Page 20 of Spade

“Why would Eric care who I’m dating?” Cynthia asked. “We’re not together anymore.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Melissa said, “but we can talk more about that later.” She took a step toward Cynthia, and she panicked.

“How did you get past the guard at the door?” she asked. Today, Spade had enlisted one of his biker friends to babysit her.

“Don’t worry,” Melissa said. “He’ll sleep it off, just like you will.” She held up a syringe and Cynthia knew that if she allowed Melissa to give it to her, she wouldn’t have any control over what she did to her.

“You don’t have to do that,” Cynthia insisted. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Melissa barked out her laugh and pointed the gun at Cynthia’s chest. “Now, why don’t I believe you?” she asked. “Oh, yeah—because you’re a lying bitch. Plus, I’m not going to do anything—you are.”

“What?” Cynthia stuttered.

“You’re going to give yourself this shot and then, we’re going for a little ride,” Melissa said. “I’m betting you don’t want your biker to find your body here in the hallway. And we wouldn’t want to mess up his pretty wood floors, would we? I’d rather not shoot you—yet, but I will if I have to. And then, I’ll kill the guy at your door, just for the fun of it.” She believed Melissa would do exactly what she had just promised. She was crazy and not doing what she wanted might end up with Cynthia laying on the floor bleeding out.

“We’ll do things your way,” Cynthia agreed. She needed time to figure out her next move, and maybe giving herself the shot would buy her the time she needed.

“I thought that you’d say that,” Melissa spat. “Let’s go.” She shoved the gun into Cynthia’s back and pushed her toward the door. “Don’t make a sound or try to get anyone’s attention, or I’ll kill everyone.”

“Got it,” Cynthia said. She walked out to the Buick parked in the driveway and opened the passenger door as Melissa ordered.

“Get in,” she breathed. Cynthia did as she was told and slid into the seat. “Good, now I want you to give yourself the shot. Just put it right into the top fleshy part of your arm, and then, you’ll take a nice nap.” Nothing about Melissa’s plan sounded nice to her, but she did as she was told and sucked in her breath when she shoved the needle into her arm. It pinched and when she administered the drugs into her arm, it burned. She pulled the needle back out and handed it to Melissa.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Melissa asked. Cynthia wasn’t about to dignify her question with an answer. Melissa slammed the door in her face as if knowing that Cynthia was done talking, and she sat back in the seat. The evil bitch was right about one thing—she was going to fall asleep and fast. Melissa slid into the driver’s seat and chuckled.

“Night, night,” she taunted as Cynthia’s eyes closed. Her world went dark and the last thing she remembered was the car’s engine roaring to life. Melissa was going to take her from her safe haven, and all Cynthia could do was pray that Spade would eventually figure out what had happened, and come to find her.

Cynthia woke up and tried to stretch, but her arms and legs didn’t move. She opened her eyes and looked down at her body to find that she was sitting in a hard wooden chair with her arms tied behind her back and her legs bound to the chair. She quickly looked around the room and panicked when she found no one around.

“Hello,” she shouted. “Where am I?” The last thing she remembered was cooking Spade his favorite dinner while waiting for him to get home from work. He had been working on an undercover case a few towns over, and she was always worried about him. But seeing him walk into the kitchen every day gave her some relief. She needed to see him with her own eyes and make sure that he was still in one piece.

At first, Spade was working nights while she worked days. They were on opposite schedules, and she hated it. He would sleep until about noon and then, he’d find his way into Ink’s shop to spend some time with her. Usually, he’d bring her lunch, and they’d catch up with each other. On the days that she had no afternoon clients; she’d take off early and they’d end up in bed together until Spade had to go back to work. She hated that they were on opposite schedules, but she knew what she was getting into by saying yes to Spade. He was a cop, and a damn good one. If he needed to work nights to make sure that all the bad guys ended up in jail, she was willing to give up her time with him.

