh, I just cross my arms, look out the window, and pray that the next destination isn’t another place full of monsters.
***
Not one view is the same when you are gazing down from mountaintops.
No matter where you look, there is beauty, and by some grand design, nature that can’t be found anywhere else.
There's something comforting in knowing that I’ve been lucky enough to experience this place.
That is until Jackson captured me and stopped my car at the bottom of one of the mountain ranges.
Now, all I feel is uneasy. I force myself to breathe as I take in the dark structure in front of me.
Tucked into the side of a cliff is a three-story industrial building that appears to have been used for hard rock mining.
Chain-link fences with razor wire stretch across the entrance and go into the mountainside.
Along the front gate and guard post stands a man dressed in a grey suit and tie, with a rifle attached to his hip.
Two more walk further down the line, holding what appears to be walkie-talkies.
This is a den of thieves. And with at least three men in plain sight, I can only assume that guards wrap up this whole place.
Jackson rolls down the window next to the gate.
If he's worried about anything, it doesn't show on his face.
Instead, he smiles. The look appears genuine.
He raises his hand toward the guard. “Simon,” he says with a curt nod.
The man gives one quick glance and then does a double take.
He’s dressed in the same grey suit and tie as the others.
However, he fails to pull off the look. There’s something about his oily brown hair and beady eyes that throws off everything.
For a moment, his eyes go wide before receding back to the glare he had before.
Simon rotates the rifle to aim at Jackson’s forehead and replies, “You are supposed to be in jail, no?”
Too bad he’s not, I think to myself.
Jackson sighs, a sound of inconvenience. “You haven't changed, I see. Always quick to pull up your gun.”
Simon grips the trigger tighter. “Better be glad I ain't quick to put a bullet through your head. As I said before, I thought you were in jail.” The guard looks at me, nodding in my direction. “And who's this one?”
Jackson clenches his jaw. “Get Gateley,” he orders.
The guard raises an eyebrow in my direction, but I glance down at the floorboard.
My knife and the cop’s gun are wedged between Jackson’s feet.
He could pull those out at any moment. I don't want to draw attention to myself or say anything to make him do just that.
Plus, there must be a reason Jackson is not so forthcoming with my information, and that's good enough for me.
Simon lowers his gun to reach for the walkie-talkie.
“You would be good to remember you're here only as a favor, nothing more.
If Gateley says to shoot you in the forehead, then shoot both of you; I will do.
It's been a long time since you've been here, and it's not too late to turn around.”
Jackson rubs his palms against his thighs. “The only thing true about your statement is the fact that a favor was involved. He owes me, not the other way around. Fucking call Gateley.” His voice goes deep, precise, and to the point.
Static penetrates the silence as the guard presses the button on the walkie-talkie. “Sir, you have a visitor who is demanding your presence.”
A muffled voice responds and mumbles something that I can’t quite make out. Simon smiles wickedly, as if there’s nothing more important than being right. “He looks at the camera. Sir does not like unannounced pests.”
“Jackson…maybe we should leave,” I whisper while tugging on his arm. I don’t know about this. If he gets shot, I’ll be next in line.
Jackson shakes his head and places a finger on my lips. “Unless Gateley speaks to you directly, you are not to say a word to anyone. This is not the place for unclaimed, opinionated females.”
The walkie-talkie sounds, announcing Gateley’s pending arrival. Eyes wide, I feel my heart in my throat. Even if we don’t get shot, what if this Gateley guy decides he wants me? “I’m… yours…money,” I force the words out, hoping to make him remember our agreement.
He pulls his mouth tight, eyes going dark. “Little fire, you are mine until we leave this place. In every way. So, obey me and keep your lips shut.” I nod and let out a sigh. My nerves relax just slightly. He presses his fingers harder against me, as a warning, before turning back to Simon.
“All you had to do was look, Simon,” Jackson states. He leans forward, looking into the guard post, eyes scanning the walls.
The guard follows Jackson’s gaze, and his eyes land on a set of pictures on the wall. Jackson’s face hangs among the frames, along with four others.
