Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra) (26 page)

They’d moved Whitney into Rafe’s SUV, and I handed him the bag and her wallet. “Be careful,” I told him, kissing him quickly.

“You too.”

They drove off. Taking off my coat, I laid it on the front seat of Whitney’s car. I was going to have to sterilize everything I was wearing. “It’s okay, Gracie. I’m taking you guys to Grandma’s house.”

She cried intermittently and only stopped because she had fallen asleep. Whitney was right. If Rafe had driven them, she would have been hysterical. She got that way when she was tired.

It only took me about ten minutes to get to Whitney’s mom’s house. I carried Gracie up to the front door, and when they answered I explained what had happened. Her mom took Gracie from me, and her dad and I carried in Meredith and Beau. They thanked me for bringing the kids over and invited me in.

I told them I needed to get home, and congratulated them on adding another grandchild to their family. By the time I got back to the farmhouse, it was really late. Aunt Sylvia was already asleep.

Laddie was excited to see me, at least. He jumped up on me, and I ruffled his fur. “Did you miss me, boy? Did you?”

I wondered if there was an update. My phone wasn’t in my pocket. Had I left it in my purse? My purse that was still in Rafe’s car? I checked my coat pockets before throwing it in the washing machine, along with my jeans and socks. I put my shoes aside to wash later.

When was the last time I had the phone? Whitney had called me. I went to the diner and I had taken it inside with me.

Where I had left it on the counter. I wanted to thwack myself in the forehead. Apparently Whitney’s pregnancy brain was contagious.

Rafe wanted me to stay put. But how would I know what was happening? How would I know if Whitney was okay? If the baby was okay? If they’d made it safely to Iowa City? If they’d contacted Christopher?

I needed my phone.

We didn’t have a landline. That would mean I’d have to go upstairs, wake up Aunt Sylvia, and call Rafe. She needed her rest, and Rafe would probably tell me they were fine and to stay home.

Running upstairs, I quickly put on some pants and clean shoes and socks, and grabbed an old coat. “Come on, Laddie! Want to go for a ride?”

He scampered out of the kitchen, as I had just spoken his favorite words. This way I wouldn’t be alone, and he would let me know if something was wrong. I opened Old Bess’s door, and he jumped in. Not that Laddie would be any help. If somebody tried to take me, he’d be like, “You’re here to kidnap Genesis? Can you kidnap me, too?”

Laddie ran back and forth along the backseat, barking as we went, clearly thrilled to be out driving with me. His tail wagged so hard I was afraid he might break it off. I had tried to restrain him once, but he had chewed through the harness. And he hated if I used the kennel. I knew it wasn’t safe, but it made him so happy.

As we pulled up to the diner, I rolled down the window. “Stay,” I told him. He sat in my seat, panting. I unlocked the diner door, letting myself in. My phone was right where I had left it, on the counter. I turned it on, but there weren’t any texts or messages. No news yet.

Coming back out, I locked the door again and shoved my keys into my front pocket. I considered calling Rafe, but I didn’t want to distract him while he was rushing my best friend to the hospital.

There was a strange sound that at first I couldn’t place. It came from my truck. It was Laddie.

Laddie was growling.

I had never heard Laddie growl before.

He leapt out the truck’s window, dashing to stand right in front of me. Off to my left, three shadowy figures approached me. “Hello?” I called out. “Who’s there?” The growling got louder, and then Laddie started to bark furiously.

My heart pounded. This wasn’t like him. The shadows turned into men I didn’t recognize.

Until the one in front stepped under a streetlamp. “Hello, Mary-Pauline.”

Chapter 26

Frozen in shock, I couldn’t move.

“Time to go home, Mary-Pauline.” His voice was like a thousand tarantulas crawling all over my skin.

Laddie sprang forward, trying to bite one of the men. At the same time, I ran for my truck, hoping I could get inside before they could reach me.

