Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Aubrey

I don't know why I followed.

As God was my witness, there was not a single cohesive, rational, logical reason for why I was following him silently through the house. Sonja had run. I should run. And yet I didn't. I simply moved behind him as he crossed through the living room then out the front door. Sonja's purple BMW was still parked in the circular driveway, a silver-gray SUV nestled close behind it. She'd taken off, but she was still on foot at this point.

"Ms. Delgado seems to have forgotten her keys in her rush," he murmured as he stared at the car. "Fortunately," he turned back to face me, "that buys us a little more time to get away."

Get away. He'd made it clear he was taking me from here whether I liked it or not, but ‘get away' made it sound like we were Joker and Harley going on the run. I didn't believe that was what he intended. The truth was, I had no idea what he planned, and that scared me.

"Aubrey." He stepped over and lightly gripped my elbow. "I asked you earlier if you trusted me. What I need to know from you right now is if I can trust you."

"I… I did what you asked." I glanced back toward the house. "In there."

"Yes, you did, and I told you how proud of you I am for that. But you also told me how you don't understand what's going on right now, and that you're scared. Both of those are perfectly understandable, given the situation, but being scared and unsure could impact your ability to make sound decisions, and I can't afford the risk of you making a poor one."

I stared at him, unsure what to say because I was doing everything he'd asked me to, and there was a part of me that screamed to know why. Given what he'd done to me, I should be fighting him with everything I had, clawing bloody divots into his flesh wherever I could even while knowing I would pay for each track, and yet all I was doing was obeying.

‘Good girl.'

Was I so weak all it took was those two simple words?

"I need to know," he interrupted my chain of thought, "you won't be rash and do something like your friend Sonja has."

"I… I won't."

He narrowed his eyes. "Your hesitancy does not inspire confidence."

"I'm sorry, but"—I made a flailing gesture with my hands—"can you seriously expect me to act like I'm sure of anything right now? None of this makes any sense! I swear, I'm doing the best I can!"

He gave a sympathetic nod. "Again, completely understandable, but I have to be sure, and we're running out of time." He glanced back toward the two vehicles. "So, let me outline my options here: I can drug you into an unconscious state and transport you hidden in the back of the SUV."

Before I could protest, he said, "There are advantages to being unconscious. You'll simply feel like you're taking a long nap, and you won't have to deal with any stress that might arise if we do encounter anyone. The only risk is how you might react to the medication. Do you know if you have any opioid allergies?"

"Opioids?" I choked.

"Yes. You know, like morphine, heroin…"

"Oh my God, you're not seriously suggesting shooting me up with heroin, are you?"

"Well, no, not heroin, actually. What I have is a cocktail of Diprivan and ketamine for general anesthesia paired with fentanyl for?—"

"No." I shook my head violently. "No, there has to be another option."

"There is," he replied with a nod. "If you assure me I can trust you not to draw attention to yourself and do exactly as I tell you during the trip we'll be taking, you could ride up front with me."

"I swear I'll do whatever you tell me to. Just… please, no drugs."

The thought of giving up that level of control completely, with no way of knowing what might happen to me while I was under… Even the things he'd already done did not panic me the way the idea of being drugged gripped me right now. If he went back on his word, reneged on the other option he'd offered, then I was going to do what I'd avoided so far—fight.

"I only offer the unconscious option because it would undoubtedly be easier on?—"

"I said no. Please."

"Of course," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, we really do need to be going." He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently nudged me toward the SUV.

Aubrey. Run.

The voice was tiny, fleeting, and I knew I should at least make the attempt, because… Sonja had. She was out there somewhere, and for all I knew she and the police could be less than five minutes away.

But I didn't. I obeyed. I let him guide me to the front of the SUV, open the door, and help me as I climbed inside. In less than five minutes, we were down the drive, past the gate and heading toward the freeway approximately ten miles away.

