Magic or Madness (The Wreck Me Duet #1)

FALLON.1

I feel like that stupid blue fish in the kid's movie who sang just keep swimming , except I’m being ripped apart by strong currents, and tossed back into the throes of the darkness, forcing myself to keep going.

Just as I reach the surface, threatening to break through, I’m yanked back under, with the weight of a thousand men holding me down.

My lungs can’t fight for air much longer, and my heart feels like it’s cracking, even though I know I’m not in pain.

“She’s waking up, boss.” I hear a man speaking in the distance, and I follow the voice to the surface, crashing through with force.

My eyes flick open slowly, and everything is blurry. I attempt to focus on something small, anything I can use to gain my sight.

I recognize a water bottle, and I can see my feet at the end of a couch, bound together by rope.

Instantly, the panic takes over, and I attempt to use my hands, but they’re tied together, pinned to something above my head that I can’t see. Not in a fun way either, more like, my life is in danger but I can’t recall why or how. I attempt to thrash against the rope, but it’s tight, and I realize how useless it is to fight. I need to save my strength, find an opening where I can attempt to escape.

“There she is, the mystical Fallon . You’re the glue that keeps those boys together, aren’t you?” A man says, laughing to himself, as his eyes take me in.

I can’t speak, my throat dryer than a fucking desert, and he acknowledges that, helping me sip the bottle of water. It goes down like sand, lumping in my throat like the hardest pill I’ve ever had to swallow, and I do my best to behave like a perfect hostage.

That’s what I am, I realize, seeing the predicament I’m in and my involuntary imprisonment here.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“You’re just as sweet as described. I’ve taken such a special interest in knowing you, Fallon, and having you here is such a treat,” he says, tracing his fingers down my legs, his nails scratching my skin through my leggings.

I kick until his hands are off me, and he smiles, a twisted sense of pleasure creeping across his face. It’s a bold choice, forgoing a mask, and I do everything I can to memorize the details. If he’s taken interest in me, then he should know how smart I am, that every second he’s in front of me I’ll be studying him.

He’s sitting, but he’s stocky, his muscles bulging out of a white button-down shirt. Not in a flattering way, more like he uses steroids, and his size is just the facade of an insecure man.

He has dark brown hair, slicked back with a little wave in the front, and his eyes are dark, overall unrecognizable.

He’s just an average asshole, moonlighting as someone with a lot of power. Deep down, he’s nothing like the mask he puts on for the world, and he knows it.

“There’s the feisty, no-bullshit girl I’ve seen. You’re a woman of many faces, Miss Fallon,” he chuckles, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“What do you want from me?” I ask with an annoyed tone in my voice, hoping to rile him up.

I may be tied up and kept here at his mercy, but I can play him like a fiddle, that much is obvious.

“You’re the only thing that they care about. I need them to comply and take the jobs I have for them. It’s beneficial for us all.” He preaches as if he’s the savior we’ve been looking for, but before I can say something to question his complex, it hits me.

This is the client.

The one we’ve been after, who blackmailed and forced Ozzy into a job he knew seemed impossible.

I try to keep my face from giving anything away, hoping to convince him that I’m just an innocent person in all this, not as important as he seems to think.

“I don’t know anything, I swear. I don’t put my nose in their business, I’d rather spend the money.” I bat my eyelashes, conjuring the personalities of both Pepper and Cami because every second he speaks to me, is another that I can use to hoard information.

“You’re smart. Smarter than I thought you were. That didn’t stop you from selling your body online for money, posting those very revealing pictures of yourself … such a shame a young girl could be so stupid,” he laughs, and my blood turns cold.

Everything inside me freezes at the mention of that side of me, something I hoped would never be discovered. Yet here I am, being held hostage, and this man has my biggest fear, and deepest secret, dangled over me like he’s found a fucking smoking gun.

“I was a minor, actually. My stepfather took those photos, posting them without consent. Your consumption is a direct form of child pornography,” I say, fighting the urge to call him every name in the book and letting my anger take over.

I bite my lip hard – nearly drawing blood – to keep my mouth from running, but my words have an impact on him, and I know I struck a nerve.

Whoever he is, he did do his research, but not as deep as he thought, and it’s written all over his face. If I keep pushing, I’ll get him to reveal more, but I have to tread carefully.

He knows a significant amount about me, but I know nothing of him.

“What do you think, Fallon … is your boyfriend smart enough to accept the offer I made for your life?” He asks, and I close my eyes, pushing the thoughts of Ozzy away.

If I think of him, even for a second, I’ll break.

Right now, this is about me, my survival, and gathering as much information as I can.

I know he’s looking for me, doing everything he can to save me, and I have the utmost faith in him, but I can’t think about the one thing that my life is worth living for.