He studies the picture, all color leaving his face. “You should have reminded me when you pulled up, motherfucker.”
It was Jackson’s turn to smirk. “I came up acting pleasant, smile and all. You were the one who started on bad terms. I just saw it through.”
“Maybe he will forgive you,” Jackson mutters under his breath. I can tell from his tone, even he doesn’t believe his own words. Movement ahead catches my attention, and for good reason. The door to the building opens, revealing a man I can only assume is Gateley.
Dressed in an all-black pantsuit, his long dark hair falls just slightly above his shoulders.
From here it appears that he needs more fabric to go around his body.
The suit is tight from all the muscles popping through his clothes.
He hops on the back of a motorcycle and coasts down the drive, somehow not ripping his outfit along the way.
Halfway down, he points something toward us.
I duck, thinking he’s going to pop off a shot.
However, the gate opens as a result. Jackson pulls the car forward with Simon following on foot.
Gateley stops, just short of hitting the car, and flings himself off the bike. He makes a motion with his hand, signaling us to get out. Jackson nods at me, “Remember what I said. Only talk if he asks you something directly.”
“Yes,” I reply, voice shaking, and open the door.
Cold wind hits me immediately, and for once I am grateful.
Maybe he will assume my shaking is because of the weather and not because of fear.
Although I doubt it. Goosebumps appear on my skin from a combination of cold and taking Gateley in.
He comes toward us, eyes zeroed in on Jackson.
“Jax,” he says while placing his hands on Jackson’s shoulders.
Jackson looks up at him as Gateley over towers him by a good three inches. “Gate. It’s time for that favor.”
“So, I hear,” he replies while still gripping Jackson. “You could have called from the pen. I would have taken care of it. You didn’t have to escape just to see me.”
Jackson slides his hands over Gateley and slowly removes them. “What I need can’t be done while I’m locked in a box. Besides, this is more of a favor plus incentives.”
“Incentives?" Gateley raises an eyebrow and looks at me. “I see.”
“Not her,” Jackson practically growls.
I cast a quick glance toward my kidnapper. His sudden ruthlessness surprises me.
“Even more interesting.” Gateley whispers. He focuses on me a little too long before stating, “Leave the car out here. I’ll get somebody to park it on the grounds.”
“That would be good. A new vehicle entirely would be better.”
Gateley tsks. “Already with the demands. We need to catch up first before you give me a list.”
Jackson glances at Simon. “Speaking of lists. I’m offended your staff isn’t better acquainted with your convenient picture shrine. Being threatened with a rifle to the forehead isn’t very welcoming.”
Gateley whips around to face Simon with cold eyes.
“I give you two important tasks.” He holds up his finger to make one.
“Memorize my important guests.” He raises another finger to make the number two.
“Threaten those who are not them for showing up.” He moves closer to Simon and grabs him by the collar.
Simon’s eyes double, and true fear shows in his features.
“How much of a motherfucking idiot does one have to be to get those things mixed up?”
Gateley snatches the rifle strap from Simon’s arm, pulling the gun into his hands.
In one solid motion, he whips it across Simon’s face, causing Simon to fall to the ground.
Blood splatters across the grass and my car.
I force myself not to react when all I want to do is throw up at the messy scene.
“Code Five,” Gateley says into the walkie-talkie before his attention shifts to me. “Hmm, I can see why Jackson is secretive with you. Not a single tear. Most girls would cause a scene.” He brings his right hand in front of my face. “What’s your name?”
My eyes shift to Jackson. He said I needed to respond if I was asked a direct question. But the look on Jackson’s face is strained. I bite my lip, not knowing what to do.
Gateley’s finger strokes my cheek. “First name will do.”
I close my eyes, wishing I were a million miles away from here. “Madelyn,” I whisper.
“Very good,” he murmurs. “You have some blood on your pretty face.” He shows me the red liquid that’s accumulated on his skin before wiping it on his shirt. My stomach churns even more. Some of Simon’s blood must have splattered on me.
Jackson clears his throat. “Your men are coming.”
He nods in their direction. “They will take care of Simon. You two follow me.”