I wasn’t fast enough. John-Paul grabbed me by the hair, yanking me backward to the ground. I cried out in pain, just as Laddie wrapped his teeth around one of the men’s ankles. The third man hit Laddie with a bat, making him whimper, but he didn’t let go of the ankle.

“Stop!” I screamed. “Leave him alone!”

My phone. I pulled it out of my pocket and pressed the Emergency Call button. I managed to enter the digits and push the green button before John-Paul saw what I was doing. He kicked my hand, and the phone went flying.

“Help!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Somebody help me!”

I hoped the call had gone through and the 911 operator could hear me. “I’m in Frog Hollow, Iowa. My name is Genesis Kelley—”

He dragged me by the hair, my roots screaming in agony, over to my phone and used his boot to destroy it. He stomped it on it several times while I clawed at his hand, desperate to make him let go. “You think you can be with someone else? You think you can leave me for that boy? Tell me you don’t love him. Tell me you don’t love Rafe.”

He was insane. This was insane. And how did he know how about Rafe? How long had he been watching me?

The third man kept hitting Laddie. They were going to kill him. Adrenaline surged inside me, and I kicked John-Paul in the kneecap, making him double over. He let go of my hair, and I ran over to Laddie. I couldn’t let them kill my dog. I kept yelling for help, while I pulled Laddie off, telling him to run.

That stupid, stubborn dog wouldn’t leave me. He was breathing hard, clearly in extreme pain, but he attacked the two men again, this time keeping just out of range of the bat.

Tears kept burning and blinding my eyes. That made me remember my keys. I reached into my pocket with trembling fingers, trying to get my pepper spray out, but John-Paul had come up behind me, encircling my neck with his arms. He pressed against my windpipe, making it difficult for me to breathe. I punched his forearms, but from this angle I couldn’t put much power behind it.

Angling my head, I bit down as hard as I could. John-Paul yelled and punched me in the ear. Stars exploded behind my eyes, making me dizzy. I ran forward, trying to get away, no longer able to think, acting on pure instinct.

“Help! I need help!”

He grabbed my ponytail like a handle, throwing me against the ground, and I skidded along the asphalt, tearing up the skin of my hands and face. I started scooting backward, but before I could get far, he pulled me upright and again positioned himself behind me in a chokehold.

My head swam and my vision clouded, but something about this felt familiar. That class I had taken at school! I slammed my heel into the inside of his foot, elbowing his ribs at the same time, just as my self-defense instructor had taught me. But before I could do more to break his hold, he shoved a damp cloth against my face. There was a sweet, chemical smell, and then the world went black.

I awoke in a dark place, unable to see or move. It took me a second to realize what had happened. John-Paul and his men had knocked me out, and they had bound my hands, my ankles, and my mouth. I had use of my arms, but they had tethered my ankles to something, so I couldn’t move my legs very far.

There was a bumping sensation. I was moving. I was in a car. John-Paul’s car. In the trunk.

The claustrophobia kicked in so fast and so hard I couldn’t focus. The tie around my mouth smelled like sweat, and it made me gag.

Sharp pain radiated through my chest, like I was having a heart attack. I was going to die. I banged against the top of the trunk, trying to scratch my way out. There was soft padding all along the walls, something they had installed. They had been planning this for a long time. I screamed over and over again, but the sound was muffled.

I had a horrific full-blown panic attack that lasted an eternity, sweat soaking my hair and my clothes, my heart pounding so hard I expected it to rupture. There wasn’t enough air in the trunk. I couldn’t breathe. All of the oxygen was disappearing.

It got so bad that I fainted.

When I came to, the attack had subsided. I knew I had a short amount of time until it started up again. I remembered watching a show about what to do if you got thrown into a trunk. You were supposed to kick the taillights out and stick your hands through them.

But you had to use your feet to do that. I couldn’t move my feet. I tried doing it with my hands, but the taillight didn’t move, and all that happened was I bloodied up my knuckles.

I wanted to get the gag off of my mouth, but no matter what I did, how I pulled or tugged, it wouldn’t come loose. They had made it too tight.

