Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BAILEY - BEFORE
I change in the back of an expensive SUV—clean leggings and a long-sleeved henley.
He even provided a stick of deodorant and hairbrush in the bag.
At this point, I’m happy for the small comforts.
He’s having a quiet conversation with someone on the other end of his Bluetooth earbuds—friendly, almost normal sounding conversation.
That doesn’t last long though. The moment he ends the call, he’s back to scowling.
It’s a long drive, weaving through city traffic. I must be making a face that shows how nauseated I feel, because he speaks up. “Don’t vomit in my car.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He stops short and I lurch forward, smacking my head into the seat. The movement doesn’t help the nausea. His eyes meet mine in the rearview, and he rolls the back window down a crack.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
It’s a humid summer day and the fresh air barely helps. I need food. I can’t remember when I ate last. Ten minutes go by, then twenty, when he slows to pull into a gas station. “I need a cup of coffee.”
There’s people everywhere—commuters on their way to work, parents hauling children into car seats, busy workers in commercial vehicles filling up their vans for the day. I can’t help but stare.
Sweeper’s eyes narrow and he holds up his phone.“You’ll stay by my side and I’ll let you get something to eat. If you try anything, I’ll make one call and your friends are dead. Understand?”
My friends. He must mean Cat and the others… unless he means Layne and my friends back home. God, I haven’t thought about them in too long. I let my gaze linger on the bustle out the window for another second before nodding.
“Good. Let’s go.”
He leads me through the convenience store until we reach the busy coffee counter. “Other assholes pay eight bucks for this,” he says, holding up the steaming Styrofoam. “It’s all the same shit.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say.
“You’re not a coffee girl? Let me guess, college age… You must love those energy drinks?” He adds a splash of milk and pushes a lid on.
I shake my head. “Don’t like the way they make me feel.”
He gestures for me to lead the way. “Go ahead, pick something to eat and drink.” The coffee seems to perk him up. It’s been so long since I’ve had any agency. The choices are almost too broad. I reach for a pack of chocolate donuts, and he nods. “What else?”
“I can get more?”
“Yes, just hurry up.”
I grab a bag of salt and vinegar chips, my mouth already watering.
Near the counter, I grab a water, too overwhelmed by the decisions, and at the last moment he picks up a pack of gum.
The cashier, a guy who looks about my age, checks us out without even looking in our eyes.
I couldn’t have signaled him for help even if I wanted to.
Sweeper shoves the bag at me to hold, and leads me back to the car with his free hand on my shoulder. It moves to the back of my neck when my gaze strays toward a woman pumping gas and staring right at us. Help me, I silently scream. She looks away quickly anyway.
Back in the car, I tear into the donuts immediately, not caring that chocolate crumbs fall onto my clean shirt.
The sweetness hits my empty stomach like a shock, but I force myself to keep chewing.
Sweeper pulls back onto the highway, merging into traffic with aggressive lane changes that kill my already queasy stomach.
“Easy,” he says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “You eat too fast and you’ll just puke it back up.”
I slow down, taking smaller bites, needing to finish every last crumb. The chips are next. The sharp tang of vinegar makes my mouth water and my eyes tear up. It tastes so good I could cry. I never thought I’d be so grateful for gas station junk food.
Outside my window the view changes from city buildings to suburbs, then to what looks like the middle of nowhere.
We’re definitely not going back to the house, and I’m not even sure that we’re staying in New York.
My chest tightens with each mile that takes me further from everything I know.
From any chance someone might be looking for me.
The clock on the car shows that another hour has gone by when Sweeper’s phone buzzes. He answers it through his Bluetooth, his voice changing to that same friendly tone from earlier. “Yeah, we’re about thirty minutes out... No issues... She’s been compliant.”
Fire runs through my veins. She’s been compliant. Like I’m cargo being delivered. I guess I am… but to hear him say it that way disgusts me.
“Copy that. See you soon.” He ends the call and catches my eye in the mirror again. “We’re almost there.”
“Where’s there?”
My question goes unanswered.
Twenty minutes later, we turn off the main road onto a smaller one, then through an unmanned gate. A sign reads Private Airfield - Authorized Personnel Only. My heart starts pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“No,” I whisper, not believing what I’m seeing. He’s taking me on a plane. Flying me God knows where.
The airfield comes into view, where a sleek white jet stands waiting, engines running. It might as well be a casket.
“I can’t get on that plane.” I reach for the door handle, desperate to get out of the car. It’s child-locked. “Please, don’t do this.”
Three men in dark suits stand near the aircraft staircase, watching as Sweeper parks the car. He turns in his seat to face me fully for the first time during the ride. His face shows something that might be sympathy or maybe just exhaustion, but it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“You can walk onto that plane, or I can drag you. Your choice.” He opens his door. “But either way, you’re getting on.”
The men in suits approach the SUV, like a dark cloud closing in.
One opens my door while the other flanks the vehicle.
I keep my eyes locked on Sweeper’s, shaking my head again and again.
What can I do? There’s nowhere to run. Even if I could somehow get away, I’m surrounded by empty fields with nowhere to hide. I’m utterly alone.
“Bailey.” The voice that calls my name makes me freeze. I know that accent. I know his voice.
King steps out from behind the stairs, straightening his jacket.
He has that smile on his face. It reminds me of twisted barbed wire, razor sharp.
