Page 101 of Saving Sophia

“Wh-where’s Callie?”

He slammed the trunk closed and pointed to the door again.

A muffled sound like a woman’s voice dropped my heart. The moon-faced man opened the door and shoved me in. I fell against Callie in the other seat, mouth still covered with tape, hands zip-tied together. There was another man in the car, sitting across from us, holding a gun aimed directly at Callie’s face.

“Brad?” It came out of my throat in a horrified whisper.

“Tough luck, Space Mouse,” his mocking voice set my teeth on edge. “I told you Mr. Roscoe did you a favor when he fired you. But you couldn’t stay fired, could you?”

The door slammed shut, cutting off any escape. A few seconds later the moon-faced man climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. He pulled out onto the road, and I watched the silent trees roll by as we moved farther away from my new life. After a mile or two, he looked back through the rear-view mirror at me. “Did you tell anyone?”

Brad pointed the gun at Callie again.

“No,” I blurted, shaking my head. “No one.”

“Leave a note?”

I shook my head again. “Nothing.”

His lip turned down and he tilted his head. “Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look then.”

Callie made a noise behind her duct tape, her green eyes snapping. I noticed a dark bruise forming along her cheekbone where they must have hit her hard.

“Did you bring your phone?” He glared at me through the mirror. “Don’t lie, or Brad will have to search you.”

My eyes darted to Brad then back to the moon-faced man. “Yes.”

Brad held out his hand, the one not holding a gun at Callie’s face. I gave her a miserable look then gave my phone over.

“Unlock it,” Brad grunted at me. I complied. He started scrolling around.

“I assume your boyfriend is going to try to figure out where you’ve gone,” the moon-faced man said as we sped down the road. “When he tries to contact you, Brad is going to let him know you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Oh man, Space Mouse, wish I’d known you were into this shit.” Brad let out an ugly laugh as he scrolled, reading my texts. “He’s not just her boyfriend, he’s her Daaa-ddy.” He kicked up his voice in a high falsetto on the last word.

Fury bubbled inside me, alongside my fear.

“Even better,” crowed the moon-faced man. “That means you know how to do as you’re told.” He got onto the highway headed toward the airport. “Let’s hope Brad is convincing. If not, Daddy Dearest is dead.”

A river of ice poured down my spine. I looked at Callie, my heart slamming in my chest, my eyes wild. She shook her head but all she could do was make muffled huffing sounds behind the tape.

* * *

We flew back to L.A. on Mr. Roscoe’s private jet. It was similar to the one Daddy had brought me to Seattle on, only his was nicer than this one. I sat down in the seat and buckled my belt, because I didn’t know what else to do. Brad buckled Callie across from me since her hands were still zip tied together. Her eyes were red, and her cheek looked puffy and swollen.

I stared out the window as we took off, watching the rain drizzle on the window, the life I’d just found fading away into the gloomy gray fog.

When we were up in the air, Callie shifted in her seat and let out a soft grunt. She sounded stuffy, like she wasn’t getting enough air.

“Could you take the tape off her mouth?” I asked Brad. “She’s having trouble breathing.”

Brad reached over and ripped off the tape, causing Callie to let out a shriek of pain.

“You fucking asshole!”

He slapped her, right on top of her bruised cheek. “Don’t make me regret being nice.”

“Now, now, Brad.” The moon-faced man frowned in our direction from his seat on the other side of the plane. “Don’t break your new toy.”

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