Sam
Maybe my husband doesn’t know where they took me. Otherwise, he’d be here by now. Unable to sleep, I pace the bedroom most of the night, stopping only to stare over the moonlit ocean and wait for my rescue.
After breakfast, I’m herded to the beach with the rest of the pregnant ladies. Tired and pukey, I crunch on dry saltines and adjust my lounge chair to better soak in the sun. This would be the perfect island vacation, if not for the whole being-held-against-my-will thing. Not having slept, my heavy eyelids lower, and close.
Come Stay with us. We insist.Morgan Freeman speaks the TV ad’s slogan as I run along the beach. My hair and boobs bounce in slow motion as armed guards chase after me, getting closer and closer. When the scene shifts, I’m on a movie set waving at a camera guy.
A woman screams and at first, I’m not sure if I’m dreaming.
What a weird dream.While I shake out the cobwebs, Gillian, two umbrellas down, cries out, holds her stomach, and shoots me panic-eyes.
When I arrive at her side, she grabs my arm, and whispers in my ear. “Please, don’t let them steal Melissa’s baby.”
“Move, miss.” A doctor drops to his knees and puts his stethoscope to her stomach.
He follows as she’s put on a stretcher and taken back into the resort. When I try to shadow them, one of the gunmen steps in front of me.
“Back to your chair, mum. She’s in good hands.”
They must not have the equipment to handle her condition because soon she’s wheeled down the dock and onto a boat that speeds away.
Huh.I pace the shore in the mid-morning sun, pondering the implications of what just happened. The Whitbreads were right all along. Their friend never really changed her mind. Judging from her size, she’s probably in labor.
I’m torn. Should I wait for Suds or try to save the baby on my own?
For sure, Patten Securities is planning my extraction and if the situation were not so dire, I would wait. However, Gillian might deliver in hours or perhaps even minutes. God knows how long they will keep the infant in the islands before selling it.”
Team testosterone will be pissed but I need to go.
My plan is already underway but I need to wait until dark. Thank God, as a precaution, I ordered tomato soup last night and stored the bowl under the vanity. Having started the habit of covering the camera in the bathroom, no one thought anything of it.
It takes all my acting skills to remain calm throughout dinner. Back in my room, the sun lingers as it inches into the ocean, giving me plenty of time for Suds and his men to charge to the rescue.
When the outside lights turn on, I pour the red liquid into the toilet, take a deep breath, and scream.
“Help! Someone, please hurry. There’s blood.” I tear away the towel on the camera and stare up.
A male voice resonates from the speaker. “Lay flat. Don’t panic. Someone is coming.”
Curling up in a ball, I moan, imagine severe menstrual cramps, and bite down on my lower lip. The pain helps force tears into my eyes.
The lock on my door clicks, two guards arrive, and the older one checks the toilet. “What do you think?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“Well, do we shoot her or not?”
Chapter 20
Suds
“Wake up, mate. Hurry. You need to see this.” At Lucky’s shout, I shoot off the bed and stand in front of the monitors.
Fuck, Sam, hell no.Our circling drone sends a bird’s eye view of the dock where my wife doubles over and falls onto her knees in the fetal position.
“What happened?”I will kill those sonofabitches. I swear I will.
“Not sure.” Lucky inserts an earbud and hands one to me while Slate waits in the hall.
