Fighting for Flight (40 page)

Panic and fear collect in my stomach, sending me to
the toilet on my knees. I gag and cough, arching my back with every
painful heave. Bile-flavored spit coats my dry mouth, making me
retch harder. The smell of my own blood flips my stomach again. A
violent heave rocks my body until my stomach surrenders. I try to
catch a breath, allowing the tears to fall freely. I sob with my
head resting on the toilet seat. My hand does a quick search of my
pockets for my phone. I knew it wouldn’t be there, but desperation
has me grasping anyway. I’m stuck. Out of options.

What’s going to happen to me?

Jonah

“Open the door!”

Nothing. I knock harder.

“Dude, calm down. You’re gonna scare the piss out of
her.” Blake’s leaning against the brick wall outside Milena’s house
while I bang the fucking door down.

I pound wood again. “Milena. Open up!”

Blake’s expression sours with disapproval. “Yeah,
Milena. Open up for the enormous scary guy beating the shit out of
your door.” He tacks an eye roll onto his sarcasm.

Shit. He’s right, but we’re running out of time.
Dominick has my girl, and she could be getting farther away with
every minute that passes. They could be in fucking Mexico by
now.

After leaving the arena, we went straight to Raven’s
place. We let ourselves in with the spare key I kept after having
her door replaced. It didn’t take long for us to find what we were
looking for. Who knew an old bank statement would mean more than
the Title belt. Finding that felt like winning the lottery and
being the first man on the moon all wrapped up into one. The
address on that statement led us here.

Milena. She’s our only hope. If this doesn’t work, I
don’t know what else to do but go to the police. And if Dominick
finds out, which he will with all the moles he’s got planted in the
department, Raven’s as good as dead.

Resolve thickens my blood and brings my fist back to
the door. I hold it back and breathe. Calm. Just one minute of her
time is all I need. I flex my fist and knock lightly.

Nothing.

I swear to shit if she doesn’t open this
motherfucking door, I will bust the fucker down and drag her ass
out. Ah, hell. So much for calm.

“Milena, it’s Jonah. I’m. . . ” I squint against the
vicious buzz pounding in my head. “He’s taken her. Do you know
where he would have gone with her?” My forehead rests against the
door. “I need to find her tonight. Just, please, open the door.”
Seconds of silence feel like hours. What am I going to do?

A click of a lock jolts me back. The door cracks
open. Milena’s eyes are cautious as she peers out just beneath the
protective chain. My breath catches in my throat. She looks so much
like Raven. I rub my chest to squelch the burn.

“He took her?” Her voice is soft and carries the
hint of a Latin accent.

“Yes. From the arena.”

She stares through me with unfocused eyes.

“I need to know where he might have taken her.
Anywhere you think he might be. Addresses would be great, but a
general vicinity is fine too.”

She blinks and meets my eyes. “Come in.”

The door closes enough to unhook the chain and opens
slowly. I walk in with Blake at my heels. Milena’s eyes widen when
she sees I’m not alone.

Before I can introduce Blake, he’s in her space.

“I’m Blake.” He extends his hand to her. She places
her small hand in his, but locks eyes on me. I nod.

Her shoulders drop along with her eyes. “Milena.”
Her apprehension isn’t unexpected. I imagine working for a man like
Dominick hasn’t instilled much trust in men.

“We’re going to need your help in getting our girl
back. You up for that?” Blake must’ve come to the same conclusion,
his voice the equivalent of kid gloves.

“Mm-hm.” She nods and Blake releases her hand.

As crude as he can be, the guy has a side that
evokes trust, especially in women.

“Please, sit down.” She motions to a couch in the
living room. We head in, but I’m too antsy to sit.

I survey my surroundings, surprised by the lack of
hominess. The house I grew up in has family photos all over the
place, along with knickknacks picked up from family vacations and
trophies won by my sister or me. This place feels more like the
waiting room of a doctor’s office than a home. Cheap, decorative
art hangs on the walls, matching throw pillows arranged on a couch
that looks like it’s never been sat on. And Raven grew up here? My
chest cramps.

“Milena, I know you don’t know me.”

