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With my heart pounding heavily in my chest, I realize every second here counts if I’m going to escape with success. Judging by the impatient tone of the man, I know he means business, and I’m not fond of the idea of him getting his way. I don’t understand why this is happening to me, of all people; I have nothing to do with anything. I’m more confused as to what my father could be wrapped up in that’s so bad. Why would they feel the need to use me as leverage? Panic begins clawing its way back into my chest, choking me. Breathe, pull it together, girl. You have to think, Jules.
I swallow hard, working desperately to shake off the fear, allowing my fight-or-flight instincts to kick in. I need to get out of here and find a safe hiding place to hole up in until this blows over. Once I’m safe, I’ll call my father, and he can help sort this out. He’ll know what to do; he has to. I talk to myself as my feet begin to move silently away from the danger. Just pretend it’s a game, just like old times, sneaking around the house playing spy for fun.
Moving swiftly and stealthily through the dark shadows of the house, I avoid all the noisy pitfalls in the floorboards. Soon, the kitchen door in the back of the house is within my sights. I stop, frozen in my tracks when I hear a strangled sound coming from the dark shadows of the kitchen. My brows knit together in confusion; it’s the sound of someone in pain. I slowly turn to find the source of the noise and lose my breath.
“Jake!” I whisper loudly, and I find myself by his side. I’m on my knees, hovering over his body, feeling for where he hurts. “What’s going on, Jake? Where are you hurt?” I’ve lost track of why I’m even in the kitchen at this point. Jake is my only concern right now.
Jake grabs my wrist and squeezes it almost painfully. “Run...Jules,” he croaks out in a whisper.
I shake my head. “No, Jake, I’m not leaving you.” My heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Can you walk? Are you shot?” He lets out a pained grunt and squeezes my wrist harder until I whimper in pain. “You’re hurting me, Jake.”
“Just run, Jules,” he growls out. “Shit’s going to get ugly. I can take care of myself.” He releases my wrist, and I just stare at him in shock. “If you trust me, you’ll listen.” When I just sit there stunned and wide-eyed at what I’m seeing and hearing, he barks at me, “Run, dammit!”
I shake my head, clearing the foggy haze. Instead of running, I try lifting him up. I grunt. Dammit, he’s too heavy. “You always were a stubborn little shit. I’ll be fine; I promise, but you won’t be if you don’t get the fuck out of here!” I’ve heard my dad say the f-bomb all the time, but never Jake.
“You promise me?” I whisper shakily.
The muscles in his jaw flex as he speaks through clenched teeth, “Yes, I promise. Now for God’s sake, run for the fucking hills, girl.”
“I love you, Jake.”
He murmurs a curse word then says, “I love you…now go!”
I lean down and give him a gentle kiss on his forehead before I slowly start to get up on shaky legs. I find my body moving away from him on his command. My mind is in total conflict. I don’t want to leave him, and this is gutting me. Jake has never lied to me before, and I have to believe he will be fine. I try rationalizing it; I can’t help him if I’m caught. Yes, that’s it: I will go and get help.
With a renewed purpose, I slip to the backdoor, reaching out for the doorknob with a shaky hand. Just as I open the door, I hear Jake yell. Before I can turn around to check on him, it’s too late. It feels as if a hulk of a man has encased my small body from behind, slamming his hand violently down over my mouth, preventing me from screaming. I can feel the pressure of the screams backing up in my throat. Silent muffles no one can hear but me are locked down tight. I can’t even swallow; my throat has constricted itself so tightly. Despite his iron grip on my body, I kick and thrash; I am not going down without a fight. Where in the hell are all the other bodyguards? I think, outraged as I’m dragged back through the hallway from where I’d spied.
I know we’ve reached the threshold of the front door when the hot, humid, southern air assaults my senses. I begin to kick and thrash harder in a final attempt to get free. In my adrenaline-induced panic, I almost breakaway. The man is forced to let go of my mouth to get a better hold on me. My diaphragm finally releases every suppressed scream in one fell swoop, piercing through the calm night air.
