Lenox
“You’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Petra pouts. She holds a glass of red wine by its stem, twirling it slowly. Her nails are painted the same dark burgundy as the Châteauneuf du Pape. My favorite.
I give her a warm smile and reach out for her free hand. “I can come back soon.”
“Good,” she nods. “But what about Joyful Justice? You never answered me.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if this has been a hard decision for me. “I can’t decide. Please, tell me more about what they are asking for, what they are claiming you’ve done.”
“Not me,” Petra says quickly. “I’m not on their radar.” How wrong she is…
“So, this is the McCain brothers you are trying to protect. And what would you have me do exactly?”
“We are forming a coalition…to stop them. We already have people in place.” Petra leans back, a satisfied smile coming onto her lips. I raise my brows, silently encouraging her to go on. But she shakes her head. “I can’t tell you anymore until you agree to join me.”
“But I can’t do that until you tell me more details.” I open my palms. This is obvious. “I’m a businessman, Petra, not a fighter. Joyful Justice has shown me no ill will.”
“But it is only a matter of time,” she protests, her voice going high.
“Have you taken action against them?” I ask. She drops her gaze but does not answer. And that is answer enough.
“Come,” I say. “Let us talk of other things. Enjoy our last evening together.”
Petra brings her eyes back to mine and gives me a warm smile. “Yes, lets.”
Later, once she is asleep, I draw my arm from where it rests at her waist and slip from under the silk sheets. Naked, I ease from the room in silence, headed toward my guest room. Goosebumps rise on my bare skin as the cool night air wraps around me.
Once in my own space, I dress in exercise clothing and lace up my trainers. I must check that dungeon in the woods.
The mansion is quiet except for the wind blustering at the windows, and I arrive at Petra’s office without seeing another soul. Moonlight spills in from the windows, lighting the room with its blue cast.
The mother of pearl box is where I last saw it. The beautiful object is smooth and cold against my fingers. I remove the key from its bed of velvet and slide it into my pocket, replacing the box and starting for the back door.
The sound of light footsteps freezes me in the study. Turning quickly I rush to the glass doors, which open to the garden and then beyond to the expansive yard bordered by the pitch-black forest.
“Lenox?” Petra’s voice stops me on the threshold.
I look back into the room at her. Green eyes glitter in the darkness as she holds her robe closed against the cold breeze blowing in.
Do I lie?
“What are you doing?” Her voice is as cold as the night and sharp as a blade. She will not believe me.
“Going for a walk. Would you like to join me?”
She frowns deeply. “Liar.” Moving toward a side table where a phone sits, she picks up the handset. I do not wait to hear who she calls. Turning to the night, I dash over the loose, white stones of the garden, bursting through the topiaries, hitting the yard at a full run.
The night envelops me, but the moon betrays me as it glows bright enough to see each blade of grass. The black line of trees promises sanctuary, and I run toward it.
The grass, wet with dew, soaks my sneakers and barking in the distance urges me forward. The rumble of an ATV engine joins the other sounds of pursuit as I hit the forest and begin to dash through the trees.
I leap a fallen log. I can just make out the entryway to the dungeon. The pale stone archway, with its moss-covered wooden door, glows softly under the moonlight.
The shouting grows louder. Do they know where I’m headed?
I veer off my path. The chances of the girl being there are slim—we’re a very long way from Texas. And, in any case, there is no time to save her now. I’ll have to come back. But as I sprint through the trees, branches whipping my face and lancing cuts into my skin, the key to the dungeon bouncing in my pocket with each stride, I know I must go back to find out for sure. If she’s their prisoner, they will move her or change the lock—I’ll lose my chance if I don’t do it now.
I’m thus pulled toward the dungeon, first my eyes and then my shoulders, followed by my waist and hips. My hand reaches out and grabs a tree trunk, spinning me around to face the prison. Then I’m sprinting toward it—toward that softly glowing beacon among the trees.
I skid to a halt in front of the dungeon and yank the key from my pocket, fitting it into the lock with unsteady hands. The deadbolt thunks back and I rip the door open, my eyes taking in only charcoal black—the darkness impenetrable.