It’ll destroy me.

“He’ll probably want to negotiate,” I say, hating myself for giving them an exclusive look into the crews’ plans.

He nods, watching me closely, and I decide now is the time to ask for something and show my compliance.

“I’m sorry, but I really could use a restroom,” I say softly, my eyes meeting his.

“Of course, young lady. Alec, untie her,” he calls out, and I notch one in my personal scorebook.

Alec.

Alec comes instantly, loosening the knots around my ankles and wrists, assisting me as I try to sit up.

My entire body is weak, and I fear that I’ve been knocked out for a while, maybe even a day.

“How long have I been asleep?” I ask, and the client looks at me softly, his eyes screaming with sympathy.

He didn’t want to do this.

He felt forced because of the actions we took – the things I pushed for.

My kidnapping is my own fault, and as much as I want to mentally scold myself, I push forward, keeping my mind on track.

“It’s been sixteen hours. Your boyfriend is on the verge of solidifying a deal for your freedom.”

Sixteen fucking hours.

Jesus Christ, they must’ve tranquilized me like a horse.

My legs are unsteady, but I stumble purposely, hoping for another crack in the armor.

After all, I’m the most important piece in this chess match, with neither side being able to afford me being hurt.

“Raz, grab her left side!” His voice sounds familiar, like something I’ve heard before, but I can’t pinpoint it.

The smaller man comes in quickly, helping me back up, and guiding me toward the restroom.

Raz.

I may be a hostage, but my safety is the most important thing, and that’s exactly why I’ve been drugged for the majority of my time here.

The client said he didn’t want it to come to this, but it isn’t his first time, either.

The only reason I’m allowed to walk is because they need me back to my usual strength for the exchange, which I’m sure is coming soon.

I’m in no rush, knowing they won’t hurt me, and this place is a fountain of knowledge.

They escort me to the bathroom, both of them holding me like I could collapse at any second. I take a look around, seeing a sink and a handicap rail beside the toilet, and I decide to bargain for an inch of freedom.

“Can a girl get some privacy? I can use the bar,” I say, and they exchange a look before releasing my arms.

The door closes behind me, and I exhale, finally feeling a sense of realism since the moment I woke up. I steal a glance at myself in the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot, my pupils the size of dimes, and my hair a disheveled mess. Whatever I went through to get here is a forgotten memory, but my strength will lead me out of this place and back home to where I belong.

I quickly use the restroom, taking a moment to freshen up and splash cold water on my face.

You’ve survived worse, Fallon.

I give myself a quick pep-talk in the mirror, not straying for too long, and opening the door to both men waiting for me.

“Bosses orders, Fallon, let’s go.” The one I’ve labeled as Alec, says, and they both assist me while I walk.

I keep my eyes forward and on alert for anything recognizable. There’s graffiti on the plywood, suggesting that this is a temporary place, not somewhere they usually frequent.

It’s freezing cold here, and the use of extension cords tells me that this building is either abandoned, or a work in progress, but either way, nobody will be showing up here over the weekend.

“I’m sorry, Fallon, but this is non-negotiable,” the client says, slightly nodding at the men to re-establish my restraints.

I let go of everything inside me that is screaming to fight, doing my best to comply, and keep their attention, rather than being seen as defiant.

Soon enough, I’m tied down again, and I do my best to keep calm.

“You never told me your name,” I say, attempting to make conversation, but it’s bold, even for me.

“Mr. A will suffice, for now,” he responds, and I smile, closing my eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. A, I appreciate it. Makes this feel a little less like business, like I’m being used all over again,” I choke out, hoping my acting skills are up to par.

His face softens, and I strike another nerve. My working theory, without knowing a thing about this man, is that he’s a father, and hates seeing me this way.

I intend to play on that weakness, keeping his mind elsewhere while the negotiation rolls on.

If I’m lucky, he’ll slip, leaving a breadcrumb or two for Lex to find.

“I’m sorry this has brought up unfortunate memories for you, but all will be right soon,” Mr. A tells me, and I can’t stop the hope swelling through my body.

“You’re going to let me go?” I conjure up the fakest tears possible, letting them stream down my face in an attempt to seem vulnerable.

“Of course, Fallon, that was always the plan. We’ll be leaving soon, and your boyfriend has requested a phone call before the exchange. It’s been lovely getting to know you, but I hope this is the last time we meet,” he says, abruptly standing and ending our conversation.

Something I didn’t notice before, is how well-dressed this man is. Now, I watch as he walks away, taking in the details I can see.

His suit is cream-colored and tailored to fit his body perfectly. It screams expensive and I realize that whoever Mr. A is, he’s not in this for the money.

