One More Time

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed. “Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of here right now.”

He still looked amused as he sauntered out of the house. I turned and looked to Roy. His hands were clamped over his gut, the blood spilling out from between his fingers. His eyes were wide, practically bulging out of his head, and his breathing was labored and ragged. Roy was rapidly losing color in his face and was bleeding out quickly.

“Roy,” I said. “You're going to die. Don't take Hannah with you. Tell me where she is.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a thick rivulet of blood rolled down his chin. His eyes were wide and filled with fear, knowing death was upon him.

“Roy, tell me where she is,” I said, my voice urgent.

His eyes seemed to focus as he looked at me, and I saw comprehension dawning upon his face. His breathing was starting to slow, and his eyes started to lose the light inside of them. Looking straight at me, understanding completely that he was about to die, Roy opened his mouth and finally spoke.

Chapter Fourteen

Hannah

“I think I'm going to be sick,” I muttered, my stomach roiling.

I opened my eyes, but the darkness that enveloped me was oppressive, smothering. I couldn't see a thing, but I could tell I was tied up. I could feel the bonds on my body, holding me tight. I was lying flat on my back and felt that both my arms and legs were tied tight.

It took me a second, but I finally realized that the room I was in wasn't actually pitch black. No, there was something over my eyes. I'd been bound and blindfolded.

Someone pushed me over on my side just as a fount of bile rushed into my throat. I heaved once and then threw up everything that had been in my stomach. It felt like everything in my stomach for the last ten years came up. The taste that flooded my mouth was awful and my head started to spin. I had to fight back another wave of nausea and managed to choke it back down. But, just barely.

As I lay there, vague fragments of memory floated through my mind. The images were hazy, and I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there. I strained my mind, tried to remember, but the memories proved elusive. It was like trying to grab puffs of smoke.

A deep voice to my right said, “Shit. Think she's got a concussion?”

“Who the fuck cares?” another voice said.

“Ross is going to care, that's who,” the first voice said. “You hurt his little girl, he's going to hurt you. I guarantee it.”

“Dad? You know my dad?” I cried out.

I pulled at the restraints that held my hands together. They were too tight and wouldn't budge. There was no way I was going to wriggle free of the ties that held me fast. I was not getting out of them without help.

“Please,” I said, “let me just talk to my dad. I don't know what's going on. Please, let me talk to him?”

“Shut that pretty mouth of yours before I make it where you can't speak,” a voice growled in my ear.

His breath was hot against my skin and it made me flinch. He was close to me. Oh, so close. I smelled the whiskey on his breath and it made my stomach roil and churn once more. I tasted the bile in my throat and feared I was about to throw up again, but it thankfully passed.

“I didn't hit her over the head, I swear.”

That voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it at first. I shook my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, but everything – all of my memories and ability to recognize the familiar – seemed just out of reach for me. The man had spoken low, further hampering my efforts to identify him. It was almost as if he didn't want me to hear his voice too clearly. I tried to listen to the rest of what he was saying, but it was too soft. My head ringing too hard. I couldn't make sense of anything in that moment.

Breathe, Hannah. Breath. I was a nurse. I was used to high-stress situations. This was a walk in the park compared to the ER on a Friday night.

Okay, maybe they weren't exactly alike. And maybe I wasn't entirely used to situations where you were literally being held hostage. But some of the principles remained the same. I just needed to remain calm. I needed to focus, and I needed to clear my head. I couldn't let fear or panic overwhelm me. Logic. Detachment. Focus. Those were my friends right now. Staying calm was the key to getting out of this – whatever it was – alive.

What was the last thing you remember? I asked myself.

I thought back – Eli. Eli was the last thing I remembered. Yes, Eli and I had made love earlier that morning. That was good. I could still remember back as far as the beginning of the day. That was a start.

After making love, I'd left his apartment. Went home. I showered. Got it. That was all clear to me, as was the next part. I'd met Chris at the diner and we'd had something to eat. It was then that things started to get a little bit hazy in my mind. I remembered that our conversation started to get delve into my father and his club. I remembered that I'd shared my fears about the club running heroin into town. It was after I'd told Chris what I'd learned that things started to get a little blurry. That my memories started to grow a little hazy.

Oh God. Someone had been listening in to us. They knew I knew about my dad's club running heroin through town.

“Let me speak to my dad,” I said, keeping my voice from rising somehow.