Page 46 of Parker

Chapter thirty-seven

Unknown Location

Nicky

My eyes flutter open. Shit, my head hurts.

The stench of dampness fills my nostrils.

I’m lying on what feels like the most uncomfortable bed ever created.

I stare up at the yellowed ceiling. Bits of plaster are coming away at the corners.

A pipe hisses, the pressurized something ― water, air, gas ― being pushed through a small opening. What if they’re gassing me?

Where am I?

My hands move to the precious cargo in my belly, and a small foot jabs at my insides. He’s still there, I relax slightly. Unless that tiny kick was his last.

Pushing myself up to sit, I swing my legs off the side of the bed, not letting my feet touch the floor.

My head spins, and I snap my eyes shut. I reopen them immediately to scan the room.

It’s half dark. The sole light sources are a grubby window and a small table lamp on the floor.

Dark shadows flutter across the walls, a reflection of the pathetic light through the window.

Someone laughs in the distance outside, menacing and deep.

Underneath me are graying white sheets and an old wool blanket spattered with holes. The only furniture in the dank room is the single bed, a wooden chair, and a broken mirror which hangs crooked on the wall.

My reflection fractures into jagged shards. I hardly recognize myself from the woman I was in my bathroom mirror when I got dressed for work. This morning, I wore mascara. Now it’s streaked like war paint.

My left eye is a deep shade of purple, while a reddish lump has formed on my forehead. Dried blood trails from my nose, both remnants from my earlier man handling. I’m sure my head connected with a door frame at some point. In the chaos, it was hard to tell.

I look barely alive, my eyes hollow, haunted almost. The nausea I’ve become so used to rises up my throat, and I push it back down.

I try the door first. It’s locked.

My bladder tells me it’s time to go. I knock on the cracked wood.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?” Silence. No response.

“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Nothing. “Hello? Please.”

“Shut up, Mrs.,” an angry male voice barks on the other side.

“I need the bathroom.”

“Use the bucket,” he replies.

On turning back toward the bed, I see a rusted metal bucket sitting on the floor beside it. I’ve been turned into an animal, a common criminal within hours. I think it’s hours. It could be days. I’ve lost track.

My son moves again. A tiny foot flexing against my womb. My hips ache from the discomfort of these past hours. Tears break the surface. I slide down the door, then crumple in a heap on the floor.

“Where am I?” I sob. “What do you want?”

The angry man doesn’t reply, and I don’t use the bucket.

Crawling back over to the bed, I climb on and curl up in a ball, then cry.

As I drift off, my thoughts move to Joel.

He’ll come. He has to. How will he ever find me here?

What if he doesn’t even look? He doesn’t know he’s going to be a father; there’s no reason for him to want to.

***

“Good morning, Mrs. Parker,” a cheerful male voice says, waking me from my slumber.

Sun is streaming in the small window directly onto my face.

“I must apologize for my men’s treatment of you. My orders were that you were to be brought to me unharmed, but I believe you gave them quite a task to get you here. Felix has a broken nose.”

He chuckles.

“He never saw that sandal of yours coming. Quick thinking, Mrs. Parker, taking it off in the van.”

“My surname is Smith,” I mutter. “I’m divorced.” No point making this emotional. Facts may keep me and my child alive.

Opening my eyes, I find myself looking at a brute of a man.

One I recognize instantly – Drayton. He’s exceptionally tall with muscles that burst through a plain black t-shirt, his hair cropped close to his scalp.

He has shrewd dark eyes, and tattoos cover both his forearms. The words love and peace are spelled out in Celtic lettering.

He smiles down at me through broken teeth.

A long scar stretches from his right ear and down the side of his jaw. It’s been tattooed over to look like barbed wire. He’s the type of man who visits you in your nightmares. Joel did tell me how he came to have the injury, but I can’t quite remember.

“Where am I?” I ask quietly, not risking taking my eyes off him.

Once again, I push myself up to sit on the side of the grubby bed. He holds his hand out to shake mine in greeting. On autopilot, I take it. His palm is slick with sweat. My bones strain under the pressure of his grip.

I want to wipe my hands on my skirt, but I don’t. Let him think I’m calm.

“A pleasure as always, Mrs. Parker,” he says. “Currently, you’re in a hotel my men and I frequent regularly. Similar to that of your husbands, but not as classy. The girls here are more affordable, shall we say. We aren’t quite able to pay Parker prices just yet. But we’re getting closer.”

