Somewhere in Spain
Taping the message took longer than Kira expected. When Jacques gave her the script, she wondered if she could sneak in extra information, Me and my three kidnappers, including one with black fingernails, who are not in Barcelona but still in Spain, but he tapped her cheek and said, “Read it exactly.”
Oh Jacques. Touchy, touchy.
They recorded in an upstairs bedroom. Scrupulously clean, the sheets tight over the mattress. No books, no clothes, no evidence of nationality or astrological sign or any human personality. So probably Jacques’s. A blackout shade taped over the window. Rodrigo stood in a corner, eyes roving over her. She wasn’t sure why Jacques had him here. Maybe an object lesson in what would happen to her if she didn’t make the tape.
Jacques made her record the script several times. Finally he seemed satisfied. He saved the file onto a flash drive, murmured under his breath to Rodrigo, and handed it over. Rodrigo trotted out. A minute later she heard the distinctive thrum of a motorcycle engine.
“Want him to take you for a ride?”
She didn’t bother answering.
“Hungry?” Jacques said. “I’m making panini.”
Her stomach was tight. She didn’t mind being hungry, but she wanted to stay strong and sharp.
Still, taking food from Jacques seemed like a bad idea. “It’s all right.”
“You think I’m going to drug you again? Why bother?”
“To move me more easily?”
“I don’t need to drug you anymore. Maybe I just tell you, I kill you if you run.”
Not this time You move me, I’m going for it. Kill me if you want.
“Or, no, you don’t listen, this time you plan to be brave. Okay, I tell you, we’re taking you to your family. Mommy, daddy, Tony.”
Rodrigo was her best bet for freedom, but Jacques was the one she wanted dead.
“But you decide you can’t trust me, you still want to run. Then I tell you if you try to escape, I kill them. Start with Tony, you make fun but you like him, I think. The back of the head, he never even feels it.” Jacques pointed a finger pistol at her, gotcha. “Would that work? Because that’s what I’m saying, if you try to run, your family dies.”
“Fuck you fuck you fuck you.” The words only betrayed her own weakness, she knew.
“I don’t think you mean it. Too bad. Come on, lunch. Jamón and Manchego. I’ll even make a deal, I cut it in half, you pick which half you want, I eat the other.”
Why not? She’d get to see more of the house, anyway. She nodded.
But he disappointed her. He locked her inside the closet, came back with the sandwich. Sure enough, he’d split it.
“Your choice.”
She pointed at his left hand.
“Wise.” He handed her the panini, chomped into the half she hadn’t chosen.
She couldn’t help feeling he was playing with her, somehow he’d known which side she’d pick and had laced it. But she’d picked on the spot. She nibbled at the sandwich. Which was as delicious as it sounded, hot, the cheese slightly salty, the ham rich with fat.
“Still nervous? We can switch.”
They traded. She took another nibble. “Thanks.” Her manners taking over before she could stop herself.
“I’m sorry about Rodrigo. You’re beautiful. But he needs to control himself.” Jacques smelled good, a peppery male musk she hadn’t expected. Of course Jacques wore the right scent, and of course he wore the right amount. She was suddenly conscious of how terrible she must smell.
“Why don’t you get rid of him?”
Jacques laughed, the sound dry, European somehow. “He has his uses. Tell me about yourself, Kira.”
She shook her head, You cannot be serious.
“Come on, just because we’re in this position doesn’t mean we can’t have a conversation.”
She snapped to reality.
“Go fuck yourself.”
He pushed her backward, stepped out of the closet, locked the door. In the dark she fell back to the wall, the only space in the house that belonged to her.
Only now that he’d left did she realize she hadn’t heard Lilly or anyone else downstairs since Rodrigo left. Jacques was alone. She could have waited at the door with the acetone and the lighter. Yet the idea hadn’t even occurred to her, he was so completely in control. He’d threatened to kill her family, and she’d thanked him for making her a sandwich. She threw the panini across the room. She’d starve before she took another bite.
Hours passed. The heat in the closet faded. The light leaking under the plywood faded. She didn’t relax at all. She’d realized why what Jacques had done bothered her.
Obviously he didn’t care about making her feel better. But she didn’t think he cared about frightening her either, or proving how smart he was. She wasn’t even an animal to him. She was just a thing he’d stolen for a while, until he gave it back or passed it on.