Think! How do I get out of this?

I turned on my side, wondering if I could swing my feet out that direction, but it was no use. I felt something digging into my hip.

My keys.

I rolled onto my back and very carefully angled my arm so that I could use my fingers to pull my keys out. If nothing else, I had a weapon now for when they opened the trunk, and in the meantime, I could try to use it to get myself free.

After repeated attempts to use a key edge to cut the zip tie around my wrists, I finally figured out a way to position the keys against my stomach and run the tie against the jagged teeth. As my eyes adjusted, I became aware of light appearing at the seams of the trunk, and I realized it was daytime. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious. A dry sob twisted my breath, but I kept going.

Did Rafe know I was gone? How many hours had it been? Had he tried to call me? Did he know something was wrong?

I’d never even told him that I loved him. I should have told him. I wished I had told him. Now he might never know.

Was Laddie dead? Was Aunt Sylvia worried? They would know this wasn’t like me. Had anyone notified the sheriff? Did they know which direction John-Paul had gone? Did they know what kind of car to look for?

This trunk was a million times worse than Henry’s magic box had ever been. At least then I’d had the hope of getting out. I wouldn’t get out of this. Ever. Even when they opened the trunk I would be confined in a different way.

Although, I thought with a morbid laugh, I probably wouldn’t fit in the coal bin anymore.

The car came to a stop, and my whole body went rigid. We couldn’t possibly be all the way back to Washington yet. But who knew what they planned on doing to me? I flipped my key ring around, making sure I could point the pepper spray at them. I lay there, unmoving and tense, waiting.

I realized they were getting gas. I started pounding against the trunk, kicking my feet as best I could, and screaming. The padding prevented me from making any sound. I couldn’t let anyone know what was happening to me. I listened to the ding-ding as cars drove into the station, the sound of people talking and laughing. I screamed and screamed as tears poured down my cheeks, but the gag made it so that no one could hear me.

It was like I wasn’t even there.

“No one can hear you,” John-Paul said through the trunk, banging hard on it a couple of times, which made me jump.

Even as we drove away, I kept trying to make noise, to do something to let somebody, anybody, know what was happening.

The panic started to swell, and I tried my best to stay calm. I told myself the walls of the trunk were not moving and wouldn’t crush me. It was all in my head.

My body didn’t care that I wasn’t in any danger of being squished. All the sweating, nausea, heart palpitations, headaches, and tears started right back up. I went back to trying to cut the zip tie around my wrist, but I was having a hard time concentrating and holding still.

Time had become meaningless, but I was aware of the car slowing down, and my heart thumped painfully in response. Were we there? Was this it?

I again tried to position my keys and use my pepper spray as a weapon, but I was shaking so hard that when they threw the trunk open, the light flooded in and my keys slipped from my fingers. I rolled, trying to grab at them, but the men yanked me out of the trunk. I landed on the ground, hard. I tried to control my breathing and get my bearings, but panic kept me from being in control.

“You can’t go back home dressed like this,” John-Paul said. He stood in front of me, blocking out the sun so that all I could see was his outline. He threw something at me. It was a dress. Like the ones we used to wear.

“You have to get changed.” He pulled me up by my wrists and pulled out a large knife. I tried to scream and get away from him, but he used the knife to slit the tie at my wrists and, before I could react, the one around my ankles. My hands and feet ached as the blood rushed into them, causing prickling sensations.

He didn’t remove the gag.

I saw two men with him and recognized one of them as the man who had mugged Rafe. “You were at the club,” I tried to say. I didn’t know if they could understand me.

“No one’s interested in anything you have to say,” John-Paul replied, as he pushed me toward some bushes. “Get changed. And don’t even think about running. Because we will catch you, and then I’ll have to punish you.”

All that time in the trunk had messed with my ability to think or to plan. Instead I went behind the bushes and hurried to take off my clothes and put the dress on. I knew the kind of punishments he was capable of.