His gaze runs over my face, assessing my reaction. I keep my expression as bland as possible, even though inside I’m screaming.

“Have you heard of me, lately?” he asks.

“Should I have? Is there something I can help you with?” I say, feigning confidence.

He laughs out loud. A broad grin explodes across his face. He shakes his head, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, darling, you’re going to be begging me to help you. Who’s the father?”

The change of subject takes me by surprise, and I stare at him mutely.

“I said who’s the father?” He nudges my swollen belly with his finger.

Knowing that telling him Joel is the father would be a mistake, I lie.

“A one-night stand,” I stutter. “Drunken night out. I don’t know his name. I’ve never seen him again.”

“Lying bitch,” he growls, drawing his hand back.

It cracks across my cheek. The room tilts sideways as my face explodes with pain.

I won’t cry. He’s not getting the fucking satisfaction.

“There was me thinking we could work together. Is that Parker’s little bastard you’re carrying?

Can’t imagine he would let anyone else close enough to touch you, never mind knock you up. ”

He grabs my wrists and pulls me to my feet. “Listen to me, whore. I worked for that family for years, decades, and never got the recognition I deserved. I want what’s mine. Years of being overlooked by Evander Parker and now your husband…”

“Ex-husband, you know that,” I snap, interrupting him. He glowers at me. I expect a second blow, but it doesn’t come.

“Ex-husband or not, Joel Parker still considers you very much his possession. “The fact I have you will be killing him. And that’s what I want. That bastard standing in front of me begging. Begging me for mercy,” Drayton gloats, his chest puffed out as if he’s won some sort of award.

“Joel and I aren’t together,” I tell him. “He has a new partner. You’ll have seen them in the papers.”

He laughs again. “You mean Ebony?”

“Yes.”

“If she went missing, I doubt he would lose too much sleep. It was all a PR stunt.”

My stomach lurches. He says it with such certainty, like he knows it’s a fact, which I know he does. The thought had crossed my mind, but I couldn’t believe it. Joel moved on, so I could too.

“She kind of looks like you,” he adds, “More refined. Perhaps he saw it as upgrading in the eyes of the media.” The old fears that I fought for years return. You’re not good enough. Outsiders saw her as his upgrade. I was a broken version of what he needed, and now, he has the premium model.

“How long have I been here?” I ask, trying to change the subject, not wanting to think about Joel with her, whether the relationship was real or not.

“Three days.” He gives me a dark look. “You won’t remember anything.

We’ve been keeping you quiet. It’s amazing what medication can do these days.

But don’t worry, you’ve been locked in here the whole time.

It’s been a bit of a chore getting you to use that.

” He signals to the bucket. “The men did have other ideas, but I couldn’t have them having their fun with a pregnant lady. Just wouldn’t sit right with me.”

My chest tightens. The blunt truth knocking the little confidence I have. They can do anything to me they want. I’m more vulnerable than I’ve ever been.

“But any other woman’s fair game?” I spit, and he shrugs.

“A man has needs. My men are hardworking and used to getting what they want. If someone takes their fancy, they have very strong persuasion techniques. Especially if the lady isn’t one hundred percent willing.” He pulls a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket and lights up.

“Want one?”

I shake my head.

“Does Joel know I’m here?” He smirks, then continues to puff away happily. “What happens now?”

“We wait. The video of you lying beaten up in the bed will do the trick. A man like him has endless resources in lots of high places. He’ll find us, and when he does, we’ll be ready for him.

” He throws the cigarette on the floor, then stubs it out with a heavy black boot.

“Anyway, I must be going. Things to do.”

He turns his back on me. I take my chance. Grabbing the wooden chair, I swing it with all my strength, hitting him hard on the back.

He stumbles but doesn’t hit the ground. Turning to face me, his eyes blaze with fury. “Fucking bitch!” His voice drops to an evil whisper. “There was me thinking we could be friends again after our amicable conversation.”

He stalks toward me, grabbing my wrists, then throws me backward, hard against the wall. Something crunches, my teeth snapping together as pain flares in my spine.

My son. I fall to the ground, cradling my bump. Please move, baby. I need to know you’re all right.

My cheek throbs. My ears ring. Panic courses through every vein, but I feel nothing in my belly. Hopelessness swallows me whole. If I die here, I die with our son in my womb. And no one will ever know.

Please find me, Joel, before it’s too late.