She had a feeling that Spade hated being on different schedules because he came home one morning and announced that Razor had switched him back to days and that he’d be home every night when she got home. She knew that he had probably asked Razor to change his shift, but she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was going to have Spade next to her every night while she slept and that was just what she needed. Cynthia wouldn’t have to worry about him all night long, and having him next to her always made her feel safe.

“Is anyone there?” she shouted. Cynthia tried to look around the house again, and failed, due to her restraints. Why would someone kidnap her, bind her to a chair, and then leave? Her head was killing her and every time she tried to remember what happened, everything felt fuzzy. The last time she felt this way was when someone roofied her at Road Reapers. That was probably why she couldn’t remember anything since making dinner. She remembered bits and pieces of what had happened, all jumbled together, but she couldn’t recall how she had gotten to wherever she was. The first time, she slept for hours until the effects of the drugs wore off. The doctors had given her something to help with the headaches and she wished she had that now. Her head felt as though it might split in two.

If she was drugged again, there was only one guess that she needed to figure out who did this to her. “Melissa,” she shouted. An almost evil laughter sounded from behind her and she twisted, trying to see who it was. Every time she pulled at her restraints, she felt as though the ropes were going to cut right through her wrists.

“It took you long enough to figure it all out,” Melissa said. “I take it that you don’t remember the two of us hanging out at your house. The drugs you shot into your arm would probably be the cause of that, but you took a nice, long nap, and that gave me time to have a shower and change. I wanted to look nice for this next part.” Cynthia worried about what the next part of Melissa’s plan was. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked around the chair to stand in front of Cynthia. She looked about ready to go out for a night on the town, not to kidnap a woman and hold her hostage. Her black leather boots ran up her legs and covered a pair of skintight jeans. She was wearing a black shirt with sequence and every time she moved, it caught the light. Her dark hair hung loose around her face and from the smudged mascara, she looked as if she had been crying. The onlything out of place for a night out was the gun that Melissa held at her side.

“Where am I?” Cynthia asked again.

“Do you like it?” Melissa asked looking around the dimly lit room. “It’s my little home away from home.” The old house looked as though no one had lived there for a long time. Dust covered most of the surfaces of the furniture and she was sure that the window in front of her had been broken and was covered by plywood, but it was hard to see.

“You live here?” Cynthia asked. Keeping Melissa talking might by her some time to try to figure out what to do next, but she was sure that her head wouldn’t cooperate with coming up with a feasible plan.

“I used to live here—a lifetime ago. This was my childhood home and the only thing I have from my past. My parents left it to me when they passed.” Melissa sounded almost unstable as she talked about the house. Almost as though she was a little girl again.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cynthia said, trying to play to her emotions.

“Don’t patronize me,” Melissa spat. “I don’t need your pity. In fact, I pity you because I have what you want—Eric.” It was ironic that the woman Eric cheated on Cynthia with was accusing her of being his mistress. She would never do that to another woman; not even the one who had done that to her. The last thing that Cynthia wanted was Eric back in her life again. Being with Spade helped her to realize just how messed up her relationship with Eric was. He didn’t want her. She was just a way for him to have a place to live until he could convince Melissa to take him in. He had moved from Cynthia’s place to Melissa’s from what she heard. He never loved her, and a part of her wondered if he loved Melissa. He at least married her, but why would his new wife have it out for her?

“Why are you doing this, Melissa?” Cynthia asked. “I’m no threat to you.”

Melissa huffed out her breath and looked at Cynthia as though she didn’t believe a word that she was saying. “You want Eric back,” Melissa accused. “You’re jealous that I have him now, and you tried to take him away from me.” Melissa was out of her mind, and Cynthia knew that if she wanted to get out of this alive, she was going to have to choose her words carefully.

“I promise you, Melissa, I haven’t seen Eric since I went to California to take care of my parents.” That was the truth. She had heard that Eric was married, and that’s when she decided that talking to her ex wasn’t necessary. He had moved on, and Cynthia finally did too. She owed that to Spade. He was the one who showed her that life shouldn’t be put on hold just because someone hurts you. Picking yourself up and brushing yourself off was the key to moving on. Spade had helped her to do both, and she was grateful to him.

---