Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

7. Etta

7

Etta

‘Yours to Keep’ - Sticky Fingers

T he Scottish countryside is incomparably beautiful.

For the last few hours, I’ve been content to watch the fields and green valleys blanketed with fluffy white snow from behind the car window. After having slept like my life was over, I’m now reinvigorated with a surge of energy. A crisper focus. The fight-or-flight response in my system has been subdued and left to simmer, ready for the next encounter between myself and my soon-to-be husband.

When not listening to Ford and Dom chat idly—Odin barely moves—I’m creating means of escape inside my head, testing ideas, no matter how wild, and disparaging some which would most likely get me and Juniper killed.

My companion sits in the seat between Dom and me, resting her chin on my thighs. My new clothes, which had been delivered right before we left the impressive apartment complex, are now covered in long needles of fur and droplets of saliva. The scent of both comforts me. The only thing missing is the smell of disinfectant, dog treats, and cat urine.

Juniper’s nostrils flaring, and her chest expanding against my leg, encourage me to be calm when I might otherwise not be.

“Etta. Can I confirm a few things with you?” Dom asks, startling me enough that I jerk. He notices the movement and frowns. It disappears just as quickly as he pulls out his laptop and begins to type.

“Your belongings have been collected from your house and put into storage. Since we travel quite frequently, it would be best to keep it there until the day you decide to choose a place to settle down in.” My sides twist painfully at the idea of ‘settling down’ with my own kidnapper. “In the meantime, I’ll get basic things like clothes, choice in hygiene products, and any other entertainment items delivered to you.” He passes me a pen and paper.

What, he just wants me to write a list?

He raises his eyebrows at me, clearly very serious. I take the pen and notepad and start to jot down a list of products I normally use.

“Any allergies or food you dislike?” Dom asks.

“I don’t like fish, or any type of seafood. I eat everything else.”

“Are there any foods you are partial to?”

I mull over the question for a moment. “Sour worms and Indian food. And mangoes—when in season.”

Dom clicks away at the keys on his laptop. “Done, done, and done.”

I finish writing my list and hand the notepad back to him. “Will I be getting a phone?” I ask, trying not to sound desperate or demanding.

“I’m sure you will eventually,” Dom answers, looking up at Odin’s shoulder. I glare at the headrest Odin is leaning against. Of course, he had to sit in front of me. That way, neither of us could see each other and not spit fire.

“Right. I forgot that I am now the property of my fiancé,” I say, allowing some venom to slip into the last word. Dom smiles empathetically, which confuses me. Why would he work for this man and show signs of feeling sorry for me? Does he not like what his boss has made him do? What type of relationship do these men have with one another?

I’m distracted from analyzing Dom’s posture or facial expressions when Ford starts to sing. It’s not bad, but it’s not pleasant either and the fact that it’s an Ed Sheeran song makes it slightly hilarious. In the rearview mirror, I see him watching me. He winks and starts to sing louder. I fight the awkward smile that wants to spread across my lips and cover Juniper’s ears with my hands.

“I can see that,” Ford says.

“Can you cover mine, too?” Dom asks me.

Odin shifts in his chair, a microscopic movement. When he’s spent so many hours staring out the front window completely immobile, it’s hard not to notice. I wonder what made him uncomfortable. The fact that he can feel me glaring at him. Or that Ford and Dom are clearly trying to lighten the mood, and strangely, are succeeding?

Ford finishes the final note of the song with a pitiful attempt at vibrato. It successfully manages to pull a tiny chuckle from my throat. “Curry sounds like a good idea,” he says. “We should get some for dinner.” He releases a hand from the wheel to lean over and nudge Odin on the arm. “You like naan bread. You’re always stealing the last piece.”

Odin grunts in response.

“I’ll organize it,” Dom says and takes out his phone.

My belly rumbles with the anticipation of eating a hearty meal. Juniper sits up after all this mention of food. My fingers scratch underneath her chin and she delightfully leans into it, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Naan bread is my favorite, too,” I whisper, though I’m not really sure why.

We drive all the way around Loch Ness, and I don’t see anything. Not a snake or a dragon or even a plank of wood. The waters are so dark and choppy, it’s actually a relief to know a monster isn’t trapped in there. No, because I know where it is.

It’s sitting right in front of me.

The sun has retreated behind a pearl-stained horizon by the time the car comes to a stop. Through the tinted windows, a relatively small, but newly built house sits erect and alone on a small hill, a smattering of tall pine trees surrounding it. Dom and Ford jump out before I have a chance to register that this is our destination. After staying in a luxury apartment complex in the middle of London, this isolated location nips at my nerves. There’s nothing for miles. Besides a tiny cottage behind the main house, there are no other places of residence around. The temperature is below freezing. The only indication of our geography, in regard to Scotland, is the few signs that I saw saying Inverness. So, north, somewhere. I really should have been paying more attention.

But even though I’ve been kidnapped, I have no secret, hidden knowledge of how to get out of it. I don’t watch crime shows on repeat or listen to podcasts with dark themes. I have no time for that shit. I only listen to the same two or three albums over and over again and watch trashy TV when I’m so tired, the only things that can move are my eyes and my thumb controlling the remote.

I was not built for this type of situation. No one should be.

Once again, it just proves how perfect I am to steal. The only thing I hold on to is the fact that if given a knife or at least something sharp enough to cut, I’ll know exactly where to slice it to cause maximum damage. It may not be an animal, but skin and muscle and arteries are all the same. They all bleed.

