Read Long Live the Queen Online
Authors: Ellen Emerson White
Long Live the Queen (6 page)
“Are you coming back?” she asked.
He didn't answer, turning to leave.
Okay, at least he was wearing a mask. That meant that they weren't going to kill her. As long as she couldn't identify them, she would be safe.
“I won't try and look at you,” she said, as he reached up to turn the light off.
He turned it back on. “What?”
“I just meantâ” She blinked from looking at the bulb. “I mean, I'm not
stupid
.”
stupid
.”
“Only wore it to scare you,” he said.
She frowned. “I don'tâ”
Very slowly, he pulled the stocking mask off. “Maybe this'll scare you more,” he said, and smiled.
She stared at him, at his faceâa surprisingly normal faceâand her stomach both twisted and fell. His face. Jesus Christ, that meantâJesus Christâ“I thoughtâ” She gulped. “Y-you aren't going to let me go?”
“No.” He smiled again. “I'm not.”
AFTER HE LEFT, slamming the door, it was very, very quiet. Very, very
dark
.
dark
.
Okay, okay. She wasn't going to cry. She
really
wasn't. No way. She pressed her sweatshirt sleeve across her eyes, fist clenched, concentrating on swallowingâover and overâto keep control. Okay, okay, she had to try and be calm. To figure out what she was going to do. If there even
was
anything she could do.
really
wasn't. No way. She pressed her sweatshirt sleeve across her eyes, fist clenched, concentrating on swallowingâover and overâto keep control. Okay, okay, she had to try and be calm. To figure out what she was going to do. If there even
was
anything she could do.
They would find her. Every damn security agency in the country would be working on this, and they would have toâexcept, they already would have. She could be anywhere in the world, and there was no way that they couldâcalm. She had to be calm. Her mother was the
President
âand would be able to do something. All she had to do was wait. And try to be calm. Cool.
Brave
.
President
âand would be able to do something. All she had to do was wait. And try to be calm. Cool.
Brave
.
Her mother would be brave. Her mother would be completely, totally,
amazingly
âoh, Christ, what if something had happened to her brothers, too? And what if Josh really wasâshe couldn't think about it. If she thought about it, she would startâwait, she was
already
crying. Oh, hell.
amazingly
âoh, Christ, what if something had happened to her brothers, too? And what if Josh really wasâshe couldn't think about it. If she thought about it, she would startâwait, she was
already
crying. Oh, hell.
She forced herself to lean back against the bed frame. To take a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes, tears still pushing out and down her face. Oh, God, her mouth hurt. Her mouth, and her jaw, and her head, and her sideâher mother would be brave. Her father would be brave.
Preston
would be brave. She, at least, had to try.
Preston
would be brave. She, at least, had to try.
Jesus.
Tentative in the darkness, she pushed down against the mattress with her free hand, moving herself into a more comfortable position. Her handcuffed hand was already falling asleep, and she
moved her fingers a few times. Handcuffed. Jesus Christ, she was actuallyâshe had to be calm. The only way toâvery, very calm.
moved her fingers a few times. Handcuffed. Jesus Christ, she was actuallyâshe had to be calm. The only way toâvery, very calm.
The inside of her mouth was really aching and, very cautious, she touched the hole with her tongue. It was still bleedingâalthough not as muchâand seemed very deep. Two molars, probably. Maybe even three. She shivered, remembering the light in her eyes, the cold metal on her teethâthank God he had had them knock her out. It would have beenâthank God.