This is about control, possibly even revenge, and I keep that detail to myself, storing it for when I get back to the guys along with the other information I’ve gathered thus far.

I close my eyes now that I’m alone, and the thoughts of Ozzy come crashing back to the surface, immobilizing me as I think of the man whom I love so fucking much, it consumes my every thought.

He must be so broken without me, on a rampage until I’m home safely, and my mind travels to a place where I can conjure up scenes in my head, clearly showing how the lack of food and water, combined with the drugs, is affecting me.

I can picture him tearing the dealership apart, the place I turned into a home destroyed as he works his way through his anger. I can see him shutting everyone else out, locking himself away until he figures out the best way to bring me home safely. My heart hurts and constricts in my chest thinking of him so broken, the faces of Oliver, Cami, Pepper, and Lex flashing in my mind, reminding me that there are more people that I need to fight for.

I reach for the chain around my neck, but when I search for the medallion, it’s not there.

My Athena necklace is gone, and that does it, sending me into a series of body-wracking sobs that echo throughout this empty warehouse.

I don’t want to let myself go in front of these people, trying to show how strong I am, but the loss of my necklace is devastating, striking me at the places it hurts the most and bringing me straight to my knees, in a sense.

I cry until I run out of tears, the pain of being taken so much worse than when I first woke up, before I realized who’d be hurt without me.

“It’s time to move,” I hear one of the men say, and my restraints are loosened, but my body is so weak that I let them handle me without a single ounce of fight.

I’m nothing but a limp, undernourished body to them, but what they don’t realize is that I’m ready to fight when the time comes. I feel depleted, like I’m running on fumes, but I have to save every ounce of strength for the meet, and the call with Ozzy.

He needs to feel in control and know that I’m okay before he makes a move, and all I want is to be back home in his arms.

This is a chess match, and I’m caught in the middle, trying to attempt to guess the move each man is going to make, and it’s beginning to drive me insane.

Instead of being steps ahead, I turn my brain off, allowing myself to be carried without resistance to the same car I was brought here in.

It smells the exact same, and even though I was heavily drugged, the scent of freshly detailed upholstery hits me like a brick wall, and I’m brought back to a place of clawing, fighting, and begging to be saved.

I refused to roll over and die like I’d assumed, and suddenly, a bump on my forehead throbs, reminding me of how hard I fought at home, just before the drugs kicked in.

I remember doing everything I could to fight these men off, and in the process, they slammed my head against the door frame.

I settle in the trunk, practicing my centered breathing until the car stops, and I hear chatter from the front seat. The ride had to be twenty, maybe thirty minutes, and now that we’re parked I realize that there’s no other sounds.

There’s no cars around, or people, and of course, the meeting point is somewhere rural.

Through the seats, I can make out a few muffled words, and I think Ozzy and Oliver are in place, attempting to make contact for our phone call.

Something else is going on, but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Another plan is in place, possibly more sinister than Ozzy knows, but how can I warn them?

I suck all the emotions in, doing my best to appear strong like I’ve got this shit handled, but I know the second I hear Ozzy’s voice, I’ll lose my cool.

“Let’s go, Fallon, you’ve got fifteen seconds,” Raz says, and I sit up, the trunk hanging over my head.

“Hello?”

“Fal, thank god. You’re okay?” Oliver asks, and my head is fucking spinning, wondering why it’s him I’m talking to.

Not that I don’t love Olly, and I am thrilled to hear a friendly voice, but where is Ozzy?

He doesn’t want to talk to me, and ensure I’m okay before making the deal that dictates our entire future?

“I’m fine, Oliver. I want to come home,” I say, and I hear a sigh of relief on the other end of the line.

Instantly, it all makes sense, but I keep my face neutral as I speak.

I’m on speaker and Ozzy can hear me, but I play it cool, knowing I don’t have much time. They claim to know us all so well, but they have no idea about the bond I have with these two on the other end of the phone.

“Soon, alright? Like an oath,” Oliver says, and I choke back the tears building a dam behind my eyes.

Ozzy is there, using Oliver as his mouthpiece, so as not to give too much away. He’s standing strong, waiting for me, and I decide to tether up any emotion I have, not letting it escape to keep him focused. There isn't enough time to relay a message or let them know something might be different, and it’s killing me, almost like I’m leading them into a trap.

“Stay calm, okay? They’re not going to hurt me,” I tell them, hoping they understand that there’s no need for violence.

“Time’s up, lilac,” Alec says, and my blood runs cold as I hand back the phone.

Lilac?

I make eye contact with him, and it all comes rushing back.

“You … you asked me where the ATM was. How long have you been following me?” I ask, my voice trembling as the pieces fall into place.

“Long enough.”

Everything is spinning, and I have the urge to throw up, even though there’s nothing in my body to purge.

