Chapter Twenty-Three

Zoe

I sit on the couch in my darkened living room, listening to the rain beating against the window, and watching the flashes of lightning briefly illuminate the world outside. It's beautiful. I've always enjoyed thunderstorms. But, the somber mood it inspires is pretty fitting for where I'm at mentally right now.

It took some serious balls for Connor to come over here, knowing that I found out about his dirty little secret. I'm disgusted. I never would have thought he was like that. Never in a million years. He just doesn't seem the type.

But then, I didn't know him during his “rock god” days. And given some of the stories I've heard about big stars like that, I guess it shouldn't surprise me. He certainly wouldn't be the first and he won’t be the last.

That doesn't mean though, that I have to be okay with that. Or want somebody who would do that in my life.

Soft jazz music is playing over my sound system as tears roll down my face and I wipe them away angrily. My heart feels like it's been torn into a million little pieces. First, all the crap with my father and Bryant, and now finding out that Connor isn't who – or what – I thought he was, is really weighing me down. It's messing with my mind as well as my emotions.

I hadn't seen a single indication that he already had a child. None. Had I just been so caught up in him that I was blind to it?

“There were none,” I say to my empty condo.

Nothing at all.

My cell phone rings and I let out a long sigh. It’s probably Connor trying to reach me. Again. He's called about a thousand times tonight. You'd think he'd take a hint that right now is not the time to be pestering me.

Snatching the phone up off the couch, I look at the display and see that it's coming from a blocked number, not Connor. Of course, it's possible that it still is Connor, but something tells me it's not.

Connecting the call, I hold the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Zoe Nichols?'

I don't recognize the voice, but it's low and gravelly. Something about it sends a chill slithering along my skin.

“Who is this?” I ask, grimacing at the nervous tremor in my voice.

There is silence on the other end of the line – though I know whoever it is hasn't hung up yet. I can hear him breathing. A crack of thunder overhead is powerful enough to rattle the windows of my condo and set off a car alarm in the parking lot below.

The mysterious caller still isn't speaking and I'm starting to get really creeped out. I'm on the verge of hanging up when something occurs to me. Something that makes my pulse begins to race and nausea rise up in my belly. My mouth goes completely dry and knots in my stomach constrict painfully, making me wince as I strain my ears and listen even harder.

I realize that on the other end of the line, I can hear the echo of the car alarm that's going off in the background. Meaning, whoever the mysterious caller is, he's standing in the parking lot below my condo. Quickly disconnecting the call, I jump up and run to the window, trying to peer through the darkness and the rain to the parking lot below.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

Below me on the sidewalk, I see two men coming up the walkway toward my building. At least, I think I do. It could be shadows. It could be my mind playing tricks on me because I'm scared. The only thing I know for sure is that whoever just called me was not Connor, and they were in the parking lot of my building. And the way he called me made it seem like he was checking to make sure I was home – not because he wanted to drop by for a friendly chat.

That's enough to get me moving.

Still in my yoga pants and t-shirt, I grab my tennis shoes and throw them on before snagging a coat out of my closet. Running to the door, I press my eye to the peephole and let out a silent word of thanks seeing that the hallway beyond is empty. Grabbing my bag and my keys, I step out and close the door behind me before running to the elevator.

“Oh shit,” I say, the panic beginning to rise up in me.

The elevator is on its way up and I know in my gut that it's whoever just called me. Who are they? What do they want? There are so many questions and not enough answers. My heart is thundering in my chest and there's so much adrenaline flowing through my veins that I'm trembling.

I watch the lights as the car passes the second floor and continues to ascend to the third. To my floor. Whoever is in that car is coming for me. I can feel it. Turning, I run to the door that leads to the staircase and yank it open. I step through just as I hear the chime as the elevator doors open, letting the door slam shut behind me.

I start running down the stairs as quickly as I can. When I'm a flight down, I hear the door above me bang open and hear two sets of footsteps on the stairs behind me.