Maybe he was lying about killing her. Trying to keep her off-balance. Scared. Easy to handle. They'd have to be
crazy
to kill the President's daughter. Kidnapping was bad enough. Even with Dennis's helpâJesus, was he out there with them? Or, with all the blood she'd seen, was heâit was still hard to believe they had pulled it off. And they must have. If it was night, hours had passed, and she should have been located by now. But, how had they managedâhe was smart. Extremely smart, with the same aura of professionalism she associated with Secret Service and FBI agents and soldiers. Detached, clear, unemotionalâwhat if he was an insider, too? What ifâhe didn't seem like a terrorist. This guy was American; this guy was obviously well-educated. And there didn't seem to be anything fanatical about him. Neat, dark hair; lighter, expressionless eyes; straight nose. Christ, he could be any one of the youngish ambitious men that overpopulated Washington, wearing well-cut suits and carrying briefcases.
crazy
to kill the President's daughter. Kidnapping was bad enough. Even with Dennis's helpâJesus, was he out there with them? Or, with all the blood she'd seen, was heâit was still hard to believe they had pulled it off. And they must have. If it was night, hours had passed, and she should have been located by now. But, how had they managedâhe was smart. Extremely smart, with the same aura of professionalism she associated with Secret Service and FBI agents and soldiers. Detached, clear, unemotionalâwhat if he was an insider, too? What ifâhe didn't seem like a terrorist. This guy was American; this guy was obviously well-educated. And there didn't seem to be anything fanatical about him. Neat, dark hair; lighter, expressionless eyes; straight nose. Christ, he could be any one of the youngish ambitious men that overpopulated Washington, wearing well-cut suits and carrying briefcases.
Actually, with a suit and a pair of Oakleysâhad she seen him before? Had he maybe been around the school, or at one of her tennis matches, orâshe had probably seen him before. He hadn't planned the thing overnight.
Her mouth hurt so much that she decided to concentrate on
that
for a while, resting her head against the wall. It was throbbing, like the beginning of a terrible earache, and the whole side of her face felt hot. He could have let her rinse it out, at least. Although
that might have made it hurt even more. But, this way, it was sure to get infected.
that
for a while, resting her head against the wall. It was throbbing, like the beginning of a terrible earache, and the whole side of her face felt hot. He could have let her rinse it out, at least. Although
that might have made it hurt even more. But, this way, it was sure to get infected.
Not that she didn't have worse things to worry about.
There hadn't been a mirror in the bathroom, and she reached up to touch her forehead, finding a huge bump. There seemed to be a split in her right eyebrow, and thick moisture, which had to be blood. The water from washing her face had been brownish-red, and the cutâwhich felt
huge
âmust have opened up again. She let her hand drop, wiping the blood on her sleeve.
huge
âmust have opened up again. She let her hand drop, wiping the blood on her sleeve.
Not
even
her sleeve. Or her sweatpants, or her underwear, orâtime to think about something else.
even
her sleeve. Or her sweatpants, or her underwear, orâtime to think about something else.
There was a tiny crack of dim light at the bottom of the door and she focused on it, afraid of the darkness. The light chain was somewhere in the middle of the room. If she could reach it, maybeâbut, he wouldn't like it, and he might come in and hurt her.
Kill
her.
Kill
her.
Kill her. Christ, this couldn't really be happening. One minute, she was talking to Josh; the nextâno. If she thought about it, or him, orâit just couldn't be happening.
And crying sure as hell wasn't going to get her anywhere.
Of course, it wouldn't
hurt
, either. He might come in and laugh at her, butâto hell with him. There'd be something wrong with her if she
weren't
crying in this situation.
hurt
, either. He might come in and laugh at her, butâto hell with him. There'd be something wrong with her if she
weren't
crying in this situation.
Onlyâwould her mother be crying? No. Her mother would be
plotting
. Okay. She would try plotting. Do something constructive. Something to stay in control.
plotting
. Okay. She would try plotting. Do something constructive. Something to stay in control.
Maybe the handcuffs weren't fastened right. It was highly unlikely, but she pulled at them, anyway, the metal edges hurting her skin. First, she tried a slow, gradual pull; then a few quick yanks, the metal digging deeper. She traced the cuffs with her right hand, searching for the locks, tugging on the chain to see if anything was loose. Defective. But, predictably, nothing was.