She backs into the couch and sits, her hands
obsessively picking at the hem of her sweater.

“But, I’m in love with your daughter. I need to get
to her. I can’t call the police—”

“No.” Her eyes focus on me, her one word confirming
that the police won’t do shit.

“Right. You’re the only one who can help me.
Please.”

She stares across the room. I turn to Blake. He
points to his watch. We’re running out of time. Milena has
retreated into herself, looking like the photo Raven took of her
the day she left home.

I squat to her eye level. This woman has caused the
girl I love more pain than I can stomach. I see-saw between wanting
to scream at her and wanting to worship at her feet. She holds the
key to my future.

“Look, I know you and Raven have . . . issues. And I
don’t know what you’ve been through or why you did the things you
did. But I know your daughter. She doesn’t want this life. If you
feel anything for her, if you care for her at all, then please help
me.”

Her gaze swings to mine. “There is a place. In the
mountains. He takes some of the girls there after . . .” She looks
to her lap. “Girls in my profession sometimes get pregnant. He
takes them there to have the procedure done and for recovery.”

My stomach lurches. That sick-ass motherfucker!
These girls, scared out of their minds, he takes to a non-medical
facility so some hack doctor can scrape out their insides. I rub my
head to numb the buzz that roars between my ears.

“It’s where she was born.” Her voice is just a hair
above a whisper. But the words ring like they came from a bullhorn.
“The cabin. He’ll take her there.” Her eyes bore into mine with an
intensity that I can’t argue.

“Where is it? Do you have an address? Name of a
town?” The questions roll from my head in rapid fire.

She jumps to her feet and heads to the kitchen.
Seconds later, she returns with a piece of paper and a pen.
Frantically, she starts sketching.

“It’s off the Interstate towards the ski resort.
You’ll pass through a small town with a diner on the side of the
road. The sign looks like a wagon wheel. After that, maybe fifteen
minutes or so, there will be a turn off on the right-hand side.
Take that until you hit a fork in the road,” she explains while
drawing it out. “Right at the fork and follow that.” She hands me
the paper. “It’s the only thing out there. You can’t miss it.”

I bolt through the living room to the front door.
Blake meets me there, door open and waiting.

“Wait!”

I stop and turn to Milena, her eyes brimming with
tears.

“Bring her home safely, and,” she looks at the floor
and my heart breaks as the gesture reminds me of Raven, “tell her I
love her.”

“When I bring her back, you tell her yourself.”

~*~

Raven

The dark is contagious. It spreads from the simple
absence of light to something bigger. Something that seeps in
through your eyes and multiplies until it takes you over. Starting
with your mind, it works its way through until it extinguishes the
last spark of hope you have hidden deep in your heart.

Everything is dark. The moonlight spilling through
the window is only bright enough to illuminate a square on the
dirty floor. The smell of wood rot matches the creeping dread that
fights to become my only companion. But I won’t lose hope. Not yet.
Sooner or later, their guard will drop. I’ll run and live in the
woods like that boy who was raised by wolves. If it means having my
life back, Jonah back, I could do that.

I’ve watched the moon square move across the floor.
Dark stains pepper its surface. Is that blood? What happens in this
room? I race to the window and push up on the lever to open it. It
doesn’t budge. Again. Fear floods my body. Air rushes in and out of
my lungs in erratic bursts. A sob crawls into my throat. I hold it
back. I won’t let him win. I push it down, numbing myself from the
inside out. Detach. Separate my mind from my body. That’s the only
way to survive.

I lie back on the bed, the only piece of furniture
in the room. Calm, deep breathing, eyes closed. I imagine the bed
beneath me is Jonah’s. He’s next to me, his arm thrown over my
stomach. My heart rate slows. His breath kisses my cheek as he
whispers how much he loves me. My muscles relax. He twirls a strand
of my hair around his finger. The corner of my mouth lifts.

Footsteps. I’m thrown from my fantasy. My body sits
up ramrod straight, eyes wide.

Each step is tentative, like someone sneaking down
the hall. They sound close as the wood floor creaks outside my
door.

My heart races. Could it be Jonah?