The few times Sonja and I had driven from UC Davis south to Laguna Beach we'd come down the 5 to the 405, and then up into the hills above the seaside town. For some reason, I expected we'd be traveling the same way, which was a huge assumption on my part, because I had no idea exactly where we were headed. He'd said he was taking me, just not given me a specific destination. As we drove in silence, he seemed highly alert, but not tense. Just… cautious, and nothing seemed to escape his notice. I sat and watched as he drove past the 405 rather than turning north, a pang of anxiety scratching at my nerves as we bore off onto the tollway headed east toward Corona and Riverside. I remembered this route from the one time we'd driven to Vegas, and…

Was he taking me there? Or… out into the desert, where it would be easy to make me disappear.

‘ I'm not a wasteful man ,' he'd said to Sonja. Which might be true, but what he also clearly was, was an enigma, and my anxiety rose with every mile we traveled eastward away from Sonja's house.

As we began to climb the freeway through mountains beyond Riverside, he gave a small sigh and glanced over at me.

"You don't have your cell phone on you by any chance, do you, Aubrey?"

I groaned inwardly. In my haste, I'd left it on the bathroom counter in the guest bathroom. So much for GPS tracking…

"No. It's back at Sonja's."

"Good," he replied quietly, his reason probably the same as what I'd thought. "And thank you."

"For what?" I asked curiously.

"For not lying."

"You said you wanted to be able to trust me. Lying to you right now seems like a pretty good way to get me shot up with those drugs."

"You're right, it would be." He glanced over again, smiling. "Good girl."

I swallowed. Please don't say that . I thought the words rather than voiced them. I didn't want to have to explain why. Right this moment, I wasn't even sure I could explain it to myself.

We continued in silence, the miles whispering by beneath the SUV's wheels in a steady hum. He drove neither cautiously nor recklessly. If a person could be said to drive… unobtrusively… he did it. Except to pass a slow-moving semi, he stayed in the right lanes, and far more people were passing him than he was anyone.

We were almost to the crest of Cajon Pass when the quiet compounded with my unease brought me to a breaking point.

"So…"

"Hmm?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.

"You haven't told me your name," I said.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Is that important?"

"I… I told you mine," I prodded.

"And?"

"Well"—I made a vague gesture with my hand—"what am I supposed to call you?"

"Sir."

"Sir," I repeated softly.

"Mmhmm," he confirmed. "It's how you'll be addressing the people I'm taking you to, and quite probably the person you'll eventually end up with."

"The person I'll end up with…" His answers were often so vague, so… cryptic. I wasn't sure if it was intentional, though I had to believe they were for a reason. "I don't understand what that means."

"I know," he replied evenly. "But you will."

"When?"

"Eventually."

No! Now , I wanted to cry.

"Until then, however… Sir."

"Okay." Except it wasn't, but what was I going to do?

He glanced over. "Okay?"

"Okay… Sir," I added.

He smiled. "Good girl."

I closed my eyes. I absolutely hated that he could make me feel this way. Pleased. Pleased that I'd gratified him. But that… that was ridiculous. Insane. For god's sake, what he'd done back there…

He made you come.

So fucking what! He'd done it… without my consent. Forced me. Made my body betray me.

No, you offered him your body to spare Sonja. He made you come not because he had to, but because…

He wanted to?

No. That would be beyond insanity. That would mean he'd actually cared about how I felt when he was doing those things to me. ‘ I'm here to do a job. ' That was what he'd said. To him, all of this was just… business, right?

He made you come.

Arrgh! Stop! Why the hell did my brain seem fixated on that? So, he'd made me come. Big deal. It was probably just a way for him to stroke his ego. ‘Hey, look at me, I can make the little girl with Daddy issues come…'

I wanted to scream, but the sound of his voice stopped me, and I opened my eyes.

"Aubrey."

"Yes, Sir."

Oh, Jesus Christ, Aubrey, why don't you just give him a handjob while you're at it!

