Page 44 of Cautious

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Where am I, and who are you both?” I question them, folding my shaking hands together in my lap.

“John here is my family doctor. You… tripped and fell down the stairs,” the dirty lying bastard tells me.

“Oh my god, really?” I squeal, making him look at me suspiciously.Okay, less is more, Callie. “Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” I ask, confused, reaching up to touch the lump on my forehead.

“You’ve already been and were released. You don’t remember?” he answers with a calculated look in his eye.

Asshole motherfucker. I can’t contradict him without exposing my hand, and he knows it.

I shake my head and wince again, not needing to fake how much that hurts.

“You need rest. You’ll feel better in a few days, and then your memories should start to come back. Head injuries can be tricky,” John adds quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll get plenty of rest. We’re getting married in a few days. She needs to be better by then,” Christian tells him, but his eyes are on mine.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please let Blake find me before then.

“We’re engaged?” I let my face show shock, mostly to hide that I’m two seconds away from puking all over him.

“Yes, dear, happily so,” he lies to my face, looking like a cat that caught a canary. “Rest. I’ll send Mary in to change these sheets and clean up. Let her know if you’re hungry, and she’ll have the cook make something for you.”

I think his words are meant to calm me. His tone, though, is as cold as ice, making that impossible. He turns to leave, taking John with him, pulling the door closed behind them both. I hear the lock engage, then soft-spoken words they either don’t think I can hear or they just don’t care.

“You really think she can’t remember anything?” Christian’s voice asks tightly.

“She seems pretty convincing to me,” John replies before adding, “but if she truly has lost her memory, you better prepare for a fight when it comes back.”

“It matters not to me. She’ll be my wife, and she’ll do whatever the fuck I tell her to or face the consequences.” Christian’s voice grows quieter as they walk away.

I jump out of bed, swaying on my feet for a minute before rushing to the windows.

Locked, all of them. The thought crosses my mind to smash my way out, but if the windows are alarmed, Christian will be back here before I’ve even made it onto the balcony. Then my little game of amnesia will have been for nothing. I try not to give in to the panic coursing through me, needing to focus on the task at hand. My head swims, and the tears flow freely down my face, but I don’t let that stop me from searching the room for something I can use as a weapon. Anything will do at this point.

Waiting for Blake to rescue me isn’t an option. I need to find a way out of here because I’d rather die than become Christian’s latest plaything.

Blake

Gripping the iPad, I stare down at the still shot of the video pulled from the hospital security footage. The grainy image displays the man I know to be Christian Baylor, wearing a white doctor’s jacket.

I’ve replayed the video a dozen times in the last four hours. Each time, I stare helplessly at the look of horror on Callie’s face when she realizes the woman in the hospital bed isn’t her mother. I watch her turn and find that asshole behind her a second too late to stop the needle from plunging into the side of her neck. Then it’s lights out as she crumples to the ground, bouncing her head off the unforgiving concrete floor.

The asshole doesn’t miss a beat, lifting her into a wheelchair and wheeling her out of the room like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The cameras in the hallways and elevator show him clearly, mapping his route as he leaves out the back entrance without anyone stopping him.

“He’s got some brass balls. I’ll give him that. How the fuck does he think he’ll get away with this shit when we have proof of him kidnapping her right here?” Marcus asks as he slides his gun into his holster.

“I don’t know, but this guy is smart. He would have known there were no cameras in the room, so why leave the door open and risk discovery? We would never have gotten this footage if he had closed the door behind him, blocking out the camera in the hallway. If you look at the shots of him leaving, he keeps his face hidden.” I show Marcus, running through the images of Christian’s obscured face.

“He either fucked up and didn’t realize the camera in the corridor was pointed straight into that room or…” Marcus’s voice drifts off.

“Or he isn’t bothered about being caught,” I answer, trying to keep this swirling vortex of worry and rage contained inside me.

But if that’s the case, what’s his endgame? And what the fuck does it mean for Callie?I silently ask myself as Arlo yells, “It’s go time!”

In the five hours since Callie has been gone, things have taken a turn for the worse. Wade and Jake, who were the original officers on the scene, have been replaced with two new guys—FBI agents at that—who claim to be in charge. Only they’ve done nothing but drag their feet and demand the video footage—luckily unaware that we have made copies—and waste valuable fucking time when they should have been mobilizing at Christian’s property.

In the end, I decided to get her back my fucking self. Which is why I’m armed and ready, consequences be damned. It’s only Arlo’s words that hold me back. He knows if I kill Christian like I want to, Callie would be left to watch someone else she cares about get sent to prison, and she’d blame herself.

If I leave him alive, though, he’ll likely walk free again. After seeing the agent’s work today, it has become very clear Callie was right about Christian having law enforcement in his pocket. Only it seems to go much higher than local PD. There’s a good chance, even with a pile of evidence stacked against him, that he couldwalk away from all this with nothing but a slap on the wrist. And if that happens, Callie will never be free.

---