I climb back inside the trunk, the darkness swallowing me again, and I feel so stupid. I never even told Ozzy about that, at the time, I thought it was strange, but harmless.

If I’d said something, he would’ve never left me alone, or at least we could’ve had an idea what the retribution was when we got that email the same day.

I think about Cami and Pepper, how he wasn’t interested in speaking with them and his attention was on me the entire time. It wasn’t an opportunity kidnapping, I was always the target, and that makes me sick to my stomach.

It’s a shorter ride this time, and I feel the tires crunching on gravel, bouncing my body against the hard plastic in the trunk. Every part of me is sore, my nerves are beginning to grow, and I can only hope that everything goes according to plan.

“Two men. Visible weapons.” I hear from the front, and I think that means it’s showtime.

Sure enough, both men open the trunk, easing me out slowly and helping me to my feet.

The sun is bright, and I have to squint to see anything in the distance. The men lead me to the front of the car, and finally, I see Ozzy and Oliver.

They’re dressed in all black again, just like the day I was taken, and the bag of cash is on the ground between their feet.

They’re both in the same stance, one hand on their waistband, and I close my eyes, unable to watch this happen in front of me.

How did I end up here?

At a ransom drop, with my fate being negotiated. It’s fucking insane, and I feel constricted all over again.

My choices aren’t mine to make right now, other people are deciding if I should live or go home, and the revelation is enough to remind me of my stepfather, and how he chose to steal pieces of me.

In a sense, this is the same thing.

I’ve been stolen, tied up, and kept against my will as a piece on somebody’s board.

I’m reduced to nothing, being used as leverage.

I’m usually better at controlling my thoughts and anxiety, but my body is so weak that it completely takes over, my hands and legs beginning to go numb.

I start dry heaving and hyperventilating at the worst time, because all eyes turn to me just as my knees buckle, and I collapse.

I’m not unconscious, but I’m not fully aware of what’s happening around me, either. I can hear voices shouting, getting louder, but it sounds like a jumbled mess, and I can’t decipher who’s speaking.

I feel the ground move, sets of footsteps coming from all different directions, but I don’t know if they’re heading toward me.

All I can see is dirt covering my face as I try to sit up, using every ounce of strength I have to see what’s happening. The world comes back into focus, and loud bangs jolt me out of my confused state, my brain finally recognizing them as gunshots.

Alec drops, his body falling right next to where I’ve managed to pull myself into a sitting position.

I scream at the sight, his eyes wide open, but his body not moving. The blood begins to spill on the ground, coming from a wound in his neck.

“Fallon! Come on, we have to go!” Ozzy yells, but I’m frozen, the amount of blood has me in a trance, unable to break my gaze as the trail trickles closer to me.

“Bambi. Look at me,” Ozzy says harshly, cutting through the haze, and for the first time in nearly two days, my eyes meet his.

Everything else melts away, and I reach for him, unable to lift myself off the ground.

“I’ve got you, nice and easy,” he whispers, his arms bringing a sense of safety that I’ve been missing.

He helps me to my feet, and I wrap my arms around his waist, using his body to guide me.

Just as we step around Alec, I see Raz down, too, a bullet hole in his leg.

He doesn’t seem dead, not the way Alec did, and I start to warn Ozzy, but Raz sits up, reaching for the gun a few feet away from him.

“Ozzy! He’s moving!” I scream, attempting to take cover behind him, his arm coming up to guide me.

“Fallon, I’m out of ammo, and Oliver is down. We need to run, can you do that?” He says quietly, keeping his eyes forward, and I nod against his back.

I peek around him, watching Raz inch closer to his weapon, waiting for Ozzy’s signal.

I glance down and see the blade in his pocket, my hand immediately reaching for it. It’s a split-second decision, one I don’t need to think about.

I’m taking back control and saving us all.

“Fallon, stop!”

I hear Ozzy, but I don’t listen, using every bit of power I have left in me to run, to lift the knife, and plunge it into the side of Raz’s neck.

He’s outstretched, inching his body closer to the gun so that he doesn’t see me coming until my shadow is completely hovering over him, and his eyes meet mine just as the blade pierces his skin.

I push it as far as I can until he stops moving, and the cold stare of death in his eyes matches Alec’s. I pull the knife out, blood splattering all over my feet and legs as Ozzy wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground.

“What did you do?” He yells, sprinting back to the truck with my legs wrapping around his waist.

My head is spinning, and slowly, I come to terms with the fact that I just killed a man.

Murdered him.

Ended his life.

A cold shiver runs through my body, and I stare blankly at Ozzy, unable to speak.

The adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and when he places me on the ground, I instantly find the strength to drop to my knees, checking if Oliver is still breathing.