"I want you to understand that where I'm taking you… you won't be hurt. At first it may not feel that way, but in the end, once you've become acclimated… well, you'll understand then."

I stared at the SUV's dash. "You make it sound like I'm Katniss being offered up as tribute."

"Katniss?"

"Yeah." I glanced at him, catching the confused scrunch of his brows. "C'mon, seriously? Katniss? The Hunger Games ?"

He shrugged. "Forgive me, I'm old."

"Oh, please." I groaned, rolling my eyes. "You're not that old."

"I'm old enough to be your father."

"I really doubt that. You sure don't look old enough to be my father."

He glanced over. "Is that… flattery, Ms. Taryn?"

"I'm just saying," I replied, spreading my hands.

"Clever girl."

My mouth came open. Did he just… was that Jurassic…

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "See, I can make movie references, too."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh my God. That was…"

"What?"

"Terrible."

He shrugged, but his smile didn't go away. "Perhaps."

We'd made it up out of the canyon, topping out at the summit of the pass. A few miles later, the SUV slowed, and he steered it off the freeway at an exit that said ‘Bishop—Adelanto—395.' We drove onto a two-lane highway, passing through a series of dusty, windblown communities, mile after mile of tract homes on either side for LA commuters who couldn't afford to live in the heart of the metropolis. Eventually, even those faded behind us, and we headed into a bleak, austere landscape of sand, sage, and dull tan hills, the veil of smog from Southern California slowly disappearing to reveal a cloudless sky.

Traffic became sparse. Signs of human development did, too, revealing only a panorama of desolation. A place where a person—a body—might disappear, never to be found. I scanned left and right ahead of us, and though far off in the distance was an occasional trace of a habitat of some sort, there was far more emptiness in between that would easily hide a thousand twenty-four-year-old women.

"You look nervous."

His voice startled me out of my reverie. "I… I am nervous."

"Why?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"As I said," he replied firmly, "somewhere where you won't be hurt. Where you'll be introduced to your new life."

"My new life…" I repeated quietly, looking out of the window.

"Yes."

"Is somewhere in… the desert?"

He followed my gaze. "No. We're simply headed north. To get where we're going this is a route that takes us away from the more crowded and congested freeways of Central California. It's safer. And more scenic. Nothing more."

"I'll take your word for it." I stared out at a land that with a slightly more reddish tint could easily be mistaken for Mars.

After a short hesitation, he asked, "Is that all you're nervous about?"

I looked over. "No, sir. Of course not."

"I trusted you, Aubrey," he said, his tone reassuring. "Now I need you to trust me. I need you to have faith in me when I tell you you're going to fit in perfectly with your new life."

I searched his face, wanting to believe what he was saying at the same time every logical, rational part of me screamed it was ludicrous to even think so.

Have you completely lost your mind?

"You only met me today," I countered. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I've always had a sixth sense in this regard. It's why I'm good at what I do."

"And what exactly is it you do, Sir?"

He paused for a second before answering. "There are two kinds of people in life, Aubrey. The takers and the taken. I'm a taker."

"And me?"

He glanced over with a cocked eyebrow. "Come now. You're a very intelligent young woman. I think you know the answer to that."

"The taken," I replied softly.

"Yes."

Now I paused before asking, "So, what exactly do you take?"

"Whatever my employers tell me to," he replied with a slight lift of his shoulders. "And, when I see an opportunity, whatever I want."

"Am I an opportunity, sir?"

The road noise of the tires humming on the shimmering gray ribbon of highway filled the cab of the truck.

"Yes, you are," he replied calmly.

"Do you… want me?" I waited for his answer, not fully understanding why I'd chosen to ask the question, even though a part of me knew.

"Yes, Aubrey, I do."

Oh.

"Just not in the way you might be thinking right now," he continued before I could say anything in response, "but in a way that someday you'll understand?—"

He wants me.

"—and thank me for."