And the cologne—he’s not even close enough for me to smell it but it’s somehow already there, suffocating me.
I gag, almost losing my breakfast. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Sweeper says, as he pulls open my door and clamps a hand around my wrist.
“No,” I cry, scrambling backwards. “Please, no. You said—you said—I was lucky,” I choke out through the tears already streaming down my face. “You said—”
He sighs and tugs on my wrist. “I said you were one of the lucky ones who got picked. That’s a different kind of luck than what you’re thinking.”
King’s voice booms across the tarmac as he yells something in Russian to the men. One of them laughs. They’re all evil, pure fucking evil.
“Where?” I sob one more time, even though I know he won’t tell me.
Sweeper’s grip tightens as he pulls me from the car. My legs are jelly, and I stumble forward before he catches me around the middle. “You’ll find out when you land.”
He passes me off to one of the men and the next thing I know, I’m being carried toward the stairs. It’s a funeral march. Even if I make it through whatever this is, I know I won’t be the same.
The engine drowns out my sobs as we stop at the bottom of the stairs where King is waiting. The man puts me down in front of him, and he looks me over with that same hungry look that haunts my dreams. Like he’s getting his favorite toy back after lending it to a friend.
“Welcome back, pet. Did you miss me?”
I can’t speak, can’t do anything but let them guide me up those metal stairs into the belly of the plane. As it takes off into the clear afternoon sky, I know it’s carrying me away from any hope of home.
The plane slowly descends through thick, gray clouds.
I’m equally terrified to see where they’ve taken me and anxious to get off this plane.
I’ve spent the entire flight pressed as closely against the small window as I could, avoiding King’s snarky words and lingering gaze.
He’s been oddly tame—not by normal human standards, but from what I’ve come to expect from him. I’m still expecting the worst though.
Now, as we break through the clouds, darkness greets me from below. Scattered lights twinkle from inside homes that are widely spread. It must be some kind of rural area.
“Almost home, my pet. I’ll be so sad to lose you, but don’t worry… your friend Cat will take good care of me.” King puffs out his chest and smirks as I seethe.
“Go to hell.” There’s so much more I want to say, but I’m not free of him yet. He can do a lot between now and landing.
King just laughs until Sweeper cuts in. “You should make the call.”
“Isn’t that what I pay you for?” he says.
I turn away to look back out the window, but I don’t need to see Sweeper’s face to know he’d love to punch King in the face as much as I would. “You don’t pay me. Your uncle does.”
They argue semantics as the landing gear comes out. I hold my breath in those final moments, but thankfully, it’s only a matter of minutes we’re on the ground smoothly.
Through the window all I can make out are runway lights cutting through the darkness.
It must be another private airfield. This one looks even more isolated than the last. Rolling hills stretch in every direction beyond the landing strip.
I squint to get a better view, but it’s hard to see anything in the shadows.
When the plane finally stops, Sweeper stands and gestures for me to do the same. “Time to go.”
I follow him on unsteady legs, too exhausted to fight. Humid air hits my face as I step onto the aircraft stairs. It smells like fresh rain and something floral. I’m definitely not in New York City anymore.
Two shiny black Bentleys wait on the tarmac, their lights blazing.
I notice their license plates right away.
White with black letters and numbers, unlike any I’ve seen in the US.
Two people get out of one of the cars and stand beside it.
Their silhouette seems to stiffen the closer we get.
A man and a woman, both middle-aged with graying hair and weathered faces, wearing immaculate uniforms. They almost look like they could have been our flight attendants, although the plane I just left didn’t have those.
“Ms. Harrington,” Sweeper greets the woman as we reach the car. He gives me a small push forward. “As discussed.”
She gives a sharp nod, and trails her gaze over me like she’s assessing and finds me lacking. I fold my arms across my chest. “Indeed. We’ve been expecting her.”
King, who must be finished with his phone call, jogs over to us. I wrap my arms around myself tighter, noticing that the woman clocks my movement. “Take good care of our guest,” he tells them.
Guest? I hold back a scoff. Bastard. How dare he act like I have any say in this. Like I’m more than a piece of inventory in their fucked up business.
“Of course, sir.” Ms. Harrington smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll ensure she’s properly settled.”
The uniformed man opens the back door and gestures for me to get in. As hesitant as I am, I’d rather be with these strangers than spend another second near King. I slide in, grateful for the warmth, and look ahead out the Bentley’s windshield at the long road disappearing into darkness.
As my two new captors take their places in the front seats, I watch King wave his fingers before turning toward the second parked car and disappearing into the shadows.
Good. I hope he drives off the road into a ditch somewhere.
It’s one of the most awkward car rides of my life.
I’m too nervous to speak first, and neither of them seem inclined to break the silence.
They just drive and drive down long, winding roads, all of them dark, giving me no hints of where we are.
My stomach growls loudly and the woman, Ms. Harrington, sniffs.
Sorry, lady. I’ve been denied food all day. Can’t help my bodily functions.
Finally, I spot a pair of lights in the distance, illuminating a huge set of iron gates. My pulse starts beating erratically, my breaths coming in short pants. Whatever’s beyond those gates, I’m terrified to find out.
A massive sigil sits in the center, splitting open as the driver enters a code. One ornate letter C surrounded by flourishes. They close behind us with a loud clang that causes me to flinch.
Something in my gut tells me that I won’t ever see the world beyond those gates again.