I rush to the door and press my ear to it. The knob
to the door jiggles and twists. I walk backwards until my legs hit
the bed. Hope and relief surge through me in waves.

Tears build at the joy of seeing Jonah again. My
skin itches for his touch. I’m practically bouncing on the balls of
my feet. The door inches open, revealing the tall, dark figure of a
man.

I squint into the dark. “Jonah?”

“Nope, but you can go ahead and pretend. Won’t
bother me at all.”

Vince.
My stomach plummets. Terror snakes
through my veins.

He shuts the door behind him. With a slow strut, he
comes toward me. He passes through the moonlight square,
illuminating his face. His eyes work my body, making his intentions
clear. I want to scream, but dread freezes my most primitive
reaction.

“You thought I could let you go after what your
boyfriend did to me in that parking lot?” He runs the tips of his
fingers from my shoulder down to my breast. “It’s payback
time.”

No. My head moves from side to side, unable to
articulate the word. Fear, exhaustion, and anxiety get the best of
me.

He shoves me onto the bed. I scurry backwards as
fast as I can. He grabs my neck, pushes me down, and climbs on top
of me. I whimper. It’s not much, but it gives me hope.

React, fight, something.

“You be quiet and I’ll take it easy on you. If you
fight, I’ll enjoy that, but you won’t.”

Holding my wrists together over my head with one
hand, he reaches down and unzips his pants.

Oh God, please no.

He pins me to the bed with his hips. I kick and buck
to get out from under him.

“Fight it is.” He licks my neck and bites my
earlobe, hard. “This’ll be fun.” His breath smells like liquor. I
turn my face to avoid it.

“Stop.” It’s weak, but as the word comes out so does
the will to survive. “Get off—”

His hand silences me. My arms ache. My struggle is
pointless.

He presses himself between my legs. Twisting and
tugging, I try to rip my arms from his grip. Pain rips through my
elbow. The only thing keeping him from his goal is my shorts. His
weight crushes my body. He anchors me tighter to the bed. His mouth
crashes against mine, drowning my screams. I fight and thrash,
forcing myself deeper into the bed. My mind screams for him to
burst through the door. Jonah, I need you. What do I do?

Break his arm, baby. Arm bar. Remember. Fight.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Jonah’s voice stills my
racing thoughts. Tears trail down my temple. It may be panic or
some innate survival response, but my lesson on the arm bar comes
back in brilliant clarity. I can do this.

That’s my girl.

Waiting for the opportunity is going to be the
hardest part. I need to stop fighting so he can free his hands. I
breathe deep and stop squirming.

“Change your mind? Not going to fight me
anymore?”

I shake my head no.

“Yeah, I knew you were a whore.”

He slides his hand over my breast to the button of
my shorts. With one hand, he pushes them down my thighs. Unable to
get them past my knees, he lets go of my wrists and sits up.

Opportunity.

I say a prayer for strength and move quickly. I grab
his right wrist with both hands. His eyes dart to mine. I throw my
leg over his arm, straddling his shoulder. He jumps in surprise.
Bracing my weight on my shoulder blades, I cross my legs at my
calves. His arm runs the length of my body, from knees to
chest.

He struggles and grabs at me with his free hand.
“You little bit—”

One powerful thrust of my hips turns his words into
a scream. I pull his arm tight and flex my hips deeper into the
hold. I feel and hear a sickening snap at his elbow. Vince howls in
pain.

I did it.

With a tight hold, I refuse to let go. I keep my
hips thrust forward and he continues to yelp. Power surges through
me. He’s crying out for me to release him. I’m locked down with an
unrelenting grip. He kicks and hollers on the bed.

Light pours into the room, blinding me. I push my
hips harder, making Vince shriek. Something wraps around my neck .
. . hands. They clamp down, choking me. I gasp and writhe. My
vision adjusts to the light. I stare into the blue-green eyes of
Dominick. His face is red with anger, jaw clenched tight.

And he’s not letting go.

Jonah

My truck eats up highway as we blaze down the
interstate. Hands vise-gripped to the wheel. Eyes scanning. Exit
signs fly by in a blur of green and white. Blake is silent beside
me. His head dips to the hand-drawn map then forward and back
again.