Page 32 of Need to Know

“How awful, my god, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so, I’m Mr. Daddy Issues,” I said, doing jazz hands.

“We all deal with grief differently,” Jack said sagely, and it was true. While I’d found myself an older man to marry, let dominate me, and control my life, my mom, Martha, shut down the part of herself that craved a romantic partner. My sister Beth became anorexic and was sick for a long time before she met her boyfriend, got pregnant, and started to look after herself.

“There was this other weird dream,“ I said sheepishly, recalling how I’d woken up dry humping Jack’s sleeping form. I couldn’t make eye contact and was kinda embarrassed by what I’d done.

“Oh, babe! That wasn’t a dream. I was conscious by then, sleepy, and relaxed. I was more than happy for you to use my body to get-off. I liked how possessive you were, holding me close, controlling me, grinding against my ass. It was fucking hot!”

A heated blush rose over my face at those words ‘use my body to get-off’. Damn. “If I was out of line, I need you to tell me.”

“Winkie swear, I was all-in for the ride!“

“Don’t you mean pinkie?”

“I know exactly what I mean, Nate! I woke up horny. You had my consent.” Jack leaned in then and kissed me softly. I pulled back, wincing as my split lip opened and left a drop of crimson on Jack’s plump lower lip.

“Shit, sorry!” I said, running my thumb across his lip to wipe away the blood. I licked my lip, hoping to staunch the blood flow. We eased back onto the bed and snuggled in an embrace. Sleepily, Jack asked,

“What do you think they want with us?”

“I don’t know. Our faces are on billboards all over the city. Maybe some local criminals thought it would be an easy payday to kidnap the stars of the latest spy thriller premiering in the city.”

“Christ!” Jack said, aghast. “Do you think they’ll ask for a ransom? How much are we worth. You’d be worth way more than me…being super famous and all. Would Maritime even pay a ransom?”

“Yeah. They’ve got contingencies for this kind of thing. I’ve got kidnap insurance too.”

“You do?”

“You don’t?” I sat up and glared at him. “Are you shitting me? We’re in a business where motherfuckers see us as walking dollar signs. There’s always a risk that someone’s going to be crazy enough act on it—as we saw in Paris! Lucy should have an action plan for her client’s security.”

“Nahh,” Jack pacified. “It’s not Lucy’s fault. I don’t live in America where every nut has access to guns and bombs,” he said smugly. “We’re a little more civilized in England. I don’t think we even get celebrity abductions,” Jack shrugged.

I didn’t want to argue or point out the obvious—that he’s not in England, he is a celebrity, and he’s just been abducted! I pulled away and rolled off the bed.

“We can’t just lay here and wait for them to decide what they’re doing with us,” I said irritated that the drugs had done a number on both of us and neither of us was at our best. I strode to the porthole window and looked out.

“We’re not at sea; we’re on a lake or river. There are boats around, and I can see a wooded shoreline across the water,” I stated.

“Yeah, I figured,” Jack said with a yawn, his tone lethargic.

“Have you heard anyone else pass by our door, like guests or staff?” I asked, my logical brain finally beginning to come online.

“Not a peep…weird, isn’t it? If it was a working ship hotel there would be more sounds…guests getting up for breakfast and staff galumphing around,” Jack said half-heartedly. Was he gonna go back to sleep? Hell no, I couldn’t allow it; we had to get out of here. I wished one of us had a phone so we could call for help, but no such luck.

“They didn’t abduct us to rob us,” I stated, as I held up my left arm. “Still got my Rolex Daytona. The watch alone is worth a quarter of a million,”

Jack sat up. “You wear a watch worth half of my house…on your wrist? Are you mad?”

“Not mad, just loaded,” I chuckled. “I don’t like to flaunt it, but this particular watch is a work of art,” I replied with a smirk. “And there’s a tracker installed to locate it if it gets stolen.”

“The watch hasn’t been stolen; you have!”

“Yes, but the info packet Roz has as part of my kidnap insurance states that my watch has a tracker. If we can’t get out of here at least there’s some way of Roz telling the company how to follow my trail via the watch tracking data.” I glanced at my Rolex to see it was coming up to six fifteen a.m. I checked the right back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the card security sleeve containing my American Express Black credit card, and the hotel keycard.

“I don’t understand it. They haven’t taken anything of value from me, so what do the kidnappers want?” I noticed then that was something in the left back pocket. I removed it.

I showed Jack the card for Venture Trust, a bank I’d never heard of. “This isn’t mine,” I stated flatly, “And there’s no name on it.” We shared a look of confusion.