“Do you know how long I’ve been watching your sinful life? How easy it was to find you after you paraded yourself around on television for the whole world to see?”

I had been so stupid to go on that show. So careless. I had thought myself untouchable. My temporary rebellion had stripped me of my loved ones. And my freedom.

“As if I didn’t raise you better. I sent you messages. To let you know that I was watching you. I gave you a chance to repent. But instead you flaunted that man in my face. I was going to teach you a lesson the night you went into the city with him. But we weren’t able to follow you because Simon got our car towed. Just know that that night, you were supposed to have been mine.”

The night I decided to give Rafe another chance. A night that had been special and meaningful to me was now tainted by John-Paul.

“And then there was your self-indulgent party, where you made yourself the center of attention. Do you know how easy it was for me to sneak in? To leave you that picture? I was there. In that room with you. And you didn’t even know it.”

I hadn’t even sensed him. I had been so caught up in Rafe and my friends that he had stood in the diner with me and I had been completely unaware. I dropped my head into my hands. I had finished dressing a while ago, but I really didn’t want to get back in that trunk.

John-Paul crashed through the bushes, pointing his knife at me. “Your salvation is my responsibility, and it is up to me to make sure you obey and live a sinless life.”

“Please don’t put me in the trunk,” I tried to say, as he put the zip ties back around my ankles and wrists. One of the men came over to help him pick me up, and although I struggled and fought, arching away from them, they threw me back in the trunk, slamming the lid shut.

I cried and endured panic attack after panic attack. I felt like I was drowning. Like someone had dropped me into a washing machine, turned it on high, and I was stuck in a dark pool of agitating water, being thrown back and forth, never able to find my way out or catch my breath. For hours and hours.

In the midst of that, someone slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward. My head hit something hard, making me go dizzy. I thought I heard yelling and doors slamming, and then somebody messing with the trunk. Sunlight blinded me, and I held my hands up to shade my eyes.

All the voices around me sounded so far away. One voice kept trying to get my attention, calling me by name. I couldn’t understand what it was saying.

There were flashing lights on cars behind us. My fingers and toes felt completely numb, my whole body shaking. People were tugging at me, trying to get the restraints off.

I was lifted out of the trunk, and I passed out.

“She’s gone into shock,” I heard someone say as I came to, all the sounds still muffled, my vision blurry and hazy.

A face came into my sight line. “Genesis, please. Say something.”

It was Rafe. How could it be Rafe? Was I dreaming? Was I still in that trunk and imagining being rescued? I blinked, trying to focus. It looked like we were in an ambulance. And I was on a gurney.

“Rafe?” My voice sounded like a kitten’s mewl, with no strength at all behind it. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I talk?

He hugged me, and it sounded like he had been crying. “He is never going to hurt you again. I promise you. Never again.” His words echoed around me, bouncing off my ears. I squinted and put my hands up to prevent sound from coming in. He was so loud.

“How . . . how . . . Am I still in the trunk?” It hurt to talk. It hurt my chest, my head, and my mouth was so dry. What kind of dream was this? Everything was so fuzzy and removed.

I heard the words “tracker” and “key.” My mind attempted to put it all together. “There’s a tracker on my keys?” I tried to feel for my keys in my pocket. I needed them to cut my bindings. But my fingers weren’t cooperating.

For some reason, a tracker on my keys felt extraordinarily bad. Wrong. Like a broken promise.

“You’re just like him. Like John-Paul. You want to own me.” I flinched. I didn’t mean those words. I didn’t even want to say them. But they came out. As if someone else was in charge of my mouth.

It was like an out-of-body experience. I was watching the dream, removed from it, but unable to control what was happening. My stomach doubled up in pain, and I groaned, trying to curl myself into a ball. I heard yelling and beeping.

Then I was in the coal bin, with John-Paul standing outside of it, yelling at me while he slammed on the wood. “Tell me you don’t love him! You don’t love Rafe!”