Page 35 of Take A Chance

Blake 12:59 AM:Your body will give me whatever I want, and you’ll love every minute of it.

I frozeas I read his message. It was clear what he wanted, and I wouldn’t be able to resist him. I didn’t think I wanted to anymore.

* * *

I wokethe next morning feeling groggy. After a short interaction with Greta in the kitchen, she decided I looked too sleepy to care for Katelyn, which was fine by me. Blake’s escapade in the middle of the night had made me extra sleepy. Greta offered to take Katelyn to school, so with my time off I decided to have a stroll. I dressed and stepped out, heading toward the sidewalk. When I passed the security gate, Wilem nodded at me.

“Just out for a walk, nothing to worry about,” I told him, but he held a hand out.

“Ms. Clarke, it’s my job to make sure you’re protected. Mr. Emmerson told me to assign extra security detail to you when you leave.”

“Look, Wilem, I really appreciate the offer, but I’m okay. Just send Jacoby with Katelyn and Greta. She’s taking her to school today. I’ll only be out for a short time. I like to think while I walk, and having some giant hunk of muscle following me around would be distracting.” I jammed my hands into my pockets and waited while he scowled at me.

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s just a walk. I’ll text you every five minutes if you want.” I chuckled and took a few steps, and he didn’t protest or follow me, so I kept walking.

The air was heavy with humidity, thick rain clouds overhead. The gray sky reminded me of the day my mother was buried, gloomy and fitting for a funeral. I kicked a stone as I pondered the day’s events and how strangely my father had acted. Katelyn’s questions about my mother last night had stirred some bad memories, and walking alone was the only way I sorted them out sometimes.

I turned the corner and headed south, hoping to make the entire block loop and be back before my stomach got too upset from not eating. My feet hurt already. I chose the wrong shoes for this walk. When a light sprinkle started, I turned my collar up against the invasion and put my head down. But when I felt the chill of cold metal on the back of my neck, my head snapped up. I froze in terror.

“Get into the car and you won’t be hurt.” The voice was gravelly and rough, the gun pushing into my skin so hard I knew it would leave a bruise.

“Who are you?” I asked, whimpering. I knew well and truly the only people who would come after me, and it iced me to my core.

“Look, bitch, I owe you nothing. Get in the car or I pull the trigger. Those were my orders.” The gun struck me hard, and I winced, yelping as I turned to see who my attacker was. “Don’t do that,” the voice ordered, the sound of the gun cocking in my ear paralyzing me. He was serious. “Get in the fucking car or you’re dead.”

I had no choice. The door was open, the engine still running. My body moved of its own accord, and they tied a blindfold around my eyes as I moved in that direction. “You can’t do this...” I whispered, but the man groped me, fondling my body from head to toe until he pulled my cell phone out. As he pushed my head down, bending me in half—I assumed to push me into the car—I heard his foot come down hard on the pavement and the crushing sound of my phone being destroyed.

I wanted Blake. Now.

20

Blake

The day flew by. I had awakened early to get a workout in at the downtown branch of the gym, and even after staying up late to fantasize about Emma and touch myself, I was refreshed. Staying in the city saved me an hour on the commute, but it meant hiring a driver because Gary remained in Scarsdale to transport Katelyn where she needed to go. So at lunch, I walked across the street for a sandwich rather than having Gary crate me around or ordering in.

I sat in a chair under the patio awning at the American Bistro waiting on my food to be delivered to my table and flicked through the random emails on my phone. I’d sent Emma a few messages this morning with no response, but after checking the time I knew she was deep within her daily routine with Katelyn and probably hadn’t even checked her phone. It was better that she focus on my daughter, anyway.

“Sir, your sandwich,” the waitress said, sliding the plate of food in front of me—a Reuben on rye bread with a dill pickle spear and some potato chips.

“Looks delicious, thank you.” I nodded my appreciation, and she left me to eat, but after one bite of my food, I got a text message from Wilem. I glanced at it, my text message notification not showing a preview of the message. I kept them hidden in case they were sensitive work matters. The notification didn’t worry me at first, so I took another bite of my food and set the sandwich down. But when my phone started ringing and Greta’s caller ID image showed up, I knew something was up. I wiped my hands and swiped right to answer the call.

“Greta? What is it? Is everything okay?” I still had a bit of food in my mouth that needed to be swallowed, so I sipped my soda and tried to discern what she was saying in her panicked voice.

“Sir... and she... oh, God...”

“Greta, slow down. What’s wrong?” I began to be alarmed by her tone and the way she was rushing her words, but panicking wouldn’t help anyone.

“Sir, it’s Emma! Oh, God. Oh, God.”

“Greta, what about Emma? You have to slow down. What happened?” My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I plugged my ear to block out the street noise.

“Sir, she went for a walk before it was time to take Katelyn to school. I told her I’d handle the school run. Sir, she never came back.”

My heart stopped. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at Wilem’s message.

Willem 11:29 AM:Sir—Emma. Call me. 911

---