“Zoe,” I hear a voice – the voice of the man on the phone. “Get your ass back here. Stop running.”

Yeah, like that's going to do the trick. That'll make me stop. Sure thing, buddy. Terror driving me on, I plunge headlong down the stairs, almost falling a couple of times. Thankfully, I managed to avoid taking a spill and hit the ground floor landing. The two men are still a flight behind, so I throw open the door and run out into the rain, heading for my car.

Using my remote, I unlock it and start the engine before I even jump in. Thank God for modern technology. Jumping in behind the wheel, I slam the door and lock it. Turning my head, I see the two men in dark hoodies crossing the parking lot. Coming for me. I throw the car in reverse and jam the accelerator, forcing both men to jump aside to avoid getting run over.

I put the car in gear and mash the accelerator again, my tires spinning on the wet pavement for a moment before they catch, and I shoot out of the parking lot at a high rate of speed, leaving both of them behind.

I rocket out into the night, the rain beating down so hard on the windshield, the wipers are having a hard time keeping up. I squint and strain my eyes to see through the mess ahead. Not wanting to wreck, and feeling a little more secure that I left the two men behind, I slow down a bit.

A peal of thunder rumbles overhead and is quickly followed by a flash of lightning that lights up the world around me. It's in that sudden flare of illumination that I see the man sitting in my back seat. I cry out and slam on the brakes, screeching to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Those two men will be in their car and on your tail in no time,” he says. “I would suggest you continue driving. In fact, you might want to get off this two-lane road and find someplace a little more – urban. If possible.”

The man speaks with such a cool, calm detachment that it's chilling. He doesn't seem particularly threatening, but the fact that he's a strange man sitting in my car in the dark is terrifying. Especially after I was just pursued by two other strange men. The way he said, “those two men,” however, makes me think he's not with them.

So, there are two separate groups of people after me? What in the hell is going on?

“Who the fuck are you?” I shout, my fear quickly morphing into outright panic.

“My name is Zane,” he says. “And I'm here to get you somewhere safe.”

“Who are those other guys then?”

“Ms. Nichols,” he says, his voice still calm, “we need to go. Those two men will be on us soon. We need to get ourselves out of sight. Please. Drive.”

“I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers,” I scream.

“You'll get the answers you require soon enough,” he says in that cold, monotone voice that's really starting to piss me off. “And trust me when I say, you do not want those men catching up with us. You will not like what happens.”

There's a certainty in his voice that makes me nervous. As terrified as I am about this man being in my car, I somehow know that I have more to fear from the other two. Throwing the car back into gear, I punch the accelerator and rocket off into the darkness ahead.

I look in the rearview and thankfully don't see headlights on the road behind me. Yet. I steal a glance at the man. His hair is stark white – bleached, rather than natural. He's got cool, pale skin, and dark, mysterious eyes. I’m pretty sure he's of Asian descent.

He radiates calm but inspires panic in me. And yet, I don't get the feeling that he's here to hurt me. I can't explain it – it makes no sense, even to me. But for some reason, I almost feel like he is here to help keep me – safe. If he'd wanted to hurt me, I think he would have by now. The fact that he's trying to keep those other two men – men I am positive were there with evil intentions – from getting their hands on me makes me feel better about the situation.

Only slightly though.

“W – where are we going?” I ask.

“You will see soon enough,” he says. “Take the next right.”

I do as he says, mostly because I don't have any choice. I don't know what this man's true intentions are. My mind is spinning, and my heart is racing as fear and anger both bubble up within me.

“Do you have a gun?” I ask.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Why do you have a gun?”

“In my line of work, it's necessary,” he says.

“You're scaring me.”

“I don't mean to,” he replies. “I truly am not here to cause you harm. Take a left, please.”

