Chapter eighteen
GRACE CHAMBERS
“A black limo just parked behind your car,” Stephania gushes with her nose pressed to our living room window.
I’m standing at the island in our kitchen, hurriedly changing my purse selection for the millionth time.
At her words, I frantically empty my small wallet, mascara, cell phone and keys onto the hard surface and grab the desired clutch.
“Do you want me to walk you down?” Stephania offers and I can hear the excitement in her voice.
You’d think she was the one being swept off to a ball tonight. She’d fussed over me for hours, attending to my hair and make-up as if she’d been appointed my fairy godmother for the night.
I absentmindedly deny her offer as I continue to transfer my things to the smaller bag, remembering Jameson’s very clear instructions for the evening.
“The car will be there at 7:15 sharp, okay? Black limo, the driver’s name is Ernest. He will come to your door. Don’t go downstairs alone, he will come to your door and escort you to the car. Got it?”
I’d agreed, nodding even though it was impossible for him to see me through the phone.
I scoop up my keys as a knock sounds on the front door. I hurriedly toss them into my clutch.
At the door, I peek through the peephole and see a tall man in a black tuxedo and chauffeur hat.
My eyes travel down the front of him until I spot a name tag with “Ernest” in black typeface.
Confidently, I pull open the door and smile.
“Ms. Chambers. I have orders from Mr. Wilcox to collect you for the evening. I’m Ernest and I’ll be your driver.”
“Of course, give me just a second and we’ll be off.”
I turn to go say goodbye to Stephania but I don’t have to walk far. She’s standing right there near the entrance.
Smiling eagerly, she readjusts one of the pins in my hair and shoos me out of the door with air kisses, requesting that I take lots of pictures.
*****
Twenty minutes into the ride, I reach into my purse to touch up my lipstick.
Right away, I notice the empty space where my phone should be and I curse under my breath.
Done with the lipstick, I close my clutch and settle back in for the ride. We should only be about another twenty minutes away from Jameson’s place by now.
Though Jameson was hesitant, we’d agreed that I would get picked up first because it wouldn’t make sense for the driver to crisscross around town.
We could go directly from Jameson’s house to the expressway leading to the hotel where the ball is being held.
Brimming with excitement to see Jameson in his uniform for the first time, I clasp my hands in my lap and study the opulent interior of the limousine.
My eyes trace over the leather seating, the bar adorned with crystal glasses and finally the privacy screen.
Then my thoughts wander to the silent driver.
Ernest is a man of very few words. Since escorting me to the car, he hasn’t made a peep.
As we round a corner, I frown out of the window not recognizing my surroundings.
Though the windows are tinted pitch black, I don’t pick up on any of the landmarks along the route that I’ve become familiar with in the last couple months.
With my forehead pressed against the window, my frown deepens as I take in the long, empty road stretching before us.
I have no idea where we are.
Had we turned east after leaving my house? West?
The answers to those questions aren’t forthcoming but the dread creeping into my veins is.
With a shaky fist, I tap on the privacy screen and wait for a response.
When the window slides down, I meet the driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
“I think we’re headed in the wrong direction.”
Ernest seems to chew on my observation for a while before a nasty grimace takes over his features.
He looks entirely different than the man who picked me up half an hour ago.
Finally, he speaks in a deep, raspy drawl that makes me shiver.
“We aren’t lost, Ms. Chambers. We’re actually on the fastest route to Ravenwood.”
The name of my hometown drowns me in fear.
There’s only one reason he would be taking me there. But I ask anyway, my voice stronger than I feel.
“Why are we going to Ravenwood?”
“I know you’re not as stupid as you look, Ms. Chambers. Do the math,” he taunts evilly.
Brick.
The blood in my veins ices over as the weight of his words sink in.
How the hell am I supposed to get out of this?
I reach over and test the door handle. Cursing when I realize child safety locks are in place, I try a different tactic.
“Stop this car right now or I’ll call the fucking cops,” I bluff.
Ernest smiles faintly at my empty threat and keeps driving. He shakes his head at me.
“Not going to work on me, princess. That smart mouth may go over well with your little boyfriend but I don’t give a damn. He couldn’t get the job done so I’m doing it.”
I don’t have time to process anything he’s saying. My mind can only focus on exit strategies.
“Pull over the car, you slimy piece of shit. Do you feel good hunting down innocent people in the name of a check?” I snarl at him.
Hatred is ripping through me along with a dizzying dose of adrenaline.
The driver ignores my taunting but I continue hurling insults at him, not sure where my courage is coming from.
But I refuse to shut up. If I stop talking, I know I will have nothing left. I have to talk myself out of this.
Some way, somehow.
“What a fucking lowlife. I actually feel sorry for you.”
His eyes flash annoyance before he pulls a risky move and swerves, coming to an abrupt stop on the side of the road.
“Enough out of you,” he growls. I see him grab a pile of rope and duct tape from the passenger’s seat before abandoning the driver’s seat, leaving the car running.
He’s going to gag me and restrain my hands.
I turn to face the door as he pulls it open and I seize the only opportunity I may have.
With my spiked heel aimed at his crotch, I jerk my leg towards him sending him backwards.
“Fucking bitch!” he swears, stumbling away.
Unsteady on his feet, he sways before bending at the waist.
With him temporarily out of commission, I jump out of the back of the car with my left fist balled up around the keychain that Jameson gave me and the right open wide, palm twitching for my next move.
When he moves towards me, I slap him hard across the face. The action barely rattles him and he lunges towards me on the side of the road.
I side step him quickly but his arms are too wide. He slams me against the trunk of the car and fiery pain shoots through me from head to toe.
Panting heavily, I try in vain to raise my leg and kick him in the balls again, but he’s too quick. He knocks down my raised knee as if he’s swatting a fly.
Strong hands find their way around my neck and panic sets in. He tightens his grip until I’m forced to lean backwards over the trunk of the car.
As my oxygen supply diminishes, I know I don’t have much time to act.
I’ll be unconscious soon if he maintains his death grip.
Reaching up with my right hand, I try like hell to pry his meaty fingers from around my throat but his hold is unrelenting.
Left with no other choice, I slam my left fist with the keychain’s knife extended against the side of his face with all the might I still possess.
The first blow seems inconsequential but the second strike causes his grip around my neck to falter.
I suck in a deep breath, thankful for the slight reprieve.
Recovering from the blow, he tightens his grip as blood begins to trickle down the side of his face, evidence of my effort.
“You little bitch,” he breathes heavily, leaning down so that we’re eye level.
Hocking up saliva, I spit in his unsuspecting face. “You’re the bitch,” I snap back.
Disgusted, he lets go of me and I move in for the kill.
Blind with rage, I drive my left fist hard into his face several times and watch the blood as it starts to flow more heavily.
He’s crying out in pain at my attack and for the first time I’m happy that not a single car has passed since he pulled over.
With another sharp kick from my spiked heel, he falls to his knees and I run for my escape.
Dropping the bloodstained keychain to the ground, I race around the car and climb into the driver’s seat before he can gather his wits.
Throwing the car into drive, I speed off into the night.