He was pure psychopath. She had to assume everything he did was strategic. Even toying with her. He had a reason. A plan. Why had he offered her food? Asked her about herself? To distract her, keep her off balance, as he readied his next move.
The light under the windowsill turned pink. Sunset. Night was coming.
Steps in the hall. She wondered if she should grab the acetone, but the person was moving too fast—
The deadbolt popped back. The light flipped on. Lilly.
“Up.”
“Missed you too, Lil.” Come and get me. Even without the nail or the acetone she was looking forward to getting in a couple of licks. Let them beat her afterward.
But Lilly was ready too. She reached behind her back, pulled out a little pistol with yellow tips. A Taser. No point in arguing. Lilly could brutalize her without even leaving marks. Kira stood.
“Good girl. Now take your clothes off.”
Kira raised her twin middle fingers. The gesture reminded her of her father somehow, he’d always liked Eminem, Put one of those fingers on each hand up…
“I’ll count three.” Lilly raised the Taser. “Take them off.”
“You flirting with me too? It’s getting old. And you’re not my type.”
“What an ego you have. Even now.” Lilly stuffed the Taser in the back of her waistband. “You’re taking a shower, you dumb bitch. You stink.”
You don’t want a shower, Rodrigo had said.
Because a shower meant they would be giving her to someone who wanted her clean.
Don’t fight. Don’t give her any excuse to come any closer. While the other two were busy flirting or mock-flirting with her, Lilly was canny enough to check the shelf, find Kira’s treasures.
Kira stepped out of her skirt and panties, pulled off her blouse and bra. Folded them neatly and piled them in the corner.
“Why do Americans hate your pubic hair so much? Like a child.”
Lilly led her into the bathroom, turned on the shower.
“Quick quick.” She pointed to a new pink disposable razor still in its package. “And shave your legs.”
They were almost insulting her, Kira thought. Did they think she wouldn’t understand the reason they wanted her to pretty up?
“If you don’t mind, I’ll watch. We wouldn’t want to lose the razor.”
Kira wondered if she could go for the Taser. But Lilly probably had combat training, too.
She showered. The water trickled out, but it was hot. Kira quickly scrubbed herself clean with the pale pink soap. Gave herself a coat of the generic shampoo and a dollop of conditioner. Shaved her legs and her pits. The purity of the hatred she felt surprised her. If someone had given her the chance to toss Lilly into a vat of acid, she would have taken it without a second thought.
“No more.”
Lilly wrenched Kira out. She barked her leg against the tub, sending a flare of pain down her shin.
Lilly shoved her into the hallway, water dripping off her, no towel. “Back in the cage, get dressed before you piss me off.”
Kira bit back her fury. Don’t give her any excuse to look around the closet.
The heat in the closet dried her quickly. Her leg ached and when she touched it she felt a bruise rising. Lilly would get in trouble for leaving a mark on the merchandise.
She heard the motorcycle rumble back. Voices downstairs, faint, then louder, then abruptly stopping. After another minute, a car engine, fading into the night. Had Jacques left? Lilly? Both of them?
She had to assume the recording for her parents had been a lie, a way to distract her. Jacques was selling her to the highest bidder. Maybe tonight, maybe in the morning. But soon. Either her parents hadn’t raised the money or Jacques planned to take it and sell her anyway. To a sheikh, an oligarch, who knew? She wouldn’t have believed such a man existed. But then she wouldn’t have believed she could be snatched out of a crowded club and made to vanish.
She remembered something Becks had said, years before. Act like prey, you’re prey.
Time to be a predator.
She reached up to the shelf.
She couldn’t find the bag where she’d hidden the nail, the lighter, and the bottle. She bit back her panic, tried again. There.
She brought them down, tucked the nail into the back of her panties. It dug at her. It felt good.
Time for a test. She had to be sure. She flicked the lighter. The flame glowed. She flicked it off, uncapped the bottle, poured a few drops of the precious clear liquid inside into the cap.
She waited. Listened. Heard a voice downstairs. Spanish. Maybe Rodrigo. Maybe the television. No one on the stairs, no one in the hall.
She flicked the lighter again, touched flame to the cap.
Watched as a fireball, tiny and perfect, flared up.
Come on, Rodrigo. You horny bastard. Come to me.