I step in, closing the door behind me, and grope along the wall for a light switch. One quick flip and a caged bulb in the ceiling glows into a dull yellow. I’m in an anteroom; there is a shorter door with a bolt across it and a narrow barred window in front of me.
I hear scuffling on the other side.
“I’m here to help you,” I say.
More scuffling but no response. I pull the bolt back and ease open the door. We don’t have much time, but I must be careful—whoever is in there will be traumatized, and getting them to trust me is vital.
The pale light from the single bulb casts my shadow into the cell, long and wide and dark.
A figure presses against the far wall, black hair a tangled mess, eyes bright and wide with terror. “Stay back!” She holds out a bloody palm to warn me off. Her English is accented with a Texas twang. It really is George’s sister, Elsa!
“I won’t hurt you,” I promise, putting my palms in front of me.
She shakes her head, nostrils flaring. “Stay back!” her voice is high with fear and desperation. She has no weapons.
I could do whatever I wanted with her.
Taking a deep breath, I force my hands to relax, to lay limp at my sides. “I am a friend of your brother, George.”
Recognition flickers in her gaze. Her dirty tank top is stained with soot and smeared with rust-colored bloodstains. Elsa holds up a pair of tattered jean shorts with a white-knuckled fist. She’s lost weight.
“George sent you?” Her voice breaks a little, but she takes in a deep breath.
“Yes.”
She looks around the filthy room—there are seven bare mattresses. “They took the rest.” Her voice catches, and a tear breaks free from her red-rimmed eye, leaving a glistening trail as it slides down her soot-stained cheek. “What happened to them?”
“I don’t know.” She looks back up at me, her pale brown eyes almost yellow in the dim light. Under all the dirt and blood, she’s quite beautiful. So young. I hold my hand out to her. “Come, we must hurry.”
She steps closer and winces. Her feet are bare and bloodied. The forest will shred them. “Get on my back,” I say. “I’ll carry you.”
Her expression softens—the offer has won her over. She moves quickly now, and I hunch forward so that she can climb onto me. Her small hands grasp my shoulders. They are icy cold but grip with the strength of desperation. Her thighs hold my waist and her calves bounce against my thighs as I move back through the door.
Turning off the light switch, I step into the forest, closing the door behind us but not bothering to lock it.
Her grip tightens as we enter the night, her whole body shaking when a cool wind blows across us, carrying the sounds of dogs and our pursuers. I don’t bother trying to comfort her. We may be about to die.
I take off running, moving deeper into the forest. Branches claw at me and the extra weight of the girl slows my steps, but I forge on.
I hunch forward and run faster, my legs burning, my heart hammering. The girl whimpers and holds tighter. We have to make it. We just have to.
The trees tower above us, the darkness pitch black except for the lights of those hunting us bobbing like fireflies in the distance. My lungs burn, and my legs ache as I run, dodging branches as they come into focus. I fail to avoid half of them and they rip at my clothing, slicing my skin, snatching at me—almost as if they are trying to slow us down.
The girl on my back is thin, and I can feel her bones against me. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and her thighs continue to grip my waist. She is exhausted and beaten but has not given up.
There is a farm on the far side of the woods, and I am hoping to find horses or some form of transportation. A pickup truck with the keys in the ignition.
Dogs bay behind us, their voices cutting through the forest soundscape—alien and dangerous. They have our scent. Her blood must be in the air, the welts and scabs and stink of her a thick and pungent trail.
My body is coated in sweat. I'm running for my life and for hers. I cannot give up. A root catches my foot, and I stumble forward, my hands reaching into the darkness for purchase. The girl lets out a whimper and her grip on me tightens. My palm smacks into a tree, and I use it to steady myself, then push myself off it, my pace quickened by the rev of an engine behind us.
The pale green of a field under moonlight twinkles through the trees. My already hammering heart beats even faster at the sight…the anticipation of escape.
The revving engine is growing closer. There are quads in the woods. Faster than me, but not as agile in the thick trees. But once we reach that open field...
At the tree line, I pause, looking out into the waving blades of wheat. The farmhouse, squat with a thatched roof and stone walls, is dark. The barn, twice its size, hunkers behind it.