The man is exceedingly polite, and even though his calm demeanor should be reassuring, I can’t help but find it a little unsettling. For the next half hour, I follow his directions to turn this way or that way. We pass through the main part of town and then we're passing through vineyard country. All the while, I'm looking in the rearview, searching for the headlights behind us – which might be incredibly dumb and naive, since the more immediate threat is sitting right behind me.

“Take a left here, please.”

I do as he says, and soon my car is bouncing along an unpaved road, small rocks and debris clanking noisily against the undercarriage.

“Please, shut off the headlights,” he says.

I hesitate for a moment, the fear of being plunged into total darkness with him more than terrifying.

“Please, Ms. Nichols, I assure you it's safe,” he says. “The road is entirely straight. Just aim the nose of the car at the light you see a quarter mile ahead and you'll be fine.”

“Why do I need to turn off the lights?” I ask, a slight quaver in my voice.

“I do not wish to draw attention to us,” he says. “Headlights can be seen from the road.”

“You're worried about those two guys from my place?”

“It's just a precaution,” he replies. “But yes, I would prefer not having those two men find us. There is no need for any of this to end in bloodshed.”

His words send an icy surge of terror shooting through my body as the fear inside of me starts to ratchet up once more. The idea that this could possibly end in bloodshed strikes a chord of terror in me I've never felt before. My life is not that exciting. I never had to worry about things like abductions or death before. That's the stuff of action movies, not my life.

And yet, here I am.

“D – do you expect this to end in bloodshed?” I ask.

“That's not my hope,” I reply. “But, I find it best to be prepared for any and all possibilities.”

I pull to a stop in front of a small house that stands alone, out in the middle of nowhere. We're surrounded by vineyards on all sides, which means this is probably a caretaker's place. Another chill sweeps through me as once again, I wonder what this man – Zane – has planned for me at such a secluded spot.

I feel my hands trembling on the wheel and my heart racing even harder as a million nightmare scenarios flood my mind.

“Please, turn off the car,” he says.

I do as I'm told and sit there for a moment, running through every possible option in my head, but finding that I have zero. The man sitting in the back seat has a preternatural calm about him. He looks completely unfazed and aloof.

“Please, don't hurt me,” is all I can think to say.

“As I've already told you, I'm not going to hurt you,” he says. “You have nothing to fear.”

“Then why did you abduct me?”

“My employer wanted to ensure your safety.”

“Your emp – who's your employer?”

“Please, Ms. Nichols,” he says. “Go into the cabin. My employer is inside waiting for you.”

“A – and you?”

A faint smile touches his lips. “I will be watching over you until this crisis is over.”

“What crisis?” I shout. “What in the fuck is going on?”

Even in the face of my growing hysterics, the man remains calm. Unflappable is the word I'd use to describe him.

“Please,” he says. “Go into the cabin now. All the answers you seek are inside.”

I cut one last glance back at him and then do as he says. My desire to get out of the car and away from the creepily calm man in my back seat outweighs anything else at the moment. The second I step out of the car, the rain begins to relentlessly beat down on me. Thank goodness I had the foresight to grab my waterproof jacket. But, my hair is already plastered to my head by the time I get the hoodie on my jacket up.

When I turn back I jump, a small yelp of surprise bursting from my throat when I see the man standing there next to my car. I hadn't seen him get out. He motions to the door of the cabin.

“Please, Ms. Nichols,” he says. “Inside.”

I turn away from him and walk up the small flight of stairs that lead into the caretaker's cottage. The door is cracked open, so I push it inward and step through and out of the rain. It's warm and inviting inside, with a fire burning bright in a fireplace on the other side of the cottage.

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised,” I say when I see him standing there.

“No. Probably not,” Connor replies. “There is a good reason for all of this though, love. I assure you. I just ask that you give me a few minutes of your time.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice,” he replies. “But, I'd appreciate it if you would just hear me out.”

I stand there with my arms folded across my chest. My fear is quickly fading as my anger grows stronger.

“Fine,” I say. “Speak.”