My mind snaps to the present as the chair in front of me groans. Odin steps out and even in the dark, the shape of his face startles me. Too sleek, too cruel, too… sad. I wonder if his other eye hadn’t been damaged, if he’d be less or even more dreadfully beautiful. The disturbing thoughts in my head dissolve as Odin’s suit jacket flicks to the side, revealing the gun tucked into his pants.

I stiffen. Juniper sits up, her golden fur the only bright thing in the car. Looking down, I pat her head and try to gather myself. The door to my left swings open and a burst of icy air slaps me in the face.

Odin stands in the gap. “Let’s go.”

I fix him with a hard stare, place my beanie on my head and do as he says. My pride isn’t worth sitting out in the car all night and slowly freezing to death.

My teeth chatter as I race with Juniper through the sheets of snow that thankfully haven’t piled beyond the first few inches of my feet. The thick jacket seems like a silk nightdress, the cold a living thing clawing at my body, as I trudge up the slate steps and through the impressive wooden door.

The warmth from the huge fireplace burning to my right slithers along my skin and calms the shaking almost instantly. My feet take tiny, stunned steps as I view the inside of the house. Caramel leather couches and matching dining chairs, heated gray slate tiles covered with sheepskin rugs, windows the size of a single wall with black metal borders. The dining room with a deer antler chandelier is to the left, the magnificent kitchen with a gorgeous marble island is in the center, and the sunken living room is to the right. Either side of the open space are two hallways, leading to more rooms that remain hidden. Considering the cohesive palette lacking anything bright in color, it’s incredibly homey. The perfect place to stay for weeks on end, sipping tea or wine, reading books or playing board games, enjoying the tranquility the Scottish landscape has to offer.

I hate that I like it.

Dom finds me standing in the doorway. “Etta, your room is in the right wing, first door on the left. Your clothes and other items should be here by the morning.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. I’m so lost as to how I should be reacting to such kindness in a situation filled with malice.

Dom must sense this. “Dinner is ready. I’m sure you’re starving,” he beckons, and I follow him to the kitchen, where Ford is already setting up the island like a dining table, handing out plates and cutlery amongst the many containers of take away Indian food. They really must be rich if Dom could find a restaurant like that in the middle of nowhere and get it delivered so quickly. Hell, maybe they have a private chef hidden under the floors.

I take my puffer jacket off and place it under my legs as I take a seat. Juniper finds me and rests her head in the space between the marble countertop and my thigh. Her eyes bore into mine, her silent begging made abundantly clear.

“Is there anything for Juniper?”

Ford strides over to the double door fridge and pulls out a bag of lamb off cuts. Juniper races over and sits on her hind legs, tail wagging. “Shake?” Ford demands. Juniper lifts one foot, then the other. “Can you drop?” She drops onto her paws and springs back up. Ford nods his head in approval. “But can you sing?” Juniper’s answering three barks forces Ford to concede. “Alright, smarty pants, you can have your dinner.”

He places some offcuts into a metal bowl near the floor with her name painted across the bottom of it. Jesus, these guys work fast.

My attention returns to the makeshift dining table, and the bubble of joy watching Ford and Juniper pops when Odin slides into the seat opposite me. We don’t make eye contact. But just from the way his movements seem stiff, his jaw grinding, I know he hates that I’m here. I just don’t understand why. I wish his other eye was still present because every time he turns away from me, the eyepatch—now black instead of gold—stares back. Unreadable.

“Did you want some of this?” Ford asks, passing me a lentil curry. I take it and pile some on to the rice on my plate. Miraculously, my stomach accepts every mouthful without the urge to heave it back up. I’m beyond being nauseated over this predicament. The anger has overridden my system—consumed me—and with each second that I have to sit across from this man, the control I have over it slips. I’ve never felt so connected to animals who are cornered and primed to lashing out. My discipline under duress is non-existent.

It’s a dangerous place to be.

I take the lentil dish, struggling to seal the door to my emotions, and pass it over to Odin. “Did you want some?” He ignores me. Flat out ignores me. Oh boy. My brain starts ticking down till the inevitable explosion. “Is there a problem?” I ask, my hands beginning to shake.

He keeps his gaze downcast as he eats. “No.”

“This is such fucking bullshit,” I mutter under my breath as I drop the offering back to the table. Dom and Ford exchange looks, both of them with a fork halfway to their mouths.

“You must be tired,” Dom offers.

“Amongst other things.”

I try to eat some food, but my hands won’t stop shaking and an acidic pressure is building in my chest. My eyes keep flicking to Odin and watching his every move. I hate the way he eats. I hate the way he swallows. I fucking hate the way he can ignore me, like a lion ignores an ant when I’m the one who’s been ripped from my life.

I’m the one who should be furious. Not him.

“Do you have a problem with me?” I ask, keeping my voice level. Finally, Odin lifts his chin. His single gray eye levels at me. “You obviously hated my father. But why do you hate me? What have I done?”

“You exist,” he says.

My breathing grows heavier, the air in the room thins. “Wow. Okay. Not sure how I can apologize for that.” He remains silent, impenetrable. Meanwhile, my head is spinning. The anger inside of me is rising. “I should take my knife and shove it in your other eye.”

“That’s maybe not—” Ford interrupts.

I ignore him. “You. Took. Me.” I slam a fist onto the table. “ I should be the one who’s hating every second of this. I should be the one who can barely look at my kidnapper. Not the other way around!”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re fucked in the head. This whole thing is fucked.” I pile my plate high with some lamb korma and a handful of papadums. Pushing back, I stand and take my plate away from the table.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Odin barks at me as I retreat .

I keep my back to him as I yell. “Fuck off, Odin! I’m not your wife yet.”

Juniper follows in my wake. I find my room, step inside, and slam the door as hard as I can.