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My head feels fuzzy and there’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears. When I try to open my eyes, there’s nothing but blackness. For a second, I worry maybe I’ve gone blind, but when I breathe in, I feel a heavy fabric brush against my face. There’s something covering my face, obscuring my vision. I try very hard not to panic, but that’s difficult when I have no idea where I am.
This is really bad. Really freaking bad. Binge-watching TV on the couch for years has not prepared me for this. Every time someone has been kidnapped in a show or movie, they’ve either had the skills to get out, or there was someone coming after them. Or they died.
No, I can’t think like that. I refuse to think like that. The fabric over my head feels heavy, which makes the hot air from my breath swirl around me. If I start to hyperventilate, I’ll likely pass out in a minute. If there’s one thing I do know how to do, it’s how to control my breathing. I take slow, deep breaths and let them out evenly, calming my heartrate.
Even so, I can’t stop the panicked thoughts that race through my mind. What the hell was I thinking? I truly underestimated how badly someone wants me. A shiver runs through my spine when I think about what my kidnapper could want from me, but I force myself to stay still and focus on my breathing.
I’m so mad at myself, and I’m a little mad that Bones was right. There was no winning in this situation, but this is definitely the worst-case scenario. He’s going to be livid when he finds out, but will he still care enough to come find me? Does he even have the resources? Beating up an asshole who tried to grab me in the parking lot is one thing, but I have no idea where I am. I can’t count on him coming to rescue me.
I’m forced to think about the fight we had when he found out who I really was.
“If something happens to you, I’m going to be the first person your father investigates.” His words echo through my brain. “People have seen us together, they probably know I’ve been staying with you. I’m not going down for that because he’s pissed off every gang member in New Orleans.”
“Oh, he’s pissed off every gang member?” I’d asked, feeling furious about his revelation that he was part of the Ruthless Kings. “How do I know that you’re really here to protect me then? For all I know, you’ve set this all up so you can look like some freaking hero.”
“Fuck you, Melissa,” he’d seethed. “I have never lied to you. I’ve never hidden who I was. I’ve asked you multiple times why someone is trying to hurt you, and you’ve never been able to give a reason. I can give you a million reasons why someone might hurt me. Where do you want to start?”
“You didn’t tell me you were part of a gang, James. How is that any different from me not telling you who my father is?” I’d nearly screamed at him. “We are exactly the same, the difference is, you don’t have any capacity to forgive.”
“The difference,” he’d started, his voice getting deathly low, “is that your father just took down one of the most dangerous gangs in the city. Were you aware?”
“Of course, I’m aware,” I spat. “I’m not completely out of the loop, I heard about the takedown.”
“And you really think they got every one of the Reapers?” he stated, a humorless mirth in his eye. “You go to bed at night feeling safe that Daddy got those monsters all off the street. Let me tell you something about gangs, sweetheart, they tend to scatter when there’s trouble. I’d bet my left nut that there’s half a dozen guys out there just waiting for the first opportunity they can get to get their hands on you.”
“You give them a lot of credit,” I’d said, more bravely than I felt. “I changed my name nearly a decade ago, I’ve never been associated with my father’s campaign. Is it common for gangs to have those kinds of resources?”
“Our does,” he’d said with a shrug, a sick smirk on his face. “How do you think I found out the truth? Sure, it took our guy a couple days, but he figured it out. Don’t underestimate your enemies.”
“So you’re admitting you’re my enemy?” I’d sneered at him.
“No,” he answered with a sad smile. “I’m admitting that I know your enemies a lot better than you do. So I hope you’re used to me sleeping on your couch, because I’m not going anywhere until we know who’s trying to do this to you.”
God, I was so naïve. I really believed that I was untouchable. I love my father, but I never wanted to share his spotlight. It was something I was simply not interested in. He ran for a few small offices when I was young, and it became clearer and clearer to me that he had a bigger goal in mind.
I was in high school the first time I realized, without a doubt, that my father had ambitions to become mayor one day. We were learning about local government positions and the way small governments are set up compared to federal ones. I could clearly see his career trajectory set up in front of me, and I felt sick. I went home that day and told him that I would never speak to him again if he ran for mayor.
It was the worst fight we’d ever had. He was so hurt that I was stomping on his dreams. He said he wanted to do this to benefit our family, to build a legacy that we could enjoy for decades. I kept my word, ignoring him for days before my mom finally made us break the silence. She called in a therapist to make us work out our differences.
I realized then that it really wasn’t fair for me to make my dad choose between me and his political aspirations. Still, I was almost eighteen, and just because I was okay with him pursuing his dreams didn’t mean I wanted any part of them. With my parents’ blessing, I went to the courthouse and went through the process of legally changing my name to my mother’s maiden name.
It wasn’t an easy decision to come to. As an only child, it really broke my dad’s heart for a while. But that was my compromise. He could keep me in his life and run for mayor as long as I didn’t have to take any part in it. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight or to deal with the backlash of his decisions.
Fat lot of good it did, obviously. My captors, whether the Bayou Reapers or someone else, clearly figured out how to get to me. They didn’t care that I’d changed my name. They probably wouldn’t care if I had no relationship with my father. The way they see it, family is weakness. Family is leverage.
That brings me a little peace, oddly enough. That’s what these people are after, most likely. If they kill me, they’re probably political terrorists trying to make a statement. But if that were the case, they wouldn’t have kidnapped me. They would have killed me in a very graphic, very public manner to show my dad that he isn’t safe and no one he loves is safe. They need me for leverage.
If it is the Bayou Reapers, the answer is pretty simple, isn’t it? They’ll use me to negotiate the release of their fellow gang members. It will be a simple trade in their eyes, but I can’t see my dad going for that. He loves me with his whole heart, but this was a career-defining move for him. That kind of crackdown could get him elected to state senate. He’ll work with police or the FBI to bring me home, but it might be too late for that. If the Reapers are as dangerous as Bones indicated, they’ll kill me before they let the negotiation break down.
If not, they’ll probably torture me. Cut off my fingers one by one and ship them to my dad as proof that I’m still alive. Just to be sure, I flex my fingers and I can feel all ten still. I’d really like to keep it that way.
“Look who’s awake,” someone whispers, and they sound far away. Maybe across the room I’m in.
“It’s about time,” someone else grunts. “I was worried I’d put too much chloroform on that rag.”
He’s the man who grabbed me, clearly. I try hard to remember anything about him. I remember the first man who attacked me so clearly. He’s played prominently in my nightmares over the last few weeks. The man who followed me in the club is hazier, as I was slightly drunk. But I’m sure that this man isn’t him either. There wasn’t much time to look at him before he knocked me out, but I’m fairly certain that it’s a third man.
Maybe it’s better that I don’t know what he looks like. They always say if you know what they look like, you know too much. That’s a surefire way to end up leaving this place in a body bag.
