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“I need a blanket. A coat. Anything to warm him.”
Callisto breathes a sigh of relief at my decision to help the man he obviously cares for then opens a cabinet door and grabs a thick wool jacket while I look for the source of the blood. Part of me wonders if this is an after effect of the war Carlos was afraid of. But I don’t ask questions. I just do what he needs me to do.
We lay Jeeves on the floor behind Carlos’s desk, so I can use the lamp there as an additional source of light. I carefully remove the man’s shirt sleeve with a pair of scissors. Callisto kneels next to me as I inspect the man’s shoulder wound while applying pressure in his armpit. In all my time in urgent care, I’ve never had to remove a bullet, and I’m praying to God I don’t have to now.
It takes a bottle of vodka, some intense concentration, and a little time, but I finally get the bleeding under control. There are no signs of internal bleeding or blood in his lungs, so I’m comfortable sending him home to rest. The bullet went all the way through his shoulder, which wasn’t great for the blood flow but relieved me of having to locate and extract it. We get the evidence of our makeshift emergency room cleaned up with commercial floor cleaner and bleach. By the time we’re finished, no one would ever suspect half a gallon of blood was spilled all over this floor.
Carlos offers to drive the man, whom I now know as Charlie, home, and Callisto grabs my hand and leads me into his office.
As soon as the door closes behind us, he slams me against it and pulls my dress over my head. He took his shirt off earlier to help soak up some of Charlie’s bleeding, making it nearly impossible to concentrate.
“You have no fucking idea how sexy you are,” he says as he hurries to unbutton his pants.
I’m beginning to figure it out.
“You didn’t even question when I asked you to help. You just did what you do. With so much grace and poise. Never nervous. Never curious. You’re so fucking amazing. I could watch you all day.”
I guess he likes Makenna Taylor, DNP… Or maybe he’s had an obviously stressful evening. I’m more than happy to be his stress reliever.
“Remember when I told you I would never fuck you in this office?” he questions.
He’s successfully unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall to the floor. He steps out of them then spins me around so that my breasts press firmly against the hard surface of the door. He locks his fingers with mine and brings both of our hands above my head. This is my heaven, his body warm and hard against my back, his breath against my skin. His teeth nip at my shoulder as he speaks against my scorching flesh. “I lied.”
My head is throbbing… and heavy. So heavy that I’m struggling to hold it up. There’s music. It’s so loud. A man’s voice bounces off the walls in screaming echoes. Is that Eminem? My arms. I can’t move my arms.
Deep breaths, Makenna.
As I inhale, I realize the sweet smell is burnt into my nasal cavity. Oh God. Chloroform. I didn’t thinkthis actually happened in real life. Panic threatens to overcome me, and I’m fighting to stay calm. I draw in long, deep breaths through my nose because my mouth is covered with duct tape. My eyes flash wildly around the space. I’m in a garage. Or maybe a warehouse. I can’t tell. The bright fluorescent lights force me to squint as I look around at the bare gray cinder blocks.
The left strap of my white sundress is torn at the seam, but that’s the extent of any damage to my person. Thank You, God.
I look over my arms and legs, as much of them as I can see anyway, and note there are no bruises. No cuts. No scratches. Nothing.
Other than the fact that my wrists are strapped to the arms of a wooden chair in the middle of an empty room, and my ankles are bound together, there’s no indication of harm. Whoever did this to me must not have had much of a fight.
My mind races in a thousand different directions as I look for something, anything to get me out of here. I twist and turn my wrists in the restraints until the burn cuts so deep I nearly draw blood.
Think, Makenna. You can do it.
The last thing I remember is pulling into my driveway after Brynn’s birthday dinner and now here I am. In the center of an empty room. Tied to a chair. Surrounded by bright lights and loud music. The words of the song seem to be coming so fast I can hardly understand them. I feel disoriented and I’m starting to get cold. My bare feet brush against the concrete floor as I work to adjust myself in the seat. Oh God. I have to pee. As if things weren’t bad enough already.
How did I get here? Callisto has been treating me like I’m a priceless jewel since the day he told me about his family, never letting me out of his sight unless it’s to go to work. As we were leaving Brynn’s party, he got a phone call from a business owner about some trouble at one of their shops but promised to meet me at my house as soon as he finished handling it.
After all he’s been through, all he’s seen, I understand his need to be overprotective. But I’m a fighter. I’m a survivor. I’m strong. At least I thought I was. Strong people don’t end up in abandoned warehouses strapped to wooden chairs.
Was that a gunshot?
In an instant the room goes silent, and I’m surrounded by darkness. I close my eyes just as the tears silently spill over my cheeks. I’m very careful not to make a noise. I don’t even breathe. The sound of slow, heavy footsteps gets increasingly louder as they get closer.
I’ve always heard that right before you die, your life flashes in front of you. In this moment, with my eyes closed and tears steadily falling, I fight for those memories.
“Makenna? Baby, talk to me.”
That voice.
I start to say something but am quickly reminded of the tape over my mouth. I force a yell, muffled yet audible, from behind the barrier placed over my lips. The wooden chair creaks beneath my weight as I move around quickly to find him. My eyes strain to adjust to the darkness but fail. I need to see him. To know he’s okay. His footsteps have halted as if he’s trying to get a feel for where I am, so I try to guide him with my moans.
I feel his hand on top of my head and start to tremble. Fear begins to bubble its way from the pit of my stomach. Fear for Callisto. What if someone comes? What if they find him?
