barb.
She wanted to snatch the words back, was about to do just that, when he said, “You have to see that you can’t do this on your own. These people don’t play fair.”
Gone was the apology that hovered on her lips. “I’m not an idiot. I know that.”
“I never said you were an idiot,” Sal said, his patience underscoring her lack of the same. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. But you don’t have experience in dealing with this kind of situation.”
“And you do?”
“In Afghanistan.” Pain darkened his eyes. “A group of insurgents grabbed a couple of locals who had been helping us. They had promised to make an example out of anyone who assisted the US. They had a reputation of being particularly brutal with their captives. My unit was called in to get them out.”
The words had a staccato rhythm to them, as though he could pry them out only by infusing every syllable with a mechanical precision. Whatever memory he was recalling obviously wasn’t a pleasant one. What he’d left unsaid was somehow worse than what he’d told her. “Let’s just say that kidnappings are unpredictable. Things can go south in a hurry.” His face morphed into a hard mask, a stark contrast with the gentleness he’d shown her only moments earlier.
Olivia wanted to ask him what had happened, but something held her back. If Sal wanted to share, he would, but she doubted he’d do so.
He had always been protective of her and had never wanted to bring the ugliness of war into her world. It had been one of the problems between them, his reluctance to share all of himself with her.
And what about you? an inner voice chastised. She hadn’t shared everything about herself, either. They had each held back parts of themselves, as though afraid they would give away pieces they wouldn’t get back should the need arise.
Another regret.
* * *
Sal’s mind clicked through possible scenarios of Olivia dealing with the kidnappers on her own, each more frightening than the last. She wasn’t equipped for it, as he’d tried to tell her.
Judging from her reaction, he’d made his point all too well.
“You’re not thinking straight,” he said now, his voice gentle. “That’s what kidnappers do. They want you off balance so you’ll do what they say without thinking it through.”
When her phone rang, she jumped. Sal motioned for her to put it on speaker, and she pressed a key. “Yes?”
“You disobeyed instructions.” The artificial voice gave no hint as to the caller’s identity. Man or woman. Young or old. There was no way of knowing.
“I didn’t go to the police,” she said quickly.
“But you told someone. Do not bother denying it. Your instructions were to tell no one. Now you will pay the price.” An ominous pause followed. “More precisely, Chantry will pay the price.”
“Wait! Please wait.”
A second voice. “Olivia, please. You have to do just as they say...” Calvin’s words ended in a scream.
Sal watched as Olivia held her breath. “Please. Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do what you want. Anything. Just please don’t hurt him again.” Her words dwindled to a sob.
“It is too late, lady. Your interference cost your boss much pain.”
“It was my fault.” She shouted the words in the phone.
“Why didn’t you listen? Why—” A hoarse cry followed. And another.
“Calvin!” But Calvin Chantry was no longer on the phone.
“What are you doing to him?” When she swayed, Sal placed his free hand at her waist, steadying her.
“Do you see what your failure to obey the rules has caused? This is on you, Ms. Hammond. Remember this the next time you are tempted to disobey instructions.” The voice was all the more chilling for its total lack of expression.
“Please,” she cried, voice slurred with shock and grief. “Please stop. I’ll do anything. Anything. But please stop hurting him.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Sal resisted the urge to wipe them away. He understood she wouldn’t want his acknowledgment of their existence.
“Then start obeying instructions. Or next time your boss will lose more than a body part.” A sly pause. “And you, Ms. Hammond, how would you look without one of your lovely ears?”
After a night of Calvin’s tortured cry echoing in her head, Olivia found herself on her knees, praying for the Lord’s guidance. She remained there for long moments, absorbing the quiet of the early morning.
Memories of her boss’s screams filled her throat with a lump of fear. She tried to swallow it, but it was like swallowing broken glass. Each shard sliced at her throat, spilling drops of blood and tears.
Why hadn’t she followed instructions? Why had she—It was too late for self-recriminations. The only thing she could do was to move forward. And that meant sending Sal away. She couldn’t afford to do anything else to antagonize the kidnappers.
Be still and know that I am God. The familiar scripture wrapped its peace around her, and she got to her feet, determined to do what she must.
Sal was a good and honorable man, but she had to keep him out of this from now on. Look what had happened when the kidnappers learned he was helping her. No matter what he said or what experience he’d had in dealing with abductions, he was a threat to Calvin’s safe return, which had to be her priority.
When he arrived to pick her up, he took one look at her and shook his head.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Wondering how you’re going to convince me to go away and let you handle this on your own.”
How did he do that? He’d read her mind as though her thoughts were written across her face in bold strokes.
“Your face gives away your every thought and feeling. So don’t bother trying to deny it.”
“I know you want to help, but this is Calvin’s life we’re talking about. If the kidnappers learn that you’re still helping me, Calvin will be punished.” She let her gaze meet Sal’s squarely. “Can you accept the consequences of that? Because I can’t.”
She watched as his broad shoulders stiffened and his lips pulled into a tight line, the controlled anger locked in his jaw a mute testament to his frustration.
Sal wanted to argue with her, to convince her that he was right—she saw it in his eyes—but he didn’t try to. All he said was, “I’m staying. Get used to it.”
*
