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“What do you think He’s saying?” Nicole’s voice quivered with emotion. “Whatever it is, I can’t hear it.”
“Start with Ephesians 5:22.”
Daniel wanted to throw up his hands and surrender. Surely Pastor Wilson knew Nicole well enough to realize this strategy wouldn’t work. She was too independent to be the submitting type.
“Wives, submit to your husbands?” The disdain in her voice told Daniel he was right on the mark. “So you think God intends for me to be miserable the rest of my life because my husband is married to his job? Tell me He isn’t that cruel.”
His job would no longer be a problem. Now was the time to tell her. “I gave no—”
“Wait, Daniel, let me finish and then you’ll get a turn,” Pastor Wilson interrupted. “That’s not the whole passage, and I suspect you know it. Both of you.” He picked up the open leather-bound Bible on his desk, adjusted his glasses, and read, ‘Husbands love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and give Himself up for her.’ It’s a two-way street. Relationships take work and sacrifice. When you start thinking of what your spouse wants and needs first, you’ll find the love you once felt for each other.”
Which was exactly what Daniel had done—a little late, but better than never. He opened his mouth to tell them. A sneeze shook him, and then another. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry.” Dizzy, he reached for a tissue box. The room rocked. His body swayed. Swallowing against swelling nausea, he stood. He needed to get to a bathroom.
“Daniel, are you okay?” Nicole’s voice sounded distant and oddly distorted.
He couldn’t answer. If he opened his mouth, he would vomit. He took one step, teetered. The rattling of his bones and the crack of his head against the wooden floor told him he hadn’t made it to the door.
“Daniel! Daniel?” Nicole crouched next to him, her cool hand on his face. He wanted to grab it and hang on, but his limbs were too heavy to lift. Nicole’s face wavered over him. “You’re burning up.”
Darkness seeped in around her face. Daniel fought to keep from losing consciousness.
“I quit my—” the rest of the words sounded garbled to his own ears.
He couldn’t remember what he was saying. Then he couldn’t say anything at all.
* * *
Pain.
Benny’s neck hurt where the hands had tightened. He tried to take a deep breath, but his nose was swollen, making it hard to get any air. His lip was bleeding. He could taste the blood in his mouth. He had cried until no tears were left. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t a crybaby, but it hurt. It hurt so much he was still rolled up in a ball in the dark, little hurt sounds coming out of his mouth. He tried to stop, but he couldn’t.
Mr. Daniel would come get him. Soon. Benny was sure of it. The man had brought the phone in, and Mr. Daniel had heard him. He would know, and he would come soon.
The man sounded very mad. He threw things around, yelled, slammed doors. Benny tried to move. He needed to go to the bathroom, and his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten anything since the hot dog.
A banging sound. He wanted to cry again. No more crying. The door swung open. A bright light blinded him.
“Get up, boy. Get up now. We gotta go.”
The man grabbed him by one arm and dragged him to his feet. Pain shot through his arm and shoulder. “Mister, please, please, don’t hurt me anymore.”
“I ain’t gonna hurt you, boy. Leastwise, not if you do what you’re told. Don’t try nothing stupid again.” The man lifted Benny up and threw him over his shoulders so his head dangled. Benny squirmed and tried to look around. The guy had messed up the place even more. A lamp lay on its side. Things were broken like the man had smashed them.
A crashing sound rang through the living room, banging, the sound of wood ripping. The man grabbed the gun from the waistband of his jeans.
Benny sailed through the air. His skull cracked against the wall with a popping sound. The scream that hurt his ears came from his own mouth.
He struggled to sit up. His hands were tied, and he couldn’t get his balance. He teetered for a second and then smashed to one side. Tears filled his eyes. Pain pounded through his ear and up the side of his face, filling his eye sockets.
A huge man dressed in army pants and a green shirt with no sleeves filled the space in the living room. A big gun with a long barrel hung from one hand. Benny froze. He wanted to crawl away and hide, but his legs wouldn’t move. His heart banged inside him, the sound loud in his ears.
The guy who said he was Benny’s dad dove behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.
The big brown man swerved from side to side, training the gun in one direction and then the other, like he was hunting an animal. “Morin! Get your butt out here.” The man sounded like he was trying not to be mad. But Benny was sure he was mad. Very mad. “We gotta talk,ese. Time to pay up. I ain’t gonna hurt you, Juice. We just gonna do business.”
His kidnapper had a name. Juice Morin. Benny didn’t have too much time to think about how weird the name was. The man had his finger on the trigger. His black eyes glowed. He smiled a little smile under his bushy mustache.
He clomped forward three steps. He was even with Benny now, but he didn’t look down. Benny stared at the black, shiny combat boots.Please don’t look down. Please don’t look down.“Get out here, Morin. Don’t make me get mad. Cops came to my house. I think you got something to do with that,ese. We need to talk about it. Barrera is tired of waiting. He wants his product. Or his money. You got to pay up. Time is up. Give me his stuff or give me the money. Your choice.”