There must at least be a plow horse in there.
The girl slides off my back, landing on her injured feet with a grunt of pain. Her hand grips my bicep, as if she is afraid to lose me. I turn to look at her and though her face is shadowed, I can see that her lower lip is pulled between her teeth.
"Will they catch us?" she asks in a whisper.
"No," I promise her. "We'll head to that barn. Stay low. We are most exposed here in the wheat, but if we stay low enough they shouldn't be able to see us." My whole body is tingling now that we are still.
An engine rumbles closer, and she trembles. "Come on." I take her hand in mine and tug gently, crouching down so that my head is beneath the fluttering tips of the grasses. She follows me, her size making it easier for her to hide.
We move quickly, our exhaustion not as deep as our fear. Her fingers twined with mine are delicate and thin. She is just a child. Anger bubbles in my chest. How could Petra do this? Even if she believes that Joyful Justice is wrong, how could she justify taking this innocent girl captive?
The barn looms up before us, the doors closed, but the soft sounds of animals make their way to us. We have to dash across an open lawn to reach it. We pause before making the break for it. Elsa squeezes my hand and I nod once, then sprint, pulling her behind me across the open space. Please let the darkness shield us from the eyes of our pursuers.
We reach the barn door and I push it aside, opening it only as far as we need to slip through. The scent of hay and animal musk fills my senses as we step into the dark warmth. I quickly close the door behind us.
Blinking, I wait for my eyes to adjust. The girl's hand stays locked in mine. Animal hooves shift in hay. A soft whinny of concern rises from a nearby stall.
The animals know that strangers have entered their home. But these are domesticated creatures. Their fear is not that of the hunted.
The girl leaves me, her footsteps silent as she moves down the aisle, whispering quietly. "Shh, it's okay. It's just us. We won't hurt you."
I can barely make out her form, a black shadow in the darkness. A horse's head leans over a stall, the white star on its forehead visible as it reaches for her palm. It sniffs her, breath loud in the quiet of the barn, then bends forward, allowing her to pet its long snout.
The horse is large, a draft breed gelding meant for labor in the field so it should be able to carry both of us. I feel along the walls, searching for a bridle, but find only a halter and rope.
It will have to do. I approach slowly and the horse whinnies, his eyes widening in fear.
The girl whispers to it calmly, reaching out and soothing it with her palm. I hand her the halter, and she slips it easily over the giant horse's head. Unlatching the stall, she leads him forward.
The horse’s tail is cropped short, and his back reaches to my shoulders.
I look around for a mounting block but there is none. There is no saddle. The girl stands on her tiptoes and grabs a fistful of mane. I lean down and boost her up. The horse whinnies and shakes his head but does not protest further.
The other side of the barn leads toward a dirt road that can take us into the village. There is more forest on the far side of the road and we could enter there and hide in its darkness but the dogs would find us…
I cross back to the door we came in through and peek out the narrow opening.
There are lights dancing at the edge of the forest.
We are out of time.
I hurry back to the horse and, taking it by the halter, lead it to the far door. Pushing it aside, I move us out into the night.
Cool air hits the drying sweat on my body, and a shiver runs through me, raising goosebumps. The girl whispers to the horse and it nickers, bobbing its head.
I look up at her, and it occurs to me that I should let her go. She and that giant horse could get away faster without me on its back, increasing the load. But she could never navigate her way out of the country.
She needs me.
I take a deep breath and look around, seeing a fenced pen for pigs. Leading the horse over, I climb onto the fence and then onto the horse's back, settling behind the girl. My arms around her waist, both gripping the mane tightly, we move forward. I can hear the engines of the quads as they zip across the field, and she urges the horse into a trot as we reach the dirt road.
They still can't see us, as we are shielded by the barn, but that won’t last long. “To the forest,” I whisper. She pulls at the makeshift reins, and the horse enters the trees, finding an animal path and breaking into an easy lope.
Can they see us? Or does the darkness hide us still?
They have dogs, lights, and the speed of engines. But we have stealth, darkness, and the will to survive.