Okay. What about the bed? She felt the frame, shook the bars. Thick, solid metal. Iron, probably. What about weight? Maybe if she lifted the bed with her handcuffed hand, the weight would make them pop open. It was worth a try, anyway. She moved her legs over the edge of the mattress, not wanting to stand up in the dark and leave the security of the bed.
Which proved that everything was pretty god-damn relative.
She stood up carefully, letting the dizziness ebb away before turning her attention to the bed frame. She pulled on the cuffsâno result. Maybe, if she pulled
really
hard, she couldâshe tried it, using both hands on the chain. The bed scraped over a foot and she stopped instantly, afraid that someone might have heard the noise.
really
hard, she couldâshe tried it, using both hands on the chain. The bed scraped over a foot and she stopped instantly, afraid that someone might have heard the noise.
She waited, holding her breath, but the hall was quiet. Would it be safe to risk lifting the bed? And if she could get over to the light, and turn it on for a second, she would feel a lot safer. Less scared. She reached out as far as she could, letting her arm swing in the darkness.
Oh, Christ, what if there were spiders, and rats, andâshe would have seen them before, when the light was on. This was just a room. A small, empty room. A room in God-only-knew-what, God-only-knew-where, that she would be in until these people decided that it was time toâshe yanked on the bed to distract herself, dragging it over another foot or two, towards the middle of the room. She swung her arm again, and the light pull brushed over her wrist. She felt around, the darkness seeming more dense than normal air, until she was holding it tightly in her hand. Even doing that much made her feel better and she gripped the little chain, deciding whether or not to risk turning the light on.
The hall was still very, very quiet.
Okay. She turned the light on. It
was
just a room. Maybe ten-by-ten, no windows, the walls closer to grey than white. There was no furniture, except for an old wooden chair near the door, and the bed frameâblack cast ironâwas even more solid than she'd been afraid it was. The mattress was covered by a white sheet, and she elected
not to look underneath it. The sheet looked brand-new and was perfectly clean, except for the blood-stains where her face had been.
was
just a room. Maybe ten-by-ten, no windows, the walls closer to grey than white. There was no furniture, except for an old wooden chair near the door, and the bed frameâblack cast ironâwas even more solid than she'd been afraid it was. The mattress was covered by a white sheet, and she elected
not to look underneath it. The sheet looked brand-new and was perfectly clean, except for the blood-stains where her face had been.
Her clothes smelled new, too, and it was strange to think of him, or someone, going out to shop for all of this unisex stuff. Strangely civilized. Smart, too, since a cashier would be likely to remember a man buying woman's clothes. Not that this guy struck her as someone who would slip up on a detail like that. Not, apparently, a guy who had screwed up anywhere. So far. When he got in touch with her parents, though,
that's
when they'd trace him. He had to have demands, or a motive, or something. And that was how they would get him.
that's
when they'd trace him. He had to have demands, or a motive, or something. And that was how they would get him.
Should she turn the light off? Not take chances? Or take a minute and check out the damned handcuffs a little more closely? That was an easy choice, and she crouched next to the bed, studying the shiny metal. Nothing she could break, nothing she could bend, nothing she could do. Where, for Christ's sakes, had he gotten
handcuffs?
They didn't sell them in stores, did they?
handcuffs?
They didn't sell them in stores, did they?
Jesus, was she tired.
Slowly, she straightened up, not sure what to do next. The smart thing, would be to turn the light off, move the bed back, and wait. If he didn't know that she could turn the light on, that was an advantage. Of some kind, anyway.
Okay. Even if the darkness was scary, she'd do it. As she reached out for the light chain, the door smashed open and he stood there, looking at her.
Part of her wanted to burst into tears, wet her pants, cringe; the other part of her just looked right back at him. The same part was also, out of nowhere, mad as hell. “Got a
prob
lem?” she asked, and consciously turned her back, giving the bed an awkward kick towards the wall.
prob
lem?” she asked, and consciously turned her back, giving the bed an awkward kick towards the wall.
He came over behind her, so close that they were almost touching. “Maybe you ought to think about being a little more scared,” he said quietly.
She pushed the bed to get further away from him. “Maybe
you
ought to go to hell.”
you
ought to go to hell.”
She saw his fist go back, then found herself crumpled on the floor, handcuffed arm twisted awkwardly, blood gushing from her nose and over her upper lip. She stayed there for a minute or two, disoriented, then lifted her free hand towards her nose, touching the blood. Then, she tried to get up, but was so dizzy that she had to sink back down.
He smiled. “Need a hand?”
“Fuck you,” she said, and blinked, surprised by the reactionâand that she was crying.
He shook his head. “Mom and Dad wouldn't like that much.”
She kicked at him with her left leg and he stepped out of the way.
“Getting angry?” he asked.
“No!” she said.
He grinned. “Not even a little?”
Bastard. She wiped her sleeve across her face, an alarming amount of blood soaking into the cloth. “What, is that the part you get off on? Or just the beating me up?”
“I'm getting off on just about all of this,” he said, his voice managing to be both vicious and pleasant.
She slouched down, covering her face with her arm, still stunned by the fact that someone had just
hit
her. With his
fist
.
hit
her. With his
fist
.
“Crying?” he asked.
She lifted her head just enough to look at him. “They have agencies you don't even know about working on this. Agencies
I
don't even know about.”
I
don't even know about.”
He nodded seriously, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “Consider yourself pretty important, do you?”
“No, Iâ” Frowning hurt, so she stopped. “I mean,
I
don't have anything to do with it.”
I
don't have anything to do with it.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Good thing âfamily' is such a big priority for your mother.”
“No, sheâ” Meg stopped again. “It doesn't work that way.”
“If she were a good mother, you wouldn't be here right now,” he said.
Wellâyeah. There was some truth to that. “It could have happened, anyway,” she said, hearing the uncertainty in her voice. “I mean, they're pretty rich.”
“Maybe, but
that
would just be ransom. You'd get out of it all right. But now,” he shook his head, “because she doesn't love youâ”
that
would just be ransom. You'd get out of it all right. But now,” he shook his head, “because she doesn't love youâ”
“It's not her fault,” Meg said defensively, almost forgetting the blood and pain. “I mean, just because she'sâ”
He nodded again. “Worries about you kids first and foremost. Always there for you.”
These were old arguments, old accusations. Things her family had worked to put to rest. To understand. Things that were none of his god-damn business. “I think you're just trying to upset me,” she said.
He shrugged. “Seems to be working.”
Since she
was
upset, she changed the subject. “You know, you'll never get anything. There's no
way
they'll negotiate with terrorists.”
was
upset, she changed the subject. “You know, you'll never get anything. There's no
way
they'll negotiate with terrorists.”
“Hmmm,” he said, and made a point of tightening his fist.
“Wonder what it would take to convince them?”
It was a good questionâwith far too many terrifying possibilities to explore. “Doesn't matter,” she said. “They still won't ever negotiate.”
“Tough price to pay,” he said.
Jesus, there were so many things he could do to her. So many things she assumed that he, ultimately,
would
do to her. She swallowed. “
Especially
because it's her family, they can't. You should be smart, and let me go.”
would
do to her. She swallowed. “
Especially
because it's her family, they can't. You should be smart, and let me go.”
Other books
Before the Dawn by Beverly Jenkins
How to Keep Rolling After a Fall by Karole Cozzo
Sexting the Limits by Remy Richard
The Pharaoh's Daughter by Mesu Andrews
The Dorset House Affair by Norman Russell
Lamb to the Slaughter (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 1) by Karen Ann Hopkins
Destiny (Vanish Book Four) by Daise, Sonny
Savannah Past Midnight by Christine Edwards
The Gift of Light: (Revised) (The Gifts Book 1) by Jen Gentry
The State of